by Zen DiPietro
He had no intentions of getting up unless the ship was about to explode.
Twelve hours of peaceful sleep later, he woke refreshed to find that Rigby had already departed the ship and begun preparations.
From there, things moved quickly. A word in the right person’s ear, combined with a few casual conversations, and Rigby had convinced the authorities to grant a small group from the Bona Fide permission to accompany her for an inspection of Mayani Minor. Cabot hadn’t realized that her position included making inspections, but it worked to their advantage.
The woman and her government became more and more interesting, especially because of how different they were from systems in the PAC zone.
Cabot was so eager for his first look at the Barony Coalition’s encampment that he picked at his breakfast. Technically, it was just after the lunch hour, but if he couldn’t handle a flaky pastry and fried orritch eggs, he sure couldn’t deal with anything heavier.
Omar had no such problem. “You going to eat that?”
He gestured at Cabot’s pastry.
“Help yourself,” Cabot said.
“You nervous?” Omar asked as he stabbed the croissant with a fork.
“No. Just looking forward to what’s ahead. Too much anticipation, I guess.”
“Anticipation never harmed my appetite,” Omar said.
“Does anything?”
Omar chewed thoughtfully. “I did have to take a break after Nagali’s big cleavage show.”
Cabot laughed so suddenly it made him cough. “I’ll give you fifty cubics to suggest she run a one-woman entertainment show on a voicecom channel with that title.”
“Nagali’s Big Cleavage Show?” Omar looked nonplussed. “Who would tune in for that? But if you make it a hundred, you’re on.”
“Deal. Can’t believe you’re willing to do that for a hundred.”
Omar grinned. “I’d have done it for free just to honk her off, but having you pay me a hundred is even better.”
“I see. You’re just practicing salesmanship.”
“That’s right. The old razzle-dazzle.” Omar spread his fingers and waggled his hands.
Cabot laughed. “Nagali was right.”
“About what?” Omar had resumed eating.
“You are an idiot. But I like that about you.”
“Thanks, man. I like that about you too. Who would have ever thought we’d be here, swapping insults and freeloading on Ditnya’s ship? Good times.”
“There’s also the part where we have to breach a government in order to exorcise another government from it.”
Omar shrugged carelessly. “It’s always something. Do you think we’ll have to bring down the Zankarti government? I kind of liked those guys. They put together a really nice buffet.”
Cabot ignored his joke and addressed the actual question. “At the very least, we’ll have to distract them. We’ll forge ahead and see what happens.”
Omar swallowed a bite of eggs and sighed. “Come on, man. You’re not even trying. Here I am, trying to lighten up all the gloom and doom with some lighthearted humor and you’re all…meh, we have to bring down a government, meh, we’ll forge ahead. Meh, we have no business attempting all this and will probably die.”
Cabot arched an eyebrow. “Pretty sure I didn’t say that last one.”
“It was implied.”
Apparently, the situation was weighing heavier on Omar than he cared to admit. There was only one thing to do.
“Right,” Cabot agreed. “Lighthearted humor. When we go back to our quarters, let’s ring Nagali’s door chime, then run away.”
Omar snorted. “What are you, eleven years old?”
“I’m warming up,” Cabot said defensively. “Humor doesn’t come as naturally to me as it does to you. I’ll try again.”
Omar wiped his mouth and pushed back from the table. “Okay, but first, let’s do that chime-ringing thing. That sounded fun.”
If it kept Omar’s spirits up, that’s what they’d do, even if it was terribly juvenile.
And maybe a little bit fun.
Their arrival at Mayani Minor was less state visit and more janitor inspection. What their first glimpse lacked in grandeur, it made up for in duplicity and excitement.
Rigby had disguised Cabot, Nagali, Omar, and Astrid as environmental specialists sent to ensure the Zankarti conservation laws were being followed.
“It’s about a month early for an inspection,” Rigby explained as she attached their shuttle to the surprisingly robust orbital docking station. “No one will take any notice, though. My people are sticklers for guidelines like these, and surprise inspections are common.”
“I guess all that tightfisted control works out for us in this case,” Omar observed.
Ditnya had declined to join them. “I have not spent decades getting where I am to be the boots on the ground,” she’d declared. “If this all goes south and someone dies, it’s sure not going to be me.”
So reassuring.
Cabot studied Nagali as they crossed through the station to the orbital elevator, trying to decide if she really could pass as a government inspector. Her hair had been pulled back into a smooth, even braid that Rigby had assured them was appropriate. Her skin was a little darker than normal, too, since most Zankarti people were a golden tan. Most strikingly, instead of her usual voluminous dresses or full skirts, she wore a snug bodysuit that clung to her shapely hips and behind.
“Quit checking out my sister,” Omar muttered. “Or I’m going to have to brain you.”
“Oh yeah?” Cabot returned quietly. “Well, quit checking out Rigby, or she might brain you.”
Like Nagali, the rest of them wore close-fitting bodysuits in an eggplant shade of purple with silver accents. According to Rigby, the fabric was highly durable to prevent snags or tears, and the close-fitting design ensured that loose material couldn’t get caught in machinery. The high-tech garment also had moderate climate control abilities to ensure the comfort of the wearer.
While Cabot appreciated the value of such an outfit for its practical purposes, and was glad he hadn’t let himself get paunchy, he looked forward to getting the form-fitting thing off his body. He preferred to be nondescript and go unnoticed, and this getup made him feel like he’d been put on display.
Naturally, in contrast, Nagali had a spring in her step and a sway in her caboose.
Her flamboyance would either make this job a success or get them all killed.
Sober and businesslike, Rigby repeatedly showed a legitimate credential at each checkpoint, which they hit every hundred meters or so.
Cabot went into observer mode. Since Barony citizens had as wide a range of appearances as did PAC citizens, he couldn’t always be sure if he was looking at a Barony person or a Zankarti one. Since he had no familiarity with the current fashions of either, clothing gave no clue. No one else wore the inspector uniforms.
They were given an elevator to themselves, which Cabot found suspicious. As they descended, Rigby passed him an infoboard.
This is normal, it read. Nobody likes inspectors, and no one wants to risk being near them out of fear of being found in violation.
Cabot typed in a return message and handed it back to her. Inspections are that grueling?
She nodded.
It seemed the Zankarti might take adherence to regulations even more seriously than the PAC.
At least it meant they weren’t forced to engage in polite conversation with the people they encountered. That would have risked their otherworldliness being exposed.
Once they arrived on the surface, they all got into a boxy groundcar and the work began.
Cabot had expected something that felt daring and high stakes, but what ensued was anything but. They proceeded with Rigby driving from location to location, ostensibly inspecting building procedures, levels of emissions, and safety standards.
In fact, they were cataloguing everything, from the number of people at each site to every pi
ece of machinery they saw. They created a map as they went, with every bit of information they could cram into it.
For twelve long hours they trooped from installation to installation. Nagali’s gait went from hip swinging to trudging.
There was a reason Mayani Minor was uninhabited prior to Barony’s arrival. The planet was a dustball. It had no water, and was a few degrees too cold for comfort. Sunlight struggled to filter through the haze of dust, creating a dreary dimness. Terraforming such a place would be terribly costly, and not worth the effort in a system that already had plenty of livable planets and land. A place like this was better utilized by stripping it of its valuable metals and minerals, which the Zankarti clearly had already done.
Finally, they had a complete picture of Barony’s current operations on Mayani Minor. They’d fortified quickly, and had become deeply entrenched. Far more so than Cabot had expected. They even had a communications hub and a huge warehouse, which would be key targets.
When they returned to the bottom of the orbital elevator, two men and a woman approached, wearing the dull gray work pants and coats Cabot had become accustomed to seeing on the Barony people.
“We’re going to need to see your credentials,” the tallest of them said, his expression unreadable.
“We did that several times on the way down.” Rigby’s tone was disapproving, but she offered the infoboard she’d offered over and over on their way down.
“For everyone,” the man clarified.
Rigby’s posture stiffened. “Are you impugning my authority?”
“Not yours,” the man said, his eyes flicking to Nagali. “Hers. Someone at location fourteen thought they recognized her as someone who once cheated him out of a shipment of biogel.”
Oh, no.
Cabot carefully maintained his posture and expression, but he did remember a recent story about Nagali, Omar, and a shipment of medicinal biogel.
He racked his brain for the details as he handed the man the tiny infoboard tucked inside a chest pocket of his bodysuit.
“Ridiculous,” Rigby retorted, her tone becoming prim. “You can see she’s a Zankarti citizen. I’ve worked with her on and off my entire career.”
The man stepped closer, into her personal space. Rigby held her ground as he leaned down so his face was centimeters from hers. “You willing to stake your reputation on that?”
Cabot’s guts tied in a knot. A confrontation at this stage would harm a sneak offensive against Mayani Minor, and might prompt an attack in the PAC zone.
“Of course.” Rigby’s tone turned superior and offended. “And I’ll be needing your registry number. We are merely doing our job as required by the Zankarti ministers. This kind of intimidation and confrontation will not go unanswered.” She leveled a hard glare at him.
He didn’t retreat, returning her glare.
They stood there, locked into this staring contest turned power play. Cabot held his breath.
The man moved in closer still, bumping Rigby’s chest with his shoulder. “Maybe we should take them down to containment. You know, just in case.”
Rigby’s jaw tightened and she shoved the man back a step. “This is not how inspectors are treated. Do you really want me to report you to my superiors? Do you really want to risk causing an interstellar rift between Barony and Zankarti? How do you think that will play out for you?”
Nagali stepped in, looking delighted with the turn of events. “Oh, let me report him. Please. I’ve always wanted to ruin a man’s life with a single document.”
The man turned to Nagali, his face reddening. Cabot wondered if he’d need to step in to prevent Nagali from taking a punch to the face, but Omar was already edging in.
“It checks out,” the Barony woman said with an edge of desperation in her voice. “They’re legit.”
The knot in Cabot’s chest eased slightly, but he didn’t breathe normally until the man stepped back. He tapped something into Rigby’s infoboard and handed it back. “There’s my registry number. Apologies for the inconvenience.”
Somehow, it didn’t sound like a sincere apology. He continued to stare at all of them with far too much interest.
Rigby and Omar glared back at him, while Nagali looked somewhat disappointed that the situation hadn’t devolved into bloodshed.
Nonetheless, the other credentials were returned and to Cabot’s great relief, they boarded the elevator, which began its ascent.
Nagali blew out an irritated breath and opened her mouth. Cabot cringed, knowing that they might be under surveillance and her words might be overheard.
“Minister Chaffitz is going to get a piece of my mind,” Nagali declared. “I did not accept this job to be treated that way. To think, I could be teaching at some nice institution instead of visiting this cough storm of a planet, and I get slandered by some greasy plebe.”
Rigby replied, “He’ll hear from us both.”
Rather than indignance, she wore a look of stunned amazement. Cabot guessed that Nagali had soaked up enough Zankarti speech mannerisms to pull off a highly believable performance of privileged outrage.
He felt a moment’s fondness for her talent for such things.
His stress level remained high, though, as they repeated the process of repeatedly showing their credentials to get across the station.
Finally, they boarded Rigby’s sturdy little government shuttle and set off to return to Mayani Prime.
Omar heaved a deep sigh as they departed. “That was too close. Someone really did recognize you, didn’t they?”
He sent his sister an accusing look.
Nagali sighed. “Fucking Arpalo. I didn’t see him, but I bet he’s here. That piece of garbage would be right at home working for Barony.”
She sent Cabot an apologetic look. “Sorry.”
“For what?”
“Swearing. I know you don’t like it.”
“When did I get such a reputation for being a prig?” he demanded. “That’s not the first time recently someone’s apologized for swearing. Swear as much as you bloody well want to. I don’t give a scrap.”
Nagali giggled and Omar grinned. Even Rigby chuckled.
“What?” Cabot demanded, feeling like the butt of a joke.
“Even when you swear, you use a kid-friendly version.” Omar snickered.
Cabot glared at him. “Well…Prelin’s ass. I’m going to go and get out of this body stocking.”
He sent them all a dark look, daring them to tease him further. As he stepped into the back to change, he heard muffled laughter.
So many layers of subterfuge and deception. Cabot was glad to return to the Bona Fide to escape the prying eyes and ears of the Zankarti. Once there, where he was only in danger of being monitored by Ditnya, could he contact Admiral Erickson and Fallon.
He transmitted the information and his observations, along with the near-disaster that came at the end of their endeavor.
“Do you think he believed Nagali was who she claimed to be?” Fallon asked.
“I think he remained suspicious.”
She nodded slowly, mulling that over.
“What should we do now?” he asked. “Erickson said I’d be taking further orders from Admiral Krazinski.”
“Yes. We’ve transferred you to our side, for convenience. I’ll continue updating Erickson. Give me two hours to discuss this with command and get back to you. Of course, if something happens in the meantime that indicates your cover was blown, get out of there immediately.”
“Understood. Two hours, then.”
She paused before cutting the connection. “Good work, Cabot. You really pulled it off, and much faster than anticipated.”
“I hope you’re not surprised.”
She smiled. “Not at all. Just glad. Talk to you soon.”
Hmm. Maybe after all of this was done, he could cash in on some of these heroic deeds.
He wasn’t sure what he’d want, but he’d have fun thinking it over.
“Get out
of there.” Fallon’s face was dead serious. “Now.”
Cabot doubted this indicated a diplomatic solution to the Barony problem.
Behind her, he saw the bridge of the Nefarious and her teammates. All of them being there together probably didn’t bode well. Normally, they’d take shifts navigating.
He suspected they were about to fly into action, and the fact that she was telling him to get out indicated that said action was about to affect him greatly.
He opened his mouth, but Fallon didn’t give him a chance to speak.
“Get out, Cabot.” She leaned closer to the viewscreen. “I can’t say more on this channel, and you don’t have time to waste. Just get out. Please don’t say anything but, ‘understood.’”
A dozen different questions sprang to mind, but he shoved them all down. “Understood.”
She stared at him for a moment, perhaps trying to convey a tremendous amount of information in a single glance. She looked energized. Intense. So did Hawk, Peregrine, and Raptor.
Then her image blinked out.
He closed his eyes, savoring a brief moment of calm before the storm, then bolted for the bridge.
He could only deliver this kind of news in person.
“I’m not going anywhere.” Ditnya had her ankles crossed and hands folded as if sitting at a high-society tea party and not in the command chair of her bridge.
“Maybe I’m being too subtle,” Cabot said. “I’m pretty sure this area of space is about to be lit up with a whole bunch of artillery. When someone tells me to get out and that I don’t have time to spare, I take that very, very seriously.”
“Oh, I get it. I have a pretty good picture of what’s about to happen. And I want to be here for it.” Ditnya said this with casual ease as if discussing possible dinner selections. She certainly didn’t speak with the gravity of an impending galactic firefight.
“Just to witness it for yourself?” he pressed.
“Maybe.”
When she said no more, he tried again. “Or are you planning to help, if needed?”
She finally focused her full attention on him. “Are you going to just keep standing there in front of me? It’s awkward.”
