by Jake Bible
“Yet they still hire me,” Roak replied.
“Talking privileges revoked,” Jdorp said. “Shut it the rest of the trip.”
Roak nodded and eased back into the jump seat as the wrecker and his ship disappeared into the portal. They were up next and the navigator engaged the thrusters, aiming right for the swirling center of the wormhole.
In a blink, they went from being in physical space to being in theoretical space. Traveling trans-space always gave Roak the willies, but unless he wanted to spend decades moving about the galaxy the hard way, then using bends in time/space was just something he had to deal with.
Roak closed his eyes and relaxed his body. Always sleep when you can. Always.
18.
A rough slap to his cheek brought him about, and Roak almost slid his hand free to defend against another, but conscious realization came back to him and he held himself in check.
“Rise and shine, Roak,” Jdorp said. “Time to go.”
“We’re at the Void House already?” Roak asked, yawning as he stretched his restrained hands up over his head.
“Almost,” Jdorp said. “Vil is taking us into the docking bay right now.”
“Vil?” Roak asked.
“My navigator,” Jdorp said. “Pay attention.”
“I fell asleep before you said his name,” Roak replied. “Next time do some proper introductions.”
“I like how you optimistically think there will be a next time,” Jdorp laughed.
Roak shrugged.
Vil, the navigator, docked the ship and stood up as he handed controls over to the Gaan Shan Station’s security protocol AI.
There were two other crewmembers on the bridge, and Roak studied them as he stood up and got the blood flowing to his legs.
One looked like an average human except for the tail that curled out from behind him as he walked past Roak. He didn’t even so much as glance in Roak’s direction.
The other was a female Leforian, a race of armored bug hounds, and she did glance at Roak. She looked him up and down and clicked her mandibles together in disapproval.
“He does not appear to be any kind of threat,” she said to Jdorp. “Big, yes, but I have seen much bigger. I am much bigger. How does he do his job if no one fears him?”
“They don’t need to fear me,” Roak said. “They don’t need to do anything. Being good at my job has absolutely nothing to do with who I’m hunting.”
“That must be why you are here with us and not free with a ship full of chits,” the Leforian said then left the bridge.
“She has a point,” Jdorp said as he gave Roak a small shove. “Let’s go.”
They took the lift down to the main airlock where Jdorp’s crew was already disembarking. Outside on the dock were five men of various races, all jacked up on stim chemicals and muscle enhancers by the look of them. Roak was flattered they’d sent five. At least until he saw that two of them were holding heavy cases and not looking at him whatsoever.
“That’s a lot of chits,” Roak said.
“No one thought you’d come along so easily,” Jdorp said quietly as they stepped off the ship. “How about you let them think you put up a huge fight, okay?”
“You’ll owe me,” Roak said.
Jdorp started to respond with a sarcastic quip, but he stopped and shook his head.
“Fine, I owe you,” Jdorp said. “I think being in debt to a dead man is something I can take on.”
“Better be,” Roak said.
The two men handed Jdorp the cases without saying a word. He was silent as well as he set the cases down and proceeded to open them.
“Do that on your ship,” one of the men snarled.
“I’ll do it right here,” Jdorp said. “That way you can’t accuse me of making a switch if the count is off.”
“The docks are not where you count chits,” the man responded.
“Then don’t pay people on the docks,” Jdorp said.
The two men that handed Jdorp the cases began to move on him, but they found themselves facing the business end of a scatter blaster.
“Nice trick,” Roak said. He chuckled and shook his head at the five men. “You guys even see where he was hiding that? Impressive.”
One case popped open and Jdorp smiled at the chits inside. He bobbed his head up and down then closed the case.
“That one is right,” Jdorp said.
He opened the second case and bobbed his head the same way as before. His brow knitted together and the bobbing stopped.
“Three thousand chits short,” Jdorp said. “Which one of you wants to call your boss and have him send those missing chits down?”
The five men stood stock-still.
“I can call him myself,” Jdorp said.
One of the men growled and reached into his jacket. Jdorp tensed, but then smiled when the man withdrew a stack of three thousand chits.
“Huh, must have fallen out of the case,” Jdorp said. “So pleased you picked them up for me. I’ll just keep this incident between us. How’s that sound?”
None of the men responded.
Jdorp walked the cases onto his ship then came back out, shut and locked the airlock, and clapped his beefy hands together.
“Roak, good seeing you,” he said. “I hope your death is as painless as possible.”
“That’s a nice thing to say, Jdorp,” Roak replied. “Take care.”
The halfer nodded to the syndicate men then was gone down the dock and into the closest lift, leaving Roak alone with some very unfriendly faces. They stood there for a long while.
“Uh, are you going to take me to your boss?” Roak asked.
One of the men held up a finger then pointed at his ear.
“Waiting for the order to come through,” Roak responded. “Got it.”
Roak took the time to glance around the docking bay. Besides Jdorp’s ship, there were six others, all close to the same size. None of them would work for Roak’s purposes. He needed a ship that was small, fast, and could get away from the station before they could launch security ships after his ass. The ships he saw were too big and clunky. Smugglers’ ships, not fighters.
“Move,” one of the syndicate men said as he pointed a hoofed hand at Roak. “Now.”
Roak had no clue what race the man was. He wasn’t entirely certain it was a man. But the guy had hooves for hands and a squat, pinched face that looked like someone had sliced the head off a terpig and glued it to the guy’s neck then smashed him in the face over and over until they got the ugly just right.
“Who goes first?” Roak asked.
“Move!” the man shouted.
Roak moved. He turned and marched to the closest lift. The door slide open and he was shoved inside, wedged against the back as the four men pushed in after him. One of the others tapped in a code and the lift began to move. Surprisingly, it went down instead of up. Roak didn’t have a good feeling about that direction.
The second the lift stopped moving, the doors slid open, and four more syndicate men aimed some serious firepower in at Roak and his escorts. Once they saw Roak hadn’t pulled anything, they eased back and let the group step out of the lift.
“I’m flattered,” Roak said. “All those rifles just because of me?”
“Your reputation proceeds you, Mr. Roak,” a voice said.
Roak stepped out into a dizzying space. Other than a thin catwalk that ringed the space, there was only clear plastiglass. An upside-down observatory dome. Vertigo hit Roak hard and he stumbled into one of his escorts. He received a cuff to the ear for his imbalance.
“Yes, it can be hard to get used to,” the voice said and Roak struggled to find the source.
Finally, a few meters along the catwalk, Roak could make out an average-looking man in every way. Average height, average weight, average physical fitness, average looks. Just average. If Roak had taken a job to hunt the man, it would have been one of the more difficult jobs of his career. The average could hide s
o easily in plain sight. It was frustrating.
“It’s just Roak,” Roak said as he was led closer to the man.
“Just Roak, of course,” the man said. “And I’m Mr. Wrenn. Would you care for a drink?”
Roak lifted his restrained hands and frowned. “Not right now, thank you.”
“Oh, well,” Mr. Wrenn said. “I’d offer to remove the restraints, but as I said, your reputation proceeds you.”
Roak didn’t reply, just kept his frown aimed at the average man.
“You’re wondering why I had you brought to me,” Mr. Wrenn stated.
“You must have a deal to propose,” Roak replied.
“Of sorts,” Mr. Wrenn said. “Boss Teegg owed you a good amount of chits for the job of retrieving Bicun Maz for us. Regardless of the technicalities of the completion of that job, Boss Teegg did not pay you what you believe you are owed. Personally, I despise bounty hunters. I prefer to keep the work in-house, but, again, your reputation proceeds you. It is well-earned, I might add, considering the damage you left behind on Ligston. Not to mention that daring escape of yours. Too bad it is so easy to buy certain individuals across this galaxy. You may have made a clean escape if it wasn’t for Commander Nimm.”
Roak shrugged.
“Here is the problem I am faced with,” Mr. Wrenn said. “Boss Teegg, well, he had the chits he was supposed to pay you. He had all of them in his possession. As far as I know, he still has them in his possession. I need you to find him and bring me those chits. It is a good sum and not one I plan on marking down in the loss column this year.”
“Don’t see how I can help you with that,” Roak said. “I find Boss Teegg with those chits and I’ll take the chits. They are my chits. I’m owed them.”
“You’re splitting hairs,” Mr. Wrenn said. “I think those chits are far beyond your reach. At least, from where you’re standing now they are.”
Roak’s eyebrows knitted together. He cocked his head and studied Mr. Wrenn for a minute. Then he laughed.
“You want me to hunt Boss Teegg for you for free?” Roak chuckled. “No bounty? Just out of the kindness of my own heart?”
“Of course not,” Mr. Wrenn replied, unperturbed by Roak’s laughing. “You’ll be doing it so I don’t kill you. Your bounty is you get to keep your life.”
“Oh, I see,” Roak said. “In that case, no thank you.”
“I’m sorry? What was that?” Mr. Wrenn asked, obviously surprised by the answer. “Did you say no thank you?”
“Yeah,” Roak replied.
“I’m confused,” Mr. Wrenn said. “Do you want to die? Is this some sort of suicide wish?”
“No, not at all,” Roak said. “It’s just that I’m a professional. I’m not licensed with any galactic authority, and there’re very good reasons for that, but I am still a professional. I do jobs that others either can’t or won’t. Now, how would it look if I caved in to you and took a job only because my life is threatened?”
“It would look smart,” Mr. Wrenn said. “You’d get to live.”
“Then do what?” Roak asked. “Wait for the next syndicate thug to try to extort a job out of me? If I give in to you now, then that reputation of mine that proceeded me will be worth nothing. I’ll end up with a blaster to my head at every meeting I take.”
“I see your point on that,” Mr. Wrenn said. “But, I’m afraid you are not seeing mine. If you do not take this job, then you will be dead. Your reputation will become your epitaph.”
“But I’ll still have my professional integrity,” Roak said.
“No, you will not!” Mr. Wrenn shouted. “You will be dead! You’ll have nothing!”
Roak shrugged. “I’ll take my chances.”
“You’ll take your chances?” Mr. Wrenn roared. “You’ll take your chances? What does that mean? YOU WILL BE DEAD!”
“Probably not,” Roak said. “But I do appreciate you looking out for my wellbeing. Is there anything else?”
“Is there anything else?” Mr. Wrenn parroted. He took several deep breaths and seemed to swallow hard in between each one. His chest and throat worked overtime before he could speak again. “I’m going to give you some time to think about this.”
Roak started to protest, but Mr. Wrenn held up a hand.
“You can get a bite to eat and rest,” Mr. Wrenn said. “Perhaps after that you will have a clearer mind.”
“If you think so,” Roak said.
“I do,” Mr. Wrenn said. He waved at Roak’s escorts. “Take him back up to the docking bays. Get him something to eat at that noodle stand by Bay Thirty-Four. Great noodles. When he’s finished, call me. I’ll ask him again. If he says no, then you can throw him out one of the airlocks up there.”
The men nodded and all converged on Roak.
“All of this?” Roak said, pointing to the open view of the dome below them. “Too much. Dial it back some or people are gonna throw up. It’s just too much.”
“Thank you for your input, Roak,” Mr. Wrenn said. Then he turned and the meeting was done.
19.
Roak’s escorts led him to the lift and back up to the docking bay levels. When they stepped off the lift, Roak had to suppress a smile. Through one of the observation windows in the passageway, he could easily see several ships that suited his needs perfectly.
He was prodded in the back and forced to turn away from the window.
“Noodles,” hoof guy said. “On Mr. Wrenn. Order what you want. Eat slow unless you want to die fast.”
“Eat slow so I don’t die fast,” Roak said. “Got it.”
They marched him over to the noodle stand and he stood in line, waiting his turn to order. Not a single customer even glanced at Roak’s restraints or raised an eyebrow at the muscle guarding him. It was the Void House. A guy with restraints on his wrists while standing in line to order noodles was far from the worst thing to see on the station.
He placed his order, received his noodles, bobbled them a bit as he tried not to drop them while his hands were restrained, then found a seat at a table that opened up a couple meters away. None of his escorts sat with them.
Roak made sure to grab a seat so he faced the observation windows looking in on the closest docking bay. Sleek fighters and cruisers came and went as he took his leisurely time eating. There were at least five ships he could choose from, but he wanted to make sure the one he picked wasn’t going to sputter and die before he got half a click from the station. Odds were that at least two of the five ships were in the docking bay for repairs.
“Eat,” one of the men snarled as he leaned close to Roak’s ear.
“Bug me again and I’ll stab you through the eye,” Roak said.
“Try me, scum,” the man replied.
“It’s your eye,” Roak said. “You can lose it however you want.”
He stood up and had blasters in his face instantly.
“Really?” he asked as he held up his hands. “Just throwing away my trash then I’m going to give you guys my decision.”
“Give it now,” hoof man said.
“Nope,” Roak replied. “If I give it now and you guys kill me, then my noodle bowl will sit here for hours and people will think I littered. I can’t have that.”
He grabbed up his empty noodle bowl, slowly, and walked it over to the incinerator can next to the noodle stand. He dropped it in there and smiled at the flash of light the incinerator produced. Not because he cared about cleaning up after himself, but because the incinerator not only destroyed the bowl, but also one chopstick.
The second chopstick he held in his free right hand.
The syndicate men stared at him for a moment before they realized what they were looking it. It was a moment too late.
“Surprise,” Roak said as he jammed the chopstick through the neck of the closest man.
The guy gagged and choked, blood spurting from the wound while simultaneously filling his throat. He let go of his blaster so he could clamp both hands on the wound, his
eyes wide with panic, and an inability to understand what was happening to him.
Roak bent low and caught the blaster as it was halfway through its fall to the floor. He fired off two shots before he straightened up and one of the syndicate men cried out, half his face fried off right there in front of the noodle stand.
People began to scream and shout. They ran, dodging in serpentine fashion down the passageway, hoping they could avoid the blaster bolts that they thought might be coming for them. Roak ignored the panicked idiots and focused on the last two syndicate men.
One had his blaster aimed for Roak’s head while the other was frozen in a loop of indecision, his head whipping back and forth between the dead man with half a face and the dying man coated in blood. Roak took him out with two well-placed shots to the chest then dove to avoid the barrage of bolts that came shooting towards him.
The noodle stand was close enough that Roak could tuck and roll behind it, using its bulk as cover. The noodle stand owner, or possibly just the day shift worker, let out a bloodcurdling screech as his body was wracked with blaster bolts. Roak didn’t bother to look up; he knew the guy was a goner. Not that it mattered much to Roak if the noodle man lived or died; he just knew the man’s death would be pinned on him.
His shoulder hit the corner of the noodle stand and a splash of hot liquid dropped onto the back of his neck. Roak struggled not to cry out from the scalding burn, but the opportunity the liquid presented was too much to care about his already-blistering skin.
Roak fired a couple of bolts around the noodle stand. They were blind shots and not meant to hit anything, except Roak did hear a woman scream after the second bolt. He must have caught one of the station’s fleeing passengers. He didn’t care. What he cared about was using the distraction to reach up and grab the red-hot handle of one of the noodle sauces that sat on the induction grill.
Two more blind shots and Roak was up, flinging the boiling sauce out the front of the noodle stand. It was the perfect move. The last syndicate man had crept closer and was aiming directly into the stand, ready to lean over the counter and put some bolts in Roak. Instead, he caught a face-full of steaming broth and station-grown mushrooms. The man shrieked as the liquid hit his eyes and they both burst open from the extreme temperature.
