by Jake Bible
“I wouldn’t say there is no doubt,” Roak replied. “But good. Glad you are onboard.”
Roak stood up and started walking away.
“Wait? Is that it? That’s all you’re going to say? I pledge my life to whatever this war crap is and you don’t say thank you?” Yellow Eyes called after him.
“I said I am glad you are onboard,” Roak replied as he walked out of the mess.
“Not the same thing!” Yellow Eyes yelled. “Roak? Say thank you! Come on! Say it! Being glad and being thankful are two different things, Roak!”
Roak chuckled as he stepped onto the lift.
“Where to now, Roak?” Hessa asked.
“My quarters,” Roak said. “I’m going to steam the med pod off me then have a talk with Bishop.”
“He’ll be groggy,” Hessa said. “I am just waking him up now.”
“He’ll be awake enough to tell me what I need to know,” Roak said.
“Can’t wait until he’s on the bridge?” Hessa asked.
“No. I need to talk with everyone individually first,” Roak said.
“You did not ask Reck to go to war with you?”
“I didn’t have to.”
“It would have been the polite thing to do.”
“Reck and I aren’t at polite yet.”
“Your interaction in her quarters seemed to be polite.”
“That wasn’t politeness, Hessa. That was me not killing her and her not killing me. That was truce. That was working towards polite.”
“Then after polite there might be hugging? You two should hug. Your vital signs strengthened in the split second Yellow Eyes hugged you.”
“Hessa?”
“Yes, Roak?”
“Never say that again.”
“Say what? That you have a positive physical reaction to being hugged? Most beings across the galaxy have positive physical reactions to being hugged, Roak. It is a rather universal gesture of friendship and affection.”
“Hessa?”
“Fine, Roak. I will never mention your enjoyment of hugs again.”
“I don’t have an enjoyment of hugs.”
“If you say so,” Hessa replied then muttered, “Except that you do.”
Roak banged the back of his head against the wall of the lift a couple times as the doors slid open. He pushed off the wall and walked down the corridor to his quarters.
36.
Roak had eaten a bowl of gump stew and taken a nice, long steam, which meant he was ready for the next step in the plan that was quickly forming in his head.
“I hear I have you to thank for waking my ass up,” Bishop said as he sat upright in the med pod, his legs hanging over the side. “If I didn’t owe you everything in the galaxy right now, I’d be pretty fucking mad, Roak.”
“Yeah, you don’t ever get to be mad,” Roak said as he grabbed a chair and dragged it over to the side of the med pod, the legs making a horrible scraping noise against the med bay floor.
Bishop put his hands over his ears until Roak stopped dragging the chair and sat down.
“This is like the worst hangover ever,” Bishop said and rubbed at his chest. He took a couple of shallow breaths. “Except not only do I have a massive migraine, and my stomach feels like it can get paid to be an acrobat, but I can barely breathe and my chest feels like I have an Eight Million Godsdamn Chassfornian sitting on it.”
“I’ll be sure to speak in a loud voice so you can hear me,” Roak said, doing just that.
“Asshole,” Bishop said and gave Roak a wry smile. “How dead am I?”
Roak seriously considered the question. Bishop let him.
“You have a way out of this,” Roak said after a few moments. “I’ll never trust you again, so lock that down tight in your head when you consider all future actions and motivations on my part and on yours. The no-trust cloud will be hanging over us for the rest of your days.”
“Or the rest of your days,” Bishop said.
“I’ll still not trust you after I’m dead,” Roak said and tried not to smile. He failed.
“There he is,” Bishop said. “There’s the asshole I know and hate.”
“I’m serious. No trust.”
“I get it. Noted and understood. No trust.”
“And you might easily die if you stick around,” Roak added.
“Am I sticking around?” Bishop asked.
“Would I have Hessa waste the energy to power that med pod if I was going to chuck you out an airlock?” Roak asked.
“You know what, Roak, and I’m not trying to make you angry, but I think you have a lot less control over your AI than you think you do,” Bishop said.
“She’s not my AI,” Roak replied. “She’s her own AI. That you can trust me on.”
“Awww, thank you, Roak,” Hessa said over the comm.
Roak didn’t react at all to the voice, his face remaining passive.
“Her own AI. That’s what I mean,” Bishop said.
“Still stand by my statement about wasting energy on you,” Roak said.
“So, am I sticking around?” Bishop asked again. “Is that what you’re here to ask of me?”
“I’m not asking anything of you that you do not already owe me,” Roak said. “Life debt, remember?”
“I was hoping you wouldn’t bring that up.”
“Dashing your hopes is one of my greatest joys now,” Roak said. “And you are sticking around.”
“Why?”
“That’s the reason I’m here. I need to know if you are still effective at your job.”
“Which job, Roak? I wear a lot of hats.”
“The job I’ve always needed you to do for me.”
“The job where I scour my sources for intel so you can effectively do your own job? Is that the job we’re talking about?”
“Careful,” Roak warned. “Dial back the smug.”
“But that is the job we’re talking about, right?” Bishop asked, looking very serious. “You need to know if this thing with your…father? Is that right?”
“He’s not my father,” Roak said. “But he is Father. There’s a difference.”
“Father. One name like that actress that used to be on Galactic Steve,” Bishop said. “Ominous and trendy.”
“Bishop!” Roak snapped.
“Sorry,” Bishop said and held up his hands in surrender. “Ow. Even doing that hurts.” He put his hands down and closed his eyes then shot them back open. “Nope. That’s not good either.”
“I am going to need every available contact you still have, if you have any and Father hasn’t burned you like he’s burned me,” Roak explained. “I am going to need you to work night and day to get me intel and locations on individuals and groups that may be outside your circle. What I’ll need from you is you working harder than ever to get me everything I ask for. Can you do that job?”
“I don’t know,” Bishop said. “Honest, Roak. Until I sit down at a console and start dialing comm signatures, or sit down face to face with my less-than-trusting acquaintances, then I have no idea if I can do what you need me to do for you, Roak.”
“That could be a problem,” Roak said.
“He’s not getting chucked out an airlock, Roak,” Hessa said over the comm.
Roak ignored her.
“If it is a problem, then be straight with me and let me know if I’m a dead man sitting,” Bishop said. “Eight Million Gods knows I deserve some serious death.”
“You owe me thirty-five million chits and change,” Roak said. “You don’t get to die until that debt is paid off.”
“And my dying will pay off the life debt,” Bishop said. “So, you should probably keep me around anyway even if I can’t get you the intel you need when you need it. You won’t get paid in chits or my life if you throw me off the ship.”
“That is the logical explanation,” Roak said. “But you know me and logic, Bishop. Sometimes I toss it to the side just so I can get emotional.”
“I’ll do my best, is all I can promise,” Bishop stated. “If that works for you, then you’ve got my undying loyalty.”
“And your dying loyalty,” Roak said. “Make no mistake, Bishop, I own you.”
Bishop’s face showed the internal struggle he had with that statement. Roak waited for him to work it all through in his head before he held his hands up in a questioning gesture.
“What’s it gonna be?” Roak asked.
“I already said you have my loyalty,” Bishop replied. “What more do you want?”
“I think you know,” Roak said. “Only way this works.”
“Eight Million Godsdamn, Roak,” Bishop muttered. “You do not relent. Ever.”
“Ever,” Roak agreed. “Makes me the best at what I do.”
“Once we are somewhere that isn’t filled with nightmares, I’ll give Hessa the codes needed to access all of my files.”
“Can you even do that? Are your files compromised by Father?”
“Creepy as all the Hells the way you say his name.”
“You’ve met the guy. You know why.”
“I met…something.”
“That describes Father.”
“Sheez…” Bishop took a deep breath and smiled. “Oh, that actually felt good.”
“The files?”
“Safe and accessible. I have triple redundancies in place.” He slowly held up a finger. “Doesn’t mean that one of those redundancies hasn’t been compromised by this Father guy. He can, and probably will, have intel on all of my contacts. Each one might be a trap.”
“Hence the fact that you may not survive this,” Roak said. “Are you getting the bigger picture now that you’re a little more awake?”
“Fog is lifting,” Bishop said and nodded. “And pain is subsiding. Somewhat.”
“Good,” Roak said. “Not about the pain part. I think some perpetual discomfort for the remainder of your life is a good thing for you.”
“You say such sweet things, Roak.”
“What do you need to gain access to your files?”
“I’ll need a secure and stable connection.”
“How long will it take?”
“About six days,” Bishop admitted with great reluctance.
“Six days?” Roak sighed. “You want us to be exposed for six days? I’m not willing for us to be sitting still for even one day. Try again.”
“One day? No way. Can’t be done in one day, Roak. Do you have any idea the scope of my connections? We’re talking decades and decades of cultivation and maintenance. You think you’re the only one that comms me? I have copies of work from mercs, grifters, half the thugs that work for the syndicates, sellshots, legit and not-so-legit business beings, waiters, waitresses, bartenders, don’t get me started on the politicians and military contacts—”
“Gonna stop you right there,” Roak said, holding up a hand. “Six days won’t work.”
“Six days is what I need to do it right. No wiggle room. Shit, Roak, I’d rather have two weeks.”
“How can your files be that vast?”
Bishop smirked. “Because when I do my job, I do not cut corners.”
“You could learn something from that, Roak,” Hessa said.
Bishop lifted a hand towards his ear.
“That feels different,” Bishop said. “Her voice. Why does it feel different? Now that the pain is blowing off, I can feel the difference.”
“Hessa? Did you put a comm implant in Bishop’s head like you did in mine?” Roak asked.
“Of course,” Hessa said. “I replaced all of his implants. It would have been foolish to leave them. They were dumped two systems back. His originals were obviously compromised by your father, Roak.”
“Just Father,” Roak said. “Not my father. Just Father.”
“And you’re just Roak,” Hessa said with a laugh. She let it die away. “Sorry. Couldn’t resist.”
“Yeah. She’s the perfect AI for you,” Bishop said.
“I didn’t interrupt to test the new comm implant,” Hessa said. “I interrupted because I may be able to help with the files issue. Or the timeframe it will take to transfer the files into my mainframe.”
“Six days is the fastest the process will go,” Bishop said. “Believe me, I have tried to figure out how to make it faster.”
“Yes, that is why I propose we do not transfer the files,” Hessa said.
“Kinda need them,” Bishop replied.
“Going to agree with Bishop on this one, Hessa,” Roak said.
“Of course we need the files. When did I say we didn’t need the files?” Hessa huffed. “Will you two let me finish, please?”
“Sorry,” Roak said then rolled his eyes at the look on Bishop’s face. “She’s already logging the time and date I said that.”
“We are going to steal the files,” Hessa said.
Neither Roak nor Bishop replied.
“Did you hear me?” Hessa asked. “We are going to steal the files.”
“Steal the files?” Roak asked. “Steal how?”
“We will go to one of the storage centers and physically steal the quantum drives they are on,” Hessa said. “We will literally steal the files and set them up here on the ship where I can incorporate them into my mainframe. It will still take six days to complete the transfer from the drives to me, but we’ll be on the move during those six days.”
Roak looked at Bishop. “Doable?”
Bishop held up a finger, his brows knitted together in tight concentration.
“Bishop.”
“Give me a second,” Bishop snapped, but didn’t apologize for the tone.
Roak let it go as he watched the man think.
“Yes. It’s doable,” Bishop said finally. “But only at one of the facilities. The other two have security that I wouldn’t want to send even Drop Team Zero after.”
“Screw those guys,” Roak said. “Bunch of GF posers.”
“They’re better than that, Roak, believe me,” Bishop said.
“So, only one facility?” Hessa asked.
“That means Father is probably already waiting there,” Roak said. “Not personally, but he’ll be ready. We’ll have to hit one of the other facilities.”
“Unless that’s what he expects you to do,” Hessa said.
“Therein lies the risk,” Roak said and smiled.
“Don’t do that with your face,” Bishop said and laughed.
“I see now why you are smiling,” Hessa said. “We have a Yellow Eyes.”
“We have a Yellow Eyes,” Roak said. “He doesn’t know it, but he’s probably the best thief in the galaxy.”
“The weird being that saved my ass?” Bishop asked. “What in all the Hells is that guy’s story?”
“Grown in a vat,” Roak said.
“Sure. Why not,” Bishop replied. “You think he can do the job?”
“He is almost impossible to track,” Hessa said. “And he is immensely strong. I believe he may be able to accomplish the task.”
“If the AI says he can, then I’m onboard with stealing the quantum drives,” Bishop said. “We just have to pick the best facility.”
“We will,” Roak said and stood up. “Good. That part is taken care of.”
“I wouldn’t go that far,” Bishop said.
Roak grinned. “On the bridge in an hour. Get cleaned up and eat something. You want to find out what Yellow Eyes is about? He’s in the mess depleting our food stores right now. Go have a bowl of stew and chat. He likes to chat.”
Roak left the med bay.
“Hessa?”
“Yes, Roak?”
“Get us back through the portal and into trans-space.”
“Bishop will need to be back in the med pod or he will feel an immense amount of discomfort.”
“I know.”
37.
Roak sat in the pilot’s seat and faced what he reluctantly began thinking of as his “crew.” The idea of having a crew made his flesh crawl, bu
t there was no way he was going to accomplish what he needed to do without their help.
So, crew it was…
Yellow Eyes was in his seat at the scanner station. Reck was sitting at the weapons station. And Bishop was on navigation. Roak watched them all take their seats without even asking or thinking of their roles. It gave him encouragement that they might actually get out of their situation alive. Might.
The swirl of trans-space was behind Roak on the view shield and he tried not to smile as he watched Bishop struggle to conceal his discomfort. But he gave the guy points for not complaining.
“I’m going to be brief, but thorough,” Roak said. “Here are the players we will be dealing with.” Roak held up a gloved fist, his light armor back on, and started lifting fingers. “Father. Bad being. Reck and I know exactly how bad he can be.”
“I got a little insight into that as well,” Bishop said. Roak stared at him. “Sorry. Keep going.”
“Yeah, he hates being interrupted, man,” Yellow Eyes said as if he was helping. “Go on, Roak.”
“Gee, thanks,” Roak grumbled. “Father. He is able to inhabit and control beings through their implants. That isn’t an issue for everyone here. Reck doesn’t have implants.”
“Not true,” Reck said. “Hessa hooked me up.”
“Of course she did,” Roak said. “So, Reck and Bishop have Hessa implants.”
“Awww, I like how you call them Hessa implants,” Hessa said.
“Yellow Eyes doesn’t have any implants, not even Hessa implants, since his body is not compatible with the tech at all,” Roak continued then waited.
“What? Oh, right. No implants at all,” Yellow Eyes agreed. “But I am really, really fast.”
“Getting to that,” Roak said. “Father can’t control us, which is a plus. But he can control pretty much anyone he wants to across the galaxy.”
“That’s quite the assumption,” Reck said.
“Better to assume he can and be prepped and ready for it than assume he can’t,” Roak countered.
“Wasn’t arguing, just stating,” Reck said and made a zip-the-lip motion with her right hand.
“The main part is he can’t get to us that way,” Roak said. “But he’ll try. I need everyone here to agree that if you feel off, you let Hessa know immediately.”
