Razer Edge Page 2

  “I understand,” Roak said. He pushed his glass away. “And having the Galactic Fleet here is the farthest thing from my mind.” Roak stood. Abel didn’t even flinch. “It’s being handled. You want the GF to stay away from Ligston? Then let it be. Let all of it be.”

  Roak snatched the bottle of whiskey from the table and walked to the stairs.

  “Nice meeting you, lawman. Hope I don’t see you again before I leave.”

  Up the stairs he went without looking back once.

  3.

  The slap was expected. The knee to the gut wasn’t.

  Roak doubled over and nearly dropped the bottle of whiskey as the door to Ally’s rooms closed and locked behind him.

  “Where are the chits?” Ally snarled.

  She was completely naked, her chameleon skin flashing different colors and tones as her obvious anger boiled over. Roak held out the bottle and she took it, tossing it onto the bed behind her. Roak took a couple of breaths then straightened up.

  Her knee came at him again, but he dodged it and gave her a hard shove. She stumbled back, but only a few steps, before planting her feet and holding her ground. Roak closed on her.

  “I don’t know,” he said as he began to unbuckle his light armor. Ally stood there, hands on hips, eyes blazing with barely contained fury. “Sha is on it.”

  “Oh, Sha is on it?” Ally laughed as she watched Roak undress, their bodies less than half a meter apart. “Great. The old Skrang is on it.”

  “You trust Sha,” Roak said, finished undressing. “Or as much as anyone can trust Sha.”

  He took a step closer and Ally took a step back. They continued that way until the backs of her legs hit the edge of her bed. Then her hands shot out and she grabbed Roak by the shoulders, flipping him around and onto the bed.

  She was straddling him, a sharp talon to his throat, before he could say a word. He smiled up at her then reached under himself and pulled out the whiskey bottle. She took it, yanked the cork out with her teeth, spat it across the room, and drank deep from the bottle.

  “You promise you didn’t pull a double cross and take those chits?” she asked, pressing the bottom of the bottle against Roak’s forehead.

  “Promise,” Roak said. “I’m more pissed off than you are.”

  “I doubt that,” Ally said. She drank again then returned the bottle to rest on Roak’s forehead. “My cut of those chits was all I had, Roak. You still have caches around the galaxy. I don’t. Shit, I heard you did some job for Shava Stemn Shava that paid pretty nice.”

  “How in all the Hells did you hear that way out here on Ligston?” Roak asked, honestly surprised.

  “I own a tavern, Roak. I hear all kinds of things.”

  She drank again until the bottle was empty then threw it over her shoulder.

  “How do you plan on getting the chits back?”

  “Sha is going to get the names,” Roak said. “I’m going to hunt those names down. That’s the plan.”

  “That could take a while,” Ally said as she eased herself around Roak. Her head came down so that their noses touched. Her lips parted and her tongue flicked out quickly. “You planning on sticking around until he gets those names?”

  “I plan on sticking around until it’s time for me not to stick around anymore,” Roak said. He kissed her then pulled back. “My caches aren’t as plentiful as you think. If Sha doesn’t get names soon, then I’ll need to work.”

  “We all need to work,” Ally said, her voice low and sharp. “Don’t fuck me on this, Roak.”

  “Fuck you on this? Never,” he said. “It’d ruin what we have.”

  “We don’t have shit,” she whispered.

  It was a couple hours before they rolled off the bed and staggered their way to a panel on the wall, both drenched in sweat, bodies sated and spent. Ally keyed in a code and the wall slid away to reveal an ornate bathtub big enough for an army. It was already filled with an aromatic liquid the color of amber.

  “There it is,” Roak said as he stepped into the tub. “Ah, yes.”

  The liquid in the tub was an old family recipe of Ally’s. It could pull the gunk out and cleanse a body in minutes. Roak slid down so the liquid came up over his shoulders. In seconds, he felt his muscles relax. Ally slid in next to him and handed him his own bottle of whiskey while she drank from hers. They could finish five bottles each and only get a nice buzz due to the tub’s healing effects.

  “Do I admit I missed you?” Ally asked out loud.

  “You expect me to reciprocate?” Roak replied after taking a long swig from the bottle. “Nonexclusive, right?”

  “Shut up,” Ally said. She eased onto his lap, her back against his chest, and sighed. “You’re a bastard, Roak.”

  “In more ways than you know,” Roak said.

  They stayed that way for several minutes, sipping whiskey, staring at the wall across from them as the tub extracted every last gram of stress from their bodies. Ally’s head lolled back and she pressed her cheek against Roak’s.

  “If I find out you’ve been playing me, you’ll become the hunted for once,” Ally whispered.

  “Fair enough,” Roak said.

  They kissed and relaxed some more.

  “This better not get complicated,” Ally said as her eyes closed. She managed to get the whiskey bottle up onto the edge of the tub as she eased into Roak’s body even more. “I don’t need complicated.”

  She slipped off into sleep, but Roak didn’t. He listened to and felt her breathing against him. He sipped his whiskey and stayed right there in the tub, Ally on him, his mind racing for answers as to who could have pulled the job and stolen his chits. Their chits.

  “Roak?” a voice quietly asked over the comm. A comm implant that Roak had never wanted, but the owner of the voice had secretly implanted in him a while back. “You have an incoming call I believe you should take.”

  “Not now, Hessa,” Roak responded to the AI that ran his ship and was in a way, a reluctant way on Roak’s part, his de facto partner. The ship was docked in orbit on Ligston Station, but that didn’t stop Hessa from talking to him. Roak doubted much of anything could stop Hessa. “I’ll call them back.”

  “The comm signature is one of the ones that match Bishop’s,” Hessa said.

  Roak tensed. Ally shifted and moaned in her sleep.

  “Bishop? Didn’t expect to hear from him for a while,” Roak said.

  “Shall I patch him through?”

  “Um, hold on,” Roak said. “Answer and tell him to give me a couple seconds.”

  “You want me to speak to Bishop?” Hessa asked, honest surprise in her AI voice.

  “Only for a couple seconds while I get out and towel off,” Roak said as he started the intricate process of extricating himself out from under Ally without waking her up. “It might be longer than a couple of seconds. You two should have plenty to chat about.”

  “If you say so,” Hessa said then the comm went silent.

  It wasn’t easy, but Roak managed to get out from under Ally and out of the tub without her waking up. He watched her for half a second, flattered that she was comfortable enough with him to drop into a deep sleep.

  That was far from not complicated and he wasn’t sure what that meant.

  He shoved the thoughts away and toweled off before sitting on the edge of the bed and activating the comm.

  “Put him through, Hessa,” Roak said.

  “Roak,” Bishop’s voice called over the comm. “I gotta say, man, that AI of yours is something. You’d think she was fully sentient.”

  “You’d be a fool not to,” Roak said. “I wouldn’t make that mistake.”

  “Cool. Cool,” Bishop said.

  There was a couple seconds of awkward silence.

  “This the part where you apologize for almost getting me wrapped up in that Shava Stemn Shava crap,” Bishop stated.

  “No, it isn’t,” Roak replied. “What’d you call for, Bishop? You never call. The finder’s fee mu
st be sizable.”

  “You think I’m only calling because I’m collecting a finder’s fee if you take the job?” Bishop laughed. “Eight Million Godsdamn right that’s why I’m calling.”

  “Then spill it,” Roak said. He got up from the bed and found a bottle of whiskey on Ally’s dresser. He popped the cork and drank deep. “Talk, pal.”

  “You ever hear of Pol Hammon?”

  “I’d be shitty at my job if I hadn’t,” Roak said. “Freelancer that works dark tech, yeah? Best in the business, from what I hear.”

  “He’s the best ever,” Bishop said. “Realistically, there isn’t a mainframe or fraction of a piece of code in this galaxy that he hasn’t touched at some time. The man is unstoppable.”

  “Okay. And someone wants him found? Why?”

  “To stop him. Permanently.”

  “I don’t do hits, Bishop. You know that. I kill only when needed.”

  “Considering the body count you tend to leave behind, you must need it a lot.”

  “Kiss my ass. If it’s a hit, then count me out.”

  “Not a hit, a hunt. A hunt that pays. All I can say is the client is made up of a consortium of corporate interests. Whatever happens after you deliver Hammon is none of your business, none of my business. But there are enough weak, corporate folks involved that if it goes south, you’ll have several targets to hunt and make things right. All the revenge you’ll need. I know how much you like your revenge as a fall back plan, Roak.”

  Roak looked over at Ally asleep in the tub.

  “Kind of busy right now, Bishop. I’m dealing with a set of…complications.”

  “Do those complications pay twenty-five million chits?”

  Roak took a very, very long drink of whiskey before answering.

  “No. Those complications do not pay twenty-five million chits. More like the opposite. Keep talking.”

  Bishop did and Roak quickly realized he needed to leave Ligston and get back out into the field. The job was well worth taking and twenty-five million chits would certainly ease the pain of losing thirty million plus chits. And who knew how long before Sha had names that Roak could track down.

  He left Ally a holo and made his way to the landing port and the space elevator that would take him back up to Ligston Station and his ship.

  4.

  “That is three dead-ends, Roak,” Hessa stated as Roak sat on the bridge of their Borgon Eight-Three-Eight stealth incursion ship, his boots propped up on the control console. “There are two more leads, but after that, you will need to work some new contacts for better intel.”

  “I’ve about worked all my contacts,” Roak said, rubbing at the scruff on his chin. “I’ll run out of favors if I work anymore.”

  He stretched and rolled his head on his neck.

  “What are the last two leads?”

  “Manigot Station—”

  “Nope. Security is shit there. They like to think they have it locked down, but they don’t. Someone of Hammon’s skill level wouldn’t even put in a comm call to Manigot Station.”

  “You could simply say no,” Hessa huffed.

  One of her many sentient affectations—huffing. Roak was used to that and the sighing and the sly smirks she put into her voice to needle him.

  “The last one?” Roak asked.

  “Razer Station,” Hessa replied.

  Roak dropped his boots to the floor and sat up straight.

  “You know Razer Station?” Hessa asked.

  “I know Razer Station,” Roak replied.

  “Is it a viable lead then?” Hessa asked. “Razer Station is far out on the Edge. Very little GF influence and almost no Skrang contact. Let me peruse the files.”

  “You do that.”

  “Oh, interesting,” Hessa said almost immediately. “A station after your own heart. It appears to be populated by criminals, con artists, freaks, whatever the definition of that may be, rebels, junkies, and smugglers. No planets in the system, only a single star that the station draws its power from. Isolated, alone, private. Just like you, Roak.”

  “But I have you, Hessa,” Roak said as he brought up a holo vid of the station. It was grainy and lacked distinguishing details, but it made Roak shiver nonetheless. “Set a course.”

  “Your vital signs have jumped, Roak,” Hessa stated. “Not a fear signature, but you are worried about Razer Station.”

  “Only fools wouldn’t be worried about Razer Station. It is not an easy place to land on. It has kept its independence, but the Edgers have been increasing their influence over it for years. Nothing like revolutionary zealots to gum up a job.”

  “I would not define Edgers as revolutionaries, Roak,” Hessa countered. “They do not want to overthrow any government. As far as I can tell, they simply want independence from the Galactic Fleet and Skrang Alliance. Recognition of their own autonomy and authority.”

  “I see you have access to their propaganda vids.” Roak laughed. “They’d love to recruit an AI like you.”

  “Like me?”

  “Mouthy with a brain.”

  “I will take both those descriptions as compliments coming from you.”

  “That’s how I meant them.”

  Roak went quiet and Hessa let him. They’d been working together long enough that they’d grown used to each other’s personality quirks.

  He stared out the view shield of the ship, the quantum energy of trans-space swirling past as they made their way through another of the many legs of their journey. With Razer Station so far out, it would take more than a few wormhole portal jumps to get to the location. That left them exposed.

  To what? Roak didn’t know, but a twenty-five million chit job meant there would be complications, for sure. Life was full of complications, as Roak knew from his recent Ligston experience. Twenty-five million chits meant the odds were exponentially higher that more would come his way.

  “Hessa, plot the fastest course to Razer Station,” Roak said finally.

  “The fastest or most secure?” Hessa asked. “Fastest could rip us apart.”

  “You know what I mean,” Roak grumbled. “Just plot the Eight Million Godsdamn course.”

  “Plotting the Eight Million Godsdamn course.”

  “Thank you.”

  “And you will be doing what while I plot the Eight Million Godsdamn course?”

  “Point made, Hessa. Thank you for plotting the course.” He sighed. “I’m going to make a comm call to someone that doesn’t want to talk to me.”

  “That does not narrow it down.”

  “Okay, cut the feisty crap. It’s getting annoying.”

  Hessa didn’t reply. Roak took that as a good sign and keyed in a comm signature. Almost immediately the signature cut off, a dead line.

  “Was that on our end?” Roak asked. “Should I wait until we’re out of trans-space?”

  “That was deliberate,” Hessa stated. “The comm signature you called is no longer in use. I have tried to trace a forwarding signature, but none are connected. Do you have another comm signature you can use for your contact?”

  “No.” Roak narrowed his eyes and stared into space while staring into trans-space. “I have an idea.”

  Roak dialed in the signature six more times, for a total of seven unanswered calls, then leaned back in his seat and waited.

  They dropped out of trans-space at the same time the comm call came in.

  “Unknown signature,” Hessa stated. “Implementing security protocols for possible system intrusion. You are free to answer, Roak.”

  “Roak,” he stated as he opened the comm channel. “You’re hard to get ahold of.”

  “For a very good reason,” the female AI voice replied on the other end.

  “Am I that reason?” Roak asked.

  “A good majority of the reason. I have Shilo Syndicate on me thanks to you.”

  Roak stiffened. “Sorry about that. How bad is it?”

  “Manageable. I am not a flesh bag with flesh bag need
s. I can take care of myself in ways that even the best of Shilo Syndicate cannot comprehend.”

  “You know who else might be after you then…?”

  “Yes. But I suspect she is occupied at the moment. And none of this is why you called. What do you need, Roak?”

  “Razer Station,” Roak stated. “I have a bounty there, I think.”

  “You think? The irony.”

  “Listen, I’ve been getting enough gruff from AIs today, okay? Can we dump the attitude and talk business? This bounty pays very well. I’ll break off a piece for you and leave it at the usual drop point for one of your associates to pick up. If you can help me get onboard the station without a bunch of hassle.”

  “Razer Station? I have contacts there.”

  “Contacts that will let me do my job and get on and off station without me having to fight my way in either direction?”

  “What good would the contacts be, Roak, if they did not allow station access?”

  “Good. How does a million chits sound as payment?”

  “A million chits for station access? A tidy sum.”

  “It’s Razer Station.”

  “Still. May I call you back?”

  “No.”

  “No? Roak, you are being rude.”

  “I am always rude to you and you Eight Million Godsdamn know why. I want your answer now.”

  “Let me call you back with the answer and I won’t negotiate the price despite what intel I come across. If you are offering a million chits, even for Razer Station, then your bounty must be much, much higher than that. And if it is as high as I believe, then I want to know the target. As much as you may think I owe you, Roak, I do not owe you my reputation. I exist on my reputation.”

  “Don’t we all,” Roak replied. He steepled his fingers and closed his eyes for a moment. “Fine. Call me back. How long do you need?”

  “Ten minutes.”

  “Ten minutes? For an AI mind like yours? What are you doing, reading the entire galactic library of information?”

  “Flattery draped in sarcasm gets you nowhere, Roak. I will call back in ten minutes.”

  The comm went dead.

  “She seems like such a lovely AI,” Hessa said. “Perhaps one day we will meet.”