Hell to Pay: A Mercenary Warfare Adventure

by Zen DiPietro

  He nodded. “Most things do.”

  She grinned. “Yup. How did that friend of yours like the scythe?”

  Right. The scythe he’d presented to the Briveen. He’d bought it from Rinna, which was how they’d met. “Very well, thanks. That’s a good memory you have.”

  She chuckled. “It’s not often I sell a seven-foot-long farming tool. That kind of thing tends to stick in a person’s memory.”

  “So it does,” he agreed. “Well, it was nice seeing you. I should go see to a thing or two.”

  “Don’t be a stranger. I’ll contact you if I find that music box.”

  “Thanks.”

  To get back to his quarters, he had to pass the food court. The smell of teriyaki chicken made him suddenly ravenously hungry. He immediately detoured to the restaurant.

  Instead of ordering a single portion, he ordered three. Omar was always more agreeable when well fed, and Nagali would also appreciate the thoughtfulness.

  That was the one thing Dragonfire Station didn’t have: teriyaki chicken as good as the stuff on Dauntless. If Cabot were the restauranteur sort, he’d jump on that opportunity. He had no doubt the food would be an instant favorite.

  On the other hand, opportunity was opportunity. He made a mental note to talk to the owner about opening a franchise on Dragonfire. Cabot would most certainly back that enterprise. Not only would he make a fortune, he’d get an endless supply of some of the galaxy’s most delicious food.

  A definite win-win.

  THE NEXT DAY, the ship was ready to depart. So was Cabot. He looked forward to getting a chance to see Jamestown, and he eagerly anticipated getting back to Dragonfire afterward.

  After Peregrine went through the undocking procedure and got them on their way, he promptly ducked into his cabin. Ditnya already knew her way around the ship, so he’d left her in Omar’s company.

  Six months before, he would never have imagined being in charge of a race car of a ship that carried himself, his ex-wife, her brother who happened to be a good friend, a PAC intelligence officer who was so deep into all things dirty that she was a member of the fabled Blackout organization, and the most notorious purveyor of organized crime in the galaxy.

  Yet here he was.

  Peregrine had warned him that she didn’t intend to interact with Ditnya more than she had to. Of course, she’d locked down a great many things on the ship, and had no doubt rigged up enough surveillance to keep her eye on the woman.

  For day to day interactions, though, Cabot would be Ditnya’s point person. Technically. He intended to outsource that job to Omar as much as possible, since the two of them were already pals.

  Cabot intended to spend as much time as possible in his cabin. With Ditnya, Peregrine, and Nagali all in the mix, the ship felt like it was full of matter and antimatter, and all of it was just itching to mix up and explode.

  He’d feel better once they arrived at Jamestown and Ditnya’s presence became someone else’s problem.

  Thanks to the speed of the Outlaw, they’d arrive in seventeen days.

  Seventeen days had never seemed like such a long time before now.

  Since he was alone for the moment, he indulged in the luxury of a long sigh as he sat at the voicecom display and brought up the ISO trading lists.

  Or tried to, anyway. A large message informed him that access to both the voicecom and the relay network that supported it were restricted to PAC command personnel.

  It was going to be a very long seventeen days.

  A MAN NEEDED FOOD. So did a woman. That was how, on the fifth day of the journey—when Cabot had been so careful to eat at unusual times—he arrived in the mess hall to find Ditnya sitting at a table across from Omar, eating a ready-made food packet.

  It was an interesting sight.

  To his surprise, she didn’t seem to mind the cuisine at all.

  “What did you choose?” he asked, nodding at the little tray of food.

  “Stroganoff. I’ve always had a weakness for it.”

  “You have weaknesses?” He lifted a sardonic eyebrow.

  “Not many.” She smiled.

  “She has a thing for orange juice, too,” Omar added.

  “Is that right?” Cabot said as he retrieved a packet of fish and chips and set it in the heat-ex. The dish had grown on him in recent months.

  “It reminds me of my childhood,” she admitted.

  He gave her a long, calculating look.

  “What?” she demanded.

  “I’m trying to imagine you as a child. It’s not working for me.”

  Omar laughed, and Ditnya smirked.

  He probably shouldn’t be so familiar, or so flippant. On the other hand, with someone like her, the best defense was a good offense. If he were to bow and scrape, she’d crush him for sure, just for being tiresome.

  One thing he knew about Ditnya was that she appreciated the unusual. She liked surprises, so long as they weren’t to her detriment.

  “What are you doing to pass the time?” Ditnya asked. “I can’t imagine you’re enjoying being cut off from the voicecom any more than I am.”

  In fact, Peregrine had given him voicecom access, though she required him to contact her to initiate it, and she then monitored both its usage and his cabin to ensure no one joined him.

  Such supervision cramped his style. He made certain he only accessed PAC-approved areas, and corresponded only with people who worked strictly on the right side of PAC laws.

  He wasn’t as bothered by her interference as he might be, though. As Fallon’s partner, Peregrine would give him a certain leeway, so long as he didn’t do anything to compromise this mission. He certainly had no intention of doing that.

  “I’ve been catching up on some reading. I don’t do enough of it. I always mean to, but other things get in the way. But it’s good practice to read the different species’ classics and popular works. It’s good market research.” His excuse had the added benefit of being true. He had spent an unusual amount of time reading in the past days.

  “Even your leisure time is spent on professional development. I like that.” Ditnya nodded approvingly as she polished off the last bite of her meal.

  “And you?” She gave Omar a pointed look. “What are you doing with your free time?”

  All three of them knew that if he wasn’t eating, sleeping, or taking a shift in the pilot’s seat, he was with Peregrine. They all knew that the others knew, too.

  The nice thing about being with fellow traders was that they were all comfortable with lies.

  “Oh, same thing,” Omar said. “Reading.”

  Ditnya nodded, smiling. “That’s what I thought. The moment I first met you, I thought, now that is a bookish kind of guy.”

  She and Omar laughed, surprising Cabot. He’d never heard her laugh like that. But the sound was infectious. He chuckled, too.

  The heat-ex indicated his food was ready, and Cabot sensed that now would be a good time to get out. He’d honed that instinct over the years and trusted it well. Just because he had a laugh with Ditnya Caine didn’t mean they were friends. She wasn’t that kind of person. Extended contact with her would likely be hazardous to his health.

  “I’m going to take this back to my cabin,” he said pleasantly as he put the fish and chips on a tray, along with a pouch of water. “I just got to the good part in a Zerellian story about a love affair gone wrong between a colonist and a visiting Earther.”

  “Sounds dull as dirt,” Omar said. “I can’t believe you’re reading that stuff.”

  Cabot gave his best benign smile. “Someone has to.”

  He didn’t relax until the door of his cabin closed behind him.

  In the tight space, the smell of his food quickly filled the air. It smelled fantastic. True to his word, he sat on the edge of his bunk, picked up his infoboard, and began reading.

  Fish and chips was a brilliant food. Not only was it tasty with its mild sweetness vying against the salty tanginess of the condim
ent that it came with, he could eat it entirely with his hands and without looking.

  Genius.

  He’d finished the fish and half the chips when the chime alerted him to a visitor at the door. He considered not answering. Peregrine would have called, and he’d just left Ditnya and Omar in the mess hall. More than likely, Nagali stood on the other side of the door, and, at the moment, he’d rather be reading.

  He quickly ate another starchy chip, then went to the door, resigned. He and Nagali had gotten along well enough that he’d feel like a jerk for pretending not to be in his cabin. Especially when the ship’s systems had probably already identified his location for her.

  The door slid open and she stood there, looking coy.

  Uh oh.

  “Have you—” her nose twitched. “Is that fish and chips?”

  Her gaze crawled over his shoulder and to his bunk, where she could see the food tray and the remains of his dinner. She sighed. “You ate already. I was going to invite you to dinner.”

  “You’re better off,” he told her. “The mess hall is in use.”

  Her nose and mouth scrunched in distaste. “You’re right. I’ll wait. So far, I’ve managed to avoid getting trapped in a room with that woman. I’d hate to break my streak.”

  She pushed past him, sat on his bed, and helped herself to a chip. He considered objecting, but why bother? She’d do as she pleased anyway, and it was probably in his own best interest for her to stay out of Ditnya’s way. A few chips were a small sacrifice.

  He could always get more later.

  “What are you reading?” She picked up the infoboard. “Okthul and Melora? That’s a good one.”

  “As far as the genre goes, it’s not bad,” he admitted.

  “It’s so sad when he dies, though.” Her eyes went wide. “Oops! I hope you’ve gotten to that point.”

  “I hadn’t. So, thanks for that.”

  “Sorry.” She looked genuinely contrite.

  He decided to be magnanimous. “It’s just research, anyway.”

  She brightened and ate another chip. “How’s everything going? We’re on course and on time and everything?”

  “Yes. The days are ticking down, and we should be there in twelve days. But first, we’ll be stopping at Outpost 10358 for an inspection.”

  “I hate outposts. Dreadful, small places.”

  “They’re not my favorite, either. But they serve a vital function, and we’ve been ordered to have a good once-over.”

  She sighed. “Tedious.”

  “I agree. But that’s the cost of business.”

  She smiled. “Like this is regular business. This is more like an adventure.”

  “Don’t sound so happy about that,” he chided. “Adventure comes with risk. There are a lot of ways this could go wrong.”

  She waved a hand and made an unseemly pffffff sound. “We’ve got this.”

  “You know, we really don’t. The PAC maybe has this. For all we know, Ditnya has this. Either way, it is definitely not us who really matter in this endeavor. We’re just the delivery people.”

  “You make it sound so pedestrian.” She frowned. “Why can’t you focus on the positive?”

  “I prefer to maintain a balanced, objective view.”

  “Where’s the fun in that?”

  “Not everything is fun,” he said.

  “Some things need to be fun. Otherwise, life is too boring to be worth doing.” She finished off his chips. “You’re depressing me. I’ll see you later.”

  With that, the chip thief was gone.

  They were so different. It was a wonder they’d ever gotten together. On the other hand, he now remembered that, as a younger man, he’d appreciated the fun and unexpected twists she’d brought into his life.

  Having her leave him for dead had probably blocked that memory. Things had become pretty unfun when he’d narrowly escaped a grisly death.

  Although…now that he was thinking about the good times of the past, he wondered about his current life. What did he take pleasure in? Did he indulge himself enough? Did he ever truly have fun?

  He found himself at a loss for answers.

  Which greatly annoyed him.

  CABOT HAD NEVER VISITED Outpost 10358. Unlike a proper space station, it was small, basic, and lacking in the kind of awe that made one wonder how such a feat was even possible.

  Cabot liked that sense of awe. The lack of that feeling made outposts all the more disappointing.

  On the other hand, this particular outpost was new. As soon as he stepped aboard, his keen eye took in the design style, the integrated components, and came up with an age estimate worth betting money on. This station was no older than three years, which made it practically brand new.

  The newness wasn’t his only surprise. As they’d approached the outpost, Peregrine had informed him that a small PAC scout ship was already docked.

  The sense of foreboding came immediately.

  Sure, it could have been coincidence. A PAC ship needed resupply and maintenance, just like any other ship. But the timing put all of Cabot’s nerves on edge.

  Over the years, he’d learned to trust those nerves.

  Upon boarding, he immediately came face-to-face with a dour-looking PAC ship captain.

  Not good.

  They’d been vehemently warned about carrying any weapons on them, and Cabot now regretted their lack. He’d never before felt that way on a PAC installation.

  The captain bowed to Peregrine, as befitted a captain to a lower-ranking officer. Peregrine returned the courtesy, in proper deferential measure.

  “Commander,” he said. “I need you to report to ops control. The ensign will brief you.”

  A young officer peeped around a corner, bowed to Peregrine, and off they went.

  Cabot’s sense of foreboding intensified.

  Once Peregrine was gone, the captain turned to the rest of them. “Criminals, you will submit to a complete inspection of your ship and your persons, by the authority of PAC command.”

  The man looked at them like they were dirt. Less than dirt.

  Nagali lifted her chin haughtily. “We have not been deemed criminals by any court, and refute your allegation.”

  Her eyes went to Ditnya. “Except for her, maybe.”

  The captain, who hadn’t even given his name, cared neither for Nagali’s awareness of her legal status or her sense of humor. “Insolence will not be tolerated. Resist and you will suffer the consequences.”

  Reality slapped Cabot hard in the face. He was accustomed to acceptance. To receiving the benefit of the doubt. But now, in the company of Ditnya Caine, he was assumed to be as guilty as they all knew Ditnya to be.

  He was not used to this. Not anymore.

  He remembered it well, though, and talking back, as Nagali was doing, wasn’t a good plan. Every organization had less than ideal members, and this man was as far below the ideal as it got.

  “No one’s resisting.” Nagali’s Rescan accent had thickened, making her words slower and even deeper delivered in her voice. “But you are exceeding your authority.”

  The captain grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her close. Cabot’s insides froze. His instinct was to go to her aid, and he felt Omar’s barely repressed brotherly rage beside him. But moving a centimeter was certain to make the situation even worse for her.

  “You think you have rights? It’s garbage like you that’s put us in this situation,” the captain snarled into her face, causing tiny flecks of spit to fly at Nagali’s cheek.

  He shoved her away, causing her to stumble and fall. Glaring, she picked herself up and smoothed her clothes.

  She hadn’t lost her haughty look. Cabot didn’t know whether to be proud or irritated. He put a hand on Omar’s arm. He could feel the rage oozing out of his friend.

  “We have nothing to hide,” Cabot assured him in his most conciliatory tone. He executed a bow worthy of an admiral, to appeal to the man’s sense of self-importance, which he
clearly had in great abundance. “We will wait patiently until your search is complete.”

  The set of the captain’s mouth eased slightly. “See that you do.”

  He stalked toward the airlock. Two junior officers hurried after him. Cabot hadn’t even noticed them skulking in the background before.

  He breathed easier with the unpleasant captain out of arm’s reach.

  “Are you okay?” he asked Nagali.

  She was still rubbing her wrist. “I think so. What a nasty man! I wouldn’t be sorry if he met the wrong end of a lethal stinger blast.”

  Though Cabot agreed, he kept that opinion to himself. “Let’s get that checked out, just in case. We don’t have anything better to do while we wait.”

  He looked behind him to Omar, who still wore an incensed expression. “Why don’t you raid the mess hall here?”

  Normally, the senior officer in charge of the station would meet them. It would seem that Captain Unpleasant had scared even them away.

  Omar nodded slowly. “Yeah. I think I will. Maybe they have meatballs.” He looked to Ditnya. “Want to come eat all their food?”

  With an amused arch of an eyebrow, Ditnya shrugged. “Why not?”

  The outpost’s medbay wasn’t hard to find, but Cabot still found it strange that no crew had emerged to introduce themselves or welcome them. It was a bad sign.

  Fortunately, the doctor had remained in the medbay, probably due to some PAC regulation. He was a young, thin human with a nervous demeanor. He shifted from foot to foot, rubbing his palms together.

  Cabot wondered if he was always nervous or if his attitude was only due to Captain Unpleasant.

  “Can I help you?” the doctor asked.

  “Yes. My friend’s hand got twisted, and we wanted to make sure she didn’t get a sprain.”

  The doctor relaxed. “Of course. Please, come have a seat.”

  Nagali sat in a chair against the wall while the doctor retrieved a scanner.

  “Did you take a fall?” he asked.

  “No,” she answered drily. “I was manhandled by an insufferable captain.”