In the command post, the Moldans were occupied at their terminals. At the circular room lie an expensive piece of equipment called the Rubotak, a powerful supercomputer previously used by the UGF military. As the bits and bytes were processed, a beeping heart pulsated through the operation.

  Like a nervous system controlling the body, the supercomputer reached all parts of the prison. The command center was a tool to give orders throughout the perimeter. Thinking logically is vital for perimeter defense among the sector, keeping nay-sayers out of reach. Naturally, the system analyzed all supplies in the cargo bay and monitored all hangar activity. The Rubotak was proven to exercise its full utility as a viable commodity for the Frontier Military. Sadly, it fell into the wrong hands of the criminal underworld.

  The sound of the supercomputer grinding was quite welcoming. Rubotak also provided security surveillance; the detection of intruders was like child’s play. The Rubotak knows.

  “Sir, we restored the mainframe to our network infrastructure. It’s back online,” said a freckled faced technician. “I need to establish a connection between Darku’s database. Afterwards, you can force Darku to enter the access code. Please sit tight, I’ll make the final preparations.”

  “Very well,” Nickolson said, using his deep, charismatic voice. He wore a worn-out leather jacket; it represented leadership to him. “Just make sure Darku remains in a secure place.”

  “On it. Establishing the connection shouldn’t take too long,” the technician assured.

  “You’re dismissed,” Nickolson said.

  “Sir, I’m receiving a strange report from the transport facility,” a com technician said.

  “What kind of strange activity?”

  “A vehicle exploded in the drop-off zone. The report said the vehicle was leaking fuel. Before they could figure out what caused the leak, the vehicle went up in flames and erupted into tiny fragments. Do you think it’s possible that we have an intruder?”

  Was this explosion an accident or a threat? Nickolson thought with his hands clenched. No, this must be a warning! All these problems tell me we have a bigger problem than any of us could have imagined. If that Simidolian does show his face, I’ll apprehend the bastard.

  “Hmm, it’s strange,” Nickolson said. “I find it hard to believe that the UGF would be foolish enough to be behind these incidents.”

  “While I cannot confirm if this was an accident, I’ll monitor the entire facility. We’ll let you know if we got trouble,” a com technician replied.

  “Do keep searching. I hope we don’t have to deal with anyone from the Simidolian,” Nickolson said in a hatred tone. “If we do have an intruder on our hands, I look forward to strapping the Bounty Hunter up in chains.”

  “Are you familiar with the Simidolian?” The com technician asked. Then he thought: Now, I wonder why he thinks a Simidolian infiltrated our base. He has no significant evidence to back up his claim.

  “Of course, I’m familiar with the Police-Military branch,” he replied. “Their part of the UGF. Don’t let that deceive you, they are ruthless. They hunt down criminals lurking anywhere in the galaxy. They tend to be quite secretive during their operations... And deadly. If we capture a Bounty Hunter, I look forward to carving that predator.”

  Nickolson briefly paused. Fixated on the camera feed, he patiently waited for any signs of movement that deviated from the norm. The only thing he saw on the screen were pixels, forming a wave that crashed down to the bottom. There was no strange activity reported. All is well.

  “Carry on,” Nickolson said. He concluded the discussion.

  Returning to their workstation, the com technician diligently oversaw the communication feed, ensuring it was on a secured channel. While glancing at the screen, he suddenly detected an unfamiliar body image.

  The image did not skirt the look of a prisoner; the orange jumpsuits were torn from years of use. As a regular practice, they underwent a weekly deep cleaning. The grainy pixels outlined Artian armor with a suppresser sidearm. He was covered in dirt, was glued to the wall near an open door. For his uniform to be that dirty, he probably went deep into the ventilation system; Nickolson was surprised he made it out of there unscathed. A rookie was now treading towards a perilous trap.

  “Hey boss. I spotted someone coming out of prison cell 1138,” a technician said. “Isn’t that a Simidolian you were referring to?”

  “Hmm. From the looks of it,” Nickolson said. He leaned in, inspecting the screen closely. The image that he saw with his own eyes was familiar to him. “Yes, it’s quite fascinating to witness such an intriguing sight. Hm?”

  “Should we inform our comrades?” The technician asked.

  This must be the Simo who’s been mucking around, he added. He must be a newcomer to this branch. I’ll show no haste towards his end just yet. I would like to put the Simo up for a good show, see what he is made of. I might want to record the camera footage while we’re here.

  “I don’t think we should engage him just yet. He’s just a rookie. I want to see what he is capable of. Release all the prisoners from their cells. This would be a great time to give a warm welcome to the vigilante. I look forward to watching him get tossed around by the crowd.”

  “On it, sir. It will take a few minutes to open all the cells. Sit tight,” a technician replied.

  He went to work accessing the prison facility’s control panel. Upon entering the console, the screen immediately presented a comprehensive overview of each cell. Green indicated that the cell door was closed, whereas red signified that the door was open. Red flashed on the screen for door 1138. He smiled as he cut the locks loose.

  Navigating to the ‘all doors’ menu, a message flashed on the screen, warning him that he was about to open all the cell doors. He disregarded the warning message, and with a single click, selected the ‘Yes’ button. In just a matter of moments, every cell door would suddenly swing open. The Moldans prepared to warmly welcome the rookie into their midst as the prisoners unleashed into an all-out brawl.

  ***

  “Laurence, this is Jake Avolsky,” he said to his com. “The Moldan's extracted Darku from his cell. They’re taking him to the terminal room. I need to get there before Darku gives them the password to his database. What is the fastest route?”

  “Jake.. Listen up-,” Laurence tried to offer Jake a heads up, but all he heard was dying static noise. Worried that he had lost contact, Jake felt compelled to make another effort to reconnect.

  “Laurence? Do you read me? I’m having trouble with my com,” he said. The static noise intensified. Then the com gave up. “Laurence? Laurence?!”

  The communication was dead silent, jammed. His signal was intercepted by the Moldan’s, who then tampered his frequencies. Unable to reestablish communications, he devised an alternative plan.

  “Damn!” Exclaimed Jake in frustration.

  Isolated, Jake would need to find his way through the facility on his own. His mission still stood: find Darku and get him out of there. Having experienced worst-case scenarios before, he summoned his own intelligence and resourcefulness, enabling him to adapt and overcome any obstacle that stood in his path. Jake walked out of the prison cell, stood in the main hallway of the prison facility, and planned his next move.

  His best chance at success was to follow the path used by the guards escorting Darku. The blast door denied his exit. Jake’s attempt to open it by punching the buttons on the right-hand side of the door. Despite his efforts, the door stayed locked.

  Okey. I’ll try a different door, Jake thought.

  After taking a short walk, he discovered an alternative exit; the second door also refused to budge.

  Damn! Is there any way to get these doors open?

  He turned towards the second floor, spotting a small, deserted control room. If he could climb his way up; he could access the control panel, unlocking the sealed doors.

  Turning toward the stairs, he moved forward. Before climbing, Jake heard a loud noise echoing through the hallway. Lights flashed on the ceiling; the cell doors slid open.

  Suddenly, the prisoners emerged from their cell and made their way to the hallway, creating an atmosphere reminiscent of a school recess. There were twenty-four cells encircling the room. Free from their cells, they were driven like cattle toward the newcomer. Their expressions were not pleasing, Jake could tell they despised all Simidolians. With an intense instinct, they aggressively drove themselves towards the goal of killing the intruder using nothing but their bare hands. They fantasized about inflicting enough pain, coughing up blood from his lungs.

  The unwelcoming atmosphere was sure to provide a disheartening experience. This would be the least pleasant moment of the entire operation; Jake would have to deal with the criminals alone.

  “Well, well, well,” a prisoner grinned. “Now look what we have here.”

  “So, you must be part of the Simidolian?” Another prisoner said.

  Brilliant, Jake. Just brilliant, he thought. I’ll have to stand my ground against these fools.

  “At least you’re not off the mark,” Jake said. He was fully aware that the situation was about to take a turn for the worse. Their plan was to stay until he perished, showing no intention of leaving.

  “No shit, I heard plenty of news about you,” a prisoner said. “Here you are, you’re having a jolly good time causing mayhem. You’re out in the galaxy looking for bounties to hunt, taking people’s names – no sorries for what you do.”

  “Hey, that’s the guy who captured Roman Ellis from Tenelov. I read about it last week,” another prisoner added, recalling a newspaper article about the incident. One of his colleagues had lent him the paper. “I say we shove this asshole all the way back to where he came from.”

  “Yea, I’m up for that.”

  “Guys, guys. We can’t fuck with him just yet,” he said as he interrupted the prisoners’ conversation. “I think I know what we should do with him.”

  Jake pulled his sidearm and pointed the barrel at the prisoner’s head.

  “Oh yea? Are you willing to speak with me while I point a gun at your face?!” Jake said in an intimidating tone. He knew he could force the prisoners to yield their positions.

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa. You can’t just go around pointing a gun at a person’s face,” the prisoner said, he tried to defuse the escalation.

  “I’ll shoot anyone who comes near me,” Jake assured the crowd.

  “You do know that it would be crazy to shoot one of our brothers. Right?” A prisoner said.

  “Maybe an exchange can be worked out,” another prisoner pleaded.

  “Make an offer,” Jake said. “This is not a stupid game, so make it a serious one.”

  “We need to have a private discussion first, OK,” a prisoner said as he continued to calm the situation. Games, you say. I’m tired of playing the same old game of being locked up. Now it’s my turn to pick a new game.

  Jake stood his ground. He nodded his head with approval, but refused to lower his gun.

  Turning their backs, a few prisoners stepped away to isolate themselves for a confidential discussion.

  “Hey, Gazalo. Can you win a fight against this guy?” A prisoner whispered.

  “I would be much obliged to take your offer,” Gazalo said quietly. “I look forward to cracking his skull, seeing him whimper, begging for me to stop.”

  “If you think you have what it takes, be my guest,” the leader said.

  “Don’t worry about me,” Gazalo reassured. “When I’m done here, we’ll claim our ticket back home. All right?”

  The prisoners nodded in agreement.

  Turning around to face Jake, the leader stated: “Listen, I know you're a Simidolian and you fucked over us real bad. However, I’m going to make you an offer. If you refuse, we will kill you.”

  Damn, they want to play games. Stupid damn games, Jake thought. He wasn’t pleased; he listened. Fools.

  “Go on… I’m listening,” he spoke.

  “My friend, Gazalo, wishes to challenge you to a fight. If he wins, you stay inside a cell forever…”

  Jake interrupted: “If I win, you idiots go back to your cells where you will have plenty of time to sit there and think about the huge mistake you just made.”

  “Fair enough, we accept the conditions,” the prisoner replied. “Now put down your weapon before someone gets hurt.”

  Initially, Jake felt a strong temptation to engage in shooting; however, he realized he was significantly outnumbered. Maintaining a firm grip on the sidearm, he confidently pushed the button to release the magazine cache. After it slid out of the frame, he placed it away for safekeeping. Then, Jake racked the slider back, ejecting the round inside the barrel. As if it were popping out like popcorn, he caught the round. Jake nodded in agreement, confirming that the round no longer served a purpose. He wasn’t backing down.

  “At least he’s cooperative. I’ll give him credit for that,” another prisoner said.

  “Remember. No gadgets, no blades. None of those fancy napalm tricks,” Gazalo said.

  The prisoners gathered to form a small circle; constructing a makeshift arena that would allow them to witness the action close-up. They jockeyed with each other to secure the ideal viewing spot; the inmates housed on the second floor formed a line along the railing.

  “All right, let’s go,” Jake said.

  Entering the ring, he thought: I doubt this fight is going to go down clean. These prisoners are geniuses at creating improvised tools. It wouldn’t surprise me if a newly created tool snuck its way in the fray. Best to stay alert.

  Jake walked toward his challenger; he clenched his fists, waiting for Gazalo to make his first move. His opponent raised his fist high in the air, striking Jake’s head with all the force he could muster up.

  Jake countered with a polite parry. Frustrated, Gazalo threw another punch towards Jake’s face. Anticipating the forceful impact, he instinctively tensed up; he was sure he would end up with a visible bruise on his cheek from this hit.

  Stepping back, he distanced himself from his attacker. Jake caught Gazalo’s next blow midair, avoiding another forceful punch. He retaliated with a solid blow to Gazalo’s stomach. Gazalo fell to his knees, overcome by pain. In a bizarre turn of events, Jake pushed his kneecap towards Gazalo, striking him in the jaw. Thudding, Gazalo’s fell the rest of the way to the ground.

  Reacting, the crowd chanted: “Get up. Get up.”

  “Oh... You motherfucker,” Gazalo said as he rolled in pain. His mouth and nose were bleeding, his shirt was covered in blood. To dodge Jake’s next lethal punch, he rolled to his left and sprung up to launch a counterattack. With a clenched fist, his knuckles released their fury on Jake’s rib cage, forcing him to back off.

  The fight raged on. Jake maintained his momentum, launching blow after blow while defending himself against the return hits. Rather than being motivated by the urge to kill, Jake dedicated himself to analyzing his opponent’s fight pattern, his stance and his hand movements resembled a mesmerizing dance; effortlessly gliding through the air, unrhythmically. Playing head games with Gazalo might disrupt his repertoire just enough to execute a surprise move. Correct timing would be crucial.

  Uncontrollably, a small flashback struck his consciousness.

  The high-school fight occurred in a long hallway; another stupid fight over nothing. With a final blow, Jake emerged as the victor. Falling to the ground, blood gushed from his rival’s nose. Jake froze upon hearing a teacher screaming for them to stop.

  His flashback vanished as Gazalo landed another significant blow to his stomach. Jake latched onto Gazalo’s next punch, twisting his right hand. Noticing an opportunity to bring about further agony; he lifted his right kneecap, striking Gazalo’s groin. He followed up with a forceful punch targeting his spine. The sound of Gazalo’s screams filled the air as he crashed down onto the cold, unyielding surface of the concrete floor.

  With a strong desire to end the fight, Jake threw what he thought would be the final lethal punch. However, with a quick roll to the left, Gazalo evaded Jake’s attack, swiftly stepping in to block it. Using all the strength he could muster up; he raised himself up and forcefully propelled Jake onto the ground.

  Some of the prisoners, who were scattered amidst the crowd, were filled with worry; concern about the possibility of losing was growing. Their chances of escaping decreased with each punch until it became almost nonexistent. To restore their lost hope, they knew they needed to devise a new, devious plan.

  “OK, so here's the plan,” a prisoner muttered. Averting away from the intense fighting scene, he defiantly extracted a makeshift pocketknife from his hidden stash. “If Gazalo loses the fight, I’ll finish the Simo off by stabbing him.”

  “Are you crazy?” Another prisoner protested. “He’s going to kill you if he sees you with a weapon.”

  “The Moldan already gave us a chance to escape from this atrocious hole,” he insisted. “We won’t get another chance; I can assure you of that. We’ll need to kill this filthy loudmouth or else we’ll be strapped into chains forever.”

  Reverting to the fighting scene, the prisoners saw Gazalo kick Jake in the stomach with his right foot. Jake’s forearms were crushed as he braced himself for the blow.

  Jake kicked Gazalo, then got up. Afterwards, he backed away and patiently waited for Gazalo to get up.

  Gazalo was clearly in bad shape; his face was covered with blood, hatred infused him. If he wanted to knock Jake out, he had to use every ounce of his strength. He was on the verge of giving in, and as he did, his consciousness drifted into fogginess. This would be his last chance to end the fight. The only way for him to win would be to go for a knockout.

  Fueled by his anger, Gazalo made a final desperate move. He threw his fist towards Jake’s head. In response, Jake’s eye emitted a radiant glow, resembling the outline of a cat. He ducked to counter his attacker’s move, then finished him off with a right elbow to the spine. Gazalo felt the immense pain radiating from within. With the snap of his spine, he lost his ability to stand; like a falling leaf, he drifted towards the ground.

  Out of the corner of his eye, Jake caught sight of a prisoner wielding a pocketknife in his right hand; he was coming towards him with great speed. He spun around, caught the prisoner’s hand, and snapped his arm. Startled, the new attacker let out a piercing scream before losing his grip on the pocketknife, causing it to drop to the ground. The crowd was maddened by the outcome; a brutal brawl was cast upon Jake.

  Another prisoner joined the fight. Jake countered the fighter’s attack by swiftly blocking his arm midair, incapacitating him with a powerful knee strike to the rib cage. Jake finished him off with a smack to the head.

  Then another prisoner grabbed Jake’s shoulder. The assailant tried to punch Jake in the head, but Jake defended himself viciously by retaliating with an elbow jab towards the neck, strategically aiming for his aorta. The excruciating pain completely overwhelmed and disabled the prisoner, affecting his entire nervous system. He passed out.

  The prisoners had two hands to play: admit defeat or retaliate. Choosing the latter; the prisoners thought they would win the prize with a severe blow towards the vigilante. Little did they know, the prisoners were playing a very bad hand. The only prize each of them would receive was pain.

  Given Jake’s skill level, it was not feasible for the prisoners to persist in an offensive stance. His rigorous training in martial arts allowed him to handle multiple criminals simultaneously. He dealt with each of the prisoners as if they were charging bulls.

  As the fight pursued, a stray prisoner desperately fought to grasp the sole wielding weapon. He crawled closer to the knife at a snail’s crawl pace.

  No matter how hard they tried to control the situation, Jake continued to deliver the justice they deserved with the smite of his fist. Methodically, he incapacitated all the prisoners except one. As the final prisoner grasped onto the knife, a fleeting sense of happiness washed over him, only to be swiftly replaced by fear.

  Moving within the proximity of his target, the prisoner, who was clearly desperate, swung his weapon aggressively, with the intention of slashing Jake across the stomach. Unfortunately, Jake’s anticipation of the move stopped him cold. Twisting his attacker’s arm, the knife slipped and landed on the cold, hard ground. The clanking sound resembled the sound of the bell ringing at the end of a fighting round. The prisoner felt the forceful impact of a kneecap pounding his head, rendering him unconscious.

  Without exception, all the first-floor prisoners humbly embraced their defeat. The remains of the battle lay scattered about; each fallen enemy was either unconscious or moaning in pain. Remaining down was the wisest choice for each of them.

  Having just witnessed the defeat of their friends, the second-floor prisoners felt immediate consequences. Fueled by anger, the crowd’s eyes sought revenge. In a frenzy, they collectively rushed down to the first floor.

  Jake snapped his knuckles, he was ready. He retrieved the pocketknife from the ground, concealing it in his chest carrier. He ran towards the staircase.

  Halfway up, he met two enraged prisoners. The first one attempted to punch Jake, Jake denied the attack by dodging to the left. He retaliated by jabbing the prisoner’s chest plate, causing him to stumble down the stairs. With a quick turn, Jake intercepted the second attacker by delivering a powerful blow to his neck. He, too, tumbled downstairs.

  Jake arrived on the second floor as four prisoners moved to block his path. One by one, he disabled one prisoner after another until the second floor was cleansed of all threats except one.

  Jake and the last prisoner locked his eyes. The prisoner’s eyes raced, looking for an escape route. Jake shook his head as he pushed him over the steel railing. Crashing heavily onto the unyielding concrete floor, the prisoner’s eyes closed; his search for an escape had ended as quickly as it began.

  The prisoners had paid the ultimate price; Jake stood victorious.

  Without fanfare, Jake entered the deserted unmanned control room. Crumbled, dirty paperwork was scattered on a large center table. A half empty coffee cup sat coldly on the coaster. Jake glanced over the documents; insignificant, totally irrelevant to his mission.

  The control panel screen flashed that both exit doors were locked. Upon exploring his options, Jake observed that one door led to a hallway, while the other door led to the cafeteria. His instincts kicked in abruptly. With a growing sense of apprehension, he was aware of an intruder lurking silently behind him. As his adrenalin built up, he loaded his sidearm while simultaneously turning around.

  A lizard-like prisoner, clearly a Bolvostinal, stood with his hands up.

  “Whoa! Take it easy, cowboy. Don’t shoot me,” the prisoner said anxiously. He was not pleased with the barrel pointed at his face.

  “Where’s Darku? Where are they taking him?” Jake demanded as he forcefully pushed the prisoner against the wall.

  “*Ack* They're taking Darku to the terminal room on the second floor,” the prisoner answered, he struggled to breathe. “The entire facility is in lock-down. The elevators are disabled. There’s no chance that you're going to find Darku and get out of here easily; I can help if you take me with you.”

  “Do you have any idea who released all the prisoners?” Jake asked.

  “Your guess is good as mine, Simo,” the prisoner grinned.

  “If your such an expert, tell me how I get off this floor?”

  “I know how you can get out! The basement is a mining facility; you can use it as a detour. During lunch, I overheard two of Roman’s followers developing an escape plan through the mining passages. I can take you there. I just want to get out of here; it’s a fair exchange.”

  Against all reason, Jake trusted this prisoner. Then he thought: So Roman must be making his grandiose escape. That slug head is going to get a beating when I see his face.

  He stepped back, let him go.

  Surprised, the prisoner stumbled. He caught his breath.

  “I can show you how to get into the mining facility on G2 floor,” the prisoner said. “It’s confusing. You must make your way through the cafeteria to the kitchen, pass the cellar, and navigate the tunnels.”

  “I think we are done here. You served your purpose. Now scram,” Jake said in a powerful and frightful voice.

  Reflecting on the intense fighting scene, the prisoner silently vowed that he would never make the mistake of underestimating a skilled Bounty Hunter again; he scrambled out as directed.

  The only way out is through the Kitchen. Let’s hope he’s right, Jake thought.

  He returned to the controller, pressing the ‘open’ button for the cafeteria door. The alarm buzzed as it opened little by little. Jake left the control room and headed toward the door.

  Swiftly descending the stairs, he returned to the lower floor. Walking past Gazalo, Jake smiled to himself. Leaving these idiots behind brought him a great sense of relief.

  “Hey, *ugh* that wasn’t a fair fight,” Gazalo croaked. His voice was weakened.

  “You asked for it. You deserved it,” Jake said. He walked towards the open doors without making eye contact.

  “This isn’t over yet!” Gazalo groaned. “When I find you, I’ll-”

  “I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Jake interrupted Gazalo. “One false move, I’ll crush your pretty little brain in less than a second.”

  Despite Gazalo’s persistent groaning, Jake calmly walked away from the scene.

  Jake was not free of danger; the Moldans were lurking from within. The moment his position was compromised; he would become the hunted. With the aim of removing Jake from the equation, the Moldans would surely discharge copious amounts of lead.

  The prisoners, who had been kept in a cage, were set free. However, the operation they had embarked on turned out to be quite daunting. There was no denial that the prisoners would launch a retaliation. After losing their initial opportunity to escape from the Law Enforcement, they were now presented with a second chance to flee and avoid imprisonment.

  Discovering a person’s pattern was like reading a book. A good reader can anticipate the main character’s next move. There was no need for Jake to inquire about their next steps; he could make a pretty good guess what his enemies planned to do. His guesses helped him take the necessary precautions to avoid the threats that lay ahead.

  Things had changed within The Dabbarow Prison. He and the criminals were playing mind games at this point. It was impossible for anyone to remain hidden from the prying eyes for an extended period.

  Reflecting on the fighting incident, it became clear that the event was intended to provide him with the warmest welcome. The prisoners were freed, he quickly deduced that the Moldans had plotted the major scheme against Jake. He would not be placed on the cafeteria menu.

  His mind raced: What traps lurk around the next corner? A booby trap? An ambush? Jake had a feeling that the operation was about to go bad.

  ***

  Making their way down the dark hallway, Darku and two Moldans arrived at the terminal mainframe room. Inside, a hacker sitting at the terminal was trying his best to infiltrate Darku’s database. The lock-down procedures had been activated, as Darku could tell. The entrance to the room was guarded by four large Moldans. After a brief conversation, permission was granted for the escorts to enter. The hacker became annoyed by the commotion, the minor setback would require extra time, time he did not have.

  Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

  “Here is the issue I’m referring to,” Fargar said. “As of now, I still need a little more time to establish a connection to your database. In the meantime, we’ll recuperate. There are a few things I want to take care of before we get started. Don’t get too carried away. My comrades will take good care of you.”

  The hacker walked back to his workstation to resume work. Both Darku and the two Moldans made their way to the area where the refreshments were kept, right across from the hall.

  In the next room, there were several tables scattered around where people could sit. Two tables ran along the wall at the north-west corner of the room. Another table was found near the north-east side.

  To the right of the entrance were two fully loaded vending machines. One had various types of beverages, the other offered hot food. On the left, Darku smelled freshly brewed coffee. In the middle of the table, a coffee pot presented a freshly brewed pot. After not having a fresh cup of coffee in a long time, he was delighted by the warmth.

  The room, with its eerie and dimly lit, seemed to grow weary as time went on. The tile was old, cracked, stained, but clean. Besides the cracks, the walls were also marred by several unsightly stain spots; most likely caused by water leaks. One Moldan guarded the door, while the other poured coffee into old cups.

  “Do you want coffee?” A Moldan asked as he searched for a spoon to stir in some sugar.

  Darku said nothing.

  “Look, I’m sure this has been a rough day for you. Do you want coffee or not?” He asked again, raising his voice.

  Not knowing if he would ever enjoy another cup of coffee again, he relented and said: “Sure, no sugar for me.”

  “Like I said, I know you still have a very rough day ahead of you,” the Moldan said, he poured the coffee from the glass pot into two separate coffee cups. After filling each of the cups, he returned the glass pot to the heating plate.

  He stirred in his sugar before taking hold of the cups handles. He then walked over to Darku’s table, carefully balancing them as he went.

  “This will give you the little ‘pick me up’. We both have some serious shit we need to work on today. Sit back and enjoy your coffee.”

  Darku looked at the coffee. Subsequently, he realized something unusual was taking place within the facility. He thought long and hard about why the Moldan had called for a lock-down, wondered what was currently happening. Darku realized that the Moldan’s were afraid of losing control, but what exactly are they afraid of losing, who was the threat? He took a sip of his coffee, regained control of his wits, leaned back and waited for what would come next.

  He put the cup down.

  “I could be mistaken. Did your com say that a lock-down was initiated? Any idea what's going on?”

  “It’s none of your concern, Darku. Nickolson initiated it as a precaution.”

  Smiling; Darku took another sip. It was evident to him that the response was far-fetched and ridiculous, leaving no doubt that he was lying. The coffee kicked in; his mind was alert.

  His mind raced as he explored their motives for restricting access. For one, did someone get past their security checkpoints? Were thousands of prisoners escaping? How did they open their cells? Was the prison currently under attack? If so, by who?

  It was clear to Darku that obtaining a definitive answer was an impossible feat. He kicked back, relaxed, and sipped his coffee peacefully. From this juncture forward, he understood that his actions would be dictated solely by Moldan’s commanders. What remained to be seen was the commands themselves.

  ***

  50 prisoners had gathered in the cafeteria to plan their next move. Weapons were their priority from the start. The key lingering questions everyone was talking about was their escape plan. Some thought they should escape by boarding a cargo ship. The flaw to that idea was that the Moldans controlled the surrounding sector.

  However, if, hypothetically, the Command Center was neutralized, it would not only result in the prison’s overthrow, but it would also take down the space sector. The flight operations as well as the cargo operations would quickly be cast into complete chaos. It was like grabbing a piece of dirt, tossing it into their eyes. With their deep space operations totally blinded, they could hop on a ship and blend into the stars.

  Meanwhile, Jake was committed to the plan he reviewed with Laurance. His plan was simplistic: find Darku and get him out of there.

  Through a poorly lit passage, Jake entered a large, gloomy cavern. With the floor aglow, the catwalk became an unrivaled path to traverse. However, it offered the guidance he needed to navigate across the cavern. Scattered along the path, Jake ran past several large containers attempting to bar his way, ultimately the catwalk dropped him off at the cafeteria entrance.

  The mumbling of the prisoners talking echoed past the door. Taking on this undercover mission had turned into the riskiest proposition; being pursued by the Moldans and increasingly violent prisoners only increased the overall complexity.

  With only a sidearm, Jake bypassed the cafeteria for now; the kitchen entrance was the next logical choice. To his surprise, the kitchen counters were lined with weapons and supplies. Jake procured an AR-56 carbine rifle, and a few magazines, including grenade rounds, for his trip. His stolen rifle was loaded, safety was off. Jake was ready to make his way down the next hallway.

  Aware of the danger beyond the next door; he punched the touch pad. The door opened slowly, revealing a new area of the prison. His eyes’ glow, sensing that there would soon be trouble.

  Then, a Moldan hollered out to both the prisoners and his mates. He said that he had spotted an intruder, the element of surprise was lost. With no other option, Jake fiercely attacked a Moldan with a shot to the torso; he abruptly bled out. The rounds startled the ambient noise, sparking a firefight.

  To his right, there was an unlocked cell. He acted vigorously, fleeing the heavy fire, cursing the criminals as he went.

  His racing heart told him he was lucky to get this far. The KF rounds ricocheted along the door, his morale caved from the suppression. He had killed five hostiles; but an armed prisoner was charging in on his position. Seeing no other option, his only move was to take on the fight.

  He set his rifle to semi-automatic, tamed his weapon, and engaged the hostile standing next to the ramp on the left side of his cell.

  The prisoner was knocked out; he took a bullet to the head. Noting his surroundings, Jake realized that the next enemy he had to neutralize had sought refuge inside a cell situated just opposite of him. He aimed his gun; the bullet strangled the prisoner’s neck out. Unable to regain his breath, he fell to the floor and bled out.

  As he rolled toward the hard cover, he caught sight of another Moldan. He lay prone as bullets gushed towards him.

  Missed.

  A pause in the shooting inspired Jake to counterattack by leaning to his right. The first shot hit a Moldan in the arm while the next two struck a pair of soldiers on their shoulders.

  Along the right side of the wall, the Moldan who had been attacking Jake was shielded by the bricks. Jake took aim and waited patiently for the slightest movement. Five seconds later, he fired two rounds into the Moldan’s torso. In shock, the man trembled, screamed.

  With the current threat silenced, a cautious approach seemed appropriate, Jake vetted the cellar room around him, ensuring that there were no immediate risks or hindrances. He checked his magazine. Half-full, each bullet was valuable and had to be used sparingly. Pleased that he was sufficiently armed, he stood up and jogged down the dark passage.

  He slowed down upon witnessing a Moldan standing post at the right side of the closed door. Jake pinch gripped the single-edge blade, angling it by bending his wrist back toward his forearm. This move allowed the knife to turn over in the air more rapidly, which was necessary because there was little distance between him and his target. Upon release, the blade hits the heart. Unable to retaliate, the thug collapsed to the floor.

  On the right-hand side of the second floor, a Moldan manned a .50 Cal MG. He turned and unleashed a pepper spray of MG rounds toward Jake. Jake dashed towards the left staircase as the MG angrily spat. A gust of clouds and burliness caused Jake to scream, polluting his thoughts. He struggled up the stairs.

  As his morale slowly deteriorated, another Moldan seized the chance to launch a surprise attack. He darted towards him with a knife, Jake’s eyes glowed golden. With his rental vision clearing the burliness away like a lighter clearing out fog, Jake’s senses reacted to the danger.

  Using his armored forearm, he blocked the yielding weapon from inflicting damage. To slay the ambusher, he raised his knee, knocking him hard in the chest. Using his drawn weapon, Jake delivered the final fatal blow that caused his target’s lungs to collapse. The man stumbled back against the wall and fell to his knees.

  Out of the corner of his left eye, Jake spotted another Moldan readying to take aim. Jake drew his rifle, spending the last of his magazine. Upon feeling the sharp objects penetrate his right shoulder, the man leaned over the railing and fell onto the stairs’ landing.

  “Lights out, asshole!” He sarcastically shouted while looking down.

  He clamped his combat boots; the fallen ambusher was put down.

  Marching with his bloody boots, Jake reloaded as he climbed the stairs. The gunner standing at the MG post had recovered, prepared to release another round of terror.

  Jake paused, checking his pouch to locate a useful tool. Reflecting on what he had retrieved from the kitchen, he recalled the existence of a flash grenade. The grenade possessed enough force to dispel darkness and bring forth the hidden seeds of evil into the light; enough power to baptize the wicked into blindness.

  Retrieving his utility, Jake pulled the firing pin, then waited three seconds before gently tossing. The mid-air explosion blinded the gunner; Jake could hear the goon’s cursing.

  Jake sliced the pie by peaking around the corner, the gunner stood waving his arms as if he was surrendering.

  He released a single shot, causing the gunner to drift towards death’s darkness.

  The second floor was now clear. Jake heard prisoners shouting from the first floor.

  More hostiles were swarming in; clearly, they sought to have his head. Jake rushed toward the now abandoned MG post, waking up the deadly .50 Cal. machine gun. The sweeping rounds shredded their targets. As the bodies fell apart, bloodstains painted the floor.

  More kept coming. The audible clang of footsteps gave away their position. A counterattack was next, Jake was ready to drop them, dwindling the resistance into non-existence. Employing swift reflexes, he elevated the MG turret, firing off the first few rounds towards the first three guards that materialized on the catwalk. Their torsos exploded as the stream of bullets hurdled toward them. The rest fell with ease.

  After what seemed like an eternity, Jake cleared out the resistances. The severe level of bloodshed was significantly higher than all the other fights he had engaged in. Clearing his mind, he caught his breath, calming himself. Survival at this point continued to be a necessity, he still felt danger lurking beyond the mining facility.

  While clutching onto his rifle, Jake maneuvered through the next hallway and jogged to the end of the catwalk. He climbed down the stairs and headed for the danger that was waiting for him.

  ***

  In the depths of the Dabarow mining facility, Roman Ellis was hard at work creating an escape plan. The first step was to regroup at the mining facility upon the release of the cell doors. Next, utilizing resources found within the mines, the devoted followers could procure specialized drilling equipment designed to cut through stone; the hole would be their escape route out of the caverns.

  The caverns were quite chilly, with an average temperature of forty-five degrees. Working in the mines required Roman’s followers to tread carefully. Everyone knew that accidents were bound to happen; the probability of becoming trapped was high.

  Roman assigned his men to drill. The machine floated a few feet above the ground. Guiding the drill with his hands, one young man moved it into position; the drilling dug in.

  Unsure of the estimated time required for the breakthrough, Roman sat anxiously on a rock. Just as he inhaled, the grinding, twizzled noise stopped.

  “Hey, Roman! Check it out,” said one of the young followers. His breath was warm; smoky dust covered the newly drilled hole. The shortcut to the intended location was complete.

  “Can you crawl through the tunnel? Holler back to me if you find an elevator entrance,” Roman demanded.

  The young man was eager to be the first in the tunnel. After a few minutes, he yelled back.

  “Yup, I spotted the elevator.”

  Unlike a typical elevator, the horizontal elevator shaft was not enclosed. The shaft structure comprised a combination of steel and aluminum components. The freestanding modular design, which was assembled for mines, had the advantage of easy installation. Moreover, it facilitated the transportation of minerals in a safe environment. Some safety features, like laminated glass or metal sheeting panels, were omitted. Shining through the hole was a bright green LED light.

  “The elevator are fully operational. We should be able to take it to the second floor. From there, we can hitch a ride back home by hijacking a transport vehicle.”

  Getting up, Roman walked over to inspect the large hole. Sure enough, the young follower wasn’t off the mark.

  “You found it, Halus,” Roman grinned. “We should get out while we still can. Ready the weapon supply so we can take it with us.”

  Why are we wasting our time harvesting military equipment when we should just board a ship? One prisoner thought. He shook his head in disgust.

  “Do you really want to waste precious time hauling all this stuff?” An older follower said. “What will happen if the UGF force shows up at our doorstep?”

  “Do you really think I give a shit about the Frontier force?” Roman snapped. “We need to move our asses, now!”

  “This is crazy, why in the norin are we wasting so much time? We should be joining up with the Moldans!” Another follower insisted. Clearly, he was not pleased with Roman’s plan.

  Annoyed over the heated debate, he added: Damn fools, I already lost everything. I just need a little more seed capital; I’ll pay them double once we get out of here. That’ll teach them to ‘shut up’.

  “What makes you think we should trust them?” Argued Roman.

  “Do you understand what’s happening in this facility?” Another one of Roman’s followers questioned. “The Moldan’s took over this entire prison. Without them, we would never have been released. They gave us a chance to escape. Why not repay them by working with them? We shouldn’t be in a hurry.”

  “Nu-uh, we can’t risk it,” Roman snapped. Recognizing the potential consequences, he made the wise choice of not trusting the Moldans. They would want to call all the shots. “We need to find our way out before the authorities return. It won’t be long; we’ll have to deal with a lot more grief if we stay. Either you shut up and help me load the rest of these weapons, or else you’ll be the one who’s rotting in the cell.”

  “Fine, I hope the UGF sends your sully ass back to a cell.”

  “Now help me lift these crates into this trolley,” Roman said as he seized a large crate from the left-hand side of the room.

  The prisoners willingly followed suit, even though a significant portion of them held differing opinions about his plans. The assurance of escape grew as they offered their helping hands; sticking to Roman’s plan was the best choice. Challenging him at this point was pointless.

  Roman found it impossible to fully come to terms with the magnitude of what he had lost during his time in Tenelov. At this point, recouping his financial empire was his prime objective. His criminal enterprise suffered when Alex unexpectedly presented his ultimatum concerning the Secretary of Defense. Combined with the losses incurred both during the arrest and Jake’s victory over Velociraptor, Roman was placed in a difficult financial position.

  With his release, he was now eager to devise a grand scheme, one that would allow him to establish a new criminal enterprise under his own name. With an ambitious mindset, he planned to steal UGF military weapons, sell them at a reasonable price to build much needed capital. If he had sufficient funds at his disposal, he could explore the possibility of expanding his business into the illicit practice of organ harvesting, using smugglers as his accomplices. Seizing this opportunity had the potential of turning Roman’s enterprise into a mega galaxy business.

  As they continued to load the rails, Roman and his followers were suddenly startled by a strange noise; the clanging of a subterrain drill rig charging down the mines increased in volume as the seconds ticked by. The rigs have a 3-foot-long drill attached to its front; a side handle was used by the driver for maneuvering the drill into position. As a standard feature, a safety mechanism was installed to halt its functions if it sensed any living beings within one meter of the drill.

  Roman’s eyes met the drill as it made its way closer to their location. The rig was traveling at a speed far beyond the safety limits; clearly, the safety mechanisms had been tampered by someone. He froze, screamed. Unable to escape, Roman and several of the prisoners’ bodies were shredded by the incoming drill. The weapons cache was also decimated. Their blood covered everything. The only thing that remained was a tingling sound of spilled caliber rounds tumbling across the floor.

  The rest of the prisoners remained motionless, seemingly frozen in place. Their ears rang from the crash. They realized they had to identify the culprit that caused the disaster if they had any chance of survival.

  “What the hell was that?” A prisoner yelled.

  “Don’t look at me! It had to be an accident,” said another prisoner, trying to avoid the blame game.

  “Which one of you idiots was assigned to watch over the equipment?” A suspicious prisoner questioned.

  “It wasn’t me, but I’m pretty sure Roman sent Ologe and Tim to watch over the SR-21 drill.”

  “We need to hold them accountable for this mess. Go up to the maintenance room and see if you can find them for me,” a prisoner said. “When you find them, bring them directly to me. I will devise a new escape plan while you are gone.”

  “We can do that,” said one prisoner as he tapped in a partner to accompany him.

  Remaining vigilant, the rest of Roman’s followers stayed on high alert, anxiously anticipating the return of the men responsible. Investigating the mine for potential clues was the next step.

  I have already warned you. I won’t play nice the next time we meet, Jake thought. He smiled, the prisoners were confused, their investigation would turn up nothing. He remained hidden behind a large asteroid rock; close to the hole dug moments ago. I found you. I’ll catch you. I won’t allow savages to break out of this facility alive. Best to deal with treacherous criminals before the snakes go hiding.

  Thanks to the diversion, Jake quietly maneuvered through the massive hole undetected. To maintain the element of surprise, he cleverly used the emergency ladder to ascend the elevator shaft. The second-floor terminal room was his next stop.

  Roman’s dreams of a criminal empire were now crushed. Jake had warned Roman of the consequences of escaping. Roman was awarded the most unwanted ultimate prize: death.

  With his target eliminated, there was one thing he needed to do: find Darku and get him out of there. The UGF was counting on him, alongside Laurence Dadoke.

  ***

  Darku and his Moldan escorts arrived at the main terminal with no sense of what was happening in the tunnels. Security was tight, eight Moldans inside the terminal and two guarding the doorway, manpower levels were sufficient to control the perimeter.

  The room was unbearably hot, with the temperature hovering around a scorching eighty-two degrees. In a disorganized fashion, electrical components were scattered all over the floor, making the room appear cluttered. The terminal blinking yellow lights flared that connection was established, networking within the sector was accessible to all. A laptop sat on a large metal table; Darku assumed the device was connected to the mainframe. He wondered if they had gained access to the trading post.

  “Good news, Darku. We established a connection to The Husklin Trading database. It’s time to get to work,” a Moldan said. “Darku, I need you to access the encrypted files so I can destroy the evidence that points back to us. Don’t make a big fuss over this. OK?”

  Oh goodness, Darku thought. The sweat was dripping towards his eyebrows. I haven’t used the keyboard in like, forever. OK, Darku. Get a grip on yourself. Just type in the code and play ball with the Moldan.

  “Fine, I’ll get to work,” Darku replied.

  He politely played along and typed his credentials. He breezed through the first two levels. However, the next part of the system was unresponsive to his commands. Darku anxiously waited for a response, a growing sense of unease flowed over him. They would blame him if he could not get through; just like they attribute all the problems within the cyber paradox to him.

  The technician, noticing the latency, reached over to diagnose the issue.

  “Hmm, looks like our Internet is down,” he said. “Can someone check the servers for me?”

  “Okey-dokie, I’ll take a look,” a younger technician replied. He stood up and headed towards the small room where the servers were being held.

  Unlike most server rooms, access to the room was not controlled by multi-layer security protocols. Anyone could open the door and enter.

  As the door opened, the servers’ huzzed and a persistent humming noise flowed out into the main area. Clearly, the servers were attempting to process 0s and 1s. However, connections within their sector were not known to have high-quality standards. The blinking blood red light confirmed the root cause; the network connection was disabled.

  Frustrated, he painstakingly worked to restore the servers back online. The room felt incredibly claustrophobic, there was barely enough space for the servers to breathe. The young technician was fully accustomed to the tight room; the close confinement would not stop him from repairing.

  Hmm. It should be a simple fix, he thought to himself.

  With ease, he navigated through the server menu, taking time to examine the current settings along the way. Finding no configuration issues; he opted to reset the network. He entered the command and waited patiently for the Internet connection to be restored. After 30 seconds, the light went from red to green.

  Piece of cake, he added.

  Prior to his celebration, a sharp pain was emitted from his back. Groaning, he reached behind, clutching the source of the pain. His breath strangled in a thin line; realized that he had been stabbed. His vision shuttered as Jake’s face came into focus. He screamed for help, but it was too late; Jake had covered his mouth to muffle the sound of his death.

  In a display of sheer tenacity, Jake refused to release his grip on the increasingly motionless body; the escape of his final breath would mark nothingness. He gently lowered the deceased body, placing it silently on the ground.

  Disabling the network allowed Jake to eliminate one more Moldan; however, a greater threat awaited in the next room. Saving his VIP now required a measure that would collectively neutralize the remaining unsuspecting terrorists. He stayed on task and retained his plan from before: find Darku and get him out of there.

  Lucky for him, he had another trick up his sleeve - darkness. The operation won’t be pretty; but it would be effective. After enabling his night vision Mobi Glasses, he opened the power control panel, flipped all the switches. The Moldans were trapped in a dark cage.

  In the absence of light, he breached the terminal mainframe room, roaring his Ar-56 Carbine rifle towards the two Moldans, who were menacingly stationed along the wall. The bullets struck their bodies; they had little time to react. Several of the remaining members let out a scream, but the lack of light prevented them from locating Jake’s position.

  A guard accidentally blasted his sidearm towards the darkness, killing one of his own. The enemy was in a state of uncertainty as Jake repeatedly changed his position to remain undetected.

  A few more guys to take out, Jake thought.

  Prone on the floor, he smoothly rolled toward the right-hand corner of the room, where one scared Moldan awaited his attention. He fired; his target’s head splattered.

  He gazed, shifted, spotting another Moldan moving near Darku. Rising, he reached out, slamming his weapon’s buttstock forcefully into the man’s neck, it snapped, and he fell hard to the ground.

  With his rifle empty, he tossed it to the floor, pulled his sidearm and took out the last two threats standing post at the door.

  Darku’s body instinctively moved into a safe position; he flipped a steel table to avoid any additional bullets that may come his way. Within seconds, the firefight had ceased, death cast over the terminal room.

  Opening his eyes, Darku was horrified by the bloodbath. They were all dead; their bodies scattered around the room. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, Darku saw a familiar Artia armor stalking behind.

  “Holy shit! Who are you?!” Darku exclaimed, he nervously moved back behind the flipped desk.

  “I’m part of The Simidolian,” Jake spoke. “My name is Jake Avolsky. The UGF sent me to rescue you. We need to get you out of here!”

  Surrounded by the dead, Darku felt lost and afraid. The smell of the blood was making him nauseous, on the verge of puking. Every bone in his body compelled him to run away from the overpowering stench of death that lingered in the air; where would he go? The only remaining path was to trust the Vigilante.

  Darku lowered his defenses, releasing a sigh from his chest. He knew he would have to do whatever this person asked of him.

  “Wait!” Darku snapped. “We can’t leave until I disable the connection to my Database. If I leave it up, they can still access the files. It shouldn’t take too long.”

  “Fine. Just make it quick. A swarm of Moldans are on route. Please don’t waste my time while you’re disconnecting.”

  Jake moved to stand guard at the doorway as Darku returned to the computer terminal.

  “All I need to do is to freeze the connection by tampering around with the router…” Darku muttered. He input the code ‘srekconk’ into the keyboard, he poisoned the connection. “And we’re done.”

  “Excellent, let’s move,” said Jake.

  With urgency, they ran away from the terminal room until they reached the emergency exit door at the end of the hallway; freedom lay beyond those doors.

  “I hope you know what you’re doing.”

  “Don’t worry, I have an extraction point ready; a ship hidden in a crater,” Jake said reassuringly.

  “Really, where is it?”

  “It’s not too far. Stay close to me, Darku,” Jake replied.

  The trip turned out to be uneventful. Clearly, the kidnappers had no idea that Darku had been rescued. Within minutes, they arrived at a large cavern that would lead them back to Jake’s ship.

  With his mission almost complete, the sense of escape jolted Jake’s emotions; the opportunity to flee the Prison and return home was upon him.

  ***

  Several long minutes ticked by; they reached the cavern’s end where an emergency suspended ladder awaited. It represented their ticket to freedom; it offered the only safe choice for him and his VIP to access their awaiting ship. A single punch to a red button began dropping the large structure 200 feet to the crater floor.

  Looking down, Darku smugly thought: Nothing flashy to see from up here.

  Highly unimpressed with the ship’s overall appearance, his excitement about his escape faded into obscurity. He had expected a customized special force vehicle. This thing was old, outdated with evident battle scars. The rusted holes on the wings were a visible reminder of its involvement in previous intense dogfights. The hull, with its brown, orange stains, hinted at its long service.

  “Oof, is that your ride?” Darku said in a sarcastic tone.

  “Yes, I see it,” Jake annoyingly replied as he began the assent to the ground below. “Let’s get down there.”

  “Right with you, Jake,” Darku nodded in agreement.

  Glancing down, he carefully placed his foot on the first rung of the aging ladder. He hoped that the support structure was strong enough to handle the weight of both men. As they descended, the bantering continued.

  “I bet you never expected someone like me to rescue you,” Jake said. “You probably thought it would be the marines.”

  “I knew the UGF armed force would retake the Prison. Yes, I was surprised they sent a single Simidolian; especially a new one.”

  “How can you tell?” Jake asked.

  “Your armor tells the whole story; too shiny, too clean. It looks different from experienced Bounty Hunters. You see, the appearance of your armor will broadcast your victories and disasters.”

  “Oddly enough, the Frontier sent me here because they didn’t want to risk a full assault. They knew about the self-destruct sequence standing by. If the Moldans want to cover their tracks, then they should have let this place burn to a crisp. Now that would have served as a vital warning to those who strike them. I could have just taken out the Moldons and left you behind as unfortunate collateral damage. But in the Frontier’s infinite wisdom, they sent me to extract you. Apparently, you are the VIP. The reports of what you did within the Husklin Trading Corporation gave you that status. They want you back alive.”

  “Oh, sure. What are they going to do with me? Toss me into a different cell?” Darku said sarcastically. “I know my value.”

  Toss you in a different cell? He repeated. I wish.

  “They absolutely might,” Jake reassured. “The only thing I know for sure is that my clients wanted me to extract you. Clearly, they want to have a word with you once we return to base. Your value may decrease if you don’t play ball with them. How about we stop talking and get off this rock.”

  “You know, I always thought Bounty Hunters were virtuous. They follow their motto: ‘We are all predators and prey. We live in the shadows so that we can hunt the dark. We bring our targets in cold or warm blooded.’ I never expected you to remove the ‘cold’ part. The people who sent you want to hear my secrets. Do you?”

  “Digging into secrets is one of my objectives,” Jake replied as he jumped off the ladder to the crater floor. “Especially right now, I don’t have the time to investigate your secrets. But I agree with you, I’m sure they will require you to unlock all your secrets once we arrive home.”

  “As long as you’re willing to protect me, I think we’ll get along just fine,” Darku said, his feet hit the ground with a thud.

  Without speaking further, both men turned toward the awaiting ship. Using his right forearm, Jake punched the access code into the remote access device. As he was about to push a button, an unsettling feeling engulfed him, he knew they were being watched.

  Behind one of the ship’s supports, an intruder revealed herself armed with a P7K; it was pointing directly at Jake’s forehead. Jake did not speak, nor did he retaliate. He stopped in his current position, waiting for the right moment to respond.

  Darku stood in shock. Silence filled the air as the surprise flowed over them like a rogue wave.

  “Alright, turn around. Raise your hands up nice and easy,” she said in a soft voice.

  Blasphemous, I been compromised, Jake thought. How on earth did she know I was here?!

  “... You have no idea what the fuck you are doing!” Jake yelled. At this point, he was unsure who she worked for. Was she a prisoner, a part of the Moldan forces, or another outside organization?

  OK, cowboy. You’re clearly shitting yourself, the mercenary thought calmly.

  “Trust me, I know what I’m doing,” she said. “Turn around so I can see you.”

  In response to her demands, Jake obediently complied and then shifted his position to confront the female mercenary.

  Jake did not recognize her; a red and white striped bandanna masked her true self. Her tomboy black hair and an unfamiliar uniform removed any connections between both the Moldan forces and the prisoners. The unique blue blouse she was wearing highlighted her beauty, not her affiliation. Her uniform lacked the appearance of yielding significant gear. A small pouch resting comfortably on her hip, a flat chest carrier and a hunting knife tucked into her belt broadcasted her preparedness. However, by the way she looked, she possessed strength, flexibility, and the ability to use her body as a formidable weapon.

  “Good,” she smiled. “I have a proposition for you.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “Give me a ride off this forsaken rock. If you do, you can live and hand over Darku to the UGF authorities.”

  A ride? Seriously? Jake thought.

  “OK. If I’m understanding you right. We were both after the same person?”

  “That’s right. I was told to break into the Dabarow Prison and extract Darku,” the mercenary said. “I knew they were taking him to the terminal room, but you got to him first. I have no interest in hurting you, I was hoping we could work together.”

  While he was listening, Jake examined her side using his Mobi glasses. He couldn’t help but notice something unusual; the P7K appeared to be in safe mode.

  Is this mercenary a rookie or a pacifist or an amateur? He thought.

  “So that’s why you forgot to turn your safety off,” he smiled.

  She glanced down; surprised and embarrassed.

  Changing the subject, Jake asked: “Did anyone follow you?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Are you sure about that?” Jake asked, he motioned her to turn around.

  Her facial expression changed, and realized they now had unwanted company. The first gunshot banged. She cursed and immediately dropped to the ground.

  Then, a barrage of bullets targeted them. Jake and Darku rushed to take cover behind a large rock. She scrambled alongside them.

  “Hey, I was just about to work on a deal with-”

  Cutting her off, Jake shouted: “You either shut up and fight with me or die!”

  She released the safety on her side arm and took out two thugs.

  Jake bravely unleashed a counterattack of his own. The storm of AR-56 bullets easily peeled the first layer of the enemy’s platoon.

  “Cover me, I’m moving out,” Jake shouted.

  The Mercenary flooded the air with bullets, Jake sprinted to the right. Heading toward a medium-sized rock, he safely slid behind as several retaliation bullets ricocheted off the rock’s surface. Jake cursed as more lead poured in, seemingly from all angles. His vision soon became blurry, suppressed. Despite the difficult circumstances, he knew he had to regain control. After shaking his head to recover, he spotted a Moldan flanking from the left of his position. He instinctively unloaded the last of his rounds, neutralizing the threat.

  Jake reloaded, went prone, and scanned the horizon for his next target. Leaning left, he defeated three more thugs.

  Meanwhile, still entrenched behind the large rock, the mercenary was doing her best to fend off an incoming wave of skilled opponents. Stepping out of cover, Jake joined in to assist, taking out one Moldan hiding behind a stone barricade, the other two hovering behind smaller asteroid rocks.

  Her ammunition supply was dwindling rapidly; once her rounds ran dry, her survival would be dependent on the vigilante. Upon hearing the click, she swiftly reloaded with her last magazine. Anticipating Jake’s help, she moved into a hidden position to save bullets. As she attempted to hold her position, a Moldan soldier flanked her, raising his rifle with the intention to kill. Then, an AR-56 round whoosh his head off, the last threat fell; Jake had not disappointed her.

  Silence filled the air as they both emerged from their positions.

  Although she was impressed by Jake’s skills, she couldn’t help but feel a level of cautiousness; fully trusting him would be difficult. With her P7K ready, she confronted Jake face to face. Jake’s rifle was ready as well, resulting in a standoff. They stood there, unable to move, unsure of what actions each wanted to take next.

  “You were saying,” Jake said.

  “Listen, I’m not here to assassinate you,” she responded. “I was wondering if you can work with me. Maybe we can team up. We don’t have to split the profits; you can keep it all to yourself.”

  Why in the bloody hell was she here? Jake thought. I need to find out who sent her.

  “Why should I trust you?” He replied.

  “Haven’t you figured that out by now? Darku is a powerful asset. The power Darku possesses is not strength or speed. I need his ‘knowledge’ to determine the root of the problem. Once we locate the root, I can eradicate it.”

  Now how on earth does she know about Darku’s database? This amateur better not be messing with me. My best chance to locate the factory is hidden within that database.

  “So, you’re planning to track down the Stratiti’s Factory?” Jake asked.

  “Yes, I’m not interested in hunting down people for money. I’m interested in crippling the supply line of the most dangerous drug in the galaxy.”

  Looks like we have a common goal. I might work something out with her.

  “Now we’re speaking the same language.”

  “How about we stop talking and head back to base? Do we have a deal?” She spoke.

  Before he could respond, a fighter emerged seemingly from the unknown, charging towards them with the ferocity of an angry queen bee.

  “Incoming missiles! Get to cover. Now!” Darku hollered.

  They all scrambled to hardcover; rocks were their only shield. Within seconds, Jake’s ship was obliterated by several missiles. The explosions caused a thick cloud of black smoke to fall over them. Their ears rang, leaving them deaf. As the smoke cleared, Jake witnessed the fighter flying away. The angry humming engine faded away into the distance.

  “Damn it!” The mercenary said in disgust.

  “Well, there goes our ride,” Jake said. He wasn’t too thrilled. “You don’t have another ship we can use, do you?”

  “I hid inside a prison ship to get here. The short answer is … No.”

  “You're the idiot who wasted time pointing a gun at my head. We could have made our way off this rock if it wasn’t for your immaturity,” Jake snapped.

  “Like I said, I was hoping I could try to work on a deal with you. I had no idea how fucked up this was going to get.”

  “We don’t have time to gaggle fuck over who did what. We need to figure out a proper plan, now! Otherwise, we're going to be trapped in this shit hole forever.”

  Breaking his silence, Darku said: “Guys, guys. I think I have another way to get out of here.”

  “Shove it, Darku,” she grinned. “This is between me and that Bounty Hunter.”

  “All right, sweetheart. Maybe you should learn to pack it in a little, let Darku speak,” Jake said in a polite tone. “Perhaps, just perhaps, he has an idea. Clearly, you have nothing to offer.”

  “I understand your concern, young lady. If you can just listen for a moment, I think I can help,” Darku said, he ceased the argument. “When the Moldan’s released all the prisoners, this whole damn facility went into lockdown. If we could look for a way to release the lockdown sequence, maybe we could access one of their fighters.”

  “Your suggestion is to breach the command post, override the security lock-down and secure a fighter. Is that what I’m hearing?” Jake asked.

  “It’s the only option we have,” Darku replied.

  “Do you know how to disable the lockdown?” The female mercenary inquired.

  “Me. Uhh. No,” Darku said. “But I know a colleague who understands how their security system works. He was an intern for Groups Security in college.”

  “Good. We could use someone with technical know-how to get off this rock,” she said, turning to Jake. “I think we might have a good thing coming. Let’s say you.”

  “If we do this, I can’t let Darku go out into the field defenseless. We need to offer him protection,” Jake said to Crystal.

  “What kind of protection?” She asked.

  “Weapons are my religion. We have no excuse; we can’t allow him to go out there unarmed. There is a high probability that Moldans will continue to assault us. We need Darku armed in case any of us go down,” Jake insisted. He showed Darku his Ar-56 Carbine Rifle. “Darku, are you familiar with firing one of these?”

  “Yes, I’m familiar. No, I have not fired one before.”

  “Well, you need to learn fast. You will be the primary target for the Moldens; they are going after your ass first. If you don’t learn how to protect yourself, you will be as good as dead. We need to stop talking and move inside. Every second we wait, the more organized they become. I can brief you on our escape plan once we get someplace safe.”

  “Sounds good to me. Lead the way, cowboy,” the female mercenary nodded.