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

by Jake Bible

  "Can't blame a Cervile for making a little scratch," Kalaka said and shrugged again.

  "Reck? You're in charge," Roak said.

  "We'll take it," Reck said. "We could use the chits."

  "Did you already blow through what the GF and Skrang Alliance gave you?" Kalaka asked. "I heard it was enough to set all of you up for life."

  "Not talking chit flow with you, Kalaka," Reck said. "Do we have a deal?"

  "We have a deal," Kalaka said and shook hands with Reck. "Can you be ready by tonight? My ship isn't staying on Ligston Station long. The captain wants to be gone by the morning. Beings are still a little skittish and prefer to stay on the move."

  "You mean beings don't want to be near me for very long," Roak said.

  Kalaka shrugged again.

  "Tonight?" Reck asked. She looked at BR. He nodded. Then she looked over her shoulder. "Hey! Kid!"

  "What?" Skabz shouted from a different table where he was busy playing cards with some angry looking beings. "I'm in the middle of wiping these suckers out!"

  "You want to be part of a job we just got?" Reck asked. "We leave now, if you do."

  "What's it pay?" Skabz asked. "You still owe me all those chits you promised me."

  "Seriously?" Reck replied and glared at the young Skrang.

  "Fine, fine," Skabz said and folded his cards. He scooped up his chits and left the table. Angry glares followed him the whole way. He walked to Roak's table. "Hey, it's the kitty cop. What does he want?"

  "He's hiring us," Reck said.

  "Call me kittty cop again," Kalaka growled.

  "Sure you don't want in on this?" Reck asked Roak. "You'd have this shit show to look forward to every day."

  "It's so tempting," Roak said as he smirked at the tension between Skabz and Kalaka. "I'm retired."

  "Sure you are," Reck said. "You know you'll be back someday."

  "Not today," Roak said and lifted his glass. "Have fun."

  "Oh, we will," Reck said. "BR? Do you mind?"

  "Not at all." BR got up from his two chairs and fetched Evil's bucket.

  "We'll let you know how it goes," Reck said to Roak.

  "I don't doubt that," Roak said. "Be careful."

  "I thought you said to have fun?" Reck said and smiled.

  Then she walked to the airlock with BR holding Evil's bucket right on her heels. Kalaka nodded to Roak and followed.

  That left Yellow Eyes still sitting at the table.

  "You've been quiet," Roak asked. "You dying or something?"

  "Just sad it's all over," Yellow Eyes said. "No more Roak adventures."

  "Go with Reck," Roak said. "You're part of the team too."

  "I am?" Yellow Eyes asked.

  "Of course, dumbass. Why wouldn't you be?"

  "No one officially asked me or told me I was."

  "What the fuck do you think you've been doing the past couple of years? Stop being stupid and go with Reck."

  Yellow Eyes jumped up and blurred to the airlock then he blurred back and wrapped all his arms around Roak.

  "What the fuck? Get off me!" Roak shouted. A few beings glanced their way. "You want to keep those eyes?"

  The beings that weren't versions of Roak looked away quickly. The other Roaks smirked.

  Yellow Eyes let go and wiped at his eyes. "You ain't too bad, Roak."

  Then he blurred out of the airlock, leaving Roak alone at his table.

  "That was nice of you," Hessa called over the comm.

  Roak smiled.

  "I know you won't respond because you have for some reason decided to tell everyone you no longer have an implant," Hessa continued. "That is your choice. But being ignored is getting old, Roak."

  Roak shrugged, knowing Hessa had hacked the tavern's security system and would see the gesture.

  "I will have the ship ready to go when the team gets here," Hessa said. "I'll keep you updated with regular reports."

  Roak shook his head slightly.

  "Yes, I will," Hess insisted. "There may be two Roak clones on the team, but they are not you. Reports will help them. You might spot issues that need to be corrected before anyone gets hurt."

  "It's a dangerous job. Beings get hurt," Roak said and stood up.

  A few eyes shifted his way, so Roak smiled broadly. All eyes shifted back fast.

  "Stop scaring the customers!" Z yelled. Then he grumbled and mumbled under his breath.

  "What was that?" Roak asked. He finished his drink and brought the empties to the bar. "What did you say?"

  Z stared at the glasses Roak had set on the bar. "Did you bus your table?"

  "What? I'm a partner in this tavern too," Roak said. "I'll help out."

  "The senior partner has requested your presence," Z said and gestured towards the stairs.

  "Well, I'd hate to keep the senior partner waiting," Roak said. He reached over the bar and grabbed a bottle of Klav whiskey. Then he grabbed a second. "Don't forget to mark these gone in the inventory."

  "You are a horrible being," Z said as Roak walked to the stairs.

  A being blocked his path. Roak looked him up and down.

  Built like someone had carved the man straight from a hunk of granite, the human stood over six feet tall with muscles upon his muscles. Not as big as BR, but he gave the impression he was easily as dangerous. And he was wearing some strange clothes. Not that Roak hadn't seen a lot of strange clothes since the nexus planet had been created. Roak recognized the black shirt as a t-shirt, but the pants?

  "Jeans," the man said. "They're pretty popular where I'm from."

  "You a mind reader?" Roak asked. "Or just another Roak?"

  "Rage," the guy said and held out a hand. Roak shook it. "Max Rage. But I must be a version of you because I got a weird message shot directly into my brain that a Roak needed help. I borrowed a ship and you know the rest."

  "Thanks for the assist," Roak said. "Did you need anything?"

  "Nah, I just wanted to introduce myself," Rage said. "I'm heading home tomorrow." He looked about the tavern. "I work at a place a lot like this. Not as nice, though."

  "You work at a tavern?" Roak asked.

  "Dive bar," Rage said. "It's what my version of Earth specializes in now."

  A few beings spat at the mention of the ex-planet's name.

  "Why does everyone do that?" Rage asked.

  "Your Earth isn't a toxic waste dump?" Roak asked.

  "Nope. Not a nexus planet, either," Rage said. "Just a bunch of dive bars everywhere. And other businesses, but mostly dive bars."

  "I may have to visit sometime," Roak said and held up the bottles. "But not anytime soon. I've got an appointment to keep."

  "Don't let me hold you up," Rage said. "Good to meet you, Roak."

  "Good to meet you, Rage," Roak said. "Look me up next time you're in my universe."

  "I may do that," Rage said and walked back to the table he'd been sitting at.

  Roak didn't recognize the species of any of the beings, but that wasn't alarming. There were a lot of new species in the neighborhood now that the nexus planet was open.

  The beings lifted their glasses at Roak and he nodded back. Then he climbed up the stairs and made his way to the only door on the landing. He knocked, entered, closed the door and held up the bottles.

  There was no one in the bedroom.

  "Ally?' Roak called.

  "In the bath," Ally called from another room.

  Roak got undressed quickly and took the whiskey into the other room.

  The entire room was a gigantic bath tub filled with Ally's concoction.

  She sat at the far end, the golden liquid up to her chin.

  "Are one of those bottles for me?" Ally asked as she stood up and held out her hand.

  "Everything is for you," Roak said, admiring her Tcherian form.

  He stepped into the bath and waded over to her. He leaned in for a kiss, but Ally snagged a bottle first and drank deeply.

  "Cute," Roak said.

 
; "Girl gets thirsty waiting around," Ally said.

  She placed a hand on Roak's chest and traced the many scars that crisscrossed his skin. Then she kissed him.

  "I like that you kept your body," Ally said, taking Roak's hand and lowering him into the bath. "It tells a story."

  "A few stories," Roak said.

  "Not sure I like the idea of setting up shop back on Ligston, though, but it's probably the safest place for us," she said.

  "That's how I see it," Roak replied.

  He eased into the bath and sighed once he was situated. He closed his eyes.

  "Nope," Ally said and straddled him. "It's not sleep time."

  "If you insist," Roak said.

  The sex was fast and aggressive. They'd take it slow later.

  When they were done, they both drank from their whiskey bottles, nearly finishing them off. Roak had a nice buzz even with the golden liquid pulling the alcohol from his system.

  Roak closed his eyes and Ally didn't protest that time. Mainly because she had her eyes closed too and her cheek leaning against his chest.

  "Still having that dream?" she asked.

  Roak flashed to an image of him falling towards pools of toxic waste.

  "Yeah," he said. "But not as much."

  "I wonder what it means?" Ally asked, her voice relaxed and sleepy.

  "I don't know," Roak said. "And I don't care. Sometimes a dream is just a dream."

  "Sometimes…" Ally replied then began to quietly snore.

  Roak took a drink, glanced down at Ally, took another drink, and set the bottle aside.

  He had lied. He did care about the dream. It bothered him that he was still having it.

  But he'd have plenty of time to figure it out.

  After all, he was retired.

  For now…

  The End

  Read on for a free sample of Battlefield Mars.

  Author's Note, Part Deux

  I want to thank all of my Roak fans out there. It's been quite a journey for the bounty hunter.

  Despite my message at the beginning of this novel, I know some of you will still want to ask me when/if more Roak novels will happen. Unfortunately, I do not have an answer for you.

  Could more Roak happen? Anything is possible when it comes to Roak.

  But for now, he's retired.

  Let's leave it at that.

  For now…

  Cheers. Again.

  Jake Bible

  December 2020

  1

  Ten-year old Piotr Zabinski was almost to the airlock when his mother said, “Hold it right there.” She came over, knelt, and inspected his EVA suit.

  “I want to go out,” Piotr told her, fidgeting.

  “Hold still.” She checked the readout, and nodded. “Everything looks to be in order.”

  “I know how to suit up, Mom. I’m not five anymore.”

  She smiled and kissed him on the cheek, even though she had to know he couldn’t feel it through the faceplate. “You’re growing up much too fast. It seems only yesterday I was pushing you in your stroller.”

  “Mom,” Piotr said impatiently.

  “All right.” She stood and tapped the code for the airlock. “What are the rules?”

  Piotr sighed.

  “The rules,” she said again.

  “Watch my air. Watch out for sharp objects. Watch the sky. Come right back in if the alarm goes off,” Piotr recited.

  “What else?”

  Piotr had forgotten the last one. “Don’t go too near the fence.”

  “Because?”

  “Can I please just go?”

  “Because?” his mother said in that irritating way she had.

  Piotr hated being treated as if he were dumb. “Because if I touch it, it will short out my suit.”

  She raised her thumb to the pad, a green light glowed, and the inner pressure door hissed open. “Off you go. Have fun.”

  Piotr went through the ritual of waiting for the inner door to close and the outer door to open, and at last he was outside. He gazed up at the orange-red sky, then at the barren expanse beyond the fence, which wasn’t really a fence at all but a series of poles that projected an invisible barrier.

  Piotr never understood why they needed it. There wasn’t any life on Mars, other than the people from Earth. Yet settlers who lived outside the New Meridian dome were required to put a fence up.

  Piotr began a circuit of their house module, looking for something to stir his interest. To the north reared Albor Tholus, an extinct volcano. Ever since he first set eyes on it, he’d wanted to go there to explore. One day, his dad had promised, they would.

  The rest of the scenery consisted of rocky ridges, scattered boulders, and a plain. He’s seen it a thousand times. Nothing ever changed. Just all that rock and dirt, with no vegetation, no water. Compared to Earth, Mars was boring.

  Grinning to himself, Piotr picked up a small stone and threw it at the security fence. It was against his mother’s many rules but the stone wasn’t big enough to set off the alarm, and he liked the crackle effect.

  Piotr debated going to the agripod and down into the horticulture farm to watch his father work. Instead, he drifted toward the fence. He was halfway there when he happened to glance down, and stopped in surprise.

  There were marks all over the dirt. Puzzled, he squatted and examined them. Each was the same. About half as wide as his hand, with a lot of small points around the edges, as there would be if his mom poked her knitting needles into the dirt.

  Piotr wondered what made them. It didn’t occur to him they might be tracks until he realized a trail led toward the fence. He followed it, and was dumfounded to see a hole where there had never been a hole before, rimmed by freshly dug Martian earth.

  It dawned on Piotr that something must have come up out of the ground, roamed around, and gone back down again.

  Piotr grew excited. His mother and father never told him about anything like this. He started to turn toward the agripod to go let his dad know but the hole piqued his curiosity.

  About the size of a tractor wheel, the opening went in at an angle. Piotr couldn’t see much. Kneeling, he placed his hands flat, and peered in. He heard a slight sound, and something moved. Before he could do more than gape in amazement, the thing was out of the hole—and on him.

  2

  Captain Archard Rahn smothered a yawn. If there was any work more boring than filing his daily report, he had yet to come across it. He glanced at the clock and saw it was only ten a.m. He needed to come up with something interesting to do for the afternoon.

  Leaning back in his chair, Archard stretched. On the wall to his left hung the United Nations Interplanetary Corps banner. On the wall to his right was a map of Mars that showed the east and west hemispheres in bas relief. Near the door hung a large image, taken from space, of a bright blue pearl in the dark abyss of space

  “Mother Earth,” Archard said aloud. God, how he missed her. Missed being able to go outdoors without a suit. Missed being able to breathe actual fresh air. True, New Meridian’s dome enabled people to do both, but only under its protective shell. And the air was artificial, supplied by the oxygenator and other components of the Atmosphere Center.

  His desk phone chirped and he answered.

  “Captain, this is Levlin Winslow.”

  Archard sat up. It was rare for the Chief Administrator to ring him up. “Sir?”

  “I’m sorry to bother you,” the C.A. said, sounding slightly embarrassed that he had. “It’s probably nothing.”

  “Sir?” Archard said again. As head of security, it was his job to protect the colonists and maintain the peace. Neither required much effort, principally because there was nothing to protect the colonists from. Mars was lifeless. In the century and a half since the first colony was established, not a single indigenous life form had been discovered. As for lawbreakers, crime was as nonexistent as alien life. Not surprising, since every colonist went through a rigorous screening p
rocess. Those with sociopathic and/or psychopathic tendencies didn’t make the cut. Mars would never have its very own version of Jack the Ripper.

  “Do you know the Zabinski’s?”

  Archard brought up the personnel file on his screen, typed the name, and recited, “Family of three. Husband, Josep. Wife’s name is Ania. Occupation, farmers. One child, a boy, Piotr.”

  “You’ve met them, then?”

  Given the size of the colony, one hundred and twenty-one souls, Archard knew many of the people by sight if not by name. In this instance, “I went out to their farm when they first moved in to make sure their fence was up, as required. Small place. Two or three modules, the house and some sheds. Underground hydroponics. The usual.”

  “Well, the mother called here about, oh, an hour ago, saying their boy had disappeared—”

  “Disappeared?” Archard interrupted, suddenly all interest.

  “The kid went out to play, apparently. A while later the father came in and asked the mother where the boy was, and she didn’t know. They both went looking and couldn’t find him so the mother buzzed my office.” Winslow paused. “My assistant took all this down.”

  “Why did they call you and not the Security Center?”

  “Probably because I’m the head of the colony, and the colonists all look up to me and respect me.”

  Archard let that pass.

  “At any rate, I wasn’t in. My assistant told them I would return their call as soon as soon as I got back. Which I just did a few minutes ago.”

  “And?” Archard prompted when Winslow didn’t go on.

  “No answer. Could be they’re still out looking.”

  Archard frowned. Military EVA suits all had comm-links. Civilian suits weren’t required to; an oversight, in his judgment. But then, except for farmers and geologists and the like, few colonists ever ventured out into the real Martian environment.

  “Was their fence down when the boy went missing?” Archard wondered. Sometimes a fence had to be shut off for maintenance or what-have-you, and if that was the case, the boy might have wandered off.

  “The mother didn’t mention anything about that,” Winslow said. “Anyway, I have to go. Council meeting. Will you check this out and report back to me at your earliest convenience?”