Jak Phoenix

by Matt D. Williams

Chapter Nineteen - The Royal Treatment

  Jak was highly impressed with the way he had managed to silently escape from his bindings and slink up behind the unsuspecting enemy crew member. It had been so perfect, and so very quiet.

  He hadn’t expected to lose his footing on a stray power cord left draped across the floor, and be forced to try and stabilize himself on a portable rolling table. He jostled the cart just enough to cause it to throw an open carton of small spherical metal objects onto the floor.

  Jak winced at the racket from the round parts falling and bouncing off the hard floor, and missed his opportunity to put up a defence against the guard who quickly spun around and clocked Jak in the face with an armoured glove-covered fist.

  Jak took a hasty step to the right in the attempt to steady himself, but lost his footing entirely as he slid on one of the scattered spheres still ricocheting across the metal deck. His leg shot up into the air as he landed on his back, abruptly kicking the sturdy wheeled table into motion.

  The heavy worktop collided into the leg of the long haired thug as he charged toward Jak’s position. The man’s charge turned into an unstable tumble, ending where Jak’s fist connected with his face.

  The sharp pain in Jak’s wrist reminded him of the hit he had taken on the arm in the docking bay of Murdock’s ship. It hurt like hell, but at least he could now move his hand again. Punching people in the face, instead of resting it, was going to continue to aggravate it.

  As he rubbed his wrist to alleviate the pins and needles feeling, the guard retaliated, wrestling Jak back to the floor. Wrist-resting time would have to wait as it looked like there would be a whole lot more punching to do.

  After Jak subdued the guard, he armed himself with a smaller pistol, which he stuffed into his belt, and another longer and more powerful looking gun which he kept ready in his hand.

  After a quick look around the room revealing no clues of his whereabouts, he bounded over to the door, tripped twice on the spread of obstacles, but still managed to maintain his balance. Jak’s plan only consisted of opening the door, which he did.

  The surprise of meeting another guard who was on his way into to the dark room shocked both Jak and the unsuspecting enemy soldier equally. At least Jak had the upper hand, in that his gun was already drawn.

  As the guard fumbled in his attempt to lift, aim and arm his weapon, Jak reached in, grabbed the barrel of his competitor’s weapon and twisted it up and off to the side. Before the man could react, the tip of the nasty matte black gun Jak had stolen was pressed into the cheek of the exasperated guard. He had no choice but to stand still, waiting to see what Jak would do and how the situation would play out.

  “Where are we?” asked Jak. He couldn’t think of any better way to word the question.

  “On the Catalyst,” answered the guard with only a slight hesitation.

  Jak figured it would be best not to collapse to the deck in fear and was forced to pretend that being on the most feared vessel, run by the scariest captain in Azore’s Crown, was not an issue. He tried to maintain a tough exterior even as he felt his knees weakening.

  “Why have you brought us here?”

  “I don’t know.” Of course he didn’t. He was just a guy walking around on the ship who stumbled into trouble. But he didn’t seem to balk at the word ‘us,’ so that pretty much confirmed for Jak that Cyan was there as well.

  “Where is the girl who was brought on this ship with me?”

  The guard held his ground and said nothing.

  Jak pressed his gun a little further into the guards face and ripped the weapon from him at the same time, tossing it back through the door, into the room. It bounced off a table and clamoured across the floor.

  “I am really not in the greatest mood right now, so could you please not make me ask you again?”

  The guard was reluctant, but decided answering would be in his favour. “She’s in the lab.” Jak noticed a few beads of sweat forming on his head. Cartrite must run a tight ship, full of consequences for failure and disloyalty.

  “What’s your name?”

  “What?” asked the guard.

  “Your name. What’s your name?”

  “Oh. It’s Harris.”

  “Alright, Harris. Here’s the deal. I don’t want to kill you, but I don’t want to die either. I really don’t want to be here at all. You’re gonna take me to the lab. Got it?”

  “You might as well just kill me then, because if I’m caught helping you, I’m dead anyway.”

  “Fine.” Jak unlatched the safety lock and pushed the gun deeper into the guard’s cheek. Jak had no intention of blowing him away just yet, but it was enough to push the distressed soldier into agreement.

  “Okay, okay. I’ll show you.”

  “Sounds good. You walk in front and put your hands over your head. If your hands drop, you get shot in the back. And, I want you to take the most discreet path. I don’t want anyone to see us. Let’s go.”

  Harris did as he was told and led Jak down the hallway, eventually ending at an entrance to an elevator. The guard pressed a button and stepped in. Jak followed and awkwardly rotated around behind him in the cramped space as Harris typed something into the command pad. Jak noted that they were heading to deck three.

  “If that door opens and a security team is waiting for us, you’re dead,” said Jak.

  “Don’t worry, there won’t be.”

  “I’m not worried; I’m just letting you know. To make sure we’re clear.” Jak wasn’t exactly experienced at hostage taking, but he knew he needed to keep the guard on his toes and out of his element. Jak found himself wondering how such a young man could get caught up in such a dangerous organization. He couldn’t figure out how someone would wake up one day and say, ‘I think it would be best if I became a henchman for an evil tyrant.’

  Jak watched every angle intently as Harris led him through the ship. Jak’s started out intent on memorizing the path, but soon lost track due to the multitude of twists and turns they had taken through the cavernous spacecraft.

  After traveling down a dark hallway, they emerged into a spacious hangar bay, with at least a dozen small fighter crafts lined up facing the massive open hole on the one side, showcasing a portrait of dark space and stars. The opening was large enough to fit several ships the size of the Tempest through. It must have been either force field or shield protected, or both. As they walked by the open window, Jak almost felt woozy, so close to a gaping opening which could so easily dump them into space.

  Off to one side he saw the tiny shape of Murdock’s lonely unmanned spacecraft still floating not far from the Catalyst. Cartrite hadn’t moved from the position they had been in when they had ambushed Jak and Cyan before their involuntary trip over. Jak could think of no logical reason as to how he, Baxter or Cyan had not seen this mammoth ship before they stopped and boarded Murdock’s craft.

  His thoughts also moved to Baxter. Since the Tempest was gone, he was confident that Baxter had gotten away freely. Or, the Tempest had been obliterated. Jak refused to believe that.

  This open hangar was his way out. Grab Cyan and make a break for it in one of the fighters. There were a million possibilities of failure, but it still looked promising.

  The plan would have started if not for the squad of helmeted soldiers — identical to the mindless ones who had attacked them on Murdock’s ship — who appeared in front of them as they emerged from a hallway leading into the center of the hangar.

  Jak’s reflex was to stop and immediately pull his hostage in tight, shielding himself with the captive’s body and re-aiming the gun at his head. Thankfully it stopped the squad.

  They stood still with their weapons lowered until one behemoth of a man shoved his way down the center of the group. Above the heads of the soldiers, Jak watched the spherical head with tied back hair steadily advancing toward the front of the crowd. He emerged from the flock of soldiers and Jak tensed as the gigantic man drew a weapon with his uncovered
brawny arms.

  The huge thug’s shot hit Harris, not Jak.

  As the man became heavy in Jak’s arms, he was forced to drop him, where his body crumpled to the cold deck.

  Jak aimed his gun at the attacker, his shield and collateral gone.

  The seven foot soldier simply stepped in and pulled the weapon from Jak’s hands. He passed it back to the group of followers behind him.

  Jak stood dumbfounded. He was defenceless — not that a gun would have made much of a difference against a mob of Cartrite’s weird mutant-faced soldiers and one gorilla of a man.

  “Come with us,” boomed Zelus, “Captain Cartrite would like to see you.” He reached forward and pulled the concealed pistol out of Jak’s belt, again handing it to a soldier behind him.

  Zelus motioned for Jak to get in front of him and walk amongst the troops. Having no alternative, he obliged.

  As he passed under the shadow of Zelus, he strained his neck upward to look him in the eye.

  “Big boy, aren’t you?”

  Zelus responded by pushing Jak forward, nearly giving him whiplash.

  “Okay, I get it. You want me to walk. Who are you?” Jak knew his only defence at this point would be to gather information, no matter how trivial.

  “Zelus.”

  “Well that’s a nice name.”

  “I suggest you save your breath,” said Zelus from behind Jak. “Your humour is not amusing.”

  Jak was well aware that no joke would amuse this stone-faced brute, but it was his only way to keep a leg up on the situation. He could no longer fight his way out, so the best course of action was to break any symmetry between the enemy pirates. Annoying behaviour would be a nuisance to them. Or maybe it was just nervous clowning because of the fact he was being led to see the most feared man in the galaxy, face-to-face.

  “Why does Cartrite want to talk to me?”

  “I don’t know. Personally, I would’ve preferred to kill you already, but this was a personal request from the captain himself.”

  Jak couldn’t place anything in the situation as he was prodded along with the squad of soldiers. Why was the captain asking for him? And just how tough was this Zelus oaf? It was time to test the waters.

  “What if I told you I was gonna kill Cartrite?”

  Zelus had Jak’s neck crushed in the vice like grip of his arm before Jak had a split second to think. He couldn’t breathe and his eyes bulged out of his beet red face. His legs quickly gave out, with the rest of his body suspended and dangling from one of Zelus’ biceps.

  “If you said that,” spat Zelus, close enough to Jak’s ear that he could feel the heat of Zelus’ stinking breath, “I would kill you right now and tell him it was a matter of ship’s security and that you needed to be disposed of immediately. I guarantee you that he will understand. Do you get it?”

  Jak managed a slight nod as he tried ineffectively with his hands to pry the thick arm from his neck.

  “Good.” Zelus unlocked his iron vice and Jak fell to his knees, massaging his throat. “Don’t press your luck.”

  Zelus waited only a few seconds before bringing Jak back to his feet with a light kick in the behind. He urged Jak forward with another sharp shove.

  The waters had been successfully tested. He had nearly been strangled in the process, but now had the knowledge he was dealing with a bunch of hotheads. Nevertheless, he decided to continue on without any more interruptions, in the attempt to save some of his energy for trouble he knew was brewing in the near future.

  After Jak was prodded through a series of corridors and hallways for what seemed like an hour, they arrived at a door just as plain as the rest of the doors on the ship. Zelus mumbled something on his radio and the door slid aside moments later. Jak was all but thrown into the room.

  The lights were dimmed lower than the hall, but it was bright enough to see Cyan sitting in front of a large wooden desk, her hands bound behind her. She caught his eye as he entered. On the other side of the desk was rather plain looking old man with snow white hair.

  “Hello, Mr. Phoenix,” said the man. “My name is Captain Cornelius Cartrite. It is ingratiating to meet you.”

  Jak had expected Captain Cartrite to be more terrifying and less creepy. How would he play this? Cyan was tied up and miserable and the most feared pirate in the galaxy was looking to chat. He decided to keep the situation cool for now and participate. Jak reached in to shake hands with the senior pirate.

  “Likewise,” said Jak, as he watched his hand ignored.

  “Forgive me if I don’t shake hands, my friend. I assure you it is from a purely medical standpoint. In all honesty, I don’t know where you’ve been and you certainly do not know where I have been. There are far too many diseases and afflictions being passed around these days, with the unrestrained passage between worlds. No offence is intended. It is for your own good as well as mine.”

  “None taken.” Jak was thoroughly disgusted, yet somehow slightly amused by old man Cartrite.

  “Please, have a seat.” Cartrite waved Jak toward a chair next to Cyan, where he sat without hesitation. As he sat down, his glance passed over Cyan, but he said nothing to her. Jak hadn’t yet decided how the relationship between the two of them should be seen by Cartrite. The last thing he wanted to do was show he cared too much, giving Cartrite the upper hand and something to use as bait. He hoped she was smart enough to realize this and wasn’t seeing Jak’s ignorance toward her as anything but a defence on her behalf.

  “Tough ship,” said Jak, as he eased into his chair.

  “My apologies if you were treated unfairly. It is necessary to maintain a certain level of authority if you are to remain in control of such a large enterprise.”

  Jak analyzed the old man’s wardrobe, seeing no obvious hidden weapons tucked into the soft looking, but hideously coloured yellowish-brown clothing. His desk was clean and bare except for a can of writing instruments at the corner.

  “Otherwise, it’s quite a pleasure,” said Jak. He was trying his best to humour this old man and try to keep everything calm. He wanted to get a clearer understanding of the situation before causing a ruckus. “But I’m a little confused at why I’m here.”

  “You’re here by pure chance, Mr. Phoenix. We were in the process of finalizing dealings with that captain, whose name unfortunately escapes me at the moment, when we stumbled onto each other. It wasn’t until we had you aboard that we realized who you were. I hope my troops weren’t too harsh with you. In their unquestioning loyalty to me, they can become a tad unsympathetic toward others, which in the majority of situations is actually a great strength for us. It is, after all, how they were engineered to function.” Cartrite broke his speech with a laugh like he had said something hysterical that Jak would comprehend.

  Jak laughed falsely along with the captain, not having any idea if what he said was funny or not.

  “They brought you over with their shifter belts,” continued Cartrite, “which we would not have used if we had known who you two were. We have already had you thoroughly checked out and it does not seem like you have received any ill effects from the shift.”

  “What is the problem?” asked Cyan. Jak was relieved to hear her voice, but was uncomfortable with how her wrists were still bound behind the chair. He was sure she was sick to her stomach, as he was, after hearing they had been ‘checked out.’

  “Well, unfortunately my dear, there are some disadvantages to the technology. The shifters work exceptionally well at digitizing and transferring people and things from one place to another, but such a technological breakthrough comes with a price to pay. Each time a shift is completed, there is always some inherent data loss, meaning that a few molecules are lost on their way to the destination. In your cases, only a small amount of signal loss has occurred, so you will be fine. Repeated trips tend to take a toll on the body which is why we generally reserve these types of jobs for our first level troops. When they are too far degraded, they can be easily rep
laced.”

  “Efficient,” said Jak. He was disgusted. This man looked normal on the outside but clearly harboured a terrible soul inside. No sane man could have such disregard for lives.

  “Very,” answered Cartrite.

  “Could I interrupt quickly?” said Jak.

  Cartrite nodded in approval.

  “Is there any way we could untie the girl here while we’re talking?”

  “Certainly,” he answered. “You can go ahead if you’d like. I had nearly forgotten.”

  Jak leaned over and untied her from the chair. He decided to touch her soft hand as he finished. She did not pull it away, but was still smart enough to do nothing to show they were friendly, which was really true for the most part anyway, Jak thought. Jak returned to his position facing Cartrite and dropped her ties on his desk, beside the tin of neatly organized writing instruments and assorted desk accessories. Jak could tell immediately that Cartrite didn’t like anything out of place on his desk. He felt a sense of accomplishment as he saw Cartrite’s eyes quickly analyze the rope, trying to figure out a solution without actually touching it. The desk was out of alignment and Jak could see that the captain hated it.

  “So, how is it that you know who I am?” asked Jak. He was slightly afraid of the answer.

  “Your name has come to my attention several times. You seem to get around, as they say. Many of your exploits in pirating have been widely discussed. The Falle Diamond; the disruption of the Trellian Bridge; the incident with the Prince of Shalen. Fine work, for what you do.”

  “Thank you,” said Jak. He decided not to let Cartrite know about his current status of bankruptcy. Or that the only thing they gained from the Prince of Shalen was a hot tub. “I didn’t step on your toes on any of those jobs, I hope.” Jak urged a smile from Cartrite.

  “No, no.” Cartrite waved off the remark. “We have moved far past mercenary work like you are accustomed to. We no longer take items. We take worlds, then sort through the proceeds at a later time.”

  “Yeah, I’ve heard that.” Jak wasn’t sure if that was going to be too sarcastic of a remark at too early a time. He didn’t want the old nutcase to pop just yet.

  “I’ll bet you have, Jak, but in the wrong context, I’d assume. As you can see, one’s legend grows across time and distance and is distorted as stories are told incorrectly. While I’m sure much of the data we have on you is flawed, there is one thing I have noticed in you which appeals to me. Your independence. You do what you want and take what you want, and you are a free thinker. Coincidentally, this is what I am currently looking for, as your courage and bravado is something of which we are in short supply.”

  “Is this why I’m your prisoner?” asked Jak.

  “Prisoner?” Cartrite seemed slightly offended. “You are not my prisoners at this point. I am extending my hand to the both of you, offering positions here amongst my crew before we enter our new phase. It is rather important that you accept, since both of your ways of life are about to become extinct in one way or another.”

  Jak just wanted to flip the desk on the old miser, grab Cyan and run away. He hoped Cyan didn’t do it first.