by Jake Bible
The lower arms began to pat Roak’s armor down then one found the pouch on his belt.
“You’re gonna lose that arm,” Roak gasped.
Beem removed the disc and glanced down at it. Roak tried to make a move, but Beem only squeezed harder and Roak cried out as he felt the plates in his skull begin to grind together.
“A disc? How primitive,” Beem said.
A plasma blast ripped across the side of Beem’s head and he let go of both Roak and the disc.
Roak caught the disc before it hit the floor. Roak didn’t have a chance to catch himself and landed awkwardly on his already cracked ribs. He grunted in pain, but managed to keep ahold of the disc, tucking it back into the pouch before he struggled up onto his knees. He wasn’t up for long as Beem’s boot slammed into the side of Roak’s head, sending him sprawling.
Roak tried to sit up, but everything was spinning chaos and he only managed to gag a little as his head fell back onto the floor.
“Your friends are gone, Roak!” Beem shouted, blood pouring from the wound on his head. “You are all alone and you won’t be able to moltrans out of here! The station techs have activated full shields which will block all”—”
Roak was suddenly in his ship’s cargo hold. He rolled over in time to throw up and not choke to death on his own vomit. After a few minutes of retching, Roak struggled up to his feet and looked about.
Reck was sitting on a stack of crates a few feet away.
“Your moltrans unit could use some tweaking,” Reck said.
“The moltrans unit has quirks and I will handle them,” Hessa snapped over the comms.
Roak threw up once more. He leaned over and rested his hands on his knees as he tried to catch his breath and wait out the constant spinning that was his vision.
“I’m going to…” Puke. “Agree with…” Puke. “Reck on this one…”
In and out, in and out, Roak slowed his breathing until he was able to stand upright and not fall over or throw up again.
“I believe you are being too sensitive,” Hessa said.
“Believe what you want,” Roak said and stumbled the few steps over to the stack of crates. He leaned against them, shoving Reck’s legs out of the way. “Where are we, Hessa?”
“We are currently trying to outrun some GF fighters,” Hessa said. “If we can manage that, then we’ll need to get through the wormhole portal before it is shut down. There is a considerable queue of ships waiting to go through, so I believe it will remain open long enough for us to escape.”
“Are you always affected like this by the moltrans?” Reck asked.
“Molecular transportation does not agree with his body,” Hessa answered for Roak.
“What she said,” Roak said, taking huge gulps of air. “Hessa? How many fighters?”
“Eight,” Hessa said.
“Can we take any of them out?” Roak asked.
“I would prefer not to destroy GF fighters and be painted as an enemy of the Galactic Fleet forever, Roak,” Hessa said.
“Smart move,” Reck said.
“I don’t care about the GF,” Roak snapped. “I care about getting to Sha Tog. The Galactic Fleet can eat terpigshit for all I care.”
“You’re not thinking ahead,” Reck said. “You have to come back to Galactic Fleet territory at some point. Burn this bridge and your bounty hunter life is over. You’ll just be another criminal on the run. Where are you going to live? The Edge?”
“They won’t take him,” Hessa said.
“Right. Razer Station,” Reck said. “You’re running out of places to go, Roak.”
“Sha Tog. Skrang Alliance territory. Moons of Stabs,” Roak responded. “That is where I want to go. Hessa? Make that happen.”
“You will need to give me the disc,” Hessa said. “Closest terminal is by the lift.”
Roak sighed, hobbled over to the lift, activated the terminal a few feet from the doors, then inserted the disc. He leaned against the wall and waited.
“How’s Yellow Eyes?” he asked.
“Stabilized. His body is hard to work on with a med pod, but I’ve figured it out,” Hessa said. “But the acid did do a considerable amount of damage. It will take most of our journey to repair him. His makeup is highly unusual.”
“You can say that again,” Reck said.
“Do what you can for him. We’ll need him when we track down Sha Tog,” Roak said. “See anything on the disc?”
“It’s inventory entries,” Hessa said.
“Inventory entries?” Roak asked. “What entries don’t fit?”
“They all fit, Roak,” Hessa replied. “Sha Tog was very meticulous with his books.”
“There has to be some entries that stand out,” Roak said.
“None that I can find. I am also scanning for codes or patterns, but the reports are as straightforward as any small business accounting I have ever seen.”
“Why?” Reck asked.
“What?” Roak replied. “Why what?”
“Why would an off-books arms dealer keep meticulous accounting reports?” Reck asked. “What’s the point? It is not like he’s paying taxes to the GF or anything. So why go to all the trouble of making sure the reports are in perfect order?”
“Good question,” Roak said. “Hessa, check the entries themselves and see if maybe they are the information we need.”
“I have been checking them, Roak,” Hessa said. “Like I said before, there are no patterns or codes that I can find.”
“Stop looking at them as accounting entries and look at them as a map,” Roak said. “Can you create coordinates out of the numbers?”
“I can create coordinates out of any set of numbers, Roak, but that does not mean the coordinates will take us anywhere we want to go.” Before Roak could respond, Hessa added, “Yes, I am sure. I can find nothing.”
“The information on that disc was meant for your eyes, Roak,” Reck said. “Hessa may not be able to crack this one.”
“Fine,” Roak said. “Send the info to my terminal in my quarters. I’m going to take a steam and rest.”
“Wouldn’t you rather spend time in a med pod and heal those ribs?” Hessa asked.
“Not yet,” Roak said. “How are we doing with the fighters?”
“The fighters are not the worry. Threading through the queue of ships at the wormhole portal is the issue. I might suggest everyone strap in for the next thirty to forty minutes.”
The ship lurched starboard and Roak and Reck steadied themselves.
“Maybe that med pod is the best place for me,” Roak said. “Just warn me when we enter trans-space.”
“I always do,” Hessa said. “Reck? Would you care to join me on the bridge? I might have need of your weapons skills.”
“Gladly,” Reck said and faced Roak. “Need help getting to the med bay?”
“Bite my armored ass,” Roak said and smacked the lift controls. The ship lurched to port and Roak fell into the lift. “Shut up or I swear I’ll tear your head off.”
“I didn’t say a word,” Reck said, as she stepped into the lift, her stance steady and solid. “Let me know how that floor is.”
10.
Roak hated the med pod, but considering the state his body was in, it was the best place to ride out the trans-space journey. They weren’t headed to Skrang Alliance territory yet, but Hessa would get them somewhere secure enough that the GF wouldn’t be able to track them. That usually meant a system that was less than stable, but Roak trusted Hessa to know what the ship could and could not handle.
Admitting that to himself was not fun. Roak hated that he now relied on an AI to get them off the radar. He used to handle all of that himself. Back when he was a solo operator. Back when life was much simpler.
“That big Leforian meanie dead or what, man?” Yellow Eyes called from his med pod which was across the med bay room from Roak’s. “You take his head off?”
“He was in the middle of a speech when Hessa moltrans’d m
e back to the ship,” Roak said. “And stop talking to me. I’m trying to heal.”
“Same here, man, just thought a little conversation would help pass the time,” Yellow Eyes responded.
“It doesn’t. It makes the time drag on,” Roak said. “So be quiet.”
The quiet lasted about eighty-five seconds.
“You’re wanting way more than just weapons from this Sha Tog guy, right?” Yellow Eyes asked. “There’s no way we’re going to all of this trouble just to make the pew pew power of this ship better than the pew pew power of the GF ships or of whatever ship your father guy flies.”
Roak closed his eyes tight and tried to will Yellow Eyes to shut up.
“I mean, you gave us all a great explanation, but even with Skrang tech on this ship, your father is gonna be a hard son of a bitch to take out,” Yellow Eyes continued. “What you need is an army.” Yellow Eyes gasped. “Is that it? Are you putting together an army?”
“I don’t want the crew I have, so why would I want more beings involved?” Roak snapped. “Stop sounding like an idiot.”
“No, no, I think I’m onto something here,” Yellow Eyes said, pushing on. “You know your father has influence within the GF. You can’t trust anyone in this territory.”
“Yeah, I figured that out.”
“But there is little to no chance your father has his fingers in the Skrang pie. Mmm, pie sounds good. I must be healing up fine if I’m hungry, right?”
“Yeah. Sure. Do not care. Shut up.”
“Your yellow friend is correct, Roak.”
“Nimm? I didn’t see you in one of the pods,” Roak responded.
“You weren’t looking,” Nimm said. “Beem’s people were not going to let me live. They did some…damage.”
“Took her synthetics, man,” Yellow Eyes said. “Messed with her prosthetic interfaces. Not cool. So not cool.”
“Your AI is rebuilding my interfaces from scratch,” Nimm said.
“That can’t feel good,” Roak said.
“It’s excruciating,” Nimm responded. “Even with nerve dampeners and pain blockers.”
“Hessa will be adding a comm implant too,” Roak said. “Heads up.”
“I already have a comm implant,” Nimm replied.
“Not one of hers,” Roak said. “Best not to argue. It’s happening.”
“I’d thank you for getting me off the station, but you’re the reason I had to leave, so instead I will tell you to go fuck yourself,” Nimm stated. “You blew up my life, Roak.”
“He’s very good at that,” Yellow Eyes said. “Kablooey. Guy blows up every life he touches.”
“You’re still alive,” Roak said.
“Well, yeah, but the quality of life is the real question,” Yellow Eyes replied.
“I’m going to interrupt without fear of being rude since this sounds like it could go on forever, but where are we headed now?” Nimm asked.
“Oh, we are currently en route to the Tamailisan System,” Hessa interrupted.
“I am not familiar with that system,” Nimm said. She sounded like she was in a great deal of pain. “How long of a journey?”
“We entered trans-space two hours ago,” Hessa explained. “I will have to take us out of trans-space several times in order to make sure we have not been tailed by the Galactic Fleet fighters. Add in the fact that the Tamailisan System is not easily accessible by wormhole portal, I expect us to arrive in two days.”
“Two days? Where is this system? Hessa, where are you taking us?” Roak asked.
“As I said, to the Tamailisan System,” Hessa responded.
“What aren’t you telling me?” Roak asked. “I haven’t heard of this system either. I know all the systems.”
“Obviously not.”
“Hessa!”
“The GF and the Skrang are in dispute as to who has control of the territory,” Hessa said. “But neither really want it due to the native beings that inhabit the one planet.”
“Your AI likes to wait to let the other boot drop, doesn’t she?” Nimm asked.
“I appreciate a good buildup,” Hessa said. “Giants.”
“What?” Roak asked.
“Giants. The one planet in the system is occupied by giants. They are rather large.”
“The name giant implies that,” Nimm said.
“Seventy meters tall,” Hessa said.
“Yeah, that’s large,” Yellow Eyes said. “Even for a giant.”
“You know a lot of giants?” Roak snapped.
“I’ve met a couple in my time,” Yellow Eyes said.
“I haven’t,” Roak said. “Why are we going to this system, Hessa?”
“Huh?” Hessa responded. “What was that?”
Roak had been subjected to Hessa’s many human affectations long enough that he could hear the terpigshit in her voice.
“Hessa…”
“There’s a satellite in this system that I need to find,” Hessa admitted. “It’s also the perfect system to use to hide from the GF. Two gumps with one stone.”
“A satellite? What sort of satellite?” Roak wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answer to that question, but he didn’t really have much of a choice. “Hessa? Be straight with me now. And I do mean now.”
“Now now?” Yellow Eyes asked. “Because you weren’t too clear on that, man.”
Roak activated the controls on his med pod and barely waited for the lid to lift before he sat up and swung his legs over the side. The med bay swam in his vision and he had to take a couple deep breaths to keep from passing out.
“Your healing session wasn’t done,” Hessa stated. “And you are going from med pod stasis to traveling in trans-space. I wish you luck with your attempts to stand, Roak.”
Roak stood. His legs gave out almost immediately, but he caught himself on the med pod and waited until he felt like his knees could stay locked and his thighs were done shaking and not going to betray him. He slowly stood upright and let go of the med pod.
“Where are my clothes?” Roak asked.
“In your quarters,” Hessa replied. “You weren’t supposed to exit the med pod for another three hours.”
“For broken ribs?” Nimm called from her pod.
“Oh, yeah, Roak’s body is building up a resistance to the med pod healing process,” Yellow Eyes said. “Total bummer for him. Or will be one day.”
“I’m getting dressed and heading to the bridge,” Roak stated. “You and I will be having words while I’m on the move.”
“We will? What’d I do, man?” Yellow Eyes asked.
“I was talking to Hessa,” Roak snapped as he left the med bay completely naked.
Roak made his way to the lift and waited for the doors to open. Inside was a surprised and amused Bishop.
“I was coming to check on you, but I can see you’re fit and healthy,” Bishop said with a laugh. “I know this is your ship and all, buddy, but would pants be too much?”
“Everyone needs to stop talking to me,” Roak said and waited. “You getting off the lift or not?”
“I said I was coming to see you,” Bishop replied. “So, no, not getting off the lift.”
Roak stepped on and pressed the button for his deck.
“Tamailisan System, huh?” Bishop asked.
“That is what Hessa has told me,” Roak replied.
“You know why?”
“A satellite.”
“Oh…”
Roak turned and faced Bishop. “What does that mean? What do you know about the Tamailisan System?”
“Same as you. Demilitarized zone that is still in dispute between the Skrang Alliance and the Galactic Fleet. Not very hospitable.”
“Not hospitable at all. But you know more. What?”
“Well, I always had a hunch about that system. Kind of a feeling that maybe a mutual acquaintance might use it as a fallback point in case of detection.”
Roak waited. He stood there, arms crossed, bare-skinned, eyes locked ont
o Bishop. Bishop squirmed and glanced up at the ceiling.
“I think we’re at your deck,” Bishop said after a couple of seconds.
“I know.”
“Don’t you want to…go get dressed?”
“I do.”
“But you want me to tell you what I suspect about the Tamailisan System first. That it?”
“That is it.”
“How about we do both? I follow you to your quarters so you can get dressed and I’ll tell you what I know about the Tamailisan System.”
“That is a good idea.”
Roak turned and stepped off the lift.
“Sorry, buddy, but Hessa already told me to keep my mouth shut,” Bishop said as he reached for the lift buttons. “She controls life support, so I think I’m gonna have to listen to her.”
The lift doors closed on Roak. He thought about punching them as hard as possible but didn’t want to spend another second in a med pod, so he refrained and made his way to his quarters.
Once inside, he hunted for clothes and waited for Hessa to start talking. It didn’t take long.
“Alright, I know you are angry,” Hessa said. “Which is pretty much your default, but try not to get even more angry. Is that possible?”
“What do you think?” Roak snapped as he yanked on a pair of pants and found a heavy-duty T-shirt. “Bishop said a mutual acquaintance of ours may use the Tamailisan System. Who?”
“I’d rather not say until we’re in the system and I know she’s there for sure.”
“She?”
“I have some protocols to check before we get to the next wormhole junction, so maybe I should”—”
“Hessa!”
“No need to yell, Roak.”
Roak struggled to get his anger under control. He struggled and failed.
“There is every reason to yell! I have given up on believing this is my ship! I have given up on believing that I am a lone operator! I have given up on being mad at you for inserting a comm implant into me without my permission!”
“No, you’re still really pissed off about that. Admit it.”
“HESSA! We have a plan! We have goals! Outfit this ship with weapons that the GF can’t counter and Father can’t control! Skrang tech! Then we go and find Bishop’s files! Steal those files so Bishop can get us paying gigs and also start the hunt for Mother! If she even exists! Nowhere in that list is us picking up someone else and adding them to an already too-crowded ship!”
