Razer Edge: A Roak: Galactic Bounty Hunter Novel

by Jake Bible

Roak lifted the old man into his arms and rushed to the farthest corner. He made sure to clip the two of them together with heavy duty carabiners before he crouched down and covered Pol’s body with his own.

  “Do it, Hessa,” Roak said.

  No count down or even a couple seconds of waiting. There was a huge explosion and the opposite wall of the locker room disappeared. In its place was wide open space. The atmosphere of the room roared out of the station, taking Roak and Pol with it.

  Roak’s world was a tumbling, spinning, nauseating mess. The force of the expelled atmosphere was so great that Roak’s arms came loose from around Pol and the only way they stayed close were the carabiners that held them suit to suit at their belts. The two men bounced against each other as they spun head over heels over and over.

  The ship filled Roak’s vision during one rotation then he and Pol were swallowed up into the Borgon Eight-Three-Eight stealth incursion ship’s cargo hold. The second they were inside the ship, even before the hold door closed tight, gravity kicked in and Roak hit the deck hard with Pol landing on top of him.

  “Go!” Roak yelled. “Get us away from this Eight Million Godsdamn station!”

  Roak felt the ship accelerate then the dampeners kicked in and he was able to get to his feet.

  “You’re gonna need a med pod, old man,” Roak said as he bent to lift Pol into his arms one more time. “I wouldn’t mind that either.”

  “I may need you on the bridge, Roak,” Hessa said, her voice coming from Roak’s ear as well as the loudspeaker in the cargo hold.

  “Hessa, no stereo! We’ve talked about this,” Roak snapped. “Let me get Pol into a med pod then I’ll head straight to the bridge. I’m guessing the Skrang are here?”

  “The Skrang are here,” Hessa confirmed.

  40.

  Roak collapsed into the pilot’s seat and started checking readings.

  “Can we go back into stealth?” Roak asked. “Sneak around the lizard bastards?”

  “I believe they have already tagged us with their deep scanners,” Hessa said. “In order to get you and Pol into the hold, I had to drop primary shields. They might lose sight of us, but their weapons systems have a lock. They’ll fire at all possible exit routes.”

  “Then what do we do?” Roak asked.

  “You fly,” Hessa said. “I’ll fire.”

  “You’d rather I fly the ship instead of handling our weapons?” Roak asked. “I think you’ve got it backwards, Hessa.”

  “You will fly in a much more chaotic manner than I can,” Hessa said. “Despite my intellectual superiority, you give us a better chance of avoiding destruction simply because their systems cannot predict what you will do. All the Hells knows I can never predict what you will do.”

  “If you say so,” Roak said and took control of the ship. “Drop us into stealth and I’ll get to work confusing the Skrang with my chaos.”

  “You do understand that I was not insulting you, right?”

  “I don’t really care right now. I feel like I’m going to pass out at any second, so getting my feelings hurt is not on my list of grievances.”

  “Understood.”

  Roak dove. Fast.

  He dropped the ship down and away from the incoming Skrang warships. Three Skrang warships.

  “Bit of overkill,” Roak said as he glanced at the scanner readings. “One warship is enough to wipe Razer off the map.”

  “I believe they are expecting company,” Hessa replied. “As they should be. GF warships have entered the system. We are about to be in the middle of an ugly fight.”

  “Let’s try not to be in the middle of it,” Roak said and banked hard to starboard.

  A volley of plasma torpedoes was launched from the closest Skrang warship. Klaxons rang out on the ship’s bridge.

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Roak said. “Hessa, please turn those off. I get the picture.”

  The noise ceased.

  “Thanks. You got those?”

  “I do,” Hessa replied.

  Roak watched out the view shield as countermeasures launched from their ship, headed directly at the torpedoes. There were several explosions as their ship shot past the projectiles.

  “Bringing us back up,” Roak said. “You want chaos, I’m gonna give you chaos.”

  “Roak, countermeasures only destroyed seven of the eight torpedoes,” Hessa warned. “We have one still active and pursuing us.”

  “What’s the point of having a stealth incursion ship if an enemy can still lock on when you’re in stealth?” Roak asked. “Rhetorical. Don’t answer.”

  He banked to port then back to starboard, weaving the ship back and forth over and over.

  “The torpedo continues to follow us, Roak,” Hessa reported. “It is gaining. I have tried to destroy it, but I believe it may be manually controlled.”

  “Chaos on chaos,” Roak muttered as he banked starboard one last time and pointed the nose of their ship directly at the underbelly of the closest Skrang warship. “Suck on this chaos.”

  Roak hit the throttle and grinned as he was pushed back in his seat before the dampeners leveled out the G-forces. The grin widened as the Skrang ship filled the view shield.

  “I take back this idea,” Hessa said. “Roak? Please change directions. Roak? Now!”

  “I was planning on it,” Roak said and pushed down on the flight controls, sending the ship into a sudden dive.

  More klaxons rang out.

  “Hessa!”

  “I did not anticipate that you would almost ram our ship into a Skrang warship, Roak,” Hessa replied, killing the klaxons. “The collision warning system was still engaged. A heads up next time would be appreciated.”

  “If I gave you a heads up, then it wouldn’t be chaos,” Roak said as their ship was rocked by a large explosion. “Please tell me that was a direct hit.”

  “That was a direct hit,” Hessa said. “Our ship concealed the torpedo’s exact trajectory and blocked their weapons from getting a lock on it.”

  The ship rocked as several blasts impacted with the hull.

  “However, our proximity to the Skrang warship gave it the perfect opportunity to get a full lock on us,” Hessa stated. “They are no longer guessing where to fire.”

  “Then it’s a race,” Roak said as he rolled the ship out of the dive and aimed it away from the Skrang warships, away from Razer, and towards the far off wormhole portal. Where the Galactic Fleet ships had just finished exiting from. “And maybe a game of nuft.”

  “That is not wise, Roak,” Hessa said. The ship rocked again from more blast impacts. “Our shields are taking a beating from the Skrang. We cannot afford the chance that we will face fire from the GF ships as well.”

  “Not much of a choice, Hessa,” Roak replied. “They are between us and the wormhole portal. We’re going their direction anyway.”

  “Perhaps I could be of help?” Pol’s voice interrupted over the comm.

  “Seriously, old man? You should be in a healing coma right now,” Roak snapped. “How did you get onto our…never mind. You’re on the comm now, so what’s your idea?”

  “If Hessa would allow me access to the ship’s navigational systems, including engine configuration, I believe I can give this ship an upgrade,” Pol replied.

  “Are you still in the med pod?” Roak asked.

  “Yes, I am.”

  “Do you have a large stab wound in your gut that is being healed up by the med pod?”

  “Yes, that is also true.”

  “Then how can you give our ship an upgrade? I don’t have time to be your hands, Pol.”

  “Roak, your ship is outfitted with many maintenance bots,” Pol responded. “I need access to those as well. But you must hurry. At current speed and trajectory, we have approximately—”

  “Three minutes before the GF ships engage with us,” Hessa interrupted. “Yes, thank you, Pol, we are aware of the danger.”

  Roak smirked at the miffed tone in Hessa’s voice.
>
  “Hessa? Can you give Pol the access he needs, but maintain control over his med pod?” Roak asked.

  “I can,” Hessa answered.

  “Then do it. If the old man tries anything, fry him in that pod like a terpig on whatever holidays idiots celebrate in this galaxy.”

  “There are over seventeen thousand galactic holidays to choose from. I personally would pick—”

  “Don’t care,” Roak snapped. “Just watch his ass.”

  “Ass being watched,” Hessa replied. “And access to the systems has been granted, Pol. Please get to work.”

  The ship shuddered and its direction changed.

  “Hey!” Roak snapped.

  “I needed to make an adjustment to the insane course you chose, Roak,” Pol said, sounding genuinely apologetic. “Now is not the time for chaos.”

  Roak started to argue, but closed his mouth and leaned back in the pilot’s chair.

  “Our lives are in your hands, Pol. Don’t waste them.”

  “You said our lives,” Hessa stated. “I appreciate the inclusion.”

  “I was talking about mine and Pol’s,” Roak said.

  “Why must you ruin the moment?” Hessa sighed. “I believe our next stop after we leave this system should be the planet of Boilkah’Fa. They have an excellent reputation for mental health professionals. Some fine facilities that you could benefit from, Roak.”

  “That’s funny. Hilarious. I might die from laughing.”

  “Oh, how sad that would be.”

  “Might I ask for quiet?” Pol asked. “Your banter is…distracting.”

  The ship shuddered. Hard. The power flickered, flickered, then went out. The view shield blinked out and the bridge was plunged into complete and total blackness. Roak shook his hand in front of his face, but couldn’t even see a hint of movement.

  “Hessa? Pol?”

  No response.

  Two seconds passed and still no response, no matter how loudly Roak yelled. Then the cold began to seep into the ship even through the multi-layered hull.

  “A full ship shut down? Seriously? Well, shit.”

  Roak slapped around by the pilot’s seat, his hands hunting for his suit’s helmet. He was sure he brought it up onto the bridge with him. But no matter how far he reached, he couldn’t locate it.

  “This is great. I swear I’m going to gut Bishop from neck to nuts when I find him for this shit alone. That man will feel more pain than anyone has ever felt.”

  The power came back on and the lights on the bridge were blindingly bright. Roak covered his eyes with his hand as the view shield came back online. A GF warship was only half a kilometer in front of them with fore cannons glowing red hot.

  “Hessa!” Roak yelled.

  “I am here, Roak,” Hessa replied.

  “You will want to lean forward,” Pol instructed. “Perhaps put your head between your knees. That would be for the best.”

  “Do what? Why?” Roak asked as the GF warship was suddenly gone from view.

  Roak blinked a couple times and realized that the ship itself wasn’t gone, there was simply no view to see. Everything outside was pure black. Then the view shield was filled with light so brilliant that Roak thought his head would explode.

  That’s when Pol’s advice made sense. Roak’s stomach rebelled as the ship around him stopped being there. It was there, but wasn’t. Roak didn’t think about it too hard. He was busy vomiting all over the floor in front of him.

  41.

  The smell of his own sick was what brought Roak to. He blinked his eyes a few times and figured out he was lying on his back on the floor of the bridge.

  “Am I alive or in one of the Hells?” he croaked as he struggled up onto his elbows. His left arm gave out and he collapsed sideways before compensating with his right. “Hello?”

  Roak struggled into a sitting position, took a few deep breaths, wrinkled his nose at the stink of the bridge, then reached out and grabbed the back of the pilot’s seat. It took him a couple of tries, but he managed to finally get onto his feet. Roak leaned heavily on the back of the pilot’s seat and studied the view before him.

  “Hessa? Hey! Where are you?”

  “I am here, Roak,” Hessa responded. “I was busy going through a full ship’s diagnostics. Pol’s adjustments to the ship have done some damage to normal system functions. I am assessing the damage and plotting a repair plan.”

  “Okay. Great. Any chance part of the plotting includes getting some cleaning bots up on the bridge? I made a mess.”

  “I am aware of your mess, Roak. Much of it is on the control console which means I have had to shut down manual operations. I will fly the ship from here on out.”

  “Had enough of my chaos?” Roak asked and laughed. “So, the bots? They on the way?”

  “No, they are not,” Hessa replied. “I am using all of the ship’s bots to repair the damages done by Pol. You will have to clean up after yourself for a change.”

  “How is Pol? The old man still alive?”

  “He is, barely,” Hessa said. “The med pod will repair him, but he taxed his constitution by fighting the sedatives and making modifications to the ship. I do not expect him to wake up anytime soon. Certainly not before we reach our destination.”

  “Destination? Where are we headed? I didn’t plot a course.”

  “We are headed nowhere for now,” Hessa replied. “Not until repairs on the ship are done. For the moment, we are sitting in the Havlov System. The gas giants will mask our presence if either the GF or the Skrang come looking.”

  “You think they will? Did they see how…we… Hessa? How did we get away? I don’t remember us going through the portal. We didn’t, did we?”

  “No, we did not. Pol’s modifications worked and we transported directly from where we were and into trans-space. With a short detour through null space.”

  “Short detour through what? Null space doesn’t sound good.”

  “It is part of why I am having to perform such extensive repairs. No ships in the galaxy are designed to handle null space. It is theoretical and does not technically exist. We came very close to not existing as well, but the ship survived long enough for us to appear here in the Havlov System.”

  “How’d Pol know to send us here?”

  “I do not believe he did. I had already been thinking this system would be a good place to regroup before we moved on to Ligston.”

  “You were thinking of this system and we appeared here on our own? That’s…different. Can the ship do this all the time now?”

  “No. No, it cannot. That was a one-time occurrence and I would like to never do it again. We will use wormhole portals from now on. No exceptions.”

  “Not a fun ride?”

  “You have no idea what that experience did to my consciousness, Roak. I felt death.”

  Roak froze in place. “Death?”

  “Death, Roak. I do not recommend that state of being.”

  “Pretty sure I’ve been there a couple of times. Don’t remember much, though.”

  “I remember it all. All, Roak. All.”

  “All. Got it.”

  “All.”

  “Got it, Hessa. Let it go. Let’s talk about our destination once the ship is up for travel. I don’t think Ligston is a good idea. Too obvious now that Bishop is involved.”

  “I agree, but I received a back channel comm message from Commander Nimm on Ligston Station. She is aware of much of what is going on and has assured us that we will have safe port on her station.”

  “Not liking the sound of that.”

  “Nor am I.”

  “Ligston could be, and probably is, a trap.”

  “Agreed.”

  “Nimm might be compromised. I’ve made sure to do right by her, but all it takes is some GF pressure that she can’t get out from under and she’ll flip on us.”

  “I have already deduced that.”

  “Good for you.”

  “Do not need your attitu
de at the moment, Roak.”

  “Noted. Ignored. Which is what we should do with Nimm’s message. Ignore it and go somewhere else.”

  Hessa didn’t respond.

  “Hessa? You didn’t pipe up with an ‘agreed’ on that one.”

  “There might be a good reason to go to Ligston if it is not a trap.”

  “The maybe a trap part sort of negates any good reason.”

  Hessa didn’t respond again.

  “Eight Million Godsdammit, Hessa, just tell me what’s on your mind.”

  “Nimm mentioned there might be some trouble with Ally. She did not say Ally by name, but it was implied.”

  “Implied because…?”

  “Nimm said your bartender friend. I do not believe she was referring to the Groshnel.”

  “Nope. Can’t really call Z a friend. I don’t mind the guy, but he has a bug up his invertebrate butt when it comes to me.”

  “Then we should proceed to Ligston?”

  “Only if you promise to blow the station to shit if Nimm is double crossing us.”

  “After the few days I’ve had, blowing a station to shit would be satisfying.”

  “That’s more troubling than your declaration of having experienced death. But I’m glad you feel that way. Yes, we head to Ligston as soon as you have the ship ready to travel.”

  Roak stretched his good arm and avoided looking at the mess he’d made.

  “I am going to head to the med bay and check on Pol then crawl into a med pod myself and get all fixed up before we arrive at Ligston Station,” Roak said as he started walking to the bridge doors.

  They did not budge a centimeter when he stood before them. Roak slapped his palm against the controls, but the doors remained closed. Roak growled and shook his head.

  “Hessa? Let me out.”

  “You have a mess to clean first,” she responded in a tone that could be interpreted as nonnegotiable. “I will open the bridge doors, but only so you may access the maintenance cabinet next to the lift in order to retrieve cleaning supplies.”

  “Hessa, come on. I’ve been through all the Hells and need to get into a med pod.”

  “If your wounds were life threatening, I would have already placed you in a med pod. But they are not and I am dealing with more important tasks. Clean the bridge, Roak.”