Roak's War: A Roak: Galactic Bounty Hunter Novel

by Jake Bible

  "I think we've found our match for Father," Gerber said with a grin.

  "Hardly," the woman said and gestured towards the corridor outside the hangar. "Please, if you will follow me. We need to retreat to the sanctuary before I lose my grip on her psyche. This is not a permanent transference."

  "Where's Salvage Merc One?" Gerber asked. "We are supposed to be meeting with him. We have an important job."

  "I believe I know what that job might entail," the woman said. "First, though, we need to retreat to the sanctuary. Now."

  "Lead on," Roak said.

  14.

  The SMC headquarters wasn't anything like what Roak had expected.

  It wasn't anything like what any being would expect.

  Nightmare may have been a bit much to describe the ambiance, but fever dream seemed to nail the vibe just right.

  "Does it always look like this?" Roak asked.

  "No," Gerber stated, his voice filled with apprehension. "This is…different."

  Roak considered that an understatement.

  The corridor walls were lined with what looked to be living vines. Or possibly veins. Maybe a mixture of both.

  The floors of each deck were covered in a viscous fluid that steamed and stank of afterbirth. The bulkheads they walked through squished open instead of slid. The lights pulsed. There was a constant hum as if a thousand voices were all muttering under their breath.

  And every step of the way there were salvage mercs standing idly by.

  Most had their eyes wide open. Some had their eyes closed. A few had no eyes at all with deep claw marks down their cheeks.

  Roak and Gerber followed behind the halfer, careful not to stare too long at the still beings. Roak had a distinct feeling that if he made eye contact for more than a second the beings would come alive. And considering they were outnumbered by a factor of several hundred to one, Roak did not want nap time to end anytime soon.

  "Here we are," the halfer said.

  She stood before a blank wall.

  "Great," Roak said. "Nice wall."

  "It will open," the halfer said.

  She turned and walked off. Gerber started to follow, but Roak grabbed his arm and held him in place. Gerber frowned. Roak cocked his head towards the retreating halfer. Gerber watched as she was quickly followed by all beings that were standing in that corridor.

  As soon as it was only Roak and Gerber present, the wall split apart just enough for them to squeeze through.

  And Roak had thought the afterbirth smell was bad…

  "Eight Million Gods damn," Roak swore. "Who shit themselves?"

  "That'd be me, pal," a voice called from the far side of the room.

  "All the Hells," Gerber muttered.

  The room was immaculate except for a table pressed up against the far wall where a man sat with his head down on his arms. Plates and bowls and tumblers and empty food trays and cartons littered the floor around him.

  But that image only kept Roak's attention for a second. It was the main wall of the room that drew his eyes. The entire wall was observation plastiglass and outside was what looked like every nebula in the galaxy swirling around each other.

  It was impossible.

  It was mesmerizing.

  Before that plastiglass wall was a raised dais with a long banquet table. Seated at the table were several different beings. Roak couldn't keep count how many as they constantly blinked in and out of existence.

  "Hello!" one of the beings said right before fading away. "Goodbye!"

  "Are you who we were talking to before we docked?" Roak asked, directing his question to anyone that was even semi-solid.

  "Yes, we are," one of them said.

  "Who else were you expecting?" another responded. "Galactic Steve?"

  "Oh dear!" a third exclaimed. "Do you think the actor that plays Galactic Steve is controlled? Should we rescue him? I certainly do not want to have to watch reruns forever."

  "Shut up!" the man at the table shouted without lifting his head. "Please… Shut up…"

  "He is not well."

  "Been drunk for weeks."

  "He wasn't joking about shitting himself."

  "The bots stopped attending to him. I believe they think he is dead like us."

  "He's not dead like us."

  "He sure smells dead."

  "No doubt about that."

  "SHUT UP!"

  The man pushed up from the table and staggered back a couple of steps.

  The stench of alcohol that wafted over to Roak was more powerful than the stench of shit. And that was saying a lot.

  "Let me guess," Roak said. "You're Salvage Merc One."

  "I sure as terpigshit ain't the queen of the Cerviles," the man said. He attempted a bow, but fell and landed face first into a pile of discarded bowls, plates, cups, and used napkins. "Ow…"

  "He likes his drink," one of the beings at the table said.

  "No shit," Roak said. "Hey. HEY!"

  "What?" Salvage Merc One grumbled as he got to his knees. That was about as far as he could make it before he had to take several deep breaths. "These assholes have the gravity set too high."

  None of the beings at the table acknowledged the statement.

  "Can you understand me or do I need to sober your ass up?" Roak snapped.

  "And hose him down," Gerber added.

  "Yes! Please!" one of the semi-solid beings said.

  "Bots! A hose!" another cried.

  "Perhaps we should simply toss him into open space?" a third asked.

  All the others, those that were present, turned and stared at the being.

  "What? I was…kidding…"

  "You. Joe," Roak said.

  That got Salvage Merc One's attention. He struggled up onto his feet, faced Roak, and glared hard.

  "How do you know my name?" Salvage Merc One asked. "No one should know my name. It doesn't exist anymore."

  He patted his chest and a good amount of dried food flaked off to the floor.

  "Once you become SM1, you stop being who you were before," he said. "You stop living."

  "Eight Million Gods dammit," Roak grumbled. "Knock off the pity party, Joe. I need you to sober up and get serious. We have a job for you."

  "Oh?" Salvage Merc One belched loudly. Then he grimaced and swallowed. "Whew. Little extra there. Hey, Mgurn?"

  "Uh oh," one of the semi-solid beings said.

  "Here we go," another added.

  "This is gonna get ugly," a third announced.

  Salvage Merc One turned his attention to the dais.

  "I'm not gonna cry this time," Salvage Merc One said. "I know that Mgurn…" He belched again. "I know that Mgurn is controlled by that Father guy. Just like everyone else I care for. All controlled. Little salvage merc puppets. But we showed him!"

  Salvage Merc One raised his arms above his head in triumph. Triumph over what, Roak had no idea.

  "We have the salvage mercs in a sort of stasis," one of the beings said. "It is taking all of our collective power to keep Father at bay. Thus the-"

  The being blinked out before he or she or they could finish. Roak had no idea the species of the speaker, let alone the gender or non-gender.

  Roak took a step towards Salvage Merc One.

  "Roak. Wait," Gerber said. "Let me try to-"

  "Roak?" Salvage Merc One asked. "He's on his way." He pointed at the dais. "They told me he'd be here soon."

  Gerber frowned and looked towards the dais too. "So I did not speak with Salvage Merc One via comms before?"

  "Do you think you spoke to him?" one of the beings replied.

  "Have you noticed his state?" another asked.

  "When's dinner? I'm hungry," a third said.

  "I can't wait until Roak gets here," Salvage Merc One said. He slapped his hip, obviously hunting for a pistol. "Gonna blow his fucking head off."

  "At least he didn't say fo," Roak said. He cleared his throat. "Hey. Joe. I'm Roak. You were saying something about blowing m
y head off?"

  "Yeah," Salvage Merc One said. "Gonna blow that Roak guy's head right the fuck off."

  "Huh," Roak said and placed his hand on the butt of his Flott. "Why's that?"

  "Roak. Be careful," Gerber said. "We need this guy."

  "Because he murdered my best friend's wife!" Salvage Merc One shouted. "Murdered her in cold blood! Yeah. Yeah. I'm gonna kill him dead then kill him dead again. Then after he's twice dead, you know what I'm gonna do?"

  "Kill him dead?" Roak asked.

  "No. The guy's already dead," Salvage Merc One said, waving off Roak's comment. "No. I'm gonna yank my pants down and shit on his corpse."

  He belched.

  "I hope he gets here soon because I've been saving up a good shit for him."

  "I think that shit has sailed, Joe," Roak said. "And I'm here now. I'm Roak, you fucking drunk moron."

  "Eight Million Gods…" Gerber muttered.

  Salvage Merc One's entire demeanor changed. He straightened up and studied Roak for a couple of seconds.

  "You're Roak?" he asked.

  "I'm Roak," Roak responded. "Now, who exactly did I kill?"

  "Murder," Salvage Merc One snarled.

  "I don't murder," Roak said. "I try not to kill."

  The entire dais exploded with laughter.

  "They have a point," Gerber said.

  "Midnight," Salvage Merc One said.

  "What about it?" Roak asked, ignoring everyone and everything except for Salvage Merc One.

  "Not an it," Salvage Merc One said. "A she. Midnight was her name. And you murdered her."

  "I'm going to need more info," Roak said.

  "We don't have time for this," Gerber said. "What we need is for Salvage Merc One to-.

  "Razer Station!" Salvage Merc One shouted. "She was leading the Edgers and walked right into your trap. You murdered her in cold blood!"

  Roak thought for a second then it all came back.

  "About as tall as me with indigo skin?" Roak asked.

  "Midnight blue," Salvage Merc One said. "You lured her to Razer Station and murdered her. Now I'm gonna get some justice!"

  Roak raised his hands. "I didn't murder her. She and her Edger friends were trying to kill me. So I beat her to a pulp. That's how things work in this galaxy, Joe. You try to kill me and I tend to not like that. But she was still breathing when I left her. If she died then that's too bad, but I'm not losing sleep over it."

  "I don't want to hear your excuses, Roak," Salvage Merc One said, spitting out Roak's name. "I just want to know why you hate Edgers. Why'd you set that trap?"

  "I didn't set shit," Roak said. "I got played just like the Edgers. You want to blame someone? Blame Pol Hammon."

  "Pol Hammon?" Salvage Merc One scoffed and patted his chest again. More food flakes fell. "That guy's a ghost. Can't track him anywhere. Never could. Any tech he touches ends up disappearing from my… From my…"

  "Gift," one of the semi-solid beings said.

  "Some fucking gift," Salvage Merc One said. He shook his head. "Doesn't matter. Roak is here and I get to kill him now."

  "Yeah, that's not happening," Roak said. He looked away from Salvage Merc One and focused on the dais. "Who's in charge here?"

  "Technically?" one of the beings responded and gestured to Salvage Merc One. "He is. But that's not always reliable leadership, so I can step in."

  "We need him," Roak pointed at Salvage Merc One, "to go to a different universe and find something for us."

  "You want to hire Salvage Merc One?" the being asked.

  "No," Gerber interrupted. "The fate of our galaxy, of our entire universe, rests on Salvage Merc One retrieving what we need. Without it we'll be fighting a war of attrition and it will not end well for any of us. That includes the SMC."

  "Why are you talking to him?" Salvage Merc One snapped. "Roak is here for me to kill, not to talk to. Look at the guy. He's a big stupid-head asshole. We kill big stupid-head assholes."

  "Shut up, Joe," the being said. "The adults are having a conversation." The being sighed. "We know why you are here. It is why we allowed you to come."

  "Great. So when does he leave?" Roak asked.

  "There is one problem," the being said.

  "I'm so gonna kill you," Salvage Merc One said to Roak.

  "That," the being said. "He'll be useless unless we get him past wanting to kill you. Joe gets…obsessed. All of us have our faults. That's Joe's. Among many others."

  "I'm not going to let him kill me," Roak stated.

  "Of course not," the being said.

  "So gonna kill you," Salvage Merc One muttered.

  "I believe we can find a compromise," the being said. "Hey, Joe?"

  "What?"

  "How about instead of you just killing Roak outright, you have a fight to the death?" the being asked.

  "Fight to the death?" Salvage Merc One responded. "Gladiator style? Mano e mano?"

  "Mano e what?" Roak asked.

  "Ancient language," the being said. "From that one planet. I can't spit or I'd say the planet's name."

  "Earth!" Salvage Merc One shouted and hocked a massive glob of mucous and other oral contents onto the floor. "Been there too many times. Yuck."

  "Joe? You up for a hand-to-hand fight?" the being asked.

  "Oh, sure, yeah," Salvage Merc One responded. "So gonna kill him."

  "If I win then he goes and gets what we need?" Roak asked.

  "Yes," the being said.

  "What's the catch?" Gerber asked. "The SMC is as much about payment as Roak is."

  "I believe we are beyond materialistic concerns," the being said. "There is a greater good to consider."

  "I'm glad to hear that," Gerber said. "Roak?"

  "Whatever," Roak said. "With armor or without?"

  "Without," the being said. "We do not want you killing Joe either."

  "Kill Joe?" Salvage Merc One laughed. "No one is killing Joe today!"

  "I'll try not to," Roak said as he began to take his armor off. It hurt like all the Hells. "If this is a set up then I don't care what kind of beings you are, I'll fucking destroy you."

  "We have no doubt about that," the being said. "But don't kill Joe, please."

  "Death match!" Salvage Merc One shouted.

  "Not a real death match," the being whispered sotto voce to Roak.

  "I guessed that already," Roak said. He finished removing his armor and stood there in a pair of pants, a shirt, and heavy boots. "Ready, Joe?"

  "For what?"

  "Our…death match or whatever," Roak said and walked slowly towards Salvage Merc One.

  "Shit yes, I'm ready!" Salvage Merc One bellowed. "I hope you made a will, Roak!"

  "Will. Sure," Roak said with a sigh as he continued walking towards Salvage Merc One. "You may want to get ready."

  "For what?" Salvage Merc One asked.

  Roak reached the man and grinned. Salvage Merc One's eyes went wide with shock.

  "Eight Million Gods," Salvage Merc One gasped. "What's wrong with your-?"

  Roak headbutted Salvage Merc One squarely between the eyes. The man blinked once, wobbled on his feet, then fell over backwards as his eyes rolled up into his head.

  "Good," the being said from the dais. All of the other beings were flickering in and out faster and faster. "Now that he's no longer bothering us, how about we discuss this task you need him to perform?"

  "I'll let you two do that," Roak said, rubbing his ribs. "I'm going to have a seat while we wait for the drunk asshole to wake up."

  15.

  "That sounds all straight forward," the being, who was the Boss Seven that had been controlling the halfer, said. "And, as was said before, since it is in the best interest of all beings in our galaxy, we will waive the usual fee."

  There were grumbles of protest from some of the other semi-solid beings, but they were weak.

  "That's kind of you," Gerber said. He studied the semi-solid being. "I sense there is a but…"

  "Can't sli
p anything past a GF man such as yourself, General Gerber," Boss Seven said. "There is a very large but."

  "What do you want?" Roak asked, his eyes having never left the snoring body of Salvage Merc One.

  "Oh, we want nothing," Boss Seven said. "The but isn't about payment of any type. It's more of a cause and effect issue."

  "Go on," Gerber said.

  "As you can see, we are all struggling to keep the other salvage mercs from becoming active," Boss Seven said. "It is taking all of our-"

  "Collective energies," Roak interrupted. "We know. Cut to the chase."

  "Salvage Merc One derives his abilities from an artifact that has merged with him body and soul," Boss Seven said. "Being in proximity to that artifact allows us to draw energy from it since we all used to be Salvage Merc One in our previous incarnations."

  "Before we died," a being said.

  "Those were the days," another added.

  "Hey! That's Roak! The galactic bounty hunter!" a third exclaimed.

  Roak finally looked away from Salvage Merc One. His eyes focused on the wall he and Gerber had walked through to get inside the sanctuary.

  "You're saying that as soon as he leaves here, you're not going to have enough power to keep the controlled salvage mercs in stasis," Roak said. "Joe goes to the universe and this headquarters goes to shit."

  "Precisely," Boss Seven said.

  "I've been in worse situations," Roak said. "Good thing I brought an extra power cell."

  "That is not what Boss Seven is getting at, Roak," Gerber said. "You can't kill the salvage mercs."

  "General Gerber is correct. You cannot kill any of the salvage mercs," Boss Seven said. "If we wanted them dead then we would have exterminated them weeks ago. They're just standing there, after all."

  "Alright," Roak said and shrugged. "Then we sit tight in here until Joe gets back."

  At the mention of his name, Salvage Merc One grunted between snores.

  "Yes, well…" Boss Seven grimaced.

  "You cannot maintain the security of the sanctuary either once Salvage Merc One leaves," Gerber said. "Is that it?"

  "This station will become Bedlam," Boss Seven said. "The walls will fall and the salvage mercs will attack."

  "Then we leave," Roak said. "We get the fuck off this station until Joe gets back."