by Jake Bible
Roak hopped the counter and slammed the heavy pot into the top of the man’s skull. The loud thud and crunch was followed by the syndicate man’s collapse then total stillness. Roak spun in a slow circle, the pot in one hand with the restraints jangling against it and the blaster in the other, the tip glowing red as Roak kept the trigger slightly depressed, ready for action.
But there was no action. The area had cleared out. No one was left in sight, the only evidence the passageway and small seating area around the noddle stand had even been occupied was the far-off echoes of boots retreating as far and fast as they could.
Roak tossed the pot aside and grabbed up a second blaster, tucking it into his belt, then grabbed a third, and sprinted towards the closest docking bay doors. He slammed an elbow against the door controls, his blasters covering both directions of the passageway. No one came at him as the doors slid open and he stepped into the docking bay.
He received a few confused looks from techs and pilots, some looking past him at the signs of chaos in the passageway, but no one even twitched a muscle to stop him. At least not until he ran towards the closest ship and attempted to gain access to the airlock.
“Hey!” a tech yelled. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
“Getting the hell off this station!” Roak replied and placed a bolt between the tech’s boots.
The tech looked down at the laser scoring in the metal between his feet then turned and ran. None of the techs in the docking bay got paid enough to risk their lives over a ship theft. The rest glanced at Roak, glanced at the fleeing tech, then all slowly began to slip out of the docking bay.
That left the pilots. There were three of them. None were armed with laser weapons. No blasters or carbines. But they did each hold various weapons that would seriously mess Roak up if they connected. A span-wrench. Some heavy chain. And a jug-hammer with one tine shorn off, the jagged metal stained with what Roak hoped was rust, but had a sinking feeling it was blood. He was in the Void House, after all. A pilot with a broken, bloody jug-hammer was entirely possible.
“Just going for a quick joyride, guys,” Roak said. He saw one of the pilots frown, a frill-necked Spilfleck, and he raised an eyebrow. “And gal. I don’t want any trouble.”
“You got some,” one of the pilots said, a human with only one eye and a scar that ran clear across his bald scalp and all the way down into his unbuttoned shirt, lost below his belt line.
“We can’t let you take that ship. That’s N’jeak’s ship. You take that under our watch and he’ll eat our livers,” the pilot snarled.
“N’jeak H’gool?” Roak asked. “Don’t worry about him. I know N’jeak. I’ll send him a holo once I’m off station. He’ll get his ship back in one piece.”
Roak didn’t really know N’jeak H’gool. Not personally. He did know him by reputation and that reputation was the Leforian mercenary pilot would probably rip out and eat the pilots’ livers when he found out what had happened to his ship. But the pilots didn’t know Roak was bluffing, and it afforded him just enough of a pause for the ship’s airlock door to open.
“Tell N’jeak that Bex Klo says hello and I’ll see him soon, will ya?” Roak said as he stepped onto the ship and slammed the butt of one of the blasters against the airlock controls.
The door slid closed and Roak locked it tight, setting it to emergency mode so that even N’jeak couldn’t open it from the outside without typing in the override protocol codes. That gave Roak about five minutes to fire up the engines and escape the docking bay.
He ran the length of the ship, a medium-small sized fighter designed for secure transport of VIPs and quick combat drops for small mercenary teams. It could house about six beings comfortably on short trips and maybe four beings during long haul, cross-galaxy missions. Roak didn’t know the exact model, since it was a generic design that most manufacturers produced, but he did know it would be fast and extremely maneuverable. Which was exactly what he needed.
He hit the cockpit in a dead run and threw the blasters aside as he jumped into the pilot’s seat. Half the systems were already powered up, indicative of the paranoia in N’jeak’s profession, and Roak smiled as he only had to perform a quick check before he brought the engines up to quarter-power and lifted off from the dock.
He spun the ship around and aimed the nose for the docking bay doors. Somebody had wised up finally and the bay doors were locked down with a second layer closing tight just as Roak moved forward.
Oh, well. The doors were designed to take a beating from the outside, not from the inside, so Roak clicked on the comm and opened a general channel.
“Docking tower, come in,” Roak called. “You have five seconds to open the doors or I start firing.”
He was answered with several shudders to the ship’s hull. Guards had finally shown up and decided they’d handle Roak’s escape with heavy rifles. Roak shook his head as he yanked the flight stick to the left, aiming the aft end of the ship right at the dock where the men and women were firing from. He couldn’t hear their screams as they were burnt to a crisp from the engine wash, but he knew it was happening.
Mr. Wrenn really needed to hire smarter people.
“Docking tower? Your call,” Roak said over the comm.
The docking bay doors slowly began to slide open. The normal yellow flashing lights were replaced by red flashing lights. The docking tower personnel were telling everyone and everything on the station to stay away from the docking bay that Roak was about to exit.
Once open, Roak hit the thrusters and the ship rocketed outside the station.
Directly into a barrage of laser fire from the station’s defensive turrets.
He dove fast.
The fighter was considerably more agile than Roak’s own ship and he was astonished at the response time. He made a mental note to upgrade his ship’s flight systems when he had a chance. Or, more to the point, when he had the chits.
The laser turrets tracked him and continued to fire, but Roak flew the ship tight into the station, hugging the Void House’s outer hull. The powerful bolts came close, but still missed the ship by several meters. The defensive systems couldn’t risk firing any closer without damaging the station itself.
While the strategy kept Roak from being blown to a million bits, it also kept him from escaping. Every time he thought he had a window of opportunity, a new volley of laser bolts would fill his view screen and he’d have to pull back closer to the station’s hull.
Not that that was easy to do. The station wasn’t a smooth ball. It was a mashed together conglomeration of smaller stations that over the years had become one large, single entity. That meant that there were levels jutting out here, sticking out there, and no easy way to keep tight with the station without risking being torn in half by a random tower or antenna array.
Roak had just dodged his third antenna array when he was faced with something far more dangerous than laser turrets. Four fighters came flying out from the shadowed curve of the station, all headed directly for him.
“Dammit,” Roak said as he powered up the weapons system. “Okay, N’jeak, this ship better pack the punch everyone says it does.”
Roak banked hard and headed straight for the oncoming fighters.
20.
With station fighters in the fray, the laser turrets shut down lest they take out a friendly or two. Roak immediately recognized that turn of events for the lucky break that it was. All he had to do was maintain that break long enough so he could spiral out and away from the laser turrets’ firing range. Keep one of the fighters between him and the station at all times, and he should be able to make a clean getaway.
The trick was not getting destroyed by the fighters in the meantime.
His comm crackled.
“Listen up, you son of a bitch,” a lisping voice growled. “Just because I’m Leforian doesn’t mean I’m going to roll over and let you rub my belly. I ain’t your lap dog and I sure as hell ain’t your mom.”
“N’jeak H’gool? Is this who I’m talking to?” Roak asked.
“You’re damn right it’s N’jeak H’gool!” N’jeak roared. “And I want my Eight Million Gods damn ship back! You put in at the next docking bay, hand it over without a fight, and I’ll only slice off one of your testicles!”
“Sorry, N’jeak,” Roak said. “I can’t do that. This isn’t anything personal so–”
“It sure as shit is personal!” N’jeak raged through the comm. “That is my ship! MY SHIP!”
“What I was going to say is that this isn’t personal, strictly business,” Roak responded.
He could hear N’jeak’s angry breathing in the comm and knew the man was on the edge of completely losing it. Roak had to be careful that he didn’t push him over or he’d lose his lucky break.
“And, with it being strictly business, I’m hoping we can come to an arrangement,” Roak continued. “Wrenn’s man owes me chits. A lot of chits. I’m going to collect them. I need your ship only for a short while so I can get away from here and find the ebony bastard.”
“Ebony bastard? Boss Teegg?” N’jeak asked. “You’re hunting that low life?”
“That’s who I’m hunting,” Roak said. “Once I find him, I’ll give you your ship back. Hell, I’ll give it back sooner, because there’s no way I can find the guy in your ship without being tagged by half the Galactic Fleet and pretty much all of the other syndicates. Everyone knows your ship. All I need to do is get someplace where I can switch this out, and I’ll flick on your transponder so you can locate it. You’re going to get your ship back.”
“Oh, yes, I am,” N’jeak said, but not in an agreeable way. “I’m going to fly this rusty hunk of crap they gave me right up your ass and take my ship back.”
“N’jeak, think it through,” Roak said. “If you and those three you have with you try to fight me, then your ship will be lost. You open fire and what do you have? Nothing. Or, maybe you don’t destroy it, but hurt it badly enough that it has to be in dry dock for months. Then you’ll be out of a ship. You really want to deal with a loaner in your line of work? I know I’m missing my ship.”
There was silence for a long while. Roak just kept the ship moving back and forth, in and out of the obstacles, and waited for a response.
“Yeah,” N’jeak finally said. “You’re missing your ship.”
“That’s right,” Roak said, not liking the tone of N’jeak’s voice. “I’m missing my ship. So I know how you feel. The second I find a replacement, I’ll send the signal and you can have your ship back. It’s either that or I fight my ass off and either kill you and the other pilots you suckered into this fight or you kill me and your ship in the process.”
“Go ahead,” N’jeak said. “Take my ship. I’ll get it back and you’ll get what’s coming to you.”
The comm went dead and Roak tried to get the signal back, but he was being jammed by the station. No surprise there. They didn’t want him trying to listen in as they planned their attack. Except there was no attack. The surprise came when the fighters broke off and stopped their pursuit. They were off the scanners in seconds, leaving Roak to his own devices.
“Huh,” Roak said. “That’s not good.”
He circled the station twice, and not only was there no sign of the fighters, but the laser turrets didn’t reengage. N’jeak had some pull if he kept Wrenn from trying to blast Roak to a billion pieces.
One more circuit around the station and Roak realized he couldn’t dawdle any longer. It was time to go find Boss Teegg and get his chits.
But first, he needed to ditch N’jeak’s ship and find a new one. One that was less conspicuous. Roak pointed the fighter in the direction of the closest wormhole portal. As he flew away from the station, he dumped all power not going to the engines into his aft shields. He didn’t think a rear attack was coming, but he hated to be wrong on that one.
Once out of range, he powered down the shields and prepped the fighter for trans-space. He had no idea where to start looking for Boss Teegg, but he did know where he might be able to ditch N’jeak’s ship and pick up another one with no questions asked. It wouldn’t be cheap, but it was the only option he had available to him where the risk wasn’t certain death.
Roak plugged in the calculations and waited in the short queue of ships that sat ready for their turn through the portal. Roak had all sensors dialed up to full strength, his eyes watching the scanners like a hawk. If they were going to make one last try at taking him, it would be while he was in the portal queue.
Then it was his turn, no ships came for him, and Roak was through the portal and locked into a trans-space trajectory for the next hour. He set the autopilot and stood up to find something to eat. He’d barely eaten any of the noodles back on the Void House since food hadn’t exactly been the first thing on his mind at that particular moment.
Two protein packs down and a bottle of what looked like home-brewed wubloov in hand, Roak sat back in the pilot’s seat and began to inspect the communications system. He needed to know how secure N’jeak had it dialed in. If Roak was going to find Boss Teegg, then he had a few calls to make to trusted sources spread out across the galaxy. Boss Teegg was not a being that could hide easily. If he was on a station or showed his face on a colony, then someone would know. Roak just had to figure out who that someone was.
Before Roak could place one comm call, he had to make sure the communication would be secure. He had a limited amount of time he could use N’jeak’s ship. As soon as he came out of trans-space, he would need to ditch the fighter and find alternative transportation. Easy enough, but trading out ships would be pointless if someone was able to hack the comm and find out where he was going once he had a new ship.
It took a lot longer than he liked, but in the end, he realized N’jeak had quite the setup. The comm system was not only state of the art, but it was tech that Roak didn’t even know was on the market. Not even the black market. Roak had to smile as he dug into his memory for comm signatures he knew he could trust.
“Bishop,” a drowsy voice answered over the comm as Roak placed his first call. “Better be good or I will find you.”
“Have you heard what happened to Roak?” Roak asked.
There was a loud of clearing of a throat and the voice on the other end of the comm responded, “No, haven’t heard at all. Fill me in.”
“Little bit of a dust-up on a planet called Ligston,” Roak said. “Ran into a minor crime lord that didn’t want to pay a bounty owed. Things may have gotten a bit hairy, but he escaped with all limbs and his skin intact.”
“Good to hear,” Bishop replied. “What’s he up to now?”
“Looking for that minor crime lord,” Roak said. “A guy named Boss Teegg. Ever heard of him?”
“Can’t say that I have,” Bishop said. “But let me make a couple of calls and I’ll get back to you. You know how to pass on the info to Roak?”
“I do,” Roak replied.
“Then give me a half an hour,” Bishop said.
“Sure thing,” Roak responded. “But not much more than that. I hear he’s looking for new wings, so it’ll soon be hard to get ahold of him with the comm channel I have.”
“Understood,” Bishop said. “Half an hour tops.”
The comm went dead and Roak dialed up the next comm signature. He went through basically the same conversation with the second, the third, and the fourth person he commed. It was the fifth person that gave him a little trouble.
“I hate you,” the voice replied. It was a woman’s voice. An angry woman’s voice. “You call me out of the blue after three years and want me to help you with a bounty?”
Roak sighed. He was glad the communications system was as secure as it was since the usual roundabout and semi-coded way of talking was obviously not going to
happen with call number five.
“Tala, I’m sorry,” Roak said. It pained him considerably to say those two words since he had vowed never to say them. “I am. But this isn’t about a bounty. It’s about finding what I’m owed so I can keep on living.”
“Somehow you think I want you to do that?” Tala Berene replied. “How long were we married?”
“Four years,” Roak said. “Best four years of my–”
“Suck it, Roak,” Tala snapped. “Do you have any idea what your leaving me did to my family’s reputation?”
“I do,” Roak said. “But I warned you that–”
“I said to suck it!” Tala shouted. “You married me because I am part of the Cervile royal class. All you wanted were those connections so your job would be easier when hunting those that are usually able to hide because of their social and financial status.”
“Now, hold on!” Roak shouted back. “I married you because I loved–”
“Suck! It!” Tala roared. “I don’t care how much trouble you are in or how many chits you are trying to get back or whether or not you actually believe the terpigshit coming out of your mouth! I! Do! Not! Care! You said you wouldn’t ever try to contact me and I took you for your word on that! Stupid me! I should have known you were lying!”
The comm went dead and Roak sat there for a long while before he tapped at his ear for his sixth call.
“Boss Teegg,” he said tersely when the signature answered.
“Greetings, Roak,” a female voice said. “It has been a very long time since you have called for my services. I must assume by your use of the name Boss Teegg that you are trying to locate that individual’s whereabouts. Is my assumption correct, Roak?”
“Assumption correct,” Roak said. “Do you have a location on him?”
“I am processing the data that is available to me,” the voice replied. “Hmmmm. It seems he is in hiding. There are several layers of subterfuge being used by him and his employees to avoid detection at all costs. May I ask what he has done to warrant such measures?”
