Zoya twisted her head sideways in each direction before taking a sip of tea. “Define too much.”
“Fifty thousand a month.”
“What for? Can’t really call it too much if you don’t know what it’s for.”
“Courier pilot. If interested, I’m supposed to meet them to go over the details.”
Zoya took another slug of tea. “Sounds like it’s what you always wanted. What’s the problem?”
“Highest paid courier I’ve met out here is doing about ten thousand a month. Why do they want to pay me five times that?”
Zoya settled back in her chair and pulled the edges of her scruffy blue bathrobe together in front of her. “You’ll have to ask them, won’t you?” she said, peering across the table. “Maybe you just never met a high-paid courier pilot. Or if you did, they didn’t tell you the truth. For that matter, you’re getting ten grand from TIC every month, aren’t you?”
Natalya shrugged. “Yeah? So?”
“So, maybe the pay scale isn’t what you think it is.”
“Or maybe they want me to do something unethical.”
“Maybe you should go find out before you get your panties in a twist over what they might be, could be, should be asking you to do for the wage.” Zoya reached for her teacup with both hands. “When do they want to meet?”
“Noon at Kondur’s place.”
Zoya shrugged. “Maybe it’s Kondur and he needs a new courier.”
“It’s not Kondur.” Natalya paused and looked at the message again. “At least I don’t think so.”
“Maybe Kondur’s involved. It’s not the only meeting place on the station but it’s likely the most secure from what I’ve seen. What does it matter?”
“I don’t know. Kinda weird having job offers come in over the virtual transom when I’ve been looking for jobs like this for weeks.” Natalya stared at the screen.
Zoya snorted. “You’ve been looking for a job exactly like that for months. Who’s it from?”
Natalya shrugged. “It doesn’t say. Message headers dead-end with a High Tortuga routing.”
Zoya sipped her tea again and looked across the table. “So, you go. You find out. You make a decision. You get the job or you don’t.”
Natalya worried her lower lip between her teeth and squinted at the screen as if to read between the lines. “What if it’s TIC?”
“Seems unlikely. You’re already on their payroll.”
“You keep saying that like it’s a fact. We don’t really know,” Natalya said.
Zoya shrugged. “Maybe not. Fits all the facts that we know. We might not know all the facts. That’s possible. Call it a hunch. I’m relatively certain I’m being paid by them since they regularly ask me to do things they subsequently pay for. You’re the pilot they sent me out here with. Makes sense you’d get paid, too.”
“I don’t want to be a member of the Trade Investigation Commission. I made that clear to them back at Port Newmar.”
Zoya sighed. “Apparently they didn’t take ‘no’ for an answer.”
“But—”
“Just get some clothes on and go see, will you?” Zoya’s voice crackled with irritation and she bit down on whatever she planned to say next. “You want me to go with you? You want me to stay here? What?”
“It doesn’t say to come alone,” Natalya said. “Not sure what the protocol is for taking a friend to a job interview.”
“I can be ready to go. It’s not like it’s a job interview. The job is yours for the taking if they’re talking credits already. Seems like more of a sniff test than a job interview. They clearly know more about you than you know about them.”
“How do you figure?”
Zoya chuckled a little. “They know your KnightNet practices well enough to send you a private job offer that just happens to arrive as you’re getting desperate for a job; they know you have your own ship or they’d have asked for you to be pilot instead of courier; and they’ve offered you enough of an incentive that you can’t just blow them off. You know nothing about them, other than they want to meet you.”
Natalya sighed and squinted even harder at the darkened display as if she could read something into the invitation simply by her force of will. After a few moments she relaxed into her chair and picked up her own mug of tea. “You’re right.”
“What’s that? I didn’t hear you,” Zoya said, a smile twitching at the corners of her mouth. “I’m white? I don’t think so.”
In spite of herself, Natalya found herself chuckling along with Zoya. “I said you were right, all right? Happy now?” She threw up her hands in mock disgust. “On this 17th day of March, Zoya was actually right about something. I’ll log it on the calendar. You are right.”
“Thank you,” Zoya said, putting her teacup back on the table. “Maybe the Toe-Holds are beginning to grow on me.”
Natalya started to argue but had to admit, Zoya was right again. The woman across the table had grown a great deal since coming to Toe-Hold space. “I hope so,” Natalya said. “You’re still my wingman. I’m glad you’re here.”
Zoya smiled—a little wan, a bit sad, and completely honest. “Thanks, Nats. That means a lot.”
Chapter 4
Dark Knight Station
2366, March 17
KONDUR’S BAR AND RESTAURANT, The Roost, had become a familiar place for Natalya and Zoya. They knew the bouncers well enough to get a smile as they approached and ate there often enough that some of the service staff knew them as well. According to the scuttlebutt, Kondur played fair and paid well which kept the staff happy and loyal.
Natalya pushed through the door and smiled at the maître d’. “Hi, Simon. I believe I’m expected?”
Simon smiled back. His balding head with white fringe and seamed face might have fooled some people but he moved with the smooth grace of a martial artist. His uniform fit him well enough that Natalya had no doubt that he served as more than maître d’ despite his apparent age. “You are indeed, Ms. Regyri.” He glanced over her shoulder. “Will Ms. Usoko be joining you?”
Natalya looked back at Zoya before answering. “If that’s satisfactory with my appointment?”
“Not unexpected. Right this way.” He led the way past the bar and into one of the private dining rooms in the back. He gave a quick rap on the panel before holding it open for them to enter. “Enjoy your meal,” he said, giving Natalya a wink and closing the door behind them.
Two men stood from the table as they entered. The taller of the two looked thin enough to fit through a thruster nozzle, while the shorter had the shoulders of a cargo hauler and the squat stature Natalya associated with heavy-worlders. Both wore shipsuits that might have blended in on the promenade outside in terms of cut and style, but fit too well to be off the rack from some chandlery.
The tall one reached across the table to offer a hand. “Ms. Regyri, I presume? And Ms. Usoko?” His voice carried no accent Natalya could place. Certainly not the clipped cadences common to the Toe-Holds. He sounded more polished, like Commandant Giggone. “I’m Brian Dorion.”
Natalya shook his hand. “Nice to meet you,” she said.
He offered his hand to Zoya with a nod. “Ms. Usoko.”
Zoya returned the greeting.
The shorter one held out his hand. “Joe Allen, Ms. Regyri. I’m very pleased to see you.” Natalya expected the deep, gravelly voice of a heavy-worlder, but she heard an airy tenor.
Natalya shook the offered hand, surprised by the man’s careful, almost delicate grip. “Mr. Allen.”
Dorion waved them into the waiting chairs. “Please. Make yourselves comfortable. Staff should be with us shortly and we can order.”
Natalya took her seat across from Dorion and Zoya sat across from Allen at a table that was longer than it was wide and dressed with linens, rather than the more mundane hard-surfaced square four-top she was used to seeing at The Roost.
After the wait staff came and left, Allen leaned into the table. “You�
��re probably wondering who we are and why we want you to come work for us. I assure you it’s no trick. A legitimate offer.”
“What is it, exactly, you want us to do?” Natalya asked.
Allen glanced at Dorion before answering. Natalya wondered who was the boss and who was the backup. She’d pegged Dorion for the boss job since he spoke first and Allen looked like the muscle.
“We want you to do some data pickup runs for us,” Allen said. “We’ve a fixed route we need somebody to cover.”
“Why us?” Natalya asked.
“The Peregrine has the legs to cover the route,” Allen said.
“A lot of ships have those legs. Why us?” she asked again.
“The ships with that kind of range are all larger. We need something smaller,” Allen said.
“Easier to hide,” Natalya said.
“Harder to spot,” he said with a conspiratorial wink. “We like to keep a low profile. It cuts down on complications.”
“What happened to the last guy?” Zoya asked.
Allen tilted his head. “The last guy?”
“The guy who used to do this route for you,” she said.
“He quit.” Allen shrugged again. “We pay well. Some people don’t like the work and leave us when they’ve earned enough. No hard feelings. You can quit any time. It’s in the contract.”
“But who are you?” Natalya asked. “Why should we trust you?”
“I can’t answer that until you sign a non-disclosure agreement,” Allen said.
“Non-disclosure for what? That we talked to you?” Natalya asked.
“Yes,” Allen said.
Natalya expected something a little more elaborate. It took her a moment to recover. “What if we don’t sign?”
“Well, in that case, you’re free to leave here and tell anybody you want that you had a lovely lunch with Joe Allen and Brian Dorion,” Allen said.
“So if we sign it, we can’t tell anybody what we talked about over dinner?” Natalya asked.
“Correct,” Allen said. “You’re not allowed to disclose who we represent or what we talked about. You will, of course, be free to turn down our offer once we tell you what it is we want you do to. You just can’t tell anybody else.”
“Or what?” Zoya asked.
Allen smiled and it looked genuine to Natalya. “Or you pay us a very large sum. You really do not want to press that button.” He looked at Natalya. “You can read the agreement before you make up your minds.”
“That’s a given,” Natalya said.
Dorion chuckled and pulled a metal courier case up from beside his chair. He flipped some locks and the top lifted, blocking Natalya’s view into the case. He pulled out two tablets and handed them across the table. “Non-disclosure agreements,” he said. “Since you’re both here, you’ll both need to sign. We like it better when the whole crew signs.”
Natalya opened the tablet and read the two paragraphs. She would never be able to reveal who she worked for to anyone for any reason for a period of twenty standard years following the end of her employment. The penalty clause invoked repayment of any earnings plus a million credits.
“Is this even legal?” Zoya asked.
“Why wouldn’t it be?” Dorion asked.
“Who adjudicates a dispute?”
“High Tortuga provides the court of last resort,” Allen said.
Zoya glanced at Natalya.
“He’s right, Zee,” Natalya said. “Contract disputes happen all the time. Even out here.”
Zoya’s brows inched toward each other. “What protection against liabilities do we have?”
“What do you mean?” Dorion asked.
“What if it turns out what you ask us to do violates some regulation? Makes us criminals with the CPJCT or persona non grata with a station so we can’t dock there again?”
“It won’t,” Allen said. “But I appreciate your concern. You are free to turn down the offer. You’ll have time to make up your minds when you know what we want to hire you for. You’re just not free to tell anybody who we work for, that we made an offer, or what you’re doing should you accept.”
“It’s for your protection as much as ours,” Dorion said. “When you see the offer, I believe you’ll understand better. Right now all we’re asking is that you not tell anybody what we are prepared to reveal.”
“Does Kondur know?” Natalya asked.
“Mr. Kondur has not been informed, no. We have no way to ascertain whether he knows. Asking him would be a violation of the agreement.” Dorion smiled. “We’re both bound by the same contract, as is the organization we represent.”
Natalya nodded. “Understood.” She pressed her thumb to the tablet and handed it back to Dorion, who added his own thumb before offering it to Allen.
Zoya stared at her. “Are you sure, Nats?”
Natalya nodded and leaned back in her chair. “I know who they are and what they want.”
Allen’s eyebrows rose. “Do you? I’m impressed.”
“Thumb it, Zee. It’ll be fine.”
Zoya pressed her thumb against the tablet and handed it back. “I’m trusting you, Nats.” Her tone made it clear how unhappy she was with doing it.
When Dorion had stowed the tablets, Allen asked, “Who do we work for?”
“High Tortuga,” Natalya said. “You want us for data couriers to clear financial data around the Annex.”
Dorion grinned and elbowed Allen in an I-told-you-so gesture, but didn’t say anything.
A short knock on the door interrupted the discussion while the server brought in and distributed their meals. When he had gone, Allen raised his glass in a toast. “To profits.”
Everyone joined him, but Zoya still frowned.
“You still seem unconvinced, Ms. Usoko,” Dorion said as they addressed their food.
Zoya took a careful bite, chewed, and swallowed before answering. “If we’ve signed an agreement with High Tortuga, how can High Tortuga adjudicate a dispute? They’re hardly a neutral third party.”
Dorion nodded. “Ah. Yes. Sorry. Ms. Regyri? Would you like to answer this?”
“High Tortuga is just shorthand,” Natalya said. “It refers to a whole range of mostly independent entities that operate under the name. They all have separate names, separate management. The arbitration service handles disputes but has no fiscal ties to any of the others.”
Zoya’s frown deepened. “How do we know?”
Dorion looked at Natalya, but didn’t speak.
“Profit,” Natalya said. “Arbitration has to be above all others. Independently funded and managed, just like any station in the Toe-Holds. They get their income from the fees charged and rely on their reputation to keep those fees flowing.”
Allen nodded. “Basically correct. While there’s no absolute guarantee, the structure of the various entities operating in the Far Shores systems mandates that each operates independently. Finance, communications, arbitration, and several others operate as the High Tortuga Holding Company. They all get collectively referred to as High Tortuga, the same way all the stations and systems in CPJCT space are referred to as the High Line.”
“Specifically, I represent Ravaine Communications,” Dorion said. “As Ms. Regyri guessed, we want Peregrine to join the fleet that clears communications from the various outposts here in Toe-Hold space.”
“Why us?” Natalya asked. “There must be more qualified people out here.”
“The demand is always growing,” Allen said. “Every time a new Toe-Hold gets established, we need to expand our network.”
“We also have a fair amount of turnover,” Dorion said with a shrug. “We’re not going to lie to you. The job pays well but many find it tedious and far from exciting. Most of our pilots achieve some level of fiscal independence and leave us for greener pastures.”
“They get rich and quit?” Zoya said.
“Basically,” Dorion said. “The job is to fly a route we provide, sync up with the buoys in ea
ch system as discreetly as possible, and return to our station in Ravaine to clear it. We handle it after that.”
Natalya finished her chicken sandwich and pushed the plate toward the center of the table, leaning in. “So? Terms? How long are the routes? How often would we have to fly?”
“The routes vary a bit,” Dorion said. “We try not to have any courier always follow the same path. You’ll see the same systems eventually, of course. There are only so many. Our routing algorithm shuffles systems and provides a route that generally takes no more than three days per leg. Each route may have six to ten legs. You’d be out for eighteen to twenty-four days with a week’s downtime between.”
Natalya nodded. “So we go out and clear the buoys for three days, then jump back to Ravaine to re-sync before going out for three more days and repeat.”
“Basically. Some legs may be as short as jump out and back. Some might be a couple days before coming in again. You’d only dock when you’re done with the whole route so you’d be out for something like two to three weeks, typically,” Allen said.
“Time is of the essence in this business,” Dorion said. “You’ll be jumping into the outer edges of the systems, light-hours from the primaries so you only have to jump in, sync up, realign, jump out.”
“Expenses?” Natalya asked.
Dorion grinned and pulled up his case again, extracting another tablet and handing it to Natalya. “I’m glad you asked. The details on food, fuel, and even routine maintenance allowances are all there. You can keep that and go over it in detail if you like.”
“Can we have it vetted by a lawyer?” Zoya asked.
“We encourage you to do so,” Allen said. “That contract has been sanitized to remove our name and affiliation. You’re not violating our agreement so long as you don’t tell the lawyer who ‘The Company’ references in the contract language.”
“That wouldn’t stand up in a CPJCT arbitration,” Zoya said.
Allen’s lips twitched in what Natalya suspected might have been a suppressed smile. “You might be surprised at that, Ms. Usoko. Let’s just say, in the last two plus centuries, we’ve never had a problem.”
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