Calculated Risk

by Zen DiPietro

“That’s a shame.” Nagali looked sympathetic, which was a rare look for her. “Is the treatment difficult?”

  “No, not really.” Astrid looked down at her lap.

  “I’m not too familiar with Ankarta,” Nagali continued when Astrid said nothing more. “Are you?”

  “A little. I’ve been there a couple times.”

  “Is it rough?” Nagali asked.

  “More than most PAC worlds, I guess. Most planets have their rough spots, but Ankarta is pretty much one big rough spot. It’s not a war zone or anything, though. It’s certainly nothing I can’t handle on my own.”

  An awkward silence fell. Cabot exchanged looks with Omar and Nagali. Nagali shrugged.

  The long ride down the elevator was quiet. Since Astrid had stopped speaking and faced a medical procedure, it seemed inappropriate for the others to engage in idle chitchat and banter.

  Cabot felt a growing dislike for this assignment. He didn’t belong here, playing keeper to some woman who might or might not be suspected of treachery.

  This was not what he’d signed up for.

  He considered the possibility that this whole stop was a sham. Ditnya could have faked the depressurization malfunction and manipulated him into being here. Astrid might have nothing wrong with her at all.

  To what purpose, though? He believed Ditnya was dedicated to wiping out the Barony Coalition, so delaying their arrival in the Zankarti system would require some significant reason.

  He had no choice but to see this through and see where it went.

  As soon as the elevator opened up and they stepped out into the transit station, Cabot felt the aggressive atmosphere of Ankarta. People walked with their heads up and their hands ready. They seemed more alert and focused than the average traveler. Few of them stood around talking.

  “I feel like everyone’s staring at me,” Nagali whispered to Cabot.

  “They might be,” he said. “You’re weird.”

  She gave him an exasperated expression.

  “And lovely,” he added. “Weird and lovely.”

  “I’m serious,” she insisted.

  “I don’t like it either,” he admitted. “How can we get away with anything if people are on their guard?”

  “Exactly!” she agreed.

  While he was mostly joking, he suspected she was not.

  They took a taxi to the hospital, but it felt strange to wait for Astrid outside the treatment room, as if they were family or something. The act implied an intimacy that he didn’t share with a woman who was almost a stranger. He played the part, though, because there was no other way to explain their presence to the doctor and hospital staff.

  Thirty minutes later, Astrid emerged from the room. The doctor followed and addressed Nagali.

  “She’s likely to have some nausea and could feel a little lightheaded. She should take it easy the rest of the day, but can go back to normal activities tomorrow.”

  Nagali jumped right into the role of doting caregiver. “Thank you, Doctor. We’re just glad that she’ll be well again. Such a shame, her having to deal with this.” She made a regretful sound.

  Standing, she put an arm around Astrid. “Are you feeling okay, sweetie?”

  Astrid played along. “Yes, I’m fine. Don’t worry.”

  Something about the ease of her playacting made him think she’d make an excellent liar.

  Cabot liked that, even though it meant she’d make a more dangerous adversary. Perhaps, though, she’d make a dangerous ally instead.

  Most likely, she’d be some of both, like most of his favorite people.

  Nagali had dropped her doting aunt routine by the time they returned to the transit station. “I feel like we should do some shopping, or steal something. You know, to make it feel like we really did something.”

  “No stealing,” Omar said forcefully. “It’s entirely the wrong time for that. You can steal something some other time.”

  Astrid looked from one to the other with a look of disdain. “Does she really steal?”

  Omar gave her a quizzical eyebrow quirk. “What, you don’t?”

  Astrid looked to Cabot, perhaps looking for him to be the voice of sanity.

  He shrugged.

  “Okay, then,” Astrid muttered. “It looks like we have twenty minutes before the next elevator goes up, so I’m going to visit the necessary.”

  Cabot glanced at Nagali. They weren’t supposed to let Astrid out of their sight.

  “Oh, me too!” Nagali exclaimed. “I avoid using the narrow emergency one in the elevator at all costs.”

  As they walked away, Nagali continued, “Besides, it’s never good to visit a transit station necessary alone. That’s how you get knifed.”

  “Does that happen to you a lot?” Astrid asked.

  “Just the once. That’s all it takes to have a complex about it.”

  “I guess that makes sense.”

  Omar grinned when they were out of sight.

  “Admit it,” Cabot said. “You think your sister’s funny as long as you aren’t the one she’s tormenting.”

  Omar shrugged. “Sometimes. Don’t tell her.” He paused, then leaned closer and lowered his voice. “This has been a remarkably mundane job. Do you think Ditnya wanted us off the ship so she could do something?”

  “You’re the one who’s friends with her. What do you think?” Cabot asked.

  “I think it’s impossible to know for sure, and we should scrutinize everything when we get back.”

  “You don’t trust her?”

  Omar barked out a laugh. “What am I, stupid? She and I may be on friendly terms, but I have no delusions of loyalty or allegiance. Ditnya is what she is because she’s ruthless. As soon as it becomes inconvenient, our friendship is over.”

  Cabot wondered if Ditnya was, in fact, somewhat more attached to Omar than the man realized.

  “Same goes for us, in case you didn’t know.” Cabot narrowed his eyes in mock suspicion.

  They laughed.

  “What’s so funny?” Nagali asked, emerging from the necessary with Astrid just behind her.

  “Cabot was just telling me how he’s going to cut me up into so many little pieces, you’ll never find my body,” Omar said cheerfully.

  Nagali studied her brother. “That’s better than dealing with the mess, so okay.”

  With Nagali laughing, Omar protesting, and Astrid looking on at them like they were all nuts, Cabot proceeded to the elevator they’d take back up to the Bona Fide.

  After delivering Astrid to the ship and assuring Ditnya that she hadn’t done anything but see the doctor, Cabot decided it was time to make his presence known on the bridge of the Bona Fide.

  Since Ditnya remained in her office a short distance from the bridge, he’d have the opportunity to flaunt his authority for any who might doubt it.

  If there were any crew members who felt inclined to challenge him, better to know that now than later in some critical situation.

  He strode onto the bridge as if he owned it, stood in front of Kelvin, who sat in the command chair, and waited.

  All eyes were on them, though Cabot pretended not to notice. He said nothing, simply staring at Kelvin with his eyebrows raised.

  Kelvin stared back, his hands gripping the armrests.

  Finally, when the tension had gotten extreme, Cabot casually observed, “You’re in my seat.”

  The tips of Kelvin’s ears turned red. Cabot couldn’t be sure if that indicated embarrassment or anger, but he was betting on anger. Kelvin looked ready to fight, but to do so would violate Ditnya’s direct order.

  It was unwise to violate Ditnya’s orders.

  Kelvin leaped to his feet, stood too close for a long moment, glaring at Cabot, then stepped aside.

  Cabot saw angry words in the younger man’s eyes, but he didn’t voice them. He stalked away wordlessly, leaving the bridge.

  Cabot didn’t know if Kelvin would get in trouble with Ditnya for leaving a duty shift. Maybe Cabot�
��s arrival meant Kelvin was within his rights. Cabot didn’t care if Kelvin got in trouble or not.

  He did care that the people on the bridge recognized the authority Ditnya had given him, and understood that he could make life hard for them if they didn’t.

  Slowly, he looked from face to face on the bridge, as if cataloguing each person. Without words, he told them that if they crossed him, he’d send them off the bridge too, just like Kelvin, except they wouldn’t come back.

  When no one challenged him with a look or a word, he finally sat.

  Pleased, he looked at the voicecom on his left armrest, and barked, “Report.”

  He wriggled a little, finding just the right spot in the comfy command chair.

  He felt like a kid being given the keys to the kingdom. He was going to have a lot of fun with this.

  “I hear you’ve been pissing Kelvin off.” Ditnya leaned back in her chair in the meeting room, not so much as to be too casual, but enough to show that she didn’t feel she needed to impress him.

  Classic power play. Classic Ditnya.

  Cabot considered his words carefully. Though Ditnya was known to be an exacting employer, she didn’t tolerate people messing with what was hers.

  “I haven’t done anything you haven’t authorized,” Cabot said. “I haven’t put my hands on him, haven’t called him names, and haven’t even insulted his business prowess. So if he’s mad, it’s because of my presence here, and not by anything I’ve actually done.”

  “I know,” Ditnya said. “He’s worked hard to become my second in command, and he takes it very personally that you’ve shoved into the line ahead of him. But be careful. It wouldn’t take much to set him off.”

  “I will continue not insulting him, calling him names, or putting my hands on him,” Cabot assured her.

  “I’m mostly concerned about Nagali. Make sure she understands how volatile the situation is.”

  “I’ll do that.”

  “Have you come up with anything on the Zankarti system?” she asked.

  “They don’t do much trade, so few people I know have any direct experience. Mostly, they say that Zankarti isn’t worth bothering with.”

  Ditnya nodded. “Which is why it made such a good place for Barony to occupy. People won’t know what’s going on or be able to keep an eye on things.”

  “Have you turned anything up?”

  “I’ve scheduled a rendezvous with an associate. He has a little information, but most importantly, he has something that might just make the Zankarti want to talk to us.”

  Cabot leaned forward. “What is it?”

  “I’ll keep that to myself for now. But I’ll want you and Nagali along to check it out.”

  “Why?”

  “You might have some expertise that could prove helpful,” she said.

  “Who? Me, her, or both?”

  Ditnya smiled thinly. “I’ll keep that to myself for now, too.”

  “Aren’t we supposed to be working together?” he asked.

  “I’ll fill you in on what you need to know when you need to know it. I’m certain you’re employing the same practice with me, and that PAC command is doing the same with us both. Let’s not pretend we’re all friends now. We’re just pursuing a similar goal. For the time being.”

  “I can see pep talks aren’t your thing. You could at least lie to me a little. You know, pretend we’re about to forge a wonderful new friendship.” He gazed at her pointedly.

  “Would you believe me?”

  “Of course not. But it would be a fun game.”

  She gave him a long look. “I think Omar and Nagali are rubbing off on you.”

  “Or maybe I’ve gone drunk with power,” he suggested. “Being second in command of the Bona Fide is a heady experience.”

  “Somehow, I don’t think that’s it.”

  He tried one more time. “The realistic odds of my impending demise have caused me to throw caution to the wind and express my inner child?”

  She pursed her lips. “Maybe. Are we done here?”

  “I guess,” he said. “I find your refusal to engage in witty repartee disturbing.”

  “That was supposed to be witty?” Before he had a chance to retort, she’d swept out of the room.

  He’d need to up his wit, apparently, to reach Ditnya’s standards.

  When Cabot went to see if Nagali wanted to have dinner, she didn’t answer the door. Either she was sleeping, didn’t want to be bothered, or had gone somewhere. He thought about checking Omar’s cabin to see if she was there, but if Omar was sleeping and Cabot woke him for no good reason, he’d be annoyed.

  Dinner alone, then. He didn’t mind.

  When he got to the mess hall, which was so nicely furnished that it was more commonly called the dining room, he found a few crew scattered among the tables. They either ignored him or gave him a lukewarm greeting. So far, he hadn’t made any friends here.

  Pigie sat alone at a table, in front of a plate piled high with food. She stared at an infoboard, but noticed him and smiled.

  He could pretend he was just looking for someone. His gut was gnawing a hole in itself, though, and he really did want food. Besides, Pigie was the only one of Ditnya’s staff who liked him. Maybe. She was a valuable connection.

  “What’s good tonight?” he asked. From the looks of it, she’d gotten some of everything.

  “Bennite stew and bread, made from scratch. Darn good for not being from Bennaris. The rest is from packets.”

  “I’ll get some stew, then,” he said. “Mind if I come back and sit with you?”

  “No, but don’t try holding my hand here or anything. These folks don’t care for you, and I don’t want your unpopularity to rub off on me.”

  “Ah…okay.” Not that he’d ever been inclined to hold her hand. Was she being funny, or had she blown a gasket inside her head?

  When he returned with his stew and bread, he noticed that people either ignored him or sneaked glances while leaning in to say something to a companion.

  “What’s the going opinion on me?” he asked Pigie when he sat down across from her. “Am I an upstart? A jerk? A usurper?”

  She paused between bites of some sort of porridge. “You’re an outsider, Cabot. You don’t belong here. Yet you outrank everyone. Most people don’t care much because they do as Ditnya says and that’s that. But some feel like you’re walking on their lawn and they want you off it.”

  “Are they afraid I’m angling for something long term? That I’ll push them out? Maybe replace them with my own people?”

  Pigie sighed. “You ask a lot of questions. What does it matter, unless you are angling for a permanent position with Ditnya?”

  “I just want to understand my situation.”

  “You’re safe. Actually, some people are afraid you’ll die of old age or something, because then they’d get blamed for killing you.”

  Cabot coughed. “I’m not old enough to die of old age!”

  “Whatever. The point is, you’re safe. No one here wants to upset Ditnya by having something happen to you.”

  “I guess that’s comforting.”

  Suddenly, Pigie’s no-nonsense demeanor shifted. She smiled and batted her eyelashes. “It’s so nice having you here. A lot of the time, I eat alone.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “Oh, you know how it is. I’m Ditnya’s right hand. Given how close I am to her, nobody wants to be overheard saying something unflattering. I mean, I’m not like that. People have to let off steam. But they tend to keep their distance, nonetheless.”

  He hadn’t realized that. “I’m sorry to hear that. That must be lonely sometimes.”

  “Only on the ship. Back at Dauntless, it’s different. People like to cozy up to me for what I can do for them.”

  “Well, that’s not great, either.” He took a bite of bread.

  “Why not?” Pigie looked at him with surprise.

  “Well, that they like you for what you can do, rather
than liking you for yourself.” He felt bad pointing that out, since she apparently hadn’t thought of it that way.

  “Pffff.” She wagged her spoon at him. “Don’t be such a Sarkavian.”

  Was that species-ist? It kind of felt like it.

  “I mean, some people might feel that way,” he amended. “Not you and me. I guess you’re eager to get back to Dauntless Station, then.”

  “Yeah,” she agreed. “I’ll be glad to have this Barony stuff done with. It’s been a real drag and really disrupted normal commerce. So I’m glad to be along for the ride to kick their asses, but I’ll be happiest when I’m back home on Dauntless.”

  Her eyes widened with concern. “Oh, you don’t like swearing, do you? And I just swore. Sorry.”

  “It’s fine. I’m not offended by it. I just don’t care to do it personally, most of the time.”

  “Ah.” She nodded in understanding. “That’s how I feel about cake.”

  He must have heard that wrong. “Did you say cake?”

  “Yes. It’s an odd texture. Spongey. And it’s usually piled up with some sweet paste. I just don’t like cake.”

  “I see.”

  “I mean, I’ll eat it,” she went on. “But I’d rather have something else.”

  “Well, sure.” He busied himself with his stew.

  Something on her infoboard distracted her, then Omar arrived. His hair stuck up at odd angles.

  “Sleeping again?” Cabot asked. “Should I worry about you?”

  “Nah. I’m just storing it up. Like animals getting ready for winter.” Omar stretched, and Cabot saw women’s heads turn to take notice.

  “That’s not how that works,” Cabot said. “They store food, then sleep through the winter.”

  “How do they eat if they’re sleeping?”

  Pigie looked up, apparently interested in this conversation. That made sense, actually.

  “I guess they wake up?” Cabot guessed. “Or they eat all the food before going to sleep. Or maybe some store food, and some sleep. I don’t know. There are a lot of animals on all the planets in all the systems in this galaxy. I’m not a zoologist.”

  Omar peered at Cabot’s bowl. “Bennite stew? Sweet. I’m going to go get some.”

  As he finished his dinner, Cabot resolved to take his meals to his room the next day. Sometimes having friends was a lot to deal with.