by Jake Bible
“Empty threat, pal,” Bishop said.
“What ya need?” Yellow Eyes asked as he appeared in the armory. “Heard Bishop being snarky.”
There was a brown stain around Yellow Eyes’ mouth.
“Were you eating more stew?” Roak asked.
“Yeah,” Yellow Eyes said and licked his lips clean.
“While we’re being chased by GF fighters and turning upside down every couple of minutes?” Roak asked.
“Not sure what any of that has to do with eating stew, but yeah,” Yellow Eyes said. “Hey, there are chits everywhere, man. You should really pick them up.”
“That’s what you get to do,” Roak said and patted Yellow Eyes on the head.
“Don’t do that. I’m not a pet,” Yellow Eyes responded as Roak left. “Where are you going?” He looked to Reck. “Where’s he going?”
“The bridge,” Reck said. “Me too. Hessa will tell you what you need to do with the chits.”
“Okay. Great,” Yellow Eyes replied.
Roak was waiting in the lift. He sent them to the bridge as soon as Reck joined him.
“We about ready?” Roak asked as he strapped into the pilot’s seat. Reck strapped in next to him in the co-pilot’s seat. “Hessa? Ti’Ya?”
“We are ready,” Ti’Ya said. “Entering gravity well’s sphere of influence now. Trajectory locked in. Hang on tight and do not touch a single control unless I tell you to.”
“Nothing like being ordered around by an AI,” Reck said.
“Welcome to my existence,” Roak said.
The ship’s power cut out and Roak was pressed into the back of his seat as the ship began the slingshot process. Without the grav dampeners online, Roak’s head felt like it weighed as much as the ship itself as the g-forces increased to barely tolerable levels.
Then it got a whole lot worse. The ship crested the edge of the gravity well and was flung hard and fast toward the wormhole portal.
Roak gritted his teeth against the pain then couldn’t hold it any longer and started to scream. Reck joined in only a second after. They were both still screaming when the power kicked in and the view shield came back online.
The wormhole portal was right there, directly in front of them. But so was the GF destroyer.
“Their plasma cannons are lighting up!” Reck yelled. “They see us! How do they see us if we’re in stealth mode?”
“No clue!” Roak said.
Then they were past the destroyer and into the wormhole portal. Roak leaned over and vomited on the floor.
“Gonna need a bot,” Roak said as he sat up and wiped his mouth. “Hessa?”
“I know,” Hessa replied, exasperated. “Would it be so hard to keep a bag or bowl with you when you know we’re entering trans-space rough?”
“We have bots,” Roak said.
“Gonna agree with Hessa,” Reck said as she undid her straps and stood. She stumbled, steadied herself, then glanced about. “Now what?”
“Now we take a very circuitous route back to deliver the Skrang and the chits,” Hessa said. “Go rest. We’re in the clear for now.”
“I’ll be in my quarters,” Roak said as he stood up too. “You sure we’re in the clear? No fighters following us?”
“Not that can be detected,” Ti’Ya answered. “I will continue to monitor all spectrums of trans-space in case they are hiding in our quantum wake.”
“Do that,” Roak said and left the bridge.
Once in his quarters, he stripped down and hopped in the shower for a nice, long steam. Hessa was wise enough not to bother him until he was out, dried off, and getting dressed.
“I don’t have proof,” she said. “But I have a suspicion as to who our problem is.”
“Nimm,” Roak said.
“Nimm,” Hessa agreed.
“No proof? How can a message be sent from this ship without you having proof?” Roak asked.
“That is what I am currently working on, Roak,” Hessa snapped. “Do not think I am taking this situation lightly. If I were to act like you, I’d be punching everything in sight. But I am not you, so I am calmly going over all of the evidence at my disposal.”
“Keep an eye on Nimm,” Roak said.
“Now you’re just being rude,” Hessa replied.
“What’s our travel time back to the Skrang?” Roak asked. “How much longer will the circuitous route take?”
“We will arrive within the week allotted to us,” Hessa said. “With about six hours to spare.”
Roak stopped pulling the shirt over his head.
“Roak? Do you need help getting dressed?” Hessa asked.
“Six hours? That’s our margin?” Roak growled.
“Oh, I’m sorry, Roak. Forgive me for not having anything to do with the Galactic Fleet showing up at the wrong time,” Hessa snapped. “How unthinking of me to not have complete control over every aspect of the universe and all elements contained within.”
“Point taken, Hessa,” Roak said and finished pulling his shirt on. He dressed in his light armor, put on his boots, and left his quarters. “Yellow Eyes done with the chits? We have a count yet?”
“The count is over three hundred and fourteen million chits,” Hessa said.
“Good,” Roak said. “I’m going to have a chat with our Skrang friends in the brig.”
“Why?”
“Why not? We’ve got time to kill.”
“Good point. Try to only kill time and not any of them.”
“I’m not going to kill any of them.”
“Only because they have to be returned alive.”
“No… Well, yes, but also because I don’t need to kill them. Go back to spying on Nimm and leave me alone.”
“Gladly.”
Roak grumbled to himself as he stepped on the lift and headed down to the ship’s brig.
22.
Three sets of angry lizard eyes glared at Roak from behind the cell’s energy barrier.
“Fine. Don’t talk to me,” Roak said as he sat in a chair outside the cell. “I’m just trying to figure out why you’d betray your own people for a bunch of chits.”
None of the eyes blinked. None of the Skrang responded with even a lip twitch.
“You know, if you give me a good enough reason, maybe I’ll let you three go for a cut of those chits,” Roak said. “I mean, I could keep them all for myself, but that’s a little harder to cover up than say faking an escape where you grab as many chits as you can and leave a few behind accidentally.”
No response.
“Come on, guys. Give me something to work with here and we can help each other out.”
Still no response.
“You know, I have the GF on my ass. I could drop out of trans-space at the closest wormhole portal, let them catch up, and hand you over. How’s that sound? Probably not so good.”
One of the Skrang looked at the other two.
“Do not!” one of the two snarled.
“He could keep the chits and give us to the Galactic Fleet,” the first Skrang said. “They will kill us.”
“They will torture us then kill us once they have extracted information from our mind,” the third Skrang chimed in.
“What do you think is going to happen to us when we are returned to Skrang?” the second Skrang asked. “We will be welcomed with open arms? We are in for an eternity of torment and pain.”
“Don’t forget shame,” Roak said. “So much Skrang shame. Let me in on the plan you guys had and you can avoid the GF and going back to the Skrang.”
“You lie,” the second Skrang said. “You are Roak the liar.”
“Roak the liar? That one’s new,” Roak said. “Hessa? Have you heard of me being called Roak the liar before?”
Hessa did not answer.
“Hessa? Really?” Roak shook his head. “In a bit of a fight with my ship’s AI.”
“How can you be in a fight with your AI?” the first Skrang asked. “You are the AI’s master.”
“You are no monster as they say,” the second Skrang said. “You are only a weak man that lives a coward’s life.”
“Says the thief and traitor,” Roak responded.
“We are not traitors!” the second Skrang yelled.
“But you are thieves,” Roak said.
“Only so we can return the chits back to Skrang. The chits belong to the homeworld.”
“Now we are getting somewhere,” Roak said. “The chits belong to… Did you say homeworld? As in the Skrang homeworld of Skrang?”
“Yes. What other homeworld would I dare to speak of?”
“Just confirming.” Roak rubbed his chin. A cold feeling had entered his belly. “So, these chits were stolen directly from the main Skrang coffers?”
“Yes.”
“Which means all of Skrang are looking for them.”
“Yes.”
“Hessa…”
“I understand the implications,” Hessa said over the comm. “Keep them talking. Ti’Ya and I will work this out.”
“How’d you get away with stealing so many chits?” Roak asked.
“It was not hard to do,” the second Skrang said. “Skrang do not betray other Skrang. They did not expect us to take the chits since no Skrang would steal from other Skrang.”
“Yeah, but you did steal from other Skrang…” Roak looked from Skrang to Skrang to Skrang. “Right? Or I wouldn’t have three hundred and fourteen million chits on my ship.”
“We are Skrang returning what rightfully belongs to Skrang,” the second Skrang said.
“I get that. Giving back what was taken for the good of all Skrang,” Roak said. “Then why join up with this offshoot faction of Skrang? Why be part of their…revolution?”
The three Skrang hissed and spat.
“You blaspheme the way of Skrang,” the second Skrang said. “There can be no revolution. Only destruction of Skrang.”
“Wait… You want to destroy Skrang?” Roak asked.
“No!” the second Skrang shouted.
“Revolution would mean the end of Skrang,” the third Skrang said. “The concept is destruction itself.”
“Oh, okay, got it,” Roak said. He stared up at the ceiling for a few seconds then looked back at the Skrang and smiled. They did not flinch back from his smile. “Then why were you whoring on an Edger base? If you were stealing the chits for Skrang, then tell me why you didn’t return to Skrang and hand over the chits? Why go to Legend?”
The second Skrang and third Skrang stared cold, dead lizard eyes at Roak. The first Skrang, the one with just little more panic in his blood than the others from what Roak could see, blinked and glanced away before returning his gaze to Roak and trying to play the tough Skrang.
“Who told you to steal the chits back?” Roak asked the first Skrang. “It wasn’t a Skrang, was it?”
“Do not speak to the liar anymore,” the second Skrang snapped at the first Skrang.
“He’s right, you know,” Roak said, nodding at the second Skrang. “You shouldn’t speak to me anymore. But I don’t think I need you to. I think I’ve got this figured out.”
“You do?” Hessa asked in Roak’s ear. “I don’t.”
“Chits were stolen from the Skrang homeworld coffers to help fund whatever this offshoot Skrang thing is,” Roak explained. “Don’t call it a revolution. How about reorganization? Yeah. Let’s go with that term. Reorganization. Most civilizations call it a coup, but that’s probably a dirty word too.”
The second and third Skrang growled. The first Skrang hissed, but his lizard heart was obviously not in it.
“You three are starting to feel uncomfortable that maybe this reorganization isn’t what’s best for Skrang,” Roak continued. “A little lizard guilt starts to eat away at you. Then, by some stroke of luck, you receive a message.” Roak looks from Skrang to Skrang to Skrang. “Which one received the message? You? You? No, it was you.”
Roak pointed at the second Skrang.
“I thought this guy here was the weak link, but it’s you, isn’t it?” Roak said to the second Skrang. “You received a message that said you need to steal the chits and give them back to the Skrang homeworld. Except, if you did that, then you’d probably be executed or worse when you returned, even though you would have the stolen chits in hand as a peace offering.”
“You dare utter that word!” the second Skrang snarled. “Skrang do not provide peace.”
“Whatever you want to call it. Doesn’t matter,” Roak said. “You were worried about your own hide, so when the opportunity to hand off the chits to an intermediary came along, you jumped at it. Meet at Legend and give the chits to someone that would take them to the Skrang homeworld for you. No risk on your end. You get to keep your heads and be Skrang patriots. Am I close?”
No response. Roak shrugged.
“I think I am close,” Roak said. “Then you get to Legend and nothing feels right. The Edgers you interact with don’t know why you’re there. No message waiting, no contact to give the chits to. Soon, being the sheltered Skrang you are, some of the entertainment starts to look appealing. Maybe spend some chits while you wait. Get your Skrang on a little. Have fun for once in your lives.”
“Fun? Fun!” the second Skrang shouted. “You know nothing of Skrang! You believe that story you tell, but you are so very wrong! So very wrong!”
“Okay, I’m wrong.”
“We were not in the brothel to have fun! How dare you! There was a message and it said to stay there until the contact arrived to retrieve the chits!”
The second Skrang folded his arms across his chest, a smug, satisfied look on his lizard face. Then the smug look fell away.
“Yeah. You’re getting it now, aren’t you?” Roak said. The smug look that was lost from the Skrang’s face appeared on Roak’s face. Then that too fell away. “Crap. So am I. You never knew you weren’t dealing with Skrang. That message came from outside Skrang Alliance territory, but you didn’t know that.”
“You did not know this before speaking to us?” the second Skrang asked.
“Shut up, I’m thinking,” Roak said. “I came in here bluffing that I had the answers, but now I’m not so sure.”
Roak began to pace the brig.
“No. No, no, no, no,” Roak muttered. “Am I that stupid?”
The Skrang snorted.
Roak ignored the Skrang and continued to pace. Back and forth, back and forth, until he froze in the middle of the brig.
“A circuitous route,” Roak said to himself. Roak spun about and pointed a finger at the second Skrang. “This offshoot, the Skrang behind the reorganization, how is Sha Tog involved?”
“Sha Tog?” the second Skrang asked and spat. “That cripple with no honor? He was banished from Skrang many, many years ago.”
“But he was part of the offshoot,” Roak said. “He was working with you.”
“Us? No! We would never work with a Skrang traitor like him! He should have died of his own hand to keep his honor when he lost his legs! To associate with a Skrang like that would make us less Skrang! We would be the traitors!”
“But you’re not traitors,” Roak said. “Because there is no real offshoot, is there? Eight Million Gods damnit!”
Roak ran from the brig, his mind racing.
“Hessa!”
“I heard what you said, but I don’t quite understand what is happening,” Hessa replied.
“That message that was sent, did Nimm send it? Any trace she did?”
“Unfortunately, yes. Ti’Ya has confirmed what I found. The transmission was well hidden, but there are specific markers that indicate that only Nimm could have sent the message to the GF.”
“Kind of convenient, wouldn’t you say?” Roak asked as he reached the lift.
“Not very since it bro
ught the GF down on us,” Hessa replied.
“No, I mean that you were able to figure out the message was sent by Nimm. I’ve known that woman for a very long time. We were about to dock at Legend. She could have sent the message from there instead of our ship. It would have taken the GF longer to reach us, and they probably would have missed us, but she’d get another opportunity later.”
“I have traced the actual transmission logs,” Ti’Ya interjected. “The message was sent before we were on our way to Legend.”
“I know,” Roak said and pulled his Flott as the lift doors opened. “Where’s Bishop?”
“Bishop? He is in… He is…” Hessa paused. “I cannot find Bishop.”
“Eight Million Gods damnit!” Roak roared. He reached the armory and found what he hoped he wouldn’t find. “Shit!”
Yellow Eyes was down. He was alive, but his body was scarred and mutilated. The armory’s floor around the being was smoking and pocked with holes.
“Acid. Son of a bitch!”
Roak didn’t have to look hard to see that the compression pouches with the chits were gone. He raced from the armory and back to the lift.
“Hessa! Get Yellow Eyes in a med pod now!”
“Yellow Eyes is harmed? He appears to be fine from what I can see on the holo vids.”
“You’ve been tricked! You cannot trust what you see! Bishop has messed with your systems!”
“That is impossible, Roak. At no point has Bishop had any sort of access that would even come close to allowing him to mess with my systems, as you say.”
“Ti’Ya?” Roak shouted.
“Yes, Roak?” the AI replied.
“Partition yourself and do a full scan of Hessa,” Roak ordered. “Find the mess and clean it.”
“Roak, you are being paranoid,” Hessa said.
“Do you see Yellow Eyes dying on the armory floor?” Roak asked.
“No, he is singing to himself in the mess as he eats more gump stew,” Hessa replied.
“Where’s Reck?”
“In the co-pilot’s seat.”
“Reck?” Roak called over the coms. “Location. Now.”
“I’m in my quarters having a steam,” Reck replied, annoyed.
“Shit! Get dressed and geared up now!”
“What’s going on?”
