Blood Money: A Galactic Empire Space Opera Series (Mercenary Warfare Book 2)

by Zen DiPietro

  Strange times created strange opportunities. He’d long been a man who took his opportunities when he saw them.

  “I’m in,” he agreed.

  Nagali and Omar beamed at him, and even Peregrine might have looked a little pleased, in her own way.

  “I’m pretty sure there isn’t a lot I’ll be able to help with on this one.” Romo looked uncomfortable, gazing down at his hands. “Next to the rest of you, I don’t have anything to offer. I was thinking of catching up to Ditnya and seeing if I can work for her. She might say yes, either because I helped out below, or because she’s not happy with Arpalo. Hiring me out from under him would make him pretty mad.”

  “No shame in knowing when you’re out of your weight class,” Peregrine said. “You did well for us, and I’ll remember that.”

  Romo’s shoulders bowed with relief. “Thank you.”

  Doony spoke up. “I’m not sure what an old sewer rat like me can do, but I’ll go along. Maybe I’ll be able to sniff something out for you.”

  Peregrine nodded to him. “Glad to have you along. As soon as Romo departs, we’ll get on our way back to Cerberon.”

  Cerberon was just about the last place Cabot wanted to go, but that’s exactly where they were headed.

  8

  During the trip back to Cerberon, Cabot tried to subtly uncover some details of what had happened at the compound on Terceron, but no one seemed interested in talking about it.

  He gave up. Any critical information had already been described, and he wasn’t one to beg to be regaled with stories. He’d have expected Nagali and Omar to be pleased to tell about the daring exploits, as traders did, but maybe the grim reality of it had made them uncomfortable.

  It didn’t matter. What mattered was ahead of them.

  The communications dampening remained in effect, but as they approached Cerberon, an oddity immediately struck Cabot. Out of thirty docking bays and nearly a hundred storage slips, only twenty contained ships. The rest held either storage containers or sat empty.

  Just days ago, those same spots were at eighty percent capacity, teeming with small to medium-sized ships.

  What had changed?

  He tried to inquire during the docking process, but the station agent ignored his questions, barking terse orders for docking procedure.

  He’d have to pay for information once they got inside. This turn of events changed the nature of their business, though. He called all hands to the mess hall for a meeting.

  They needed a better debriefing room on this ship. He might mention that to Fallon when he returned her ship to her. Or, on second thought, maybe he wouldn’t.

  When they’d all arrived, he told them what he’d seen.

  “Have you ever seen something like this?” he asked Doony and Arcy.

  Arcy scratched at his chin thoughtfully. “I’ve seen people take off when someone’s coming through that they don’t want to deal with. Maybe someone who’s loaned a lot of people money, or someone who has a rough crew that tends to cause a lot of trouble. Murder’s pretty common here.”

  Doony added, “I’ve seen the same. My guess is that something has come through, or is about to come through, that a lot of the regulars here didn’t want to be near.”

  Peregrine, as always, got right to the point. “How does this affect our operations?”

  Cabot exchanged a look with Arcy and Doony, but neither of them spoke up. He’d have thought Arcy would want to take charge, but apparently not. He didn’t appear to be as loud and commanding as Cabot had expected.

  “I recommend a small group for reconnaissance. Those of us already familiar with the station. This isn’t the time for learning the ropes.”

  Peregrine gave him a sharp, military nod. It was oddly out of place in this company, at this location. He didn’t doubt her abilities of infiltration or that her combat abilities no doubt exceeded anyone else’s—except maybe Arcy, who was still a question mark—but she wasn’t right for this job.

  Always use the right tool for the job. That was another of his Rules of Sales.

  “Choose your team,” Peregrine ordered. “Since you’re the expert in this area, you’ll run this op.”

  Great. He looked at the faces around him and immediately counted Nagali out. Too much of a wild card and too much of an attractive nuisance. Arcy was the most likely person to be useful, but Cabot didn’t know what to expect from him and ignorance was dangerous.

  On the other hand, Arcy’s connections and knowledge made him too valuable to leave behind.

  High risk, high reward.

  “Arcy and Omar, you’ll be with me.” He could anticipate Omar, and they had their own communication shorthand. Three was the right number for something like this. Enough eyes to cover all directions, but a small enough group to mobilize immediately.

  “Doony, I want you here, keeping an eye on the outside. See if you recognize any incoming or outgoing ships, and work any local connections you have for info.”

  The old man nodded. “I’ll hold things down here. Wish I could get a signal further out, though. Bad time for communications to be so limited.”

  “At least everyone’s working under the same parameters,” Cabot said. He looked to Omar, then Arcy. “Meet me at the airlock in ten minutes.”

  In his quarters, he considered what to take. He needed little but weapons and all of his wits. He had a bad feeling about whatever was going on. How bad does something have to be to scare away some of the worst criminals in the sector?

  Arcy and Omar made it to the airlock at almost the same time he did.

  “Okay,” he said. “Let’s go see what we can find out. Our priority is to get information on what’s going on here. If there’s also a chance to find out about the slavers, great. But that’s second priority.”

  He knew Omar would take orders from him, but would Arcy? He gave the guy a pointed stare, and he nodded.

  Hopefully that boded well for them.

  THE GLOOM and the smell of Cerberon hit Cabot immediately. In contrast to his previous visit, this time he wanted to encounter people. He’d pay for information about why the station was so deserted.

  Sometimes money was the fastest route to success.

  He tried the bar first. No luck. Not even a bartender or a server. Just an empty, silent space with sticky floors and a sour smell. Apparently, someone had forgotten to lock the doors.

  Not a good sign.

  They continued on, to the next likeliest place to find people. The gambling rooms, where people played all manner of skill and chance games, and wagered all varieties of goods and services.

  Empty.

  Arcy swore under his breath. If Cabot appreciated such language, he’d have been impressed with Arcy’s inventiveness.

  No one on the docking station. No one down on Cerberon.

  What now?

  Cabot looked down at a table, where a hand of cards still lay. Just as well the person decided to split—a high card of seven indicated he was not having a run of good luck.

  “They haven’t intentionally evacuated. There’s still someone running the docking station.” Cabot looked to Arcy. “Does that mean the Brothers will be here?”

  Arcy shoved a chair out of his path with his foot. “If they weren’t here, along with at least some muscle, it would mean a missile was coming this way to blow it all up. Maybe even then they’d take their chances. No, I’d wager they’re here somewhere, riding out whatever this is. If they left, someone else would take it over.”

  Cabot stepped around a puddle of something. “Then we’re left with the Brothers. Ever met them personally?”

  “One. Elron. He’s shifty. Has trouble sitting still.”

  Omar asked, “Do you have anything on him?”

  “Unfortunately, no. My contact with him was in passing. I’ve never dealt with him directly. He prefers middlemen to reduce the risk to his safety. It’s rare for someone outside his entourage to see him in person.”

  Cabot tried
to imagine being holed up in this place indefinitely. In the gloom, the bad air, and the ugly surroundings. Even this gambling room was a disaster. Normally, such a place would show the trappings of money, as an enticement for greater risk. This place was made like a prison cell, except dirtier and with lower quality materials.

  Why would someone choose to be here? It wasn’t about money. If it were, the Brothers would employ others to do the dirty parts. Living on this station, breathing this air, was not good for a person.

  Elron had to be doing it for power, then. The feeling of being the king of this little microcosm, and lording it over others.

  A plan formed in Cabot’s mind. He knew Omar could play his part, but was not so sure about Arcy. “How are you at running a con?”

  “Better than you.” Arcy looked at him only briefly, continuing to pace around the space like a caged tiger. “You’d better be good, if that’s how you want to do this. If we don’t succeed, we die.”

  “Stakes too high for you?” Omar had put on his wide-eyed, fanatical look.

  Arcy made a snorting sound of dismissal. “Stakes are not my concern. Every day is do or die in my business. I just need to know that you two are prepared for that. You seem a little too used to the good life to be able to pull something like this off.”

  Pissing contests weren’t Cabot’s kind of thing, but Arcy wasn’t wrong. He wasn’t wrong to take a measure of Cabot and Omar, either.

  “Because we’ve been at this long enough to know the good life when we saw it, and take what we could get of it.” He stared Arcy down. “It doesn’t make us soft. It makes us smart.”

  He and Arcy locked eyes, each refusing to blink.

  Finally, Arcy said, “All right, then. You’re with Peregrine, so I have to think you’re up to her standard, at least. Too bad she didn’t bring Hawk along for this one. Tell me what you have in mind, and we’ll see what we can do.”

  Inwardly, Cabot breathed a sigh of relief. This wouldn’t work without Arcy’s cooperation. He only hoped he would be willing to commit to what Cabot wanted to do.

  CABOT’S first impression of Elron was that Arcy had been right. The skinny man seemed to vibrate with unrestrained, manic energy. Instead of sitting, he paced, jiggled, and picked at his hands.

  Hard to believe that this guy was a criminal kingpin. He seemed uneven and anxious, and his words came in a rush.

  He was focused, though, and got straight to business, without the usual feinting insults and small talk that allowed one person to test the temperament of the other.

  “I don’t usually see people,” he said as soon as he sat across a table from them. Four huge goons flanked him, in spite of the fact that they’d insisted that Cabot’s group be entirely unarmed to see Elron. “But you’ve gotten lucky with your timing. Tell me more.”

  Cabot looked to Arcy. As the one with the most nefarious reputation in criminal exploits, Cabot had given him the lead position.

  “Like I said. You know who I am, and what I do. I look out for my neighborhood, and my people. With everything going down in the PAC recently, my neighborhood is getting crowded. Too many people are showing up, using up too many resources. I figure, if I can make them disappear and make a profit at it, why not?” Arcy sat back in his seat, leaning slightly to one side in a lazy posture that showed off how muscular he was. There could be no doubt that Arcy did a lot of his own dirty work himself.

  Unlike the scrawny wretch across from them. “I do know where you’re from. And I know you were recently sniffing around the flesh business lately. What I don’t know is if you got anywhere with that. We’ve been keeping security locked down around here, as you may have noticed.”

  “I’ve been working on Terceron, getting a feel for the business and making connections. You can check my references there, if you want.”

  It was a bluff, since communications were down and Terceron’s operation had been shut down.

  Elron stopped shifting around to look hard at Arcy. “As soon as I can get a call through to Orlon, I’ll have the right person get back to you.”

  Arcy sat upright. “That’s fine, but fair warning. I’m not waiting around. As soon as I have someplace to move the chattel to, I will. I’d rather get in on something more organized for long-term use, but speed is more important than price per head right now.” He stood, but not so quickly as to alarm the goons. “Hopefully you can get a signal out before I set up something else.” He faced the door, and Cabot and Omar rose to follow.

  “By the way,” Arcy said over his shoulder. “There’s no Orlon on Terceron. The head guy is Wako, and there’s a Barlon who oversees the training schedules for the merchandise. But no Orlon.”

  If we make it out the door, it’s over, Cabot thought to himself.

  “Hang on,” Elron called.

  They turned back.

  Elron frowned at them. “Under the circumstances, I could give you a name but no introduction. I’d want a five percent cut of all business between you.”

  “Five percent for a name that I have to seek out myself and approach cold?” Arcy blinked in disbelief. “That’s not how I do business. I’d go two and a half. Any more, and there’s no benefit for me to go organized over staying local.”

  “I like to think I’m a fair man. Three percent. Final offer.” Elron had grown so still that Cabot found it eerie, compared to his previous jitteriness. Was all that just a distraction tactic?

  “Three,” Arcy agreed. “For the name, and the reason this place is a ghost town.”

  Elron waited a long moment before saying, “Three for the name, and I’ll tell you what’s going on here as a good-faith gesture. First, there’s a Barony Coalition vessel on its way here, for what reason no one knows, but given the current political climate and recent events, it’s reasonable to think they’ll either commandeer this station in the name of the war or quietly blast it off the face of this planet in order to keep it from the PAC. So, to be honest, it’s not a good idea to be here right now.”

  Cabot asked, “Why cut communications? Wouldn’t it be simpler to use your signal to watch for an incoming vessel?”

  “You’d think so.” Elron nodded. “But Barony sent out a special get-the-hell-out-or-you’re-dead-o-gram, just to show they cared. So it’s not worth the trouble of restoring communications. My efforts are focused on downloading the database here. Once that’s done, this place is dead.”

  “Why did you cut communications to begin with?” Cabot asked.

  Elron frowned at him. “I should charge you for the answer to that, but since you’re entertaining me with your presence, I’ll call it even. It’s been boring here since everyone split. But anyway, we killed communication weeks ago when we turned up evidence that the PAC had been surveilling us.” He held up a finger and ticked it from side to side. “That’s a no-no.”

  Elron sighed. “This has been fun, but I need to get back to work.” He stood, and his goons surrounded him.

  “What about the name of that contact?”

  “Taffer. And good luck. I hear he’s not easy to find.” He suddenly launched into a gale of high-pitched giggles that felt like a knife in Cabot’s brain.

  “Any idea where we should start?” Arcy asked, not hiding his irritation.

  Elron muffled his giggles. “Of course. But your three percent paid for a name, not a location. You’ll have to find that yourself. But I will say that if you’re looking for predators, you should watch their prey.” With that, Elron and his goons swept out. Well, mostly they swept out. There was an odd little moment at the doors when they had to adjust to get the group through. It was awkward, and ruined the dramatic moment Elron was probably hoping for.

  “Odd guy,” Omar muttered.

  “More dangerous than you think, but yeah,” agreed Arcy. “Straight-up nuts. You get that a lot in this business, but usually, the wackos get weeded out at the lower levels.”

  Cabot had encountered his share of mentally unbalanced individuals in the earlier ye
ars of his career.

  Arcy sighed and kicked the table away, rather than scoot his chair back from it. “To tell you the truth, I feel like stealing something. I don’t like this place.”

  “Well, you know,” Omar said slowly as they walked out the doors, “if this place is about to be either absorbed by the Barony Coalition or destroyed by it…”

  “We’d be doing the PAC a favor if we broke a few things on the way out,” Arcy concluded.

  The two shared a look of understanding.

  Cabot didn’t really want those two becoming pals. “I’m willing to bet that our host already has plans to that effect. So I suggest we just get out of here as quickly as possible.”

  He was accompanied by grumpy mutterings the rest of the way back to the Outlaw.

  AFTER A PRIVATE MEETING WITH PEREGRINE, Arcy departed for his own ship.

  “He said he’d neglected his own concerns for too long already, and hunting down Taffer was our concern.” Peregrine told Cabot on the bridge.

  Funny how he thought of it more often as a bridge with Peregrine on board. Previously, he’d been more inclined to think of it as a cockpit. She added a certain something official. She’d already put them on an immediate course back to PAC space. The Outlaw was a great ship, but it wasn’t prepared to face a Barony invasion force, if one was headed their way.

  “I’m not sure what to make of Arcy.” It was a rare admission for Cabot, who prided himself on his ability to read people.

  Peregrine chewed on the pad of her thumb. “I’m not, either. But Hawk tells me there’s more to him than it seems, and I trust Hawk.”

  “What’s that like?” Cabot asked. When she gave him a look like she was prepared to be annoyed, he assured her, “I’m serious. My way of life requires that I stay wary of people, even my closest associates. Heck, even someone I married. For us, it’s polite to try to cheat one another. It reinforces our professional respect for one another. I’m wondering what it’s like for you and Fallon to have implicit trust in someone. How does it not strip you bare?”