by Zen DiPietro
“Sounds boring. Yet exciting.”
“Exactly. Mostly boring, but the highs are enough exciting to keep us interested. Anyway, this guy’s name is Riki Chesring, He’s still a Rescan citizen, but spends most of his time banging around in space, going from one place to another.”
“A drifter.”
“More or less. He has no criminal or job history on the books, so whatever he’s done has been under the table. We have some records of him entering PAC stations, and that’s about it. If he goes aboard a PAC outpost or station, we’ll detain him, but I doubt it’ll be that easy.”
Cabot saw where this was going. “I bet you want someone to track him down.”
“Correct.”
“Someone who can move in trader circles without kicking up mud and making the waters dirty,” he continued.
“What an apt analogy.”
“Did you have a particular candidate in mind?” He already knew, but wanted to hear her answer all the same.
“Yes. But it’s strictly voluntary. If you don’t want to, we’ll use our own agents and any assets that are available.”
If there had been an asset as well-connected as him, he wouldn’t have been sent out on the Outlaw to begin with. He would have remained in his shop, on Dragonfire, and never found out anything about shipping containers full of slaves or ended up on a planet about to be attacked by the Barony Coalition.
…and he wouldn’t have gotten to blow up a Barony ship, wouldn’t have gotten to know Fallon and Peregrine, and wouldn’t have reunited with Nagali and Omar.
There had been tradeoffs.
He’d had the night to reflect on those tradeoffs, knowing that the tidbits Doony had uncovered might get him called back into service. He’d had time to consider the risks, the possible advantages, and, most of all, to remember why he’d agreed to start working for Fallon to begin with.
There was no place like home, but if someone didn’t protect it, there might not be a home to come back to.
In some unlikely twist, he’d become that someone.
Irony.
“I’ll do it,” he said.
She blinked. “Just like that?”
“Why be coy if I know my answer?” he countered. “I thought we were past all that.”
“I thought you’d have some big demands.”
“I do. I will. But I choose to roll them forward into future claims.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Claims against what?”
“Whatever I want. Within reason. You have told me, on multiple occasions, that you would protect me.”
She smiled. “So I have.”
“Then I guess the only question I have is, when do I leave?”
CABOT’S SHOP would have to open a little late that day. He almost never let that happen, but maybe if he hurried, he’d only be a minute or two late.
First, he stopped by Omar’s quarters and engaged in a racket of chime ringing and door banging that might have had Cabot worrying about getting a visit from security if he didn’t have an inside line on such things.
When Omar finally came to the door, he looked like a wounded bear. After a full twenty seconds of swearing, he asked Cabot, in colorful language, what he wanted.
“Are you up for a job? I’m leaving tonight.”
Omar blinked several times, looking like he’d gotten something in his eye. Then he grinned and said, “Prelin’s ass, it’s about time. That’s what I’ve been waiting for.”
“Wait, you have?” Cabot frowned. “What made you think there would be another job?”
“When the door has been opened, there’s no closing it,” Omar said. “The Barony war is only beginning, and there will be plenty of things that need doing. And we’re the perfect people to do them.”
“This isn’t about that. It’s the other thing,” Cabot said, being intentionally vague. He didn’t know who might be listening in to Omar’s quarters.
“Whatever.” Omar waved away the distinction. “It’s always some damn thing. Have you talked to Nagali yet?”
“Do I have to?” he said wearily.
“Cut the crap. You and she are back on good terms, and the three of us are a team! We’ve got this thing, whatever it is.”
Cabot wished he had Omar’s enthusiasm. But Omar’s words had given him an idea. “So, on this team, would you say I’m the leader?”
“In some cases.”
“What about this one?” Cabot pressed.
“I’d have to say yes, since you’re the one hooked into the bigwigs.”
“So that gives me the right to delegate, correct?”
Omar’s expression turned wary. “Delegate what?”
“Recruiting Nagali. Bye!”
Cabot rarely moved fast, as he preferred to present as dignified a persona as he could.
But in this particular case, he turned and ran before Omar could argue.
LEAVING Dragonfire again so soon probably should have felt bad. Cabot had been so eager to get back. But being home had recharged his batteries and reminded him of what had driven him to leave in the first place.
He took a long walk around the station before leaving, though, taking time to savor the sights and smells, the familiar faces. Part of it was to say a little goodbye, and part of it was to stamp it all more firmly in his memory.
Fallon surprised him just inside the arboretum.
“I didn’t expect to see you here,” he said.
She fell into step beside him. “Would you be surprised to know that I take a walk around the station before I go out on a mission?”
“It kind of does surprise me, though I suppose it shouldn’t. Why wouldn’t you feel the same way about leaving?” Funny that he’d never thought about that. Maybe it was that she didn’t seem very sentimental, though he knew she was deeply devoted to the station and the people on it.
“It’s not just the leaving. It’s the uncertainty of not knowing when we’ll be back. It’s wondering if things will be the same when we do return.”
That pretty much summed it up, though he hadn’t thought to put it in those words. “I suppose you have more experience at this than I do.”
She smiled wryly. “I started this routine back when I was still at officer training school and going out on serious missions.”
“The missions before that weren’t serious?”
“I suppose they were. But everything’s relative to something else, isn’t it?”
He decided not to pursue that line of conversation. He didn’t think such dire topics would be good for his mindset. “I suppose it is.”
They took a brief look at the arboretum before going to the final area he wanted to see—the boardwalk, right on his way to the docking bay.
“This is your favorite, isn’t it?” she asked as they strolled along.
“Yes. More than my quarters or anywhere else, this is what I miss when I’m gone.”
She nodded. “This is where a lot of life happens. Hellos, goodbyes, dates, falling in love, breaking up, celebrations, consolations…the boardwalk sees all of it.”
“Yes.” He couldn’t add anything more. She’d said it exactly.
“You’ll be back soon,” she promised. “This will be a shorter trip away.”
“And then? Will I be going out again?”
“That’s up to you. I’m certain I will always find your counsel and expertise valuable, for as long as you’re willing to lend them.” She gave him a long look.
How long would that be? He hadn’t gotten a handle on this new facet of life. Could he be like her, sometimes landing in one spot and sometimes jetting off for one purpose or another? “What’s it like, long term?”
“I’m not sure I can answer that. It’s normal for me. What makes it fine—and even good—though, is my team. When we get on a ship and fly into whatever hell is awaiting us, we do it cracking jokes and grinning like lunatics.”
“Really?” He couldn’t quite picture that. He adjusted the mental picture to have Raptor, Hawk, and F
allon grinning, and Peregrine faintly smirking.
That looked more realistic.
“Well, the grinning might mostly be me. Sometimes Hawk says it freaks him out. But he does the same thing when a big fight is about to break out.”
“That makes me think of Omar, actually.” Cabot said it without thinking.
“You’ve got your own team,” she pointed out.
He stopped walking and turned to stare at Fallon.
Oh.
Oh. Oh no. She was right.
Prelin’s underpants.
His crew of Omar, Nagali, and occasionally Doony were nothing like her team, but they were his nonetheless. He even sort of counted Peregrine as one of them.
The sudden awareness was awkward, unpleasant, and…when he had a second to think about it…kind of…nice.
“See?” she smiled. “Think of it that way. You have your home here, and your team becomes your home when you’re elsewhere.”
“I’ll have to give that some thought as we go.”
A lot of thought.
“I like your Nagali,” she said. “She’d have made a good intelligence operative, under different circumstances.”
A laugh burst out of him. “If she weren’t incorrigible, thieving, and entirely self-serving, I bet she would have.”
Fallon gave him a chiding look. “She’s not entirely self-serving. Maybe mostly so, but she’s here for you right now. Not herself.”
“What makes you think that?” He’d never known Nagali to do anything she didn’t absolutely want to, or was forced to under great duress.
“It’s my job to know things, and I’m good at my job.”
They arrived at the docking bay. “Here we are,” she said. “I assume you delivered your bags and whatnot ahead of time?”
She’d known he’d take this walk, and where she could find him so that she could see him off and even dispense a little wisdom along the way.
She was definitely good at her job.
“Yes.” He gave her a deep bow, communicating great respect. “I’ll see you soon.”
She returned the bow in equal measure, then surprised him by stepping forward and giving him a quick hug. “Yes, you absolutely will.”
CABOT SAT in the pilot’s chair of the Outlaw, wishing Peregrine could have come along. He would have liked to have her superior piloting skills and depth of knowledge about dark and dirty places. Her giant shoulder canon wouldn’t have hurt, either. But she had Barony fighting to do, apparently, leaving this job to him.
The situation put him in the undesirable position of having to consider letting Nagali pilot the ship. It had autopilot, but he’d learned to prefer to have a person at the helm whenever possible. A brief stint for mealtimes was no big deal, but having no one awake with who knew what was going on around them did not appeal.
The galaxy was too dangerous a place for that.
He considered putting himself and Omar on a four-shift rotation, but that meant each of them getting only half a night’s sleep before reporting back. That was fine for a day or two, but past that, they’d lose their mental edge.
They needed their wits.
He wished he’d been able to invite Doony along. The old man was reliable and had good sense. Unfortunately, he was also unavailable.
That left Nagali.
Cabot sighed.
He sent her a message to join him at her earliest convenience. To his surprise, she arrived only an hour later.
“Aren’t you sleeping?” he asked.
She shook her head. “I usually need at least a few hours to adjust to space travel. I have to get really tired before I can get to sleep. I’m catching up on some reading.”
“Oh? What are you reading?”
“Trallian Antiquities from the Prehistoric Age.”
He tried not to grimace. “Sounds riveting.”
“The text is dry, but informational, and the pictures are fantastic. They had some wonderful art carvings. Even their functional items were beautiful.”
“I like that you have such a passion for something,” he said.
Her forehead crinkled. “Really? I seem to remember you teasing me about my ‘forgotten relics.’”
He rolled a shoulder. “It was an easy way to get under your skin. You’re very irritating sometimes, you know. Makes a person want to retaliate.”
She grinned. “You’re being refreshingly up-front.”
“I thought it was time for a frank discussion.”
“It’s about time. Let’s do it.”
She could make anything into a challenge. He ignored it, sticking with his earnest tack.
“I need to know how far I can trust you. Really. You’ve been pretty great these past couple of months. You haven’t screwed me over once. Or anyone we’re working with, either. But I need to know if there’s an angle you’re working, some other thing that will come into play to change the landscape.”
She tilted her head thoughtfully. “Will you believe me?”
“I’m going to try really hard,” he said honestly, “if you promise to do the same.”
“I’d like to say that being honest doesn’t require any great effort,” she admitted, “but when you’ve spent your life putting a creative spin on everything that comes along, avoiding embellishment doesn’t come easily. I hope you’ve noticed how much of an effort I’ve been making.”
“I have. But I also know that you’re capable of anything, when it suits your purpose. What I don’t know is what your purpose is here.”
She bit her top lip for a brief moment—a rare tell for her, but it seemed real to him. “I’ve been telling you the truth from the beginning. I’ve spent all this time trying to prove to you that you can trust me. The fact that we’re having this conversation makes me think I must have had at least some success.”
Tricky territory. “I’ll admit that you’ve been consistent long enough to get my notice. But not long enough to convince me you’ve become a whole new person.”
She made a derisive noise. “I’m not pretending to be a new person. But I am trying to show you that you can count on me. Just like Omar can.”
“You screw Omar over all the time. He told me you filled his whole quarters with crates full of biogel. He couldn’t even sleep in his own bed. And this was relatively recently, after our trip to Briv.”
“Oh, that was nothing,” she protested. “I gave him my bed instead. It’s hardly the first time he crashed in someone else’s quarters for the night. That’s just a little bit of fun sibling rivalry. You and I are a different thing entirely.”
“Are we?” He wasn’t sure what they were. Lately, it felt like a little bit of something, but it defied identification.
She leaned forward, staring at him hard. “Aren’t we?”
He met her, look for look, each of them examining the other for any signs of weakness or duplicity.
Finally, he sighed. “Can I trust you to take a shift at the helm? You won’t take a detour to look at some pretty baubles or make a quick buck? Even if it seems harmless?”
“So many questions,” she sighed, looking terribly put out. “Fine. I thought it might come to this.”
She pulled back a long, voluminous sleeve and slid her hand into a pocket, extracting an infoboard and offering it to him.
“What’s this?” he asked.
“A contract. It says that if you experience physical or financial harm or distress as a direct result of my double-dealing, you will receive ownership of all my holdings.”
He stared at her. After a moment, he closed his mouth, having realized it had dropped open. All he could come up with to say was, “What?”
“Look it over. It’s binding. I had it certified by two big-deal attorneys. I’ve already put my own certification on it, too. All you have to do is agree.”
“Why do something so extreme?” He’d expected her to make an impassioned, well-reasoned argument, but not this.
“Will you believe me any other way? Co
uld you possibly ignore all your instincts if I don’t give you this kind of assurance?” she demanded.
No. Probably not. But saying so would make him feel like a jerk in light of the infoboard he held. The contract was short and simple, with no opportunity for a legal double-cross on her part.
Having her help and legal assurance was an excellent deal. He wasn’t one to pass up such an advantageous agreement.
He scribbled his signature and verified it with a thumbprint. “Fine. You can take first shift.”
Victory sparked in her eyes, but she held herself in check. “Second shift,” she corrected. “It lets me sleep in and still have some time in the evening before I sleep without getting my days and nights all mixed up.”
Just like that, she turned and glided out, leaving him behind, impressed, but confused.
CABOT SPENT part of every shift at navigation looking at the contract Nagali had given him. There was no room for no tricks or evasions, no unusual clauses, and no reason to keep looking at it. Still, he felt strange about having signed it, making it a binding piece of legal architecture.
Doing so felt too official, like it would not only bind them legally, but personally.
It was silly of him. He needed to forget about it and focus on what was ahead of them.
When Nagali arrived to take her shift, she once again asked about their destination.
“Do I get to know where we’re going yet? Based on our heading, I’m guessing the Levana system. But why?”
He put his hand in his pocket, and felt the infoboard. “I haven’t said for sure because I’m not entirely certain. I’ve pointed us at Levana because Markoban likes to live the highlife there, wining and dining all the right people. But I haven’t been able to confirm that he’s there. If I get wind that he’s actually somewhere else, we’ll shift course.”
“Why not just tell us you aren’t sure?” She sat in the pilot’s chair after he vacated it.
“I usually work with a more concrete plan. I don’t like admitting I’m not sure about what I’m doing. I have little to go on at this point. I had expected someone to have confirmed Markoban’s location by now.”
She smiled. “We’re in unchartered space, then, metaphorically speaking. That’s not uncommon for a mercenary. Embrace it. It can be fun.”