“Punk’s named Lomblurrg; Gortassa. Says he escaped capture using a series of booby traps after conviction.” Gator was reading the report. “Several police fatalities. Last seen at the scene of the crime: an in-system moon of the fourth planet Scygark.”
“Any idea where he is now?” Crimson asked.
Gator shook his massive head. “Wanted alive. 200,000 credits.”
“Seems a bit underpriced,” she grumbled.
Gator just watched her for a decision.
“Oh, we’re doin’ it!” she growled. She held up her robotic arm. “Scum like this did this to me!”
“We’ll lose money on it, by the end,” Gator shrugged, ruffling his shock of red hair, “… leg work and all…” then he brightened. “But! With the new encryption decoder we’re supposed to get, maybe we’ll catch a lucky lead!”
“Set it up,” Crimson nodded, glad for their little technical backtrack for the first time, “ASAP.”
Rullorrg had been happy to oblige them. He came in person. Crimson, Gator and Cort met him in Shuttle Bay 1. The police cruiser divulged the Chief Police Inspector and two Gortassan techies.
“Didn’t think you’d come yourself,” Crimson remarked.
The Gortassa was in fact blue, portly and bald. They were a triangular race, pointy heads, small shoulders and wide hips, walking with a waddle. The thick mat of nose tentacles obscured his mouth. Despite being an official and two lab techs, they were heavily armed, and belts supporting impressive firearms.
Rullorrg trundled up to Crimson and her crewmen, his nose tentacles lifted, no doubt starving in the thin clean oxygen of the Rival Bay. He chuckled ironically, “This is no little favor I’m doing you. Most people don’t even know you’re getting this. We call it the Ballerrg, after one of our great scientists who cracked a nearly impossible code during one of our ancient, great wars. This is top secret stuff. If our Planetary Parliament knew you had it they’d fire me and arrest you, and who knows what else.” Rullorrg leaned and fake-whispered, “I’d keep it quiet if I were you.”
“Secret nick-knacks from the chief of police,” Cort said, twitching his whiskers and rubbing his paws together, “Sound fun.”
Gator’s yellow scales were nearly trembling with glee. “Show me how to use it and I won’t even tell the rest of our crew!”
Rullorrg looked up at the Megladyte with amusement, and gestured to his lackies. They waddled up the ramp of the cruiser and in a minute they returned with a rolling cart, supporting a contraption that looked exactly like a bunch of boxes stuck together with crude welding.
Gator’s crocodile smile was painfully geeky, “Oh-ho! I pictured something bigger!”
“It does the job,” Rullorrg said with eyes that still belied smiling, “All we need is to connect it to your communication relays.”
Crimson rolled her eyes. Gator was nearly dancing in place. She knew her next order was unnecessary, but she liked the illusion she was in control. “Take them up to the Archive and plug it in.”
The enormous space gator, clapped his yellow claws and strutted like a maître-d, “Right this way gentlebeings!”
The Gortassans waddled after the Megladyte like ducklings. Cort, rested a furry hand on his unneeded electric cart. He mused, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen Gator prance before.”