Jak Phoenix, Page 2

  Chapter Two - Murdock

  The armoured man from the surface level approached the ledge and stepped over. Like the others before him, he used his propulsion pack to assist him in making a smooth, albeit dusty landing in the bottom of the gorge.

  “Fancy meeting you here, Jak,” said the man behind the elegant mask. His condescending tone made the hair on the back of Jak’s neck stand on end.

  “Murdock, you bastard.” Jak realized who was hiding behind the highly polished deep blue helmet. Murdock removed his helmet, revealing his short black hair and thin pompous moustache.

  “Murdock, you bastard!” came Baxter’s voice as he made his way over to the exchange. He had emerged from the cave and was very careful to leave a wide berth around the captive Scoparian.

  “Easy, Bax, I just said that.” Jak spoke to Baxter while his eyes were locked on Murdock.

  “Nice to see you both as well,” said Murdock, clearly pleased with himself for causing a disturbance.

  “Nice suit,” said Jak. “You’re the only guy I know who would have sparkling clean armour in the middle of a desert.”

  “We professionals need the correct tools for the job.” Again with the tone. “I see you came in your little antique ship. Are you here to trade it in for something a little newer?” He motioned toward the old abandoned freight hauler. “Or did you have a plan in mind to fly off with some scavenged valuables?” Murdock observed Jak with his beady black eyes. Jak’s silence confirmed the answer to his rhetorical question. He continued in his belittling tone. “And what were you planning to take on the Scoparian Dragon with? Your bare hands?”

  “Yeah, that’s right,” answered Jak firmly. At this point he wasn’t really listening. Murdock’s team had taken notice of the escalating conversation and started to make their way over.

  “Well, we’ll finish up here,” said Murdock. “Run along.”

  Jak smashed him in the face with his fist before Murdock could even turn to share a chuckle with his flunkies. He went sprawling into the dust and lost his grip on the helmet. It took an awkward bounce off a broken rock and rolled a few feet away.

  Murdock’s men quickly moved in on Jak. He received the typical physical repercussions for an attack on a weak leader, which was basically everything Jak had delivered, multiplied by five. Jak was well aware that the men were going to overpower him even before he decided to hit Murdock. After a kick to the back of the leg, a punch in the midsection, a pair of kicks to the groin and a punch in the side of the face he was still happy with himself.

  While on his knees holding his stomach, Jak saw the spot of blood in the corner of Murdock’s mouth and realized none of the trouble had been in vain. Baxter put his hands in the air and was left alone. They either accepted his surrender or didn’t consider his short bulky form a threat. It was a weak, but admittedly intelligent, decision on Baxter’s part. Jak needed a drink and it wasn’t just because of the dry atmosphere.

  “Bind their hands,” ordered Murdock as he picked up his helmet from the dust. Jak spotted the fresh scratch on the helmet caused by the fall onto the jagged rock and watched with pleasure as Murdock thumbed the defect, pretended to ignore it, realized he couldn’t ignore it, then stormed off toward the freighter. The four associates complied with his direction and grabbed hold of Jak and Baxter.

  Jak didn’t resist, mainly because he was still regaining his strength from the minor beating. Baxter mistook this for some type of leadership and followed suit. Their wrists were tied together with a thick black nylex cord. The knots were tight, but not tight enough to cut off their circulation. They were both forcibly seated, back to back, before another piece of nylex was tied around their torsos.

  Murdock was busy inspecting the freighter. His men finished up on Jak and Baxter then rushed over to join him, so he could bark a few more orders at them. After some discussion, two of the men activated their propulsion packs and made their way up and out of the canyon, back to the dunes above.

  “Do you have a plan?” asked Baxter.

  “Don’t I always?”

  “Don’t forget, your last plan got us marooned on Kellus.”

  “That was a different plan.”

  “This one is the same, isn’t it?”

  “Some of it is,” answered Jak. “It involves punching Murdock again, so that part’s the same.”

  “Jak,” said Baxter, “We don’t have any weapons and we won’t be able to get out of the canyon quickly. Not to mention, we’re outnumbered.”

  “What do you suggest then?” asked Jak, annoyed with the conversation.

  “Let’s just free ourselves and get out of here.”

  “Running away ... I wouldn’t have imagined you’d say that.”

  Jak made eye contact with the Scoparian. It was a sad sight seeing this mighty behemoth chained to the ground and immobile. Maybe it thought the same thing watching them argue. Jak could almost feel the pent up explosive anger in the beast.

  “Bax,” began Jak, “I’m going to cut the cords, but I need you to promise me that you won’t run off. Let’s stay put and see how it goes.”

  “What am I, some kind of wimp?”

  Jak didn’t feel like explaining. “Just promise.”

  “Alright, alright.”

  Jak figured there was a fifty-fifty chance Baxter would run off with his arms flailing when he cut through the bonds.

  This was not the first time Jak had ended up as a bound captive. In fact, it seemed to occur frequently. Pirates, smugglers, profiteers, runners and other various outlaws did not work well together and would eventually have to eliminate their competition, or companions, in one way or another. Tying someone up was the next best thing if you weren’t in the mood for murder.

  Jak had invested in a tool to help him out of these situations. His worn out fingerless brown leather gloves had a modified feature. When he moved both his index and little fingers a certain way it would trigger a small steel blade to release out the back of the glove, on the top of his hand. This blade did not point forward as a weapon would, but backward, parallel to the forearm. Its sole purpose was to get underneath and cut whatever he may be tied up with. The glove worked well if he was careful not to cut himself with it.

  Rusty, Jak’s old friend, space station administrator and favourite junk dealer, had fashioned this for him a while back, so it didn’t exactly come with a manual or safety directions. Knowing Rusty, it was probably made out of a dinner knife and a pair of gloves stolen from a passed-out patron in his bar.

  Jak manipulated the glove and was able to eject the steel blade. He had practiced with it before and was quickly able to slip the blade under the nylex and cut his wrist bond with a few strategic movements. With the cord cut, he easily freed both of their hands without causing a disturbance, which would distract Murdock and his crew. They loosened the cord holding them back to back, but left it in place so they would still appear to be restrained. Baxter’s courage held out and he stayed put.

  Another loud hum came from above them, as a repulsor lift floated over the edge of the canyon and slowly lowered to the rocky bottom. It was piloted by one of Murdock’s followers in a standing position while the other man held on to a rail on the side, securing a pile of tools in the back compartment. It was of course a brand new lift machine; probably this year’s model, likely bought new for this job.

  Murdock spared no expense since his funding came from his bureaucratic Galactic Guard connections. So really, he spared all of their money and none of his own. He then likely reported back to them with only a small portion of his monetary gains and kept the rest for himself. He would let enough of the proceeds trickle back to them, compensating them for their expenditures and giving them a steady little profit.

  Jak figured that he and Baxter would have used nothing more than a rope to get the cargo to the surface.

  Money drove Murdock, as it also did Jak. The difference was that money controlled Murdock and made him its slave. Jak would
not let anything control him. He needed money to survive, but if he was ever successful and rich, he wouldn’t have the slightest idea where to start spending it.

  Jak watched as the industrial lift hovered over toward the freight ship. It stopped near one of the cargo doors and the men jumped off. It bounced a little, suspended above the ground by an unseen force. They unloaded a few more gadgets out of the back compartment and made their way to the door Murdock was indicating as the place to begin. He grabbed two small fist sized items out of the supplies they had brought and affixed them to the door — one at the top and one at the bottom. The mercenaries moved to the side of the craft as the steel door imploded into the ship with a loud echoing pop and destructive sounding crash.

  The dragon watched the occurrence and responded with a grunt and another unsuccessful attempt to break its chains. Jak and Baxter heard the crashing and banging as the men rushed through the ship searching for the precious cargo and apparently overturning everything else.

  The mercenaries began making trips outside the freighter to the repulsor lift, loading it up with metal shipping crates. Jak noticed one of the smaller crates was wrapped in a thick mag-seal. Someone certainly didn’t want anyone getting at whatever was inside that one.

  The men were efficient and quick, loading up about a dozen boxes before regrouping back outside. Two of the armoured men took the lift back out of the canyon. Murdock walked back over to Jak with the remaining mercenary. He was of course the largest of Murdock’s crew.

  Standing over Jak, he said, “I hope you learned a few things here.”

  Jak ignored the question. “You’re just going to leave us here?”

  “Unfortunately for you, I am. You must understand that I can’t have you following us. But, you always were rather resourceful. You’ll figure out something I’m sure.”

  “What about the dragon over there? You’re just going to leave it chained up?”

  “Well, I may come back for its claws or teeth at some point,” answered Murdock. “They may also be valuable. It will be far easier to get them once it’s dead. The dry atmosphere preserves things very well.”

  “You are a wonderful person Murdock,” said Jak, “You haven’t changed a bit.”

  “Neither have you, Jak. Always the loser.”

  Murdock spoke to his associate. “Richards, teach him a quick lesson and then let’s move on.”

  Richards swung his armoured foot toward Jak’s face, with the assumption Jak was still restrained. Jak pulled his hands out from behind his back and grabbed the man’s foot before it could connect with his head. He gave it a quick and powerful twist, resulting in an audible crack. The man fell sideways onto the ground and his helmet rolled off. He held his foot and cried out in agony.

  Jak had no sympathy for a man who made his living kicking people when they were down. He jumped over Richards and grabbed the sleek pistol out of his belt holster while he lay clutching at his foot. Jak didn’t like the little weapon. It was light, like a toy, but it would have to do. He lunged at Murdock, but he powered up his propulsion pack and shot into the air before Jak could reach him.

  Jak aimed the weapon at him but held his fire. He could see Murdock’s ship in the distorted blinding light above. The other two men had boarded Murdock’s ship and were now piloting it near the edge of the cliff, with its high powered laser cannons fixed on Jak and Baxter’s position. Murdock’s sleek ship was a dark blue color with silver accents. Being that it was the same color scheme as the men’s armour, Jak figured it all must have come as a set.

  “Sorry, Jak, not your lucky day,” shouted Murdock.

  He turned and made his way to his ship. All Jak wanted to do was blast him right there. Fortunately, reasoning kicked in and he held his fire. They’d both be dead in a second if he did it, and Murdock would have won again. Behind him, the injured Richards got to his knees, activated his pack and flew off to join the others at the ship.

  Murdock and one of his men were fiddling with something in the craft’s entrance way. They likely hadn’t yet been able to fully complete the cargo loading procedure, before coming to Murdock’s aid. Inspiration struck and Jak made his final move. He spun around, looked into the Scoparian’s eyes and blasted the taut chain.

  The part of the chain that held the beast’s neck down snapped, allowing the mammoth creature to rear its head up. With its head free it had its leverage back. It pulled on the chains only one time, tearing the metal rings in a storm of broken steel and rock. It took off from the ground in a blur. The sudden movement created a force in the air knocking Jak off his feet.

  The dragon sprung up at the ship and with a swipe of its massive clawed hand, sent it reeling into the sand dune. As it hit the dust, Murdock and Richards fell out of the ship and into the confused cloud of sand disturbed by the powerful engines of the blue ship.

  Richards fell onto the sandy surface on his back, crushing his propulsion pack. He grabbed at the actuator on his belt and tried to trigger the pack to take off. The damaged device did not respond. The pilot of the ship was able to get the ship back into the air and with some nimble manoeuvring, avoid a few swipes from the furious Scoparian.

  Richards was unable to take more than a few steps on his broken foot before falling back into the dust. He called for Murdock who was now airborne. Murdock propelled himself out of the range of the dragons arm span. He took a look back at Richards, the hired help, and made his choice. He flew toward the open boarding platform of the ship.

  Richards made a last futile attempt to crawl somewhere in the difficulty of the loose sand as the dragon’s open jaws came down on him. The Scoparian’s giant mouth took him, and a large crater worth of sand, in a split second attack. After swallowing its well deserved meal, it looked with an intense hatred at Murdock as he entered the ship and sped off in the direction of Jak and Baxter’s ship.

  Jak wondered for a second if the beast could actually fly with its leathery wings and hoped it would follow them to finish the job. Instead, it turned and jumped back into the canyon. The thunderous impact of the giant creature knocked both Jak and Baxter onto the ground once again. This was it, thought Jak. It looked at the two of them for a couple of seconds. Jak prepared for the worst and hoped with all his heart that Baxter wouldn’t do the obvious and bolt. Finally, the Scoparian turned and darted off in the opposite direction, down the ancient bedrock trench and around a sharp corner. Jak realized he hadn’t been breathing and finally let out a gasp as his body demanded oxygen.

  They both heard a muffled sound of energy blasts in the distance, which echoed slightly through the gorge. Neither had the energy of their own to discuss it as they took a moment to absorb what had just occurred.

  “How the hell did you know it would go after them and not us?” asked Baxter in disbelief.

  “I didn’t,” said Jak, “but it worked out well, didn’t it?”

  A dumbfounded Baxter shook his head and said no more. He was at a loss for words. Jak decided to leave it without discussion. He had hoped the Scoparian had enough instinct to figure out who the real threat was, and not go after the two defenceless creatures who had been crawling and falling in the dust all afternoon. Whatever it was, the dragon spared them. It was probably at the point where it just wanted to be left alone. Jak wanted the same, as he began to dwell on thoughts of the lost artifacts, his hope for a future.

  Jak looked around one more time and said, “Alright, let’s go.”

  They found their way to a nearby ledge that seemed to be sloped back enough that they could use some of the natural indents in the rock as hand holds in making their way to the top. They emerged from the canyon at last, back into the deep sand banks of the desert world. Then, they had to make their way up the sand dune, which encroached over the edge like a giant dried wave. The sight that greeted them at the top was the smoking hull of their ship, presumably damaged by a few revenge blasts from Murdock as they fled from the Scoparian’s rage. Jak was done. He had reach
ed the point where anger and failures nearly became comical.

  “Another successful mission,” said Jak as he patted Baxter on the back and started his way down the sloping dune, back toward the ship.