spacelagos

[spacelagos]

99. Flashback.

The Khail dropped like a ton of bricks on the floor, and Cocky cleanly jumped away before the collapse, with the practice of something done a thousand times before. He then looked up and noticed Rocket and Des standing there. The lagomorph did a double-take, and then actually stumbled back, shaking his head. When he looked at them again he was beaming.

Immediately Rocket took a step back, the fur of his tail up. There was something very, very wrong with Cocky. He didn’t know what it was. But it was definitely there. The look of grief on Desiree spoke volumes.

“Hey!” the lagomorph called. “Glad to see you’re okay.”

“Hi, Pintsize,” Desiree said, slowly.

Cocky smiled again. “That’s right. None of that First Lieutenant Cockwell crap. When we rise, we rise together,” he said. His expression was dazed, distant. There was a noise somewhere, and he immediately turned that way. “Got a good head start, but the place is crawling. Do you happen to have a knife with you? It will speed up things.”

“There’s no time for that,” Rocket intervened. “We need to leave. This ship is going to explode in a few minutes.”

“I don’t remember your name, soldier,” Cocky smiled sadly. “I don’t think I have ever seen your face around here. I wish it was in better circumstances.”

Soldier???

“Uh, Cocky, you’re acting kinda loopy there,” Rocket noted, instinctively pawing his handgun, just to have it handy.

“He’s having a flashback,” Des muttered. Again, her eyes were brimming with tears.

“A flashback to what?” Rocket asked. Des shook her head. Cocky didn’t even seem to think they were talking about him.

“Uh, do you want me to bonk him a good one on the head?” the raccoon asked.

“Bonk who?” Cocky asked, still smiling. “Um, the knife?” He extended his hand, palm up.

Desiree looked at it. “Okay. I will give you a knife, Cocky. My best knife, actually. But can I have a hug, first?”

[spacelagos]

[spacelagos]

97. Hang on

[spacelagos]

96. Walls.

Suddenly,  the lights went out. They froze. Khail had extremely good night vision, if anything, to compensate for all their other senses being inferior.

Des and Rocket crouched in the absolute darkness, trying not to breathe too loudly. Suddenly, the emergency lights kicked in and an alarm started blaring.

“Think that was Blackjack?” Rocket whispered.

“Probably. How much time do we have?” Des asked.

“Ten minutes, give or take,” Rocket said. “If he was not lying. Which you know, he probably was.”

“Yeah,” Des said sadly. She made a sign and they advanced quickly. All the doors were open.

“A disruptor,” Rocket said.

“Yeah, how the heck did BJ get that?” Des muttered.

“Integrated into the circuits of the fingers,” the raccoonish merc said.

“About time he was useful for something,” Des said. They advanced quickly through the doors until they reached a new hall. Des advanced, pointing her gun at each open door, but there were no enemies there.

Rocket stopped, dead in his tracks, by one of the doorframes. As if it was a dream, he advanced into the milky blue light, looking at all the walls. All the weapon-covered walls. All the humongous weapons that covered the walls. Probably they were normal-sized for beings that were twelve feet tall, but for Rocket, they were big as houses.

He looked at them, hypnotized, already trying to calculate how many, if any, he could carry back to his ship. But right before he could touch them, Desire’s shrill scream reached his ears from the next room. “ROCKET!!!”

Rocket ran into the room, weapon in hand, the armory completely forgotten. He had expected something very bad. Instead, all he found were unbreakable glass cages. They were open. They had shackles inside. These were also open.

Desiree immediately started cursing. “Goddammit! Blackjack must have opened it all with the disruptor!”

Rocket felt confused. “Wait, so this isn’t a good thing? Didn’t Cocky escape?”

“Yes, he did,” Des said. She seemed to be trying to think. “And that’s bad. Now we need to find him. And Brock. And we don’t have time.”

Rocket shook his head. “I’d suggest separating, but that’s probably not a good idea. C’mon, the disruption was not so long ago. He can’t be far.”

Des’ eyes looked, surprisingly, brimming with tears. She nodded and followed Rocket outside. “You’re right,” she said.

Soon they ran into a Khail corpse. Then, another. There was no blood, mercifully, or visible wounds of any kind. Rocket raised an eyebrow.

“Follow the trail, I guess,” Des said, and started running.

It didn’t take them long. They found Cocky, along with another Khail. The huge bird-like being was very busy trying to crush the lagomorph with his leh. Cocky looked impossibly tiny next to his enemy, and seemed to be having a hard time dodging. He was unarmed.

Rocket pointed his launcher at the Khail, but hesitated.

[spacelagos]

95. Name.

She leaned behind the pillar, blood pouring down her face. Des swallowed hard. She had run out of options quickly. There were still two of them, but these were armed with kinetic rounds. The blasts had knocked her around and she had almost lost her gun. There were only four rounds in the magazine, anyway.

Desiree wondered if she should just make a run for it. But there was nothing between her and the two huge enemies. If she tried to get past them she would probably be beaten into a pulp.

They were closing in. Desiree started laughing. It had just been a really bad day in a really bad week in a really bad month. It was kind of stupid to expect a break now; and yet, a break is exactly what happened next.

A small, but bulky silhouette appeared behind the birds.

“Gods of Asgard, you’re UGLY!” Rocket noted, and, honoring his name, fired his oversized rocket launcher directly at their feet. The explosion knocked both Khail back. Once on the floor, both Rocket and Des dispatched them relatively quickly. The raccoon had brought a smaller handgun with him.

Rocket approached Des. But before she could say anything, he turned around and started puking violently.

“Uh, Rocket?” Des asked, trying to wipe the blood off her eyes.

“That… SMELL. How can you stand it?! What IS that smell???” Rocket’s eyes watered. Then he started heaving again.

Des pulled him back. “Right now, that’s their blood, so it’s worse around them.”

“It makes me want to pee my pants and crawl out of my skin at the same time,” Rocket said, still dry-heaving.

“I know,” Des said. She quickly pawed around her pocket and brought a small stick. It looked like lipstick, but it was neon blue. She smeared some of that on her fingers and then rubbed Rocket’s nose with it. Rocket felt so sick he didn’t even protest. After that, he immediately felt better. He made an attempt to rub his nose clean and Des stopped him mid-movement.  “Don’t. This is helping.”

Rocket nodded and started walking away from the fallen birds. “What… what is even that? Do they all smell like that?”

Des rubbed some of the blue goo on her own nose. “That is, according to our scientists, some sort of apex predator pheromone. We soldiers have built a tolerance to it; but still, we carry this to counteract it somehow.” Desiree started reloading her gun. “Your nose is probably more sensitive than ours. I would have given you some if I knew you were gonna be here.”

Rocket seemed uncomfortable by this line of talking. “Where’s Brocky?”

“I��m not sure. Recovering,” Des said, and dropped her sight. Now she seemed uncomfortable. There was a silence. Finally, Rocket said: “C’mon, let’s go get Cocky so we can get out of here.”

[spacelagos]

94. Elevator.

They managed to go through two doors without having to fight, on stealth mode. Unfortunately for them they ran into some Khail in the middle of a long, very tall hall. They were, as usual with Khail soldiers, around twelve feet tall, and armed with lehs. There was nowhere to hide. Des and Brock separated, pelting the huge lumbering bird-like beings with rounds.  The Khail started swinging their lehs around, which were some humongous clubs with spikes in the end. It was hard to dodge, so they had to retreat into some space that was less open. At some point one of the Khail fell and died. They still had to deal with the other, however, so Des distracted the bird with the freezing rounds while Brock ran past it. Finally, the humongous being fell to the floor with a loud thud. Des was sure he wasn’t dead, but they couldn’t afford to make sure. They ran inside an elevator. Brock stopped.

“Wait,” he begged. He looked very pale.

Des looked around. “Are you alright? Did you get hurt?”

“No, it’s just… GODDAMMIT, I have to do this. I have to,” Brock panted.

She swallowed hard. “You shouldn’t be fighting like this. I was going to tell you to hang back at the ship, but…”

“I feel useless enough, thank you. Uh, switch guns?” Brock smiled sheepishly.

Des immediately switched guns with Brock. “That one also has a kick, but hopefully less. Try to lean on something.”

Just out of the elevator three Khail soldiers spotted them. “Sweet Fluffy One, I’m so tired,” Brock said in a dismayed voice.

Des turned around surprisingly, kissed Brock full on the lips, and before he could protest, she pushed him inside the elevator. Then she closed the door.

[spacelagos]

93. Crate.

“Rocket, we’re leaving. We still need to find Cocky and come back with him,” Des said. She smiled. “Thank you again.”

Rocket automatically smiled back. But he hesitated. “Good luck, guys.”

Brock nodded. “You too,” he said, and tossed Rocket the universal gesture for a pilot greeting. The other answered it, half-heartedly.

Rocket watched them go from one of the curved windows. They were carrying the empty crate between the two, unarmed. The guns and ammo were inside.

Two very obvious lagomorphs from B’eel. The raccoonish mercenary felt his stomach in knots. Lagos. The Khail’s mortal enemies.

But maybe it was like Cocky had said: they literally thought they were from the Bunny Brigade because it was all the same to them. Everybody ignored them.

Something about it made Rocket angry. On the other hand, the lagos carried the empty crate across the hangar and disappeared behind a door, unbothered.

It was time to go. So why did he hesitate?

Rocket huffed. He had to get out before the Khail wised up. He quickly gathered all the things that were in the crate before it was emptied out in a hurry. He had to secure them away somewhere or they would fly all over the ship when he took off.

He froze when he saw what was under an old jacket that he didn’t recognize.

A Gun.

[spacelagos]

92. Engaged.

The ship shook and heaved under the fire of the Gouger ships. Brock had handed the reins to Rocket so he could gear up. The attack had started, so everyone was buckled up for the time being. “Des?” Rocket asked. “Kinda having a hard time here. Dodging fire from so many ships at the same time is not as easy as I make it look.” “Circle two or three times around the UnU, please. We want their shields to register that attack.” “What about the bay door codes?” Rocket asked. “Those bay doors? Already opened to let the IzI units out,” Des said. She turned to look at Blackjack sardonically. He shrugged again, leaned over Rocket, and clicked a series of number keys. “There, now you got my smuggler pass to not draw immediate fire.” “Alright, here we go,” Rocket said, sweating bullets. He maneuvered the ship around, and squeezed past the gunfire right into the loading docks. Almost magically, everyone seemed to be ignoring the ship. Huge, lumbering beings that reminded vaguely of birds ran around the hangar, getting into the IzI units. Blackjack unbuckled. “I’m going out. Coulda hidden you inside of a crate to smuggle you in, but I guess you already have your methods, right, sweetie?” “Just get the Hell out of here and see your ugly mug never, Blackjack,” Desiree said, coldly, putting on her gloves. “Just so ya know, setting up the main charges for 20 minutes,” Blackjack said. “Get out before then. Or not.” The hare opened the doors to the bay and walked out casually. He didn’t turn around. He was unarmed, and in more ways than one. His useless right arm dangled at his side. Still, his entire demeanor was as if he owned the place. Brock grunted as the door closed behind him. “Jerkass.” “Uh, do you have a crate we can borrow?” Des asked Rocket, smiling, after a moment.

[spacelagos]

91. Showtime.

Blackjack moved the fingers of his robotic hand around. They were a little stilted, but they worked. Rocket, who had been stone-silent while working, automatically got up to set his tools in order.

“Two minutes,” Brock said in a croaky voice.

“Showtime, I guess,” Rocket said. “Alright, I’m going to give you a couple of guns. Really sorry, Brocky, but this is the best I can do. It’s got a kick, but you can’t use small guns on the Khail; you know they’re big enough to shrug them off.”

“It is what it is,” Brock sighed. “Thanks, Rocket. Keep ours safe.”

“I’ll give them back eventually,” Rocket said. “Des, this one is for you. Uh, incendiary rounds or freezing rounds?”

“I would love the incendiary rounds, but we will be trying to attract as little attention as possible,” Des smiled.

“Right. Ice it is,” Rocket said, attaching a different kind of magazine. “You have twenty shots; after that, you will have to reload by hand. How many boxes are you carrying?”

Des took the gun and set the strap around her shoulder. “Mmh. Just one, I think. I really can’t carry more, especially because I don’t know if Cocky will be able to walk. I might have to carry him.”

Brock sighed in an embarrassed way. “They’re closing in, guys,” he said, pointing to the radars. “I might have to step on it.”

“Do it,” Des said.

“What, I don’t get a gun?” Blackjack chided.

“You get a gun. TO THE FACE,” Rocket sneered. “Be grateful I’m not killing you on the spot after what you did to Groot, Jack.”

“He is fine, Rocky, don’t get dramatic on me,” the hare said, unwinding the duct tape around his useless right arm.

“You wanted me to kill him,” Rocket said in a very alarming, flat tone of voice. Des eyed the situation. It seemed on a hair-trigger, especially considering the raccoon was wielding weapons around. “You set everything so it would be me who killed him.”

“And yet you didn’t,” Blackjack said. He was smart enough to back down instead of getting in Rocket’s face.

There was a silence.

“You and I were friends at some point, and when we did, I told you one day all your bad deeds were going to catch up to you,” Rocket said. “I still think so. In fact, today was almost that day.”

Blackjack smirked.

“And yet it wasn’t,” the hare said, in a cynical tone. “Save your hero speech, Rocket, I stopped believing in fairy tales like ‘justice’ back at Half-World. Probably around the third surgery. Do you think that was fair? Mmh? Did you think that was our bad deeds too? Ain’t afraid of Hell; not when you’ve been me.” Blackjack pointed at Rocket with his newly functioning robot hand. “And you can talk bad deeds all you want, but you’re balking at rescuing a guy from some evil Empire just because your friends the do-gooders made a pouty face.”

“You put that guy into the hands of the evil Empire yerself,” Rocket said, unimpressed.

“Oh yeah, but I think we had already established I’m the literal worst,” Blackjack shrugged, this time with both shoulders.

[spacelagos]

90. Chance.

Brock sighed and shook his head. Desiree sat down. “Listen, Rocket, you don’t have to do it. You can just drop us at the UnU ship and leave. And you can rightly say you didn’t attack the Khail; I mean, you don’t even have any weapons.”

“What about you guys? How are you gonna escape?”

“We’re going to steal an IzI ship. You know, the smaller attack unit. UnU ships usually carry a dozen of them. They’re small, but they’re actually bigger than the tin can we were in,” Des said.

“You can work an IzI, Brocky?” Rocket asked.

Brock scoffed. “I’m B’eel’s Space Force, what do you think?”

“Right,” Rocket said. He seemed to think about this.

“You have done enough for us,” Des said. “And we really appreciate that. You gave us a fighting chance when you didn’t have to.” She patted his shoulder. “Better get to fixing that jerk’s arm, we will be arriving soon.”

[spacelagos]

89. Promise.

[spacelagos]

88. Promise.

“Huh. Wow. Is that wise? Why don’t you just drop him off somewhere?” Quill sounded worried. “Oh, we’re using him to attack an UnU ship,” Rocket said, and immediately bit his tongue in regret. “WHAT??” Peter Quill almost yelled. “Rocket, that’s a Khail ship! You can’t attack a Khail ship! And it’s very dangerous! You promised!” “Oops, we’re under attack now! Gotta run!” Rocket said, and pushed the intercom button. It immediately started blinking again. Rocket scratched his ass sheepishly. “Uh, Rocket? Why did Quill said you can’t attack a Khail ship?” Desiree said, frowning. “Oh, some… nonsense about the Guardians having a no-aggresion pact with the Khail Empire. Or something?” Rocket looked embarrassed. “WHAT,” Brock, uncharacteristically, shouted. “Not the Guardians! Nova Corps! I… okay, I have no idea what it means. Look, Quill is the one who knows that stuff. Gamora too, usually. I’m just the muscle; I’m not into diplomacy or politics,” Rocket excused himself. “Rocky is one of them hero types now,” Blackjack chittered. Rocket suddenly turned around to see him with murder in his eyes. Blackjack closed his mouth so quickly his teeth sounded like billiard balls. Rocket seemed to deflate. He let himself drop on one of the chairs, facing the wrong way, and rubbed the fur of his face. Des seemed to be deep in thought, already planning around Rocket, always one step ahead.

[spacelagos]

87. Sonuva

[spacelagos]

86. Check.

“Quill,” Rocket said.

“Hi. Just checking in. Ship’s alright?” Peter asked.

“C’mon, get a better excuse. Of course the ship’s alright.” Rocket turned to look at Blackjack sideways. “What about Groot?”

Blackjack sniffed, evidently more than a little worried. Des actually looked very worried, too.

“He’s fine. They got that device cut off from him. It was sending some sort of signal through his nervous system that put him in a dormant state. But he’s okay!” Quill said, chipper.

“I am Groot,” a deep, deep voice said from the intercom. Rocket’s tail swished around wildly. “Groot, buddy, am I happy to hear you!”

It was strange to hear that level of vulnerability in Rocket’s voice.  Des turned to give Blackjack the dirty eye. He looked away.

“I am Groot?” Groot said from the other end.

“I’m okay, just on a rescue mission right now. Yeah, you’d love it,” Rocket snickered. “I’m getting this done and then picking you up. Get some rest in the meantime, okay? Don’t drink from any strange urinals, please.”

A deep hum, and then Peter was on the horn again. “See? What did I tell you?”

“Thank you, dude,” Rocket said, sincerely. “Owe you one for real.”

[spacelagos]

85. Twinkle.

Rocket was hard at work on BJ’s arm, who was, for once, silent.

“Looks like they want to talk to us again,” Brock noted, pointing at the blinking light in the panel.

“Nuh-huh, don’t answer. That’s probably an ultimatum,” Des said.

“You think they will attack?” Rocket asked.

Des shook her head. “We can always go faster.”

“But something is worrying you,” Rocket said, soldering. Blackjack made a face.

“Yeah, actually, I’m thinking as soon as we get into the UnU they will just cut their losses and leave,” Desiree said.

“Yer gonna have to sweeten the pot, eh?” Blackjack snickered.

Desiree sighed. “I hate you,” she said. “Alright, Brocky, let’s twinkle them.”

“What the Hell is ‘twinkle’?” Rocket asked. BJ shrugged, barely.

“Do I need a script?” Brock asked.

“Not really.” Des said.

“Oh man, I hate doing this. Fine. Go ahead,” Brock said, still keeping an eye on the radars. The ships were getting closer.

Desiree started talking and she pushed the button in the middle of the sentence. “All things considered it’s a good payday. Blackjack O’Hare, two millions. And as soon as we get Cockwell from that ship, that’s another easy million.”

“Wait,” Brock said. “Isn’t Cockwell that mass-murderer? How is that easy?”

“They got Cockwell all trussed-up in a trunk somewhere. And as far as we know he’s sedated. Anyway, no one is stupid enough to leave that money on the table,” Des said.

 Rocket just stopped what he was doing, amused.

“But what about the ship? That sounds like a big job,” Brock said.

“Nah. Nah, we got some codes from Blackjack.” Des looked at the hare and smirked. “We didn’t even have to torture him that hard, that big wuss.” The hare grinned nastily.

“Alright, so we get in, and—”

“Goddammit, how many times do I have to tell you not to lean on the panels like that?” Des said in a harsh tone.

“Whoops,” Brock said, and cut the communication.  He exhaled. “Think they will buy it?”

“Who knows? We tried,” Des said, crossing her arms.

“Speaking of trying, there they go again,” Brock said, pointing to the blinking light.

Rocket immediately got up and took off his soldering goggles. “No, that’s Quill’s pattern. Lemme take it.”

[spacelagos]

84. News.

Rocket and Des appeared on the threshold. “Well, the bad news is that we don’t have weapons. I simply don’t have the parts for ‘em. Thanks so much for that, you asshole,” the raccoonish mercenary said to Blackjack through gritted teeth.

“Yeah, Rock, how do you like ‘em apples?” Blackjack chittered.

“What are the good news?” Brock asked from the pilot seat.

“There are no good news, only worse,” Des said. “Apparently, we’re going to make a deal with Blackjack O’Hare.” She made a face of disgust.

The hare raised an eyebrow, then laughed. “Left the speaker open, huh?”

Brock looked stunned. “Des, are you serious? We can’t trust him.”

“I don’t trust him. But I trust Rocket,” Des said. Rocket looked genuinely surprised at this. Before he could say anything, Desiree sat in front of the hare. “Tell me something I like.”

“Basically, what you already heard,” the hare said.

“What makes you think we can’t do it without you?” the Captain asked.

“If I’m gauging your plan right, you’re using me as bait for the Gougers to attack the UnU ship. Especially since you don’t have any weapons,” BJ said.

“Uh-huh, go on,” Desiree said.

“It’s a good plan, but you would need to take me inside the UnU ship for it to work. And how do you plan on doing that?”

“I have my methods,” she said.

“I’m sure you do,” the hare said, diplomatically. “Still, opening the bay doors would work even better.”

“Yeah, you want me to put my no-weapons ship inside a KHAIL ship??” Rocket exclaimed loudly.

“It will work,” Blackjack said. “My codes are for smugglers. We’ll say we have a weapons shipment and the Gougers want it. They will be too busy dealing with the Gougers to pay too much attention to us. Once inside, you go look for Cockatiel while I go look for my payment.”

“And how do we know you’re not going to shoot us in the back the first chance you get?” Brock asked.

“Anything I would do to hinder you would help the Khail.” Blackjack said in a dismissive tone. “And right now, and forever, the Khail gets nothing but trouble from me. Yes, that includes helping free Cockwell so he can continue to be the gift that keeps on givin’.”

Des looked at the raccoon. He nodded, but turned to Blackjack. “Alright, but still, and all things considered, you’re gonna ask: what’s in it fer me?” Rocket said, in an eerie, perfect imitation of the hare.

“Oh Rocky, you know me so well,” Blackjack said sweetly.

“So, gonna save you the trouble: what do you want?”

Blackjack looked down on himself. “What I hafta ask for act-chally, if you want me to help. No one in here knows how to fix my right arm, right? But I will need at least my robotic arm. Ya know, for punching codes and settin’ explosives?”

“NO WAY,” Brock said from the pilot seat. “No way. You’re too dangerous.”

“’Course I am, dear Twiggy,” Blackjack smirked. “And you’ll love me for that.”

[spacelagos]

83. Extraction.

“Can we trust these coordinates?” Des asked Brock.

“We should,” Brock said, keeping an eye on all the radars. The Gougers were firmly behind them. He maneuvered comfortably; they were too far away to make their fire effective, and after a while they gave up on attacking and just followed them. “Either it’s no coordinates or good coordinates, there’s no such thing as bad coordinates either with the hardware or the software.”

“ETA?”

“Forty minutes, give or take. Could be twenty, but I’m dragging these guys along. Are you sure we need them?” Brock asked.

Des sighed and nodded. “Made the calculations. Cocky’s not going fast enough to be in an IzI unit or slow enough for an AZA warship.”

“Thank the gods for all their small favors,” Brock said bitterly.

“So it’s gotta be an UnU ship. Big. Not huge… but big. We do not have enough people for a takeover. This needs to be an extraction operation,” Des said.

“We don’t have any time to call someone else? Maybe someone in B’eel? Even if Cocky is arrested by the government…” Brocky started.

“No one is available. I left a message to Hawkings and Rego, but we can’t count on them. The Devil only knows where they are. Hell, we can’t even count on Hawkings being conscious,” Des said.

“Ugh.” Brock pointed to one of the radars. “On the other hand, the Gougers are getting reinforcements.” Three additional ships had apparently joined the original five.

“Who invited these chumps?” Rocket complained. “Hey, Des! I need you up here for a bit if you can!”

“Going!” Des unbuckled and put her boots in lockdown mode. She pointed to Blackjack before leaving. “Not a peep from you.”

BJ waited until she was out. “Peep,” he said, in a low voice, and grinned. Brock shook his head.

“It’s suicide,” Blackjack said, from his chair. “You know that, right, Tall Guy? You simply cannot take on a goddamn UnU full of bird turds. You’ll get stomped outta recognition and get a free one-way ticket to one of them vacation resorts they have.”

“For a second there,” Brock said serenely, “it was almost like you were trying to educate a lagomorph of B’eel on what the Khail is like.”

“Just sayin’,” BJ shrugged. “I know you want the guy back, but he’s a goner. Might as well just count your losses and move on.”

“What do you care anyway?” Brock said. “Isn’t it going to be fun for you to watch us get killed?”

“Not if I’m in the line of fire, Tall Guy,” BJ said. “I know I’m not much to look at right now, but I’ve got over worse things. If there’s anything I’m an expert at, is picking up da pieces and building something new outta it.”

“We will get Cocky back or die trying,” the pilot said. “And this is all your fault to begin with, so that’s on you.”

There was a silence, followed by some loud bickering between Rocket and Desiree. Brock sighed and kept on flying the ship, noting that yet another ship had joined the Gougers.

“Capt’n Hottie Hot does not want me speaking, and fair’s fair I guess. But you could relay a message to her from me. And she would listen,” the hare said.

“Not interested,” Brock said.

“The message is this,” Blackjack said. “Let me help.”

Brock just laughed and shook his head.

“I am serious,” Blackjack said. “And not only I wanna help: I’m also convinced you will never, ever make it without my help. Tell her that.”

“We have done pretty good so far without you,” the pilot said.

“Gotta hand you that,” BJ said. “Still, I have many things I can offer you. Things I got from the Khail back when we still did business. Codes to open the bay doors. Codes to the arms repo. And more importantly, codes to the kaboom repo. Do I have yer attention yet?”

“Why would you help us, anyway? Not out of the goodness of your heart, surely,” Brock said. “You don’t have an inch of nobility in you.”

“Course I don’t. What do I look like, an idiot?” the hare laughed. “Lissen, I don’t have enough arms ta point to the hole in the middle of my chest. Anyway, the answer is payback.”

“Aaah. Of course.” Brock rolled his eyes.

Blackjack’s features contorted into hate.

“No one. NO. ONE. Stiffs me on a deal and lives to fly around the Galaxy saying they did,” Blackjack said, darkly. He seemed actually sincere. “I don’t care if I have to save orphans or kill them, that is not gonna happen as long as I draw breath. If they won’t gimme my payment in units, I will take it from them in collateral.”