Haju aimed a parting glare at Taylor then vanished into his office.
Maybe there’s hope for this day yet. Taylor waited while Japhara opened the stone doors across the lobby. Afterward, the duo passed through the opening into the dimly lit room on the other side.
At least we know they ain’t afraid of the dark. Taylor gave it a beat while his eyes adjusted then looked around.
The council chamber was unlike anything Taylor had ever seen, though he guessed there were a lot of them around the galaxy. Comprised mostly of steel and glass, the room began in the foyer then tapered outward into a three-story hall, whose transparent rear wall cast the entire space in starlight.
“Communications offline,” read the words in Taylor’s vision. The gate master’s dampening field had severed his comm link to the outside world. Right on schedule.
Taylor approached the main floor and spied a collection of tapestries lining the walls around him. Some of these depicted historical events like the door carving outside. Others showcased an array of styles and designs Taylor didn’t recognize. All he knew was, whatever this place was, it existed for someone very important. Like royalty.
“Do not touch anything,” Japhara whispered.
Taylor opened his mouth to respond but was cut off by a low voice, coming from the shadows.
“Grand Latura Hylune,” it said in a regal tone. “Welcome home.”
Japhara dropped instantly to one knee, head down. “Good day, my lord. It pleases me to come once more into your presence.”
“As it pleases me to have you,” the voice said. “The Council was most delighted to learn of your survival after all these years. It shall be good to have you back.”
“Thank you, my lord,” Japhara said. “Has the Council reviewed my report?”
“We have,” the voice said. “Its contents were quite enlightening, especially those details which pertained to the Krulig scourge. It shall be dealt with, immediately.”
“Very good, my lord,” Japhara said.
The sounds of footfalls and swooshing fabric emanated from the shadows as, slowly, a lone figure appeared. Tall and bean-pole thin, the lanky, bipedal alien rivaled a CASPer in height, with a long neck, a small, oblong head, and vibrant blue eyes which shimmered in the darkness. Its robes were a shade of magenta, while its skin, pale and alabaster, carried a tinge of blue in the starlight.
Vergola.
“Why have you summon—” The alien’s cool expression twisted upon seeing Taylor. “What is the meaning of this?”
“I can explain, my lord,” Japhara rushed out. “Allow me to introduce Chief Taylor—”
“I know who he is, Hylune,” the Vergola snapped. “Why have you brought him into our inner sanctum?”
Japhara stammered to respond.
“He didn’t have a choice,” Taylor said. “I’m the one who broke your grand latura out of confinement on Rukoria. In exchange, I made him promise to arrange a meeting between me and the Vergola Council once we got back. I presume that’s you.”
The Vergola answered with a sneer. “And why would you require such an audience?”
“To give you this.” Taylor eased a hand into his vest and pulled out a data drive. “This device contains every last byte of your NOP list. I had Japhara extract it from my Navarro’s nav system durin’ our transition back to Earth.”
The Vergola’s demeanor cooled. “Possessing the information on the NOP list would give your company a sizable advantage over your Mercenary Guild competitors. Why would you forgo such an asset so willingly?”
“Cut the crap, man,” Taylor said, drawing a cringe from Japhara. “We both know the Council or the Cartography Guild or whatever you wanna call yourselves would never allow one group, much less a Human merc outfit, to keep somethin’ this vital to your operation. You would come for us, and believe it or not, part of me understands why.”
The Vergola seemed perplexed by that statement. “Explain.”
“Japhara’s right,” Taylor said. “Humanity ain’t ready for the knowledge on this drive. Even after a century in the stars, we’re just not. Couple that with the fact that I’ve got no desire to paint a Texas-sized target on my company’s back, and returnin’ this intel to its rightful owners seemed like the smartest play for everyone involved.”
“The Council has your word that you’ve not copied Sadeed’s data?” the Vergola asked.
“I extracted the NOP list myself,” Japhara said. “I can therefore attest that the information contained within is intact, as the Human claims. His only request was that we allow him to keep the Rukoria route.”
“And what of the Rukori?” the Vergola asked. “Now that their existence has been revealed, do they wish to come forward and rejoin the Union?”
Taylor shook his head. “Valawn and his people have problems of their own to deal with. Maybe one day they’ll return to civilization, but right now their wish is to stay out of it. They did, however, ask to keep an open dialogue with Swamp Eagle Security. I’d like to honor that if I could.”
The Vergola motioned to Japhara, who accepted the drive from Taylor.
“You are a credit to your species, Chief Van Zant,” the Vergola said. “Most among your kind would never have taken the path you’ve chosen, but you did. For that, you should be commended.”
“Funny you should mention that.” Taylor scratched his whiskers. “Now, I’d like to discuss my terms.”
Both aliens frowned.
“You said nothing of terms when you requested this meeting, Van Zant,” Japhara grumbled.
“Sorry, Hoss. I was afraid if I spoke up it’d kill my shot at a meet, and frankly I didn’t wanna blow that. Call it a forgiveness versus permission thing.”
Japhara muttered a curse.
“What do you want?” the Vergola asked.
“Two things.” Taylor flashed a pair of fingers. “First, as of this day forward, Swamp Eagle Security will never pay another credit in gate fees, ever. From now on, we’ll go where we want, when we want, how we want, and neither you nor the gate masters will say a word otherwise.”
The Vergola licked its lips. “Were we to grant this request, it would prove quite the windfall for your organization.”
“Rule number one of business is if profits ain’t where you want ‘em to be, cut expenses. By my count, this is the biggest one we’ve got.”
“Indeed,” the Vergola said. “What else?”
“Next, I want a name,” Taylor said.
“A name?” Japhara looked up. “A name for whom?”
Taylor kept his focus on the Vergola. “My brother’s death wasn’t an accident. He and his crew were murdered. Sadeed’s lap dog, a Zuul drewga named Tulipza, confessed as much durin’ our time together in their compound. He said his pack snuck aboard the Bogrider and tampered with Terry’s F11 supply to prompt an engine failure durin’ transition.”
“If the Zuul were responsible for your brother’s fate, then what name do you require from us?” the Vergola asked.
“The Zuul couldn’t have boarded the Bogrider without access,” Taylor said. “They got help from someone on the inside via contract.”
The Vergola cocked its head. “And you want the name of the accepting party.”
“One point to the stick man,” Taylor said.
“The agreement of which you speak falls under the purview of the Mercenary Guild,” Japhara said, “not the Cartography Guild. As such, the Council has no authority to—”
“Ah, give it a fargin rest, Japhara,” Taylor interrupted. “We both know that one call from your boss here gets the info I need in no time. Hell, probably by lunch. Now is he gonna make it or not?”
The Vergola clasped its fingers and smiled. “Tell me, Human. Why would the Council agree to these demands, especially given that you’ve already forfeited your only piece of leverage?”
Taylor shrugged. “Who says the NOP list was my only leverage?”
The thin alien’s glower returned.
> “Let’s lay our cards on the table here, fellas. Half the Union already suspects that the Cartography Guild is holdin’ out on them with the current atlas. That’s a given. Prior to now, though, nobody’s been able to prove it. But.” Taylor raised a finger. “What if word of the NOP list got out? Furthermore, what would happen if folks outside these walls got wind that one all-powerful race had coopted said Guild from the shadows and was usin’ it to line their own pockets? I’d say that sort of news is likely to buzz some GalNet headlines, wouldn’t you?”
Japhara pursed his lips. “But you just gave us the NOP list.”
“I did. I just didn’t do it alone.” Taylor reached back into his vest. This time when his hand returned, it did so holding a palm-sized device made of plastic. “This here is what folks used to listen to music on back in the late-twentieth century. They called it a cassette player, or tape deck for short. Oddly enough, it’s got a record feature.”
Both aliens looked on, mortified, as Taylor replayed the last few seconds of their conversation.
“See?” Taylor ejected the cassette and admired one of the jewels of his collection. “Yep, these were hot little commodities back in their heyday. Granted, their sound quality pales in comparison to modern-day tech, but I still think they hold up pretty well. Wouldn’t y’all agree?”
The last of the Vergola’s calm began to falter. It flared its nostrils and leaned in close. “You have asked many questions of me this day, Human. Now allow me to posit one of my own. What would stop us from killing you where you stand and taking that recording before it leaves this chamber?”
‘Oh, it’s already left the chamber,” Taylor flipped over the tape and returned it to the player. “See, another cool thing about these little gizmos is their broadcast feature.”
Japhara did a double-take. “Am I to believe that you’ve been transmitting our discussion this whole time?”
“That was the implication, yeah,” Taylor said.
“Impossible,” the Vergola snapped. “Hylune, scan the chamber for signals.”
Japhara hurried across the floor to an access panel near the back and swiped open its controls. “All signals, including the chief’s comm link, have been disabled. No one outside this room is hearing us.”
“You sure about that?” Taylor put the tape deck to his lips. “Corn Husker, this is Tomahawk. Do you copy?”
Static crackled the line.
“Go for Husker,” Billy’s voice said. “What’s your status, Tomahawk?”
“Still down here in the council chamber, chattin’ with our new friends,” Taylor said. “Speakin’ of, did you get all that?”
Another pop of static.
“Every word,” Billy said. “The Council, the NOP list. We got it all.”
“Nice work,” Taylor said. “Download the recordin’ file into the shuttle’s data core, then carbon out to the eight independent sources we discussed. I want to make sure we’re covered in case somebody here gets squirrely. Oh, and make sure Japhara gets named in the file. Call it the air lock clause.”
The Sumatozou winced, but the relief in his face was undeniable.
“Copy that,” Billy said. “I’ll handle it now. Husker out.”
Taylor thumbed off his player and tucked it back into his vest. “Now…about my terms.”
* * *
Taylor paced the lobby outside the Council chamber for what felt like an eternity. In truth, it took about an hour for Japhara to reappear with a decision.
“The Council has agreed to your demands,” Japhara said. “Swamp Eagle Security will never pay gate fees again so long as you are in command.”
“And the name?” Taylor asked.
Japhara produced another data drive but held it back. “Might I offer a word of advice?”
Taylor folded his arms and waited.
“Revenge isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. It does close the wound, and there is certainly something to be said for that. However, wounds this deep leave scars. You must be prepared for that.”
Taylor shot the alien a smirk. “So says the guy who lopped off his enemy’s head with my arm blade. Now are you gonna gimme the data or not?”
Japhara relinquished the drive. “For what it’s worth, I’m glad I did not have to kill you back there. That would have been…unfortunate.”
“You’ll get no argument here.” Taylor turned for the exit.
“Van Zant,” Japhara said.
“Yeah?”
The Sumatozou exhaled beneath his trunks. “Be safe out there. Ayew?”
Taylor glanced past his shoulder and gave his cellmate a half smile. “Ayew. See ya around, Hoss.”
Billy was waiting outside the jetway when Taylor rounded the corner. “There you are. I was starting to get worried.”
Taylor shooed his robot escort away, then boarded the tube to their shuttle.
“I take it our little ruse worked?” Billy asked.
Taylor produced his tape deck and gave a quick tap of the play button. “I’ll dub copies as soon as we’re back at the Clubhouse. That’s our insurance policy should the Council try to renege on our deal.”
Billy shook his head and smiled. “Man, please. Remind me to never again try to bluff you in poker.”
“Bet you’ll never make fun of my hobbies again, either,” Taylor said.
Once inside the shuttle, the pair coasted to the passenger cabin, where Taylor deposited his cassette player, complete with its pre-recorded comments from Billy and picked up a slate.
“You want me to stick around?” Billy asked.
“Nah, that’s okay,” Taylor said. “Head on up to the cockpit and get us underway. I don’t know about you, but I’m ready to put my boots down in some real gravity again.”
“Amen to that, Chief.”
Taylor put his head back and sighed as the XO vanished from sight. After that, he fished out Japhara’s data drive and plugged it into his slate.
“The following document is the property of the Galactic Union Mercenary Guild,” the screen read. “Contract Status: Confidential.”
Taylor scrolled down the page in search of the answers he’d waited six long years to find. Until that moment, he could’ve never known the pain his heart would feel upon learning them. Son of a bitch.
* * * * *
Chapter 32: Confessions of a Ghost
Taylor didn’t sleep a wink that night after returning to Jacksonville. Heaven knew his body wanted it—needed it, even. Still, his addled mind refused to let his consciousness fade. He rose the next morning, fatigued and stressed out, then downed a shot of whiskey with his coffee in preparation for the day ahead.
A crack of thunder rolled through the slate-gray sky over 295 South as Taylor steered his Harley toward the last place on Earth he wanted to be. In all the times he’d made this drive—and that had been a lot over the years—he’d never once felt that way. Now, he’d have given anything to have it so again.
“Most wounds this deep leave scars,” Japhara had said. “You must be prepared for that.”
Taylor cursed the blacktop below. Meanwhile, the same question played over and over like a turntable in his mind. Why?
Spotting the exit for Tebow Drive as the first rain drops touched his skin, Taylor hooked right off the interstate and headed north up Coughlin Avenue toward the gate to his destination.
“Go on in, Chief,” the guard said. “He’s expecting you.”
Taylor had figured as much. He waved his thanks, then leaned on the bike’s accelerator to enter the compound. Shortly thereafter, he was parked and up the steps of the command center, knocking on the door to an audience with a ghost.
“Come in,” said a familiar voice from the other side.
Taylor pushed open the door and entered the office. “Hey, Ron.”
If Ron Carnegie’s face was any indication, he hadn’t slept much the night before, either. His skin was eerie pale, and his eyes were framed by bags the size of Goodyear tires. He leaned forward and pu
t his elbows on his desk. “Morning, kid. How are you?”
“Tired,” Taylor said.
Ron gave a weak smile. “Yeah, me, too. Can I offer you a drink?”
Taylor nodded and sat down while his host retrieved a jar of River City Blond from the corner shelf and tipped it over two glasses.
Ron handed a whiskey to Taylor and kept one for himself. “Salute.”
Taylor waited for his host to drink first.
“Right.” Ron frowned. He fired back his glass and sat down. “So, what can I do for you this fine, stormy morning?”
Taylor glared a response.
“Yeah, I was afraid of that,” Ron said. “I take it you pulled some strings with that Sumatozou pal of yours to get the contract.”
Taylor thumbed the rim of his glass, avoiding eye contact. “Why’d you do it?”
The old man’s specter-like features faded to an even sicker shade of pale. “It’s so much more complicated than you know.”
“No, it’s not,” Taylor growled. “For the record, you oughta know that I didn’t just take all this on faith from Japhara. I did some diggin’ of my own when I got home last night. Imagine my surprise when personnel sent me a file showin’ Samuel A. Carnegie’s name on the engineerin’ team that serviced Terry’s ship before Karma.” He sat forward, eyes narrowed to slits. “Now, I’ll ask you again, Ron. Why’d you do it? Why’d you cover for your son after he effectively signed a death warrant on my brother?"
The old man hung his head and sighed. “The Eagles and Steeldriver shared something of an exchange program back then. It was a way to help our people expand their skills, be they troopers or engineers, by showing them how others across the street did business. It was mostly low-level stuff, of course, but it allowed us to help our people get better at their jobs.”
“How’d Sammy get involved?” Taylor asked.
Ron ran a palm through his disheveled silver hair. “Sammy came to me about two weeks before Terry shipped out and asked if he could join the program. He knew no one would hire him after Houston, so he saw this as a way to start fresh and rebuild his reputation. He really wanted it, Taylor, more than I’d seen him want anything in a long time.”
Free Bird Rising Page 28
