Calculated Risk

by Zen DiPietro

  “Even better, then. I like the idea of that woman here on the station or out in space, protecting me. I’ve met a lot of women in my time, but that one can get things done.”

  Cabot studied his old friend, trying to decide if Doony meant the words at face value, or if he was making some innuendo about the striking young woman.

  He couldn’t tell.

  “The books, then,” Cabot said. “Let’s get started.”

  By that evening, Doony had a firm understanding of Cabot’s business philosophy, his inventory, and his part-time employees. He also knew which customers to pay particular attention to, for one reason or another.

  Basically, he was as close to a clone of himself that Cabot would ever get, commercially speaking.

  Cabot had expected Nagali to show up sometime during the day, but she hadn’t even called him. Not that he minded. It would have been inconvenient if she had. She’d been so focused on him lately, though, that not hearing from her all day felt strange.

  It was absolutely fine for her to go silent. That was just how Nagali operated. As soon as a person thought they could predict her, she’d go and do something unpredictable. Maybe even out of spite.

  Or maybe he was supposed to contact her. She might be waiting around, seeing how long it would take him. But too bad for her if that was the case, because he had no intention of doing so.

  Well, maybe later, after he had dinner. If he felt like it.

  Doony left shortly before Cabot to get some rest. The old man had promised to open the shop in the morning. “No sense in not digging right in,” he’d said.

  Cabot took his time closing up the shop. After locking up, he stood outside for a few long minutes watching the constant bustle of activity on the boardwalk. Recent events hadn’t changed that at all. If anything, Cabot figured that the tougher things got, the more important it would be for people to come here, socialize, and enjoy some semblance of normal life.

  He took a long, deep breath, pulling the smells of the restaurants into his lungs and holding them there before exhaling slowly.

  He’d missed this place. His home. If all went as it should, he would soon leave it again, probably for an even longer time.

  Desperate times called for desperate measures.

  Straightening, he began the stroll back to his quarters. Whatever happened next, he was ready to meet it with his fists up and ready to fight.

  A few months ago, entering his quarters to find a dangerous woman dressed in black waiting for him would have startled him.

  “Hey, Fallon.” He greeted her as if it was normal for a spec ops assassin to be sitting on his couch.

  Actually, these days it kind of was.

  “Hi, Cabot. Any word from Caine?” As usual, she got right to the point.

  He liked that about her. It was almost businesslike.

  “Not yet. I expected to hear from her a couple hours ago, but Ditnya likes to twist the screws until she’s sure you’ve reached your limit.” He went to the narrow table he used as a personal bar and poured himself a drink. “Brandy?”

  She’d say no. She always did.

  “Sure.”

  “Well, this is a day of surprises.” He poured her a generous serving.

  They sat across from each other, sipping brandy and not talking. Fallon silently studied him. It might have felt strange to him just weeks ago, but now it felt like possibility. Like an adventure about to unfold.

  “You’ve changed,” she observed.

  For a brief moment, he considered being coy. Instead, he met her gaze. “I’m not sure if I’ve changed or if I’ve gone back to how I was before I adapted to living here.”

  She nodded slowly. “I could see that. We all exist differently, depending on our surroundings.”

  “That covers it, doesn’t it.” He said it like a statement rather than a question. “Whether it’s one person or a whole galaxy, we’ll adjust to what’s going on around us.”

  “That’s how survival works.”

  He wanted to respond with some pithy comment, but couldn’t. The conversation was too deep to cheapen it. He envisioned billions of people throughout the PAC struggling to survive. Changing the subject slightly, he asked, “How are the drills going?”

  “Fine. People are getting better and faster at it. We’ll reduce the frequency soon. We just want to be sure people are conditioned to act in case it becomes critical for them to do so.”

  “And Barony? Any developments?”

  “We have ships watching the Zankarti system. Barony continues to fortify the fourth planet, which was previously unpopulated.” She drained her glass and set it aside.

  “Hm. I wonder what Barony offered them to allow that. The Zankarti system is entirely self-sufficient, and does almost no trade with other systems. Plus, they’re culturally insular and don’t welcome outsiders. What could Barony have offered them to allow the use of a planet?”

  “We don’t know,” she said. “Maybe you and Ditnya can help us figure that out.”

  It would be an interesting puzzle. A business transaction that had interstellar ramifications.

  “I hope we’ll be able to. She just needs to sign the contract.”

  Fallon smiled. “You sound confident that she’s going to agree to your terms.”

  “She will. She wants me as her liaison to the PAC because no one else is connected to both of these spheres of influence like I am. She won’t want anyone else you’d try to push on her. And when Ditnya Caine wants something, she makes sure she gets it.”

  “I hope you’re right.”

  He nodded. “The sticking point has been how much authority I’ll have on her ship. If I get on board the Bona Fide without being in the role of her second in command, I might as well not be there. The crew will undermine me, and Ditnya won’t respect me. That means she won’t do as the PAC asks. She’s trying to stack the deck in her favor—to conspire with the PAC government while maintaining the upper hand. This only works if she agrees to my terms. She’ll do so, as soon as she’s certain I won’t budge.”

  “Anything I can do to help push her?” she asked.

  “No. Ditnya can’t be pushed. She has to decide that she wants to agree. And until she does, there’s nothing more I can do.”

  “I see.” She seemed displeased with the situation, but not with him.

  That was good, because Fallon was one of the last people he’d want holding a grudge against him.

  Along with Ditnya and Nagali. And probably Fallon’s teammates, too. Peregrine, Hawk, and Raptor were perilously capable people. Oh, and Captain Nevitt.

  He sure knew a lot of dangerous people these days. But instead of concerning him, this thought pleased him. It was much better to be connected to people who could make things happen.

  “You’ve got that look again,” she told him.

  “What look?” He relaxed his face into a casual expression.

  “The look I get when I’m flying a ship. If I had to describe it, I’d call it maniacal glee.”

  Scrap. He hadn’t meant to telegraph his thoughts. He needed to reign in his newly rediscovered sense of adventure.

  “It freaks Hawk out,” she continued, “and I can kind of see why, now.”

  “Oh.” He had no answer for that.

  “It’s not a bad thing,” she qualified. “I just mean I like where you’re going with this.”

  He felt a lot of different ways about this statement. So many ways that he couldn’t grasp the individual feelings. It was both a good and a concerning sensation. Kind of like eating extremely spicy food that he knew he’d end up regretting later.

  He could only respond with, “I’m glad you approve.”

  “Let me know when you hear from Caine.” Her words had a note of finality, and sure enough, she got up to leave.

  “I—” He cut himself off when his comport alerted him to an incoming message.

  Fallon paused, watching him.

  As he grasped his comport, he knew per
fectly well that whenever he really wanted a message to come in, he always got duped by other messages instead. No doubt this was some bogus investment offer or lame attempt to get him to reveal something about his current holdings. But he couldn’t help hoping that this was the message he’d been waiting for, with the answer he wanted.

  No, the answer he needed.

  He read the brief missive, double-checked its authenticity, then looked at Fallon.

  “It’s her. She’s signed the contract.”

  Fallon’s face transformed into satisfaction and a bit of what could only be maniacal glee.

  It was a little frightening, but that didn’t bother him. The most lucrative ventures were always a little scary.

  There was no time for goodbyes or one last tour of the boardwalk. Once Cabot got the affirmative from Ditnya, he was packing his bag, meeting Omar and Nagali in the docking bay, and setting out for Zerellus, where they’d meet Ditnya.

  Funny how much his life had changed.

  Once again sailing through the black void of space, he reflected on how normal it now felt to be on a mission for the PAC. He missed the Outlaw, though. He’d become accustomed to that particular ship. Fallon had said she needed it, and Cabot didn’t like to think of why that might be. Instead, she’d arranged a sweet class-four Kiramoto luxury cruiser. It didn’t measure up to the Outlaw for speed, but it did pretty well. And the accommodations were far, far nicer than Fallon’s stripped-down racecar ship.

  Overall, it seemed like a good tradeoff. If his days were numbered, why not enjoy them in as much comfort as he could? The three of them quickly fell back into the routine of traveling.

  The relatively large cabins in the ship and the wildly comfortable furnishings helped make the time pass pleasantly. On the third day of travel, Nagali visited him after her turn at the helm.

  Cabot already had his pajamas on, since he’d taken over from Omar, but Nagali had seen him in his nightclothes before. They were comfy, and he looked quite nice in them, truth be told.

  As she entered, it occurred to him that she was the embodiment of addiction. She was bad for him. She was sometimes fun, and sometimes horrid. But for some reason, he kept going back for more. Sometimes even against his own will.

  There was no one like her.

  She looked fresh and well-rested even after eight hours of sitting in the pilot’s chair. Her glossy black hair looked like it had just been brushed, and her smile had a whole adventure’s worth of wickedness in it.

  “Hi.” She strode in and sat on his bed as if he’d invited her to.

  “Hello. How was your shift?”

  “Boring.” She heaved a weary sigh. “Didn’t see a thing.”

  “That’s good, though,” he reminded her. “Seeing things would either mean you’d finally gone void crazy or that we were probably about to get attacked by pirates. Either would slow us down.”

  “At least pirates would bring some excitement. I’m sure we could handle them.”

  “Even so, like I said, they’d slow us down. I want to make it to Zerellus before Ditnya. As it is, we’ll only have about twelve hours before her arrival.”

  “Why?” Nagali’s eyes went round with eager anticipation. “What are we going to do on Zerellus?”

  “I’d like to stock up on some local nonperishables while I don’t have to pay for shipping.”

  “Things you can save to sell later at a profit?” She seemed less enthused about that, but accepting.

  “Of course.” Actually, he simply wanted to have some backstock on hand for his Zerellian friends on Dragonfire. But she might not go along with that. Better to give her a more mercenary version of his intentions.

  “All right,” she agreed. “I’d like to stock up on some premade packets of hendaya and rastor dumplings, now that you mention it. I’d be sad if I had to go months without any.”

  “If the shipping lanes get blocked, it would be a lot longer than months.”

  She rolled her eyes. “You’re always such a downer. Why is that?”

  “I don’t know. Realism?”

  She bounced up from the bed. “I can see you’re going to be impossible to talk to tonight.” At the door, she turned to face him. “Whatever happens, we’ll make the most of the adventure. How much longer were we really going to live, anyway? Twenty, maybe thirty years before we’re too feeble and addled to have any fun?”

  “Why do you make it sound like multiple decades is hardly any time at all?”

  She smiled. “Because it isn’t, if you’re having fun. And if you’re not having fun, it doesn’t matter. Good night!”

  He laughed as the door closed behind her. She was incorrigible. Hedonistic.

  Hopefully, he’d be able to convince her to use her powers for good instead of evil on this mission.

  But then, “good” was a relative term.

  Cabot frowned at the locked storefront. “I talked to him a week ago. How did he go out of business so fast?”

  Omar leaned in to peer through the window. “Looks deserted. Hard times, I guess. No luck sending a message to him?”

  “No answer.” Cabot checked his comport to be sure, but no new message had escaped his notice.

  “Well, this is inconvenient.” Omar leaned against the front of the building, crossing his arms over his chest.

  “Yes,” Cabot agreed. “I know someone else who could give me the right price, but she’s several hours away. We wouldn’t make it back to the meet point in time, and I don’t want to keep Ditnya waiting.”

  “I know someone nearby,” Nagali said. “But you might be too good to do business with her.”

  Cabot glanced at Omar for some kind of corroboration, but Omar shot him a you’re on your own look.

  “What’s wrong with her?” Cabot asked.

  “Nothing.” Nagali’s voice had a touch of defensiveness. “She’s fine. It’s just that some of her goods don’t come from official channels.”

  “And what does that mean? I’m not going to buy consumable supplies if it means they’re not up to safety standards.”

  “No, not that.” Nagali looked around quickly and moved in closer, lowering her voice. “But some things kind of, you know, fall off the anti-grav cart on the way from here to there. You know. Shrinkage.”

  Omar grimaced. “I don’t like that term.”

  She rolled her eyes, not bothering to look at him. “You’re such an idiot.”

  Omar smiled as if she’d given him a compliment.

  Cabot ignored their sibling rivalry. “Fine. Let’s go.”

  Nagali’s annoyance disappeared, her face becoming a picture of delight. “Really?”

  He scoffed at her. “What am I, a PAC officer, forbidden to do anything that has a hint of the unsavory?”

  “Ooh, say it again.” Her eyes sparkled.

  “Say what again?”

  “Unsavory. There’s something sexy about the way you say it.”

  Omar made a sound like he was choking to death on something vile.

  “Let’s go,” Cabot said again.

  She crossed her arms. “I’m the only one who knows where we need to go, and I’m not moving until you say it.”

  She’d do it, too. She’d refuse to cough up her source if he didn’t do as she demanded.

  He sighed. “Unsavory.”

  She wiggled her shoulders. “Gave me a shiver. Right, so let’s go!”

  Ten minutes later, they walked into what looked like an abandoned warehouse. The building and the sidewalk in front of it were tidy enough, but Cabot could see no lights within, and there was no sense of activity. Strange within such a busy city, even on a side street like this.

  Nagali pushed a security buzzer with the air of someone who had no time for such paltry things.

  A few moments later, a voice said, “What?”

  “It’s Nagali, darling. Open up.”

  The door’s locking mechanism hissed, then popped. Apparently, whoever “darling” was, she thought enough of
Nagali to give her instant access.

  Nagali led, pushing through the door, then a small, empty reception area, and back into a storeroom.

  “Nagali!” A tall, wiry woman with white-blond hair emerged from tall rows of stacked pallets.

  As the woman approached, Cabot studied her hip-swinging, carefree walk and rumpled clothes. Interesting. He’d never seen a Sarkavian smuggler. Not that their free-spirited enthusiasm was at odds with the profession. He’d just never seen it.

  The woman’s pale skin and eyes did seem well-suited for long hours in dim lighting.

  She showed every sign of being pleased to see Nagali, exhibiting smiles, exclamations, and a kiss on the cheek.

  He watched their interaction with curiosity. Though Nagali felt no physical attraction for women, flirtation and charm had long been two of her favorite tactics. The newcomer definitely had a more than professional interest in Nagali, and Nagali would certainly use that to her advantage.

  Since neither woman seemed interested in an introduction, Cabot pushed forward, offering his arm in a Rescan greeting. “Cabot,” he said. “I see you and Nagali are old friends. Do you know Omar?”

  Finally, the woman paid them some attention. Sort of. Her pale blue eyes slipped past Cabot to Omar. “Oh, so you’re the one who tortures this poor woman so!”

  She grinned, though, and she seemed almost as interested in Omar as Nagali. Finally, after giving Omar a good head-to-toe inspection, she briefly grasped Cabot’s arm in the Rescan manner. “Good to meet friends of Nagali’s. I’m Lanska.”

  “Funny,” Cabot said, “I’m rarely glad to meet people who like Nagali. It makes me question their judgment. Present company excluded, of course.”

  Lanska’s mouth pursed and she turned back to Nagali. “Who’s this guy?”

  Nagali shook her head. “Nobody important. Harmless, though.”

  Cabot bristled. Nobody important? That’s not what she’d said when she’d practically begged him to let her come along to Jamestown, then to Dragonfire. In fact, she’d spent the past how many months trying to get back into his good graces because she missed him?

  What a bunch of scrap.

  She and Lanska had gone back to ignoring him.