by Jake Bible
“Come on, scum,” the trooper snapped as he motioned for one of the others to take Roak.
Roak didn’t resist. He didn’t slow his walk; he didn’t put up a struggle or make anything even slightly inconvenient for the troopers. He wanted off the station and on his way as soon as possible.
The troopers marched him onto the personnel carrier then tossed him onto a bench bolted right there in the cargo area. They weren’t even going to put him in a holding cell or up on the next level where the troopers usually rode during missions. He was cargo, that was all.
As the hatch closed, Roak also realized that he was where he was so the transfer to the syndicate’s people could be fast and efficient. No extra levels to walk. Also, as little contact with the syndicate goons as was needed. The GF troopers may have been paid off, but that didn’t mean everyone were chums and hail goodfellas.
His feet were shackled to the bench supports, but Roak wasn’t worried. They were cheap shackles, easy to pick. Pop open the side panel on one, interrupt the clamp signal, and they fell off like a Hebrt tick bloated on Maglor blood.
Two troopers left, taking their helmets off as they stepped onto the lift that shot them up and out of the cargo hold. The two that stayed kept their helmets on, their mirrored visors focused on Roak. He nodded to them then leaned his head back and closed his eyes. Might as well get some rest.
His internal clock said he’d been asleep for thirty minutes when his eyes shot open. The two troopers were all the way at the end of the cargo hold and had their helmets off. Roak could see they were both women, one a human and one a Halgon. Halgons were like poison dart frogs that mated with some being made of elastic. The woman’s neck was thin and springy, looking like it’d topple over from the weight of the head that held wide, bulging eyes.
The two troopers took zero notice of Roak as he stirred and shifted his position. They were in the middle of some intense conversation, each looking like they wanted to open the rear hatch and just float off into space. Roak’s gut said they weren’t as comfortable with their side job as the others. He guessed they hadn’t been paid as well, either.
Roak wondered if this was his chance to get free of his restraints and possibly commandeer the ship. Or should he wait for the transfer and take out the syndicate goons. Odds were that the syndicate would only send a couple of their enforcers to handle him. Over confidence was a serious fatal flaw when it came to the galactic underworld. Egos too big for the tiny brains that tried to govern them. No one wanted to look weak or overcautious. Strength in stupidity was the unspoken rule of thumb.
With some exceptions, of course.
Roak hoped those exceptions wouldn’t be on the ship that came to take him off the personnel carrier. He was banking on a couple of slack-jawed muscle heads.
One of the troopers glanced his way and instantly shushed her comrade.
“You looking at something?” the Halgon hissed. “I can close those eyes the hard way for ya, if you’d like.”
“Just wondering if I could use the head,” Roak said. “Need to piss.”
“No,” the Halgon replied. “Go in your pants.”
“You want me stinking like piss the rest of the trip?” Roak asked. “This cargo hold isn’t big enough for that. Trust me.”
The human sighed. “Let him take a piss.”
“Fine,” the Halgon said. “I’ll fetch him a sanitation unit.”
Roak shuddered. Sanitation units were unisex and fit over the crotch area. Basically, they were piss vacuums. They looked like they should be fun, but they weren’t.
The Halgon stomped her way to a panel in the cargo hold wall, opened it, withdrew the funnel-shaped, flexible sanitation unit, stomped over to Roak, and tossed the unit at him.
“You can do it yourself,” she said.
“With my hands behind my back?” Roak asked.
“See?” the Halgon said to her comrade. “He doesn’t need to piss. He just wants us to loosen his restraints and move his hands to the front. Guess what happens when we do that?”
“I wasn’t planning on doing anything except pee,” Roak said.
“Here,” the human said as she walked over to where she’d set her rifle. She shouldered it, powered up a round, and aimed the weapon right at Roak’s head. “He twitches and I scalp him.”
“You better,” the Halgon said.
Roak leaned forward so the woman could reach his restraints. He stayed stock still. He really did need to pee and had no intention of trying to make a break for it. Not that he wasn’t going to use his bodily needs to his advantage.
The Halgon released the restraints, then shoved a forearm against Roak’s throat and pushed him back against the wall. Roak smiled at her as he eased his hands out from behind his back and set them in his lap. Using only one hand, the Halgon secured one of Roak’s wrists then the other. She gave his neck a hard shove then backed away quickly.
“Thanks,” Roak said as he undid his pants and slid the sanitation unit in place. It immediately came to life and he winced as it drew the urine out of him. Not quite painful, but not quite not painful. At least Roak’s bladder was empty. “Ahhhhh. Done.”
He powered down the unit and held it out. The Halgon hissed then came forward and took it from him. Roak smiled the entire time.
He had an empty bladder and he got a chance to assess the strength of the restraints. When the Halgon had secured his right wrist, he was certain he felt a looseness in the clamp. It closed, but Roak had a solid feeling that if he let his hand go slack and pulled slowly, he’d be able to squeeze his hand out. It would be all over from there.
He was going to have to do something very nice for Nimm. Chits just weren’t going to be enough. He would certainly have to make good on trying to get her a new appointment as commander of a much better station. He didn’t know a lot of people with that kind of pull, but he knew enough. He’d make the call. First, he had to live and find Boss Teegg.
A proximity alert rang out and the two troopers grabbed up their helmets and put them on fast.
“Prepare for transfer tether,” a voice called over a loudspeaker. “Decompression protocol in place.”
“Decompression?” Roak cried. “Hey! Whoa! You want to hand me a spare suit? Anyone?”
Neither of the troopers responded as the cargo hold was bathed in flashing yellow light. Roak’s leg restraints unlocked automatically and slid into their storage compartments under the bench.
17.
Roak continued to shout at the two Galactic Fleet troopers as warning klaxons blared in the cargo hold, punctuating the danger that the flashing yellow lights foretold.
“Get me a damn suit!” Roak yelled. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
The back hatch began to unlock and lower. Roak was immediately yanked from the bench and pulled towards the hatch, the vacuum of space a force that could not be fought. He glanced at the troopers and saw that they had strapped themselves to the wall. Neither of them even twitched to try to help Roak.
“Assholes!” he yelled as he slid down the middle of the cargo hold, right at the lowering hatch.
Then he was out. Ejected from the back of the personnel carrier like a bag of trash. The freezing cold hit him and he was pissed that the last feeling of his life would be his balls turning to ice. It was not how he expected his end to be. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. There’d been times he thought he’d be thrown out the back of a ship, but not by GF troopers. Punk ass bitches.
Then the frigid darkness of space was gone, replaced by the intense heat and claustrophobic grip of a tether tube. Roak started laughing immediately. He had been so exhausted from the past few days that he never put all the pieces together.
Of course he was going to be thrown out the back. That way the logs could show an airlock malfunction instead of an unscheduled docking with a non-GF ship. If the syndicate ship and the GF ship had connected then a trans-space signal would have been logged with Galactic Fleet command and there woul
d have been questions.
Tossing Roak out the back avoided those questions.
He took a deep breath and let the tube transport him down into the belly of the syndicate ship. Might as well enjoy the ride before the rough stuff kicked in.
He was spat out into another cargo hold, one almost identical to the last. A small hatch shut as he rolled across the floor of the hold, coming to rest against a stack of crates marked “Restricted Material.” Roak waited for syndicate goons to come down on him, but after a couple of unmolested seconds, he figured he was on his own for the time being.
Roak quickly got up and assessed his situation.
Cargo hold. Similar, but not the same as the GF one. He studied the gear that was strapped to the walls, studied the crates stacked next to him, studied the symbols and the signs posted everywhere.
Mlo smugglers.
Crazy bastards that based their operations in the Mlo System. A system that had one nasty son of a bitch of a black hole at the center. It took guts to base there since a single navigational miscalculation meant complete annihilation. It was also a great place to hide a few trillion credits worth of stolen goods and illegal contraband since a single navigational miscalculation meant complete annihilation. The authorities avoided the Mlo System at all costs.
The one problem for Roak was that he’d never gotten along with Mlo folks. They were a ragtag bunch of animals, as far as he was concerned. They hit their targets hard, left nothing but destruction and chaos behind, and didn’t care about the consequences. No finesse, barely any research before a job, and absolutely no loyalty to those they worked with.
Get the goods, smuggle the goods, get paid for the goods. That was how they worked and all they cared about.
Roak was about to relax his hand free of his restraints when a hatch opened in the far wall and a massive halfer walked through.
“Roak,” the halfer said. “Today just isn’t your lucky day.”
The halfer was a mixed race gentleman, half-Gwreq and half-Urvein, making the man close to eight feet tall and built stronger than the ship they were both riding in.
“Jdorp,” Roak said. “Long time, no see.”
“What did I tell you I was going to do to you the next time I saw you?” Jdorp asked.
He was a strange one to look at. His skin was dark grey granite, but covered in obsidian black fur. He was nothing but solid muscle except for a huge pudge in the gut like all Urveins had. Roak struggled not to smirk.
“You told me you’d rip my arms out of their sockets with your bare hands?” Roak said. “Or was that bear hands?”
“Funny,” Jdorp said. “Good thing for you I’m being paid way too much to deliver you in one piece to bother ripping you apart. Otherwise…”
He spread his arms out and made a loud popping noise.
“Yeah, I get it,” Roak said. “How much are you getting paid, by the way?”
“You think you can better the price?” Jdorp asked.
“I might,” Roak said. “I keep some chits stocked away for just these kinds of situations.”
“You got those chits on you?” Jdorp asked.
“Well, no, they’re back on my ship,” Roak said.
“Then it doesn’t matter how much I’m getting paid,” Jdorp said. “I could say zero and you still wouldn’t be able to beat it.”
“Jdorp, come on, you know I’m good for my debts,” Roak said.
“That is true,” Jdorp responded. “Sometimes you’re slow on payments, but I’ve never heard from anyone that you don’t pay up eventually. Problem is, I don’t want eventually, Roak. I want chits in hand. Now.” He held out a stony paw. “Do you have chits to put in my hand right now?”
“No, I do not have chits to put in your hand right now,” Roak replied in a mocking voice.
“No, you do not,” Jdorp said. “That means you are going to follow me and we’re going to get on the lift. You aren’t going to try to fight, you aren’t going to try to escape, you aren’t going to try anything. What you are going to do is sit your ass down in the jump seat up on the bridge. You’re going to keep your mouth shut and be a good little bounty hunter for the remainder of our trip.”
“Where are we going?” Roak asked.
“What did I say about keeping your mouth shut?” Jdorp asked.
“We aren’t in the cockpit yet and I’m not sitting in a jump seat,” Roak said. “Indulge my one question and I’ll close my mouth from here on out.”
“I somehow doubt that,” Jdorp said. “You know, I hear from others that you have a reputation for being the stoic, silent type. Yet every time we meet, you needle and needle at me. It’s like your mouth spits Ghoulariam gnats, but they’re words and not biting insects. Why is that?”
Roak narrowed his eyes. “You know what? If I’m to be completely honest, I have no idea. I usually do keep my mouth shut, but there is something about you, Jdorp, that makes me want to just nag at you until you snap.”
“Well, don’t,” Jdorp said. “Keep that shit stowed. Understood? You stay quiet or I snap you and say to hell with the chits.”
“Can you answer me the one question?” Roak asked. “Where are we going?”
Jdorp sighed. “I’m only answering because I know you won’t quit asking until I do. We’re going to Gaan Shan Station.”
“The Void House?” Roak responded, beyond surprised. “Why are we going there?”
“Because that’s where my client is,” Jdorp said. “I don’t know what you did, but you pissed off the wrong people.”
“Boss Teegg was working for the Shilo Syndicate? Since when?” Roak asked.
Jdorp wagged a finger in Roak’s face. “No more questions. I answered the one. Now shut your flesh trap or I staple your lips together.”
Roak nodded, closing his mouth with a snap of his jaw. He’d seen Jdorp staple several mouths shut before, so he knew it was not an idle threat.
During the ride in the lift and the walk to the bridge, Roak couldn’t help but try to figure out how Boss Teegg had gotten mixed up with the Shilo Syndicate. They were considered the most ruthless, corrupt, violent, and downright nasty of the crime outfits in the galaxy. Half the other syndicates refused to do business with them because of some of the more deplorable ways they made their chits.
Many of those that worked in the underworld assumed that the horrors the Shilo Syndicate perpetrated were simply rumors designed to intimidate their rivals. Roak had watched too many of those horrors firsthand to deceive himself that way. If Boss Teegg was in bed with the Shilo Syndicate, then there was a lot more going on than Roak had even suspected.
Not that he really had suspected anything. He’d pretty much been focused on getting his chits and getting to the next job. With Shilo involved, and his ass on the way to the Void House, getting his chits just got even more complicated. Roak couldn’t wait to see what else was going to be thrown at him. At that point, he would only be surprised by all out galactic war.
He was shoved into the jump seat that sat in the back corner of the bridge.
“Coordinates locked and ready for trans-space,” the navigator said from his station once Jdorp was seated in his captain’s chair. “Estimated travel time is three hours and six minutes.”
“Faster than usual,” Jdorp said. “Why?”
“Nebula storm near the wormhole portal,” the navigator said. “It’s funneling energy into the trans-space rift. I’ve calculated for it and it’ll boost our drive efficiency by eighteen percent.”
“That’s why I pay you the big chits,” Jdorp said. “Two percent bonus when we drop this sack of crap off and get paid.”
“Thank you, sir,” the navigator said.
“I see you have a new crew,” Roak said.
“Roak,” Jdorp grumbled.
“Sorry,” Roak said.
They sat there in silence as the navigator engaged the engines and sent them towards the closest trans-space wormhole portal. It was a rare ship that could punch straight int
o the space between space, so all ships used already-built wormhole portals, even smuggler ships like Jdorp’s.
The flight was quick and they were in the wormhole queue within the half hour. Two ships waited ahead of them, one towing the other. Roak tried not to frown as he recognized the ship being towed. Didn’t matter. Jdorp spotted it and leaned forward in his chair.
“Roak? Is that your ship?” Jdorp asked.
Roak only raised an eyebrow in response. Jdorp sighed.
“You can speak,” Jdorp said.
“Thanks,” Roak replied. “Yeah, I think that is my ship. Isn’t that something.”
“Why is it being towed by a salvage wrecker?” Jdorp said.
“Probably because no one thinks I’m going to be living for much longer,” Roak said.
“You got those chits you wanted to pay me on board that ship?” Jdorp asked.
“Maybe,” Roak said.
“Maybe? How about I put it this way, Roak?” Jdorp said. “If we were to stop that wrecker and board your ship, would it be worth me jeopardizing the job I’m already being paid for?” He spread his arms and made that popping noise again. “Think carefully before you answer.”
Roak did think carefully. Unfortunately, none of the scenarios he came up with resulted in him keeping his arms. Even if he did manage to get free of Jdorp, the ship wasn’t functional. Keeping the goodbye protocol in place was still the right call.
“No,” Roak said. “You’d end up losing chits and have the Shilo bunch on your ass.”
Jdorp looked genuinely surprised. He pointed a hairy stone finger at Roak.
“You just earned some brownie points,” Jdorp said. “If you do live through all this, then let’s call us even.”
“Really?” Roak responded.
“Really,” Jdorp said. “You could have set me up. You didn’t. I appreciate that.”
“You are one weird halfer, Jdorp,” Roak said.
Jdorp bristled at being called a halfer. It wasn’t exactly a polite term. More a slur than a generic label. Roak couldn’t help himself.
“This is why everyone hates you,” Jdorp said.
