by Jake Bible
“Turns out the kid is quite the hunter now,” Bishop said. There was a pause. “Hey…you kill Gaibah?”
“What do you think, Bishop?”
“That’s not an answer.”
“No. No need. It was a setup.”
“That’s what I figured,” Bishop said. “You know why you were set up yet?”
“Not yet, but I have a feeling I’m going to find out,” Roak replied.
“Hence the friendly call. What do you need?”
“I’m being summoned to Jafla Base.”
“The Orb fights? Why?”
“Has something to do with a bounty Gaibah was trying to get me to go in on,” Roak said. “Some dead fighter that may or may not still be dead.”
“This the Jonny Nebula legend?” Bishop asked and laughed. “People have been saying he’s alive for years. It’s like that actor that first played Galactic Steve. People see him on stations and on resort planets all the time, but no one catches any vid or has proof. Stories. Stupid stories.”
“Could be,” Roak said. “But I’m somehow wrapped up in it all. Can you make some calls for me?”
“And ask…?”
“If I’m walking into a trap.”
“You know you are.”
“True, but what kind of trap and why?”
“Alright. I’ll see what I can find out. Comm you in a few hours.”
“Thanks.”
The comm went dead and Roak steeled himself for the next call.
“Hello, Roak,” an AI voice answered.
“Best if you don’t use my name,” Roak replied tersely.
“No one can listen in on my comm.”
“You sure about that?” Roak asked. “Big risk.”
“What do you need, Roak?” the AI voice asked.
“I’m being summoned to Jafla Base. Why?” Roak snapped.
“Is there a reason you are so rude to me, Roak?” the AI voice asked.
“You know why,” Roak said. “Why am I being summoned to Jafla base?”
“For a job,” the AI voice replied.
“Not a trap?”
“Yes, it is a trap, but you have already sprung said trap. You did not know this?” the AI voice said.
“I haven’t sprung shit,” Roak replied.
“Gaibah Huup,” the AI said. “That is the trap. You are in it, Roak. Going to Jafla Base might allow you to slip free if you play their game.”
“Whose game? How do you know this so fast?” Roak asked.
“It is what I do, Roak. It is why you call me when you need me. It is why I answer despite your attitude. I know things.”
“You think I can get out of the trap if I go to Jafla Base?”
“I think that the only way you can even think of getting out of the trap is to go to Jafla Base. If you go to ground, you will burn those that trust you. Possibly me included. Only way out is through at this point.”
“Can you get me more specifics?”
“I can try. May I call you back at this comm signature?”
“Yes.”
“Give me a couple of hours. I will have to use some channels that do not process as fast as I do. They are woefully slow, but reliable and accurate.”
“I’ll be here,” Roak said.
“I look forward to the resolution.”
The comm went dead.
“I don’t like it,” Hessa said.
“Neither do I,” Roak replied.
“Who else can you comm?”
Roak thought about that for a minute. “I might know someone. Long shot. Not a secure call.”
“I’ll do what I can on our end to mask our location,” Hessa said.
“That would be a very good idea,” Roak replied.
His hand hovered over the comm controls. He knew the signature by heart, but it had been a long time since he’d used it. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever use it again. Roak had many reasons not to ever call the comm signature. One was he valued his life.
“Roak?” Hessa asked. “Your heart rate is increasing.”
“Yeah,” Roak said. “I know.”
“Will you be placing the call?”
“Not sure. There’s a lot of baggage with this one.”
“Do we have an alternate to call? One with less baggage?”
“I have a couple in mind, but neither will give me the blunt truth. They’ll as much turn me in as they will help me.”
“And the one you are about to call?”
“Dangerous,” Roak admitted. “Opens doors I want to stay shut. But even with the danger and the fact that I may be starting something I can’t finish, she’ll know how deep this trap is.”
“She?”
“Forget it,” Roak said. He closed his eyes and sighed.
“Roak? Our time is limited. I abhor unnecessary risks, but we do not have many options.”
“Fine,” Roak replied. “Let’s get this mess started.”
He entered the comm signature and waited.
“Who in Eight Million Godsdamn is this?” a woman answered. “You have three seconds to answer and make it good, or I will rain down such hellfire onto you that you will wish the idiots that discovered trans-space also discovered parallel universes.”
“What do you know about Jonny Nebula? His real name is Jahpah L’Ex,” Roak said.
There was a long silence, but Roak waited it out.
“I know who Jonny Nebula is,” the woman replied, her voice a harsh rasp of pure fury. But there was resignation in the tone, as well. “I also now know who called me. It has been a very long time, Roak.”
“Not a secure comm,” Roak said.
“Do you think I care?” The woman snorted. “Let them come. Eight Million Gods knows that more than two dozen have tried. I’ll either be gone by the time they get here or I’ll be waiting for them with bells on.”
“Loaded bells?”
“Always.”
“Bullshit,” Roak said. “They aren’t hunting you. I can tell. You sound different.”
“I should,” the woman replied. “It has been a very long time since we last spoke.”
There was a moment of quiet.
“You’re covered somehow. I can hear it in your voice. Did they let you back–?”
“What do you want, Roak? Make it good.”
“I’ll do better, I’ll make it quick,” Roak said. “Jonny Nebula. Is he dead?”
“He’s supposed to be. All the news reported it way back when. You hear otherwise?”
“I might have.”
“Over four hundred hoax sightings have been reported,” the woman said. “Another two hundred could not be proven to be hoaxes, but they sure as shit couldn’t be proven to be real. We’ll call them limbo reports.”
“What about the reports that ring true?” Roak asked. “Any of those?”
“One or two,” the woman answered. “But the second one is from a known con artist. I wouldn’t put that report in the limbo category, but I wouldn’t give it much credence, either.”
“Never do without verification,” Roak said.
“The first report puts him alive somewhere in the Cortch System,” the woman said. “But that was quite a few years ago.”
“There’re enough asteroids in that system for him to hide for centuries,” Roak said.
“True. The man, or whatever he is, could probably live for centuries. He’s one jacked-up genetic freak. You’d think he was family.”
“Anything else?”
“What do you want? An address? You plan on flying up to his hiding rock and knocking on his front door? If he is holed up in Cortch, it could take you a decade or more to hunt him down. I’d hide there if I felt like hiding.”
“You’re not exactly out in the open,” Roak said. “I would have heard if you were.”
“No, Roak, you wouldn’t have,” the woman said. “Because I would make sure no one told you.”
“I have sources.”
“Yet you called me. That mean
s your sources are having a hard time with intel. It also tells me that someone is hot on your ass and ready to shoot it off. Who’d you kill?”
“No one,” Roak said.
“Who’d they frame you for killing?”
Roak laughed.
“A guy named Gaibah Huup,” Roak said. “You don’t know him.”
“No, I don’t,” the woman replied. “But I’ve heard his name a few times. Crackpot. Lost his nerve on a job a few years ago. Never got it back.”
“Could be,” Roak said.
“Could be you were on that job too,” the woman continued. “Could be you didn’t do your homework like you were supposed to.”
“I did my homework. I always do my homework. There were extenuating circumstances.”
“You are the extenuating circumstance,” the woman said, her voice ice cold. “Stick to working alone, Roak. It’s safer for everyone that way.”
“That’s my plan,” Roak said. “You doing the same? Sure you won’t tell me if they let–”
The woman clucked her tongue, a sound Roak knew she did only to irritate him.
“What else can you tell me?” Roak asked.
“The Orbs are losing money,” the woman said. “Shava Stemn Shava is deep in debt. He’s going to need a miracle to keep the business afloat without resorting to going further into the hole with the Syndicates.”
“He might as well dive in,” Roak said. “You dip a toe and they have your ass.”
“So I’ve been told.”
Roak could almost feel the ice forming in his ear as the comm went silent.
“You didn’t have to kill him. They are more forgiving than–”
“I have to go,” Roak said and cut the comm.
“Roak? Who was that?” Hessa asked. “I have been pouring through my database and I cannot find record of that comm signature or that voice.”
“Why would you?” Roak asked. “We’ve only been working together for a few months.”
“I uploaded all files and records from your previous ship,” Hessa said. “I can access your history easily. Except for that comm signature and that voice. Total blank.”
“It’ll stay that way,” Roak said. “Drop it.”
Before Hessa could press further, the comm lit up and Roak answered.
“Well, my old friend, you are royally screwed,” Bishop said with a nervous laugh. “The trap is a heavy one. Right now, you are off the radar, but that won’t last for long. You think you can get to Jafla Base within twenty-four hours?”
“We can,” Hessa said only to Roak.
“Yeah,” Roak said.
“Good because that’s how much time you have before you become the galaxy’s most wanted criminal,” Bishop said. “They have you dead to rights with Gaibah. It is possibly the best vid forgery I have ever seen.”
“I know an AI that can break it,” Roak said.
“Yeah, I know you do,” Bishop said. “Except, even if you break the vid forgery, it won’t matter much. They’ve got you for killing an entire bar’s worth of patrons. Full on massacre. No vid, but they have four witnesses. Two of them are supposedly survivors and have sworn under six different forensic truth tests that it was you.”
“Why?” Roak asked. “Why me?”
“That I couldn’t find out,” Bishop said. “All I know is you have twenty-four hours to get to Jafla Base or a shoot-on-sight command goes into effect.”
“Jonny Nebula is alive,” Roak said.
“He’d have to be for this kind of heat to be heading your way,” Bishop said. “They need the guy found and bad. You may want to think about killing Roak and starting with a fresh identity on some agriculture planet. Become a farmer, man. This got serious too fast. Even for you.”
“Not starting over,” Roak said. “Thanks, Bishop.”
“Hey, you really need to think this over,” Bishop insisted. “I don’t see an exit strategy for you on this one.”
“I’ll make do,” Roak said. “Thanks.”
He killed the comm, but it chimed within half a second.
“You need to leave your present location,” the AI voice said. “Proceed to Jafla Base. Now.”
“I’m getting that feeling,” Roak said.
“If your ship’s AI hasn’t already plotted a course and is flying you to the closest wormhole portal, then it is already too late, Roak,” the AI voice said.
“Yeah, yeah, framed for a massacre. Pulling out all the stops. Blah, blah, blah.”
“What? Yes, that too,” the AI voice said. “But I am talking about something else. Do not comm me again until this business is finished.”
The comm cut out.
“Hessa?” Roak asked.
“Already on the way,” Hessa said. “This is bad, Roak.”
“I wish I knew why,” Roak replied. “But we’ll find out on Jafla Base or I really will be guilty of a massacre. Folks gonna die for this shit, Hessa.”
“Farming is a noble profession,” Hessa replied.
“Don’t you start,” Roak said. “Just get us gone.”
10.
Jafla Base was a whirlwind of interstellar vehicle activity. Being the only inhabited area of Jafla Planet, the base was a constant stream of ships coming and going. Everything from tourists to business beings to the many players from the different syndicates to galactic celebrities could be seen going to and from the base.
And all were there for the Orb fights.
Jafla Planet was a desert. Nothing, not even B’clo’no’s, could last very long out in the wasteland that was Jafla. Visitors either stayed close to the base or died. No real middle ground.
Normally, an environment like Jafla Base would be exactly what Roak was looking for. It was easy to hide in places like Jafla where there were many more exciting beings to notice than some man wearing light armor with a KL09 strapped to his hip. A person could throw a chit in the crowd and hit ten beings that were just like Roak.
But, not to Roak’s surprise, he became keenly aware that he was noticed the second he stepped through the hangar’s airlock and into the Jafla Base’s main thoroughfare. Two Gwreqs started tailing him immediately, their massive presence causing the crowds to part before them. Not that Gwreqs were uncommon on Jafla, just that folks knew better than to get in the way of a Gwreq with an obvious purpose.
If they were going to be that conspicuous, then that meant Roak could expect at least a handful of private operators up ahead, either watching him pass or leading him through the crowd. He did a quick scan and thought he saw a Leforian with heavy armor and a couple of Jesperians about thirty meters up that seemed to always stay a few storefronts ahead of Roak.
Roak paused at a shop selling intimate apparel for all races and waited. The Leforian continued down the thoroughfare after a couple of minutes, but the Jesperians hung tight at a fruit stand. Roak couldn’t help but smile since no self-respecting Jesperian would eat fruit. They were taco junkies all the way.
The Gwreqs tailing him made it very obvious that they were growing impatient with Roak’s window shopping. The space around them widened enough that they took up a quarter of the massive thoroughfare and folks were beginning to crane their necks to see what the issue was. Self-preservation only lasted so long; the curious always eventually butted in and made things worse.
“Why the hesitation?” Hessa asked over the comm. “They know you have arrived on the planet. The ship is tagged.”
“I don’t plan on making their job easy,” Roak said. “Forcing them to act will say a lot about their operation and how things will proceed.”
“Or it will say a lot about how much they hurt you,” Hessa replied. “I do not see us as being in a place of strength, Roak. If I were to calculate your odds of surviving this ordeal, I would put them at a million to one.”
“Not in my favor, I take it,” Roak said.
“Not in your favor,” Hessa agreed. “The sooner you meet with this Shava Stemn Shava, the sooner you will attain intel I nee
d to calculate new odds.”
“Hessa, let me do my job my way,” Roak said. “It’s gotten me this far.”
“Yes. It has gotten you here on Jafla Base,” Hessa said. “Where you will most likely die.”
“I do jobs that no one wants or can do,” Roak said. “I’ve been in bigger messes. I always get out.”
“With help,” Hessa stated.
“I still get out,” Roak said then began walking once more.
He made it to a bend in the thoroughfare where a contingent of officially uniformed guards were waiting.
“Roak?” one asked.
“Could be,” Roak replied.
“Weapons,” the guard said.
“No,” Roak replied.
Carbine barrels glowed red hot. Roak withdrew his KL09 and knife and handed them over.
“Follow me,” the guard said.
The guard turned and started walking while the rest closed ranks around him. Roak glanced over his shoulder and was surprised to see the two Gwreqs looking both pissed off and disappointed. They weren’t the welcoming committee. The Jesperians and the Leforian were nowhere to be seen. Roak found that all very interesting.
“Walk,” one of the other guards said. “Or I make you walk.”
Roak looked him straight in the eye.
“You should be wearing a helmet,” Roak said.
“Why’s that?” the guard responded.
Roak slammed his forehead into the man’s nose, crushing it to a pulp, before holding his hands up and taking a step back.
“Come on!” the first guard barked and Roak was prodded in the ribs with half a dozen carbine barrels.
The guard with the shattered nose glared at Roak through teary eyes, but said nothing. He let the blood flow down his face as he got in line with the rest and they marched Roak down the thoroughfare to a set of massive, ornate doors. The doors slid open and Roak was surprised to see a lift. He was roughly guided onto the lift and maneuvered to the back wall.
“Seen your file,” the first guard said, standing in front by the lift doors. “You could take half of us before we kill you.”
Roak didn’t respond.
“Gonna give you some advice,” the guard continued. “There are always more of us. Always. Anyone you take out will be replaced. It’s how things work on Jafla.”
