Razer Edge

by Jake Bible

  “Drop him,” Roak ordered the two men. “Pol, get to work.”

  “Here? Now?” Pol asked, looking at their surroundings.

  The tunnel was about five meters wide and twenty meters high. The ceiling was barely visible in the dim light that a sporadic smattering of halogen bulbs put out.

  “Here. Now,” Roak said. “You’re used to being on the move. This can’t be the worst place you’ve ever worked in.”

  “No, that is true,” Pol said and crouched next to Red’s corpse. “Alright, yes, okay. An end of life trigger sends a signal when the owner dies. That way they can’t be killed by who they own without the owned dying as well.”

  “Thanks for the lesson,” Roak snapped. “Find the trigger.”

  “It is either planted by the heart or the brain stem. They each have their advantages.”

  The corpse was already naked, so Pol didn’t need to strip any clothing off. He studied the dead man’s chest then held out a hand, palm up and open.

  “Pasha, give Pol your smallest, sharpest blade,” Roak said.

  The sad-eyed girl produced a blade about as long as her index finger and handed it to the old tech handle first. She stepped back, but not before glancing in Roak’s direction. He nodded his approval, and for a second, he thought he saw the corners of her mouth twitch with a smile.

  Pol sliced into Red’s chest just under the rib cage then shoved a hand up inside the cavity. He scrunched up his face then grinned.

  “Found the heart,” he said. “Searching. Searching, searching. No. Nothing.”

  He yanked his hand free and flicked the blood and gore from it. Everyone except Roak and Pasha jumped out of the way. Pol moved up the body and tried to roll it over.

  “A little help,” he said.

  The Maglors hopped forward and grabbed Red by the shoulders and shoved. The body rolled onto its front and Pol immediately set to work slicing open the skin at the base of the skull, exposing the vertebrae. The old tech worked his way carefully deeper until he could see the brain stem.

  “There it is,” Pol said. He fished at his belt with his free hand and came back with a pair of tweezers. “Must be careful. Must be very careful.”

  Roak noticed the slight shake in the old man’s hands, but didn’t comment on it. Pol needed to concentrate and Roak knew it.

  “Oh, will you look at that,” Pol said when he retracted the tweezers and held them up for all to see. “Quite sophisticated for an Edger wanting to keep prostitutes under control.”

  “Let me see that,” Roak said and leaned down to peer at the minuscule chip that was clutched between the tweezers’ pinchers. “Pol? Does that look like Edger tech to you?”

  Pol hesitated.

  “Pol?”

  “No, Roak, it does not,” Pol said. “Not at all.”

  Before anyone could say anything, Pol opened his mouth, stuck out his tongue, and placed the tiny chip directly on the wet flesh. A portion of his tongue slid away and a small opening appeared. Pol used his finger to push the chip into the hole. It closed and the tongue went back in his mouth. Pol held up the same finger he’d used to manipulate the chip.

  “Give me a second,” Pol said and his eyes rolled back into his head.

  “While he’s doing…that, you need to tell me where this tunnel leads,” Roak said to Hail. “How many people use it? What kind of security measures are in place?” Roak’s head swiveled back and forth. “Are we being surveyed now?”

  “The tunnel runs the length of this sector of the station,” Hail answered. “Other parts of the station have their own hidden byways, but this sector only has the access tunnels.”

  “Tunnels? Plural?” Roak asked.

  “There are five more up and down,” Hail said, pointing at the floor then up at the ceiling. “It’s how the cargo ship was built.”

  “And my other questions?”

  “No way to say how many people use these tunnels. I’m surprised the Edgers aren’t in here right now.”

  “Which means their intel is incomplete,” Roak said. “The spy, or spies, they paid off to get them on board didn’t mention these tunnels.”

  “You hope,” Hail said.

  “We all hope,” Roak replied.

  Hail shrugged. “Surveillance is nil. Like I said before, these are used to get folks that don’t want to be spotted from one end to the other. No vid cameras or scanners. That defeats the point.”

  “Again,” Roak said. “We all hope.”

  “Interesting,” Pol said as his eyes returned to normal. “So very interesting.”

  “What tech is it?” Roak asked.

  Pol held up a finger as he blinked a few times. “Syndicate, for sure. Trying to access the exact syndicate and origin, but the encryption is remarkable.”

  “Syndicate? As in crime syndicate?” Hail asked.

  The rest of the Lipians, and the Maglors, shifted uncomfortably at the mention of a third party being involved in the conflict that had overcome Razer Station.

  “Why would Edgers buy syndicate tech?” Roak asked. “Most syndicates have a foothold on Razer. They have a presence around here. Using the tech is risky. Syndicates like to build fail-safe codes into their tech.”

  “You know a lot about syndicate tech,” Pol said.

  “Been on the wrong end too many times,” Roak said. “The Edgers are taking a huge risk.”

  “Unless the Edgers don’t know the tech they’re using is syndicate produced,” Pol said. “It is remarkable and even a deep scan wouldn’t find what I found.”

  “And you never caught wind of this tech floating around?” Roak asked him.

  Pol hesitated again.

  “Pol,” Roak snarled.

  “I did not,” Pol said. “Considering your dealings with the many criminal organizations in this galaxy, I would have reconsidered involving you if I knew a syndicate could be part of this. I expected Edgers only. This adds a…wrinkle to the situation.”

  “Maybe,” Roak said. “But I have a feeling you’re right about the Edgers not knowing it is syndicate tech. I ain’t assuming, but it fits.”

  “Yes, it does,” Pol said.

  “What chip do?” Spickle asked. “Have comms?”

  “Oh, yes, sorry,” Pol said. “I was able to find the code and now have access to the Edgers’ comms signature. A single, thin, hidden signature that they use for all communications. Quite the jumbled mess of people talking over people, but they are using a shorthand code for efficiency. Give me a few minutes to run an algorithm and I can decipher the shorthand. We’ll know what they know shortly.”

  “Perfect,” Roak said and faced Hail. “Which way?”

  “If we’re still heading to your ship, then that way,” Hail said and pointed down the tunnel.

  “Off we go,” Roak said.

  21.

  “If we’re discovered,” Roak said as they passed a portion of the tunnel’s wall where footprints recently disturbed the layer of dust and dirt that coated the tunnel floor. Roak took note of the possible escape route. “If we’re discovered, we use the same cover story. A group of whores making their way to a safer part of the station where we have clients waiting.”

  “Can you not say whore all the time?” Hail asked. “Sexual companion is preferable. Or simply companion. Is that too much to ask?”

  Roak nodded. “Fine. Companion.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Anyway, we’re still a group of companions,” Roak said. He pointed at Hail and the men. “You do the talking and keep attention off Pol. Last thing we need is a perv with a short-person fetish eyeing the old guy and recognizing him. We know the Edgers are here not just for the station, but for him…as…well…”

  Roak stopped and the group took a few more steps then stopped and turned to stare.

  “What?” Hail asked.

  “Oh,” Pol said.

  “Yeah, pal. Oh,” Roak said and pulled the mask off to pinch the bridge of his nose.

  “What aren�
��t you saying?” Hail asked.

  “Syndicate tech,” Pol said.

  “Syndicate job,” Roak added. “That’s why they have the tech. That fits better than the Edgers not knowing what they were putting in their heads. Explains the single-channel comm that Pol couldn’t find before.”

  “A syndicate hired the Edgers to take the station and to find Pol?” Hail asked, incredulous. “That’s far out there even for you, Roak.”

  “What in all the Hells does that mean?” Roak snapped. “Lady, you don’t know me well enough to make that claim.”

  “I say that because you know the syndicates better than we do, I assume,” Hail said. “Or am I wrong?”

  “You ain’t wrong.”

  “That means you know what craziness they’re capable of,” Hail said. “You think a syndicate would bring on this much heat, bring in the Edgers to take Razer Station, for one old tech? Are they that kind of crazy?”

  “No, they aren’t,” Roak said. “Which is why the top Edger brass must know about it. Razer is their payment for finding Pol. The syndicates don’t need Razer Station. They have their own strongholds. Razer was a playground for the criminal plebes, not syndicate family royalty.”

  Roak stared at Pol.

  “Not even a hint of this showed up in my preliminary research,” Pol said without Roak asking the question. “Edgers coming for the station, that’s all I know. I put out the bounty to get you here and help get me and my friends off the station before Razer was taken. I swear, Roak, at no point did I suspect syndicate involvement.”

  “I don’t believe a word you’re saying,” Roak said. “You’re hiding something.”

  “Roak, I swear that—”

  “Shut up, old man. You brought the extra danger on us, so keep that mouth shut if you still want me to help get you off this station.”

  Roak pounded a fist against his thigh.

  “We keep walking,” Roak said. “We can’t stand around anymore. My timetable just got accelerated.”

  “Your timetable?” Hail snapped and stood her ground. “We don’t go anywhere until you tell us what you are thinking. If there’s more danger than we know about, then it may be in our best interest to try to hunker down and hide instead of escape Razer.”

  “She has point,” Spickle said.

  “Good point,” Sath added. “I hide.”

  “We hide,” Spickle said.

  “We hide,” Sath agreed.

  “Suit yourselves,” Roak said and kept walking, leaving the group behind.

  He began stripping off his costume, throwing the helmet aside. It clanged into the wall and fell to the floor with a thud. Roak brought the plasma rifle he’d snagged up and around into a ready position. He heard the quick footsteps behind him, but didn’t slow, didn’t stop, didn’t turn to face the owner of the feet.

  “Roak!” Hail yelled as she reached him, grabbed his shoulder, and tried to stop him. She failed as he yanked free and kept going. “Stop!”

  “I’m not stopping and I’m not playing the game anymore,” Roak said. “You follow or not. Hide or whatever. Keep Pol safe, if you can. I doubt it, but go ahead and try. They’ll want him. They’ll want him bad, so if you are anywhere near him, you’re all dead.”

  Hail planted herself directly in Roak’s path. He swerved around her and she did it again. Then again. And again.

  “I can do this all day,” she said. “How far are you going to get having to dance with me?”

  Roak bit his lip, stopped, and looked Hail dead in the eye.

  “The Edgers were to flush out Pol. The syndicate knew that if he was on Razer, he’d want to leave Razer when he found out the Edgers were coming. They also knew how he’d do it. By using me.”

  Hail squinted her eyes in confusion. “I don’t…so?”

  “Edgers get the station. Syndicate gets Pol. That leaves me. Who gets me?” Roak asked.

  “Who gets you…?” Hail paused then laughed. “Oh, my Eight Million Gods! Your ego is so huge that you actually think this entire thing is about you? Razer Station, a place that has always been off limits, gets taken down by Edgers because a syndicate is paying them off for finding Pol and someone is paying the syndicate off with Pol because that means they’ll find you? You have to be easier to find than that, Roak. Come on!”

  “I am easier than that to find,” Roak said. “But finding and catching are two different scenarios, Hail. I’m good at sniffing out traps.”

  “You didn’t sniff this one out,” Hail said smugly.

  “Exactly. Because it’s insane. You explained it yourself, lady. Edgers hired to take Razer so the syndicates can take Pol so that the mystery client, the real threat, can find and capture me. Insane. Pretty much the only way anyone is gonna get me to spring a trap.”

  “But how would they know Pol was going to hire you specifically?” Hail asked then gasped and spun to look at Pol. “Have you been hacked? Could a syndicate have the resources to do that?”

  “Oh, no, I can’t be hacked,” Pol said.

  “Your tech can’t,” Roak said. “But your feelings can. Who put the idea into your head to call me?”

  “Oh, I’d been watching your career for quite some time,” Pol said.

  “Flattered, but not what I asked,” Roak replied.

  “I am sorry then I don’t understand the question,” Pol said. “No one can put any ideas in my head.”

  “I did,” Hail said quietly.

  Roak nodded and gave her what he considered a warm smile. She flinched and took a step back.

  “You did,” Roak agreed. “Because…”

  “Because Bishop put the idea in my head,” Hail said. “A while ago. On his last visit.”

  “How long ago?” Roak asked. Hail still looked frightened. Roak held up his hands and walked a couple steps away to give her space. “Please, Hail, this is important. When did Bishop tell you about me?”

  “I’ve known about you, everyone on Razer has heard of Roak,” Hail said, but nodded to show she understood the question. “But the last time Bishop was here was…”

  She looked to the others for help.

  “Six months ago,” Pasha said.

  Roak turned and looked at her.

  “You know Bishop too?” Roak asked. He gripped the plasma rifle tighter. “How well?”

  “Well enough,” Pasha replied.

  Roak and Pasha faced off, several meters between them, but every centimeter alive with tension and violent energy.

  “Wait, Roak, no,” Hail said. “Pasha doesn’t work for Bishop or anything. I’ve known her my whole time here.”

  “That true, Pasha? You don’t work for Bishop?” Roak asked.

  Pasha didn’t reply.

  “Pasha?” Hail said. “Tell him.”

  “He wants your ship,” Pasha said. “That’s his payment. That ship of yours and the AI in it.”

  “Yes! A remarkable personality,” Pol said then shrunk into himself. “Sorry. Not an appropriate time.”

  “I saw it in your eyes, but misread the look,” Roak said. “That’s on me. Can’t blame anyone for that. Look at you. You’re perfect. Except for the eyes.”

  “Except for the eyes,” Pasha echoed, her voice filled with sorrow.

  “What’s your payment?” Roak asked. “Bishop puts you here in deep cover to play a whore?” Roak didn’t bother correcting the usage of the word. “You go along with it, too. I gotta know what he’s paying you.”

  “Pasha, come on,” Coult broke in. “Tell the man he’s nuts.”

  “Yeah, Pasha, tell him,” Mees said.

  “Tell him,” Ezze insisted, her voice almost a panic.

  Roak realized he was about to lose them all. Ezze was going to be the first to crack then it would domino through them. The group was blown. The ruse was worthless. Roak’s first instinct was correct. He didn’t need any of the people that stood there in the tunnel. All he needed was Pol.

  The best course of action was to drop them all, even the Mag
lors, and grab the old man.

  Roak started to raise his rifle. Slowly. A micron at a time.

  “He found my family,” Pasha said.

  Roak hesitated.

  “No. An assassin like you has no family. I call terpigshit on that,” Roak said, continuing to raise the rifle. “One of the points of finding girls like you and recruiting them is making sure you won’t be missed.”

  Pasha shrugged. A minute movement that said so much to Roak. He shook his head as a gasp of a laugh escape his lips.

  “You have got to be kidding me,” he said and took several deep breaths to get himself under control. “GF? You’re not guild or syndicate, but GF? Wow….just wow.”

  “That’s why I have family,” Pasha said. “Shouldn’t have been a factor when Bishop approached me. The GF had made me what I am so someone like Bishop would eventually find me. It was my job.”

  “Except the GF has no clue what someone like Bishop is capable of finding out,” Roak snapped. “The man’s entire job, his entire existence, is based on knowing everything! Did the GF not think of that before they let you walk into his Eight Million Godsdamn clutches? SHIT!”

  “Is it alright if I am slightly confused?” Pol asked. “I am following the threads, but not sure what this all means. The actual gravity of it all.”

  “Me either, pal,” Roak said. “Unlike you, Pol, I’m not lying when I say that. You know exactly why. These people have gone to a lot of—”

  “Trouble!” Sath screeched.

  “I can finish my own sentences, monkey boy,” Roak snapped.

  “No! Trouble!” Spickle said and the two Maglors pointed down the tunnel.

  They were answered by a barrage of plasma fire.

  22.

  “Down!” Roak yelled and tackled Hail, knocking her onto her back. “Boys! Watch the old man!”

  The Maglors didn’t respond and Roak risked a glance over his shoulder as he lay on his stomach, plasma blasts flying over his head. The Maglors were scurrying in full retreat, Pol clutched between them. Not what Roak asked, but good enough.