by Mark Wandrey
“And the business?” it persisted.
“That’s between myself and the Master.” He leaned closer. “You can stop fucking around. It says in the charter that any commander of a mercenary company in good standing can speak to a Guild Master any damned time he wants. So, call one, now.” The XenSha looked like Jim had just read off a recipe for XenSha stew.
“There is no reason to be upset, Commander,” it said and pressed a button out of view. “A Guild Master will be here in a moment.”
“Pricks,” Hargrave said over Jim’s shoulder. “If you were a Tortantula, they’d have had a Guild Master down here before you could blink your ring of eyes.”
“If I were a Tortantula they’d probably have a dozen armored troopers watching to make sure the shit didn’t go crazy.” True to its promise, an alien came striding down the ornate hall. Jim wasn’t surprised to see it was a Veetanho.
“Commander Cartwright,” the master said and bowed, her eyes covered by ornate goggles. She was a striking Veetanho. “How can the Guild serve you today?” The master led them to an antechamber and closed the door.
“I have a message for the Guild,” Jim said and took out a data chip. The Guild Master looked at it curiously.
“You could have simply transmitted the message to us through the usual channels, Commander.” The Veetanho made an offhand gesture. “It would be secure, of course.”
“Not good enough,” Jim said and set the chip on the counter. “Review the data, and then forward it to the Guild headquarters on Capital.” Jim turned with Hargrave, and they both left the Guild Master staring at the chip still sitting on the desk. “I’ve done my duty,” Jim said as they got into a cab.
A few hours later they were both in a dark and noisy bar surrounded by other mercenaries. Hargrave was drinking deeply of his favorite beer and Jim an ice-cold Coke. The wall screens in English were displaying contract offerings while others showed contracts completed. Each of those completed contracts only showed one of four different conditions: Terminated, Withdrawn, Lost, or Fulfilled. Jim’s eyes quickly picked himself out of the completed column.
Cartwright’s Cavaliers – Defensive Assault (1 of 10) – Chimsa [STATUS – FULFILLED]
Nine other merc companies were listed after his own, only two others listed complete, Nightbirds and the garrison company that had joined them after the big battle. The rest were listed as lost.
“To those who risked and lost,” Hargrave said and raised his beer.
“To those who risked and lost,” Jim echoed and sipped his Coke.
“You know,” Hargrave said, “I figured after Adayn and you shacked up, you’d upgrade to something with a bit more bite to it.” Jim inhaled and choked on his drink. “Oh, don’t be acting all prissy. It’s not like it’s a secret you two are bumping uglies.” Jim gave a little grin, and Hargrave shook his head. “Yeah, and you’re pretty pleased with yourself.”
“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” Jim said and took a drink, but it didn’t hide his huge grin.
“Well you should be; she’s a fine lady.”
“She is,” Jim said.
“Pleased I am to see you back in my pit,” a familiar voice spoke from their side.
“Pleased I am to be here, Peepo,” Jim said, and inclined his head. Comparing her to the Guild Master, it was easy to tell that Peepo was not a young Veetanho. Still, he wondered how old she was.
“As am I,” Hargrave said, but Jim could have sworn he wasn’t as pleased to see her.
“Your contract has drawn much attention in the Guild,” Peepo said. “I understand it was quite profitable.”
“Yes,” Jim agreed, “it was, but it also cost much blood.”
“Sometimes profit and blood are close relatives,” she said and nodded. Jim wondered, was she analyzing him? “Be well, Jim Cartwright,” she said and was gone. He looked at Hargrave curiously, but the other man just shrugged.
“Jim Cartwright?” asked a stranger. They both turned and Hargrave gave a little start, standing up to face the new arrival. She was a human woman, quite tall and whipcord thin. She had waist length white hair loosely pulled back with a single golden cord and she was staring at Jim with the deepest black eyes he’d ever seen. She was dressed in the black uniform of a human merc spacer. A similarly uniformed Veetanho stood a respectful distance behind her. Jim’s eyes strayed to the logo on her uniform with its stylized mounted lancer sporting huge wings.
“Oh,” he said and hastily stood, “yes.”
“It’s okay,” she said with a little crooked smile, “we’ve never met. Alexis Cromwell, Commander of the Winged Hussars.” She bowed. “At your service, and this is Paka, my Second-in-Command.” Jim was a little put off and surprised, but finally managed a reply.
“J-Jim Cartwright, Commander of Cartwright’s Cavaliers,” he said and half-turned to Hargrave, “and...”
“Ezekiel Hargrave,” Commander Cromwell said, again with that crooked smile, “and Second-in-Command now, I see.” She held out a hand.
“Commander,” Hargrave said, taking the hand and bowing over it before gently placing a kiss on it. Jim lifted an eyebrow, but Hargrave tilted his head and mouthed some other time to him. “I serve the Cavaliers in whatever ways I can.” Commander Cromwell gave a nod in reply.
“What can we do for you?” Jim asked. “Would you care to join us?”
“I would love to,” she said. “I think our Seconds wouldn’t mind an opportunity to gossip behind our backs?” Hargrave and Paka bowed out and left the two commanders alone. Around the pit, conversations suddenly changed subjects as human and alien alike realized that two of the storied human Four Horsemen commanders were talking. She ordered a nondescript wine from the autoserver and took a polite sip before launching immediately into what she wanted.
“That mission you just completed, how did it go?”
“Beyond the public status board?” he asked.
“Of course.” Jim hesitated. “Son...sorry, Commander, if you can talk to anyone, you can talk to me. I knew your father personally. We worked together often. The Four Horsemen stick together, you know.”
“I know,” Jim admitted. “I think I met you once when I was very young.” She smiled at that.
“Yes, I wondered if you remembered. You were maybe five?”
“Seven,” he said, and she gave a little nod with a shrug. “The mission was a cluster fuck, as you can see. We were jumped immediately after making transition. We lost Traveler.”
“Damn,” she said and shook her head. “My mother designed the refit of that ship for your father.”
“Then she did a great job. We managed to save almost everyone.”
“Captain Winslow?”
Jim shook his head.
She reached out and touched his chest. “I mourn for your loss.”
He was surprised, but replied, “Our fates are shared,” deploying the ancient ritual human mercs had adopted from their alien brethren.
“The Four Horsemen for Earth,” she said, again surprising him. He’d never heard that part before. Of course, he’d never shared a merc’s prayer with another of the Four Horsemen. She hadn’t taken her hand away yet, so he spoke.
“The Four Horsemen for Earth.”
She nodded and took her hand away, asking him to continue. He glanced around, making sure no one was within earshot, and told her everything about the mission. When he got to the end, she sucked air through her teeth and leaned back.
“So, four Canavar, eh?” He nodded in confirmation. “And you with a working Raknar. Tell me, how did you get it to work so well?” Jim swallowed. He’d not included the part about the strange link with Splunk. He was grateful now that he’d left the little alien back on Karma station with Adayn. Coincidentally, they were working on the Raknar.
“We figured out some computer interfaces. I have a good team.” She regarded him coolly for several long moments, waiting to see if he would add anything more.
“Okay,�
� she said finally, “well done. Canavar are a special study of mine, you know?”
“No,” he said, “I wasn’t aware any humans knew much about them.” That wry grin was back. There was a lot more going on behind that smile than she was letting on.
“They’re a fascinating subject,” she said, then circled back to discuss the battle. “So, you destroyed them all? And that’s it?”
“I did, but I don’t think that’s it.” He told her about his belief they were being bred in number, and about his message to the Guild.
“That could have been a very good move, or a very bad one,” she admitted. “I sent you a message myself a while back. I suspect now that you are here, it will catch up to you.”
“Is that why you are here now?”
“Yes and no,” she said. “I did want to see if you had received the message, but it can wait. I just happened to be here. I came in because I heard you were here, but I didn’t see Traveler in orbit. Now I know why.” Jim shrugged. “You know we bought Bucephalus in the bankruptcy sale?”
“Yes,” he said in a noncommittal voice.
“And did you know it’s here?”
“No,” he said. “I didn’t get a good look at the other ships in orbit. We came in with Nightbirds.”
“Good little outfit,” she said in an almost condescending tone. Of course, compared to the Winged Hussars, almost every nominally human space-based merc unit was little. “Anyway, we really don’t have much use for Bucephalus.” She made an almost frustrated gesture of dismissal. “The Akaga class is a good cruiser, but Bucephalus is modified for ground assault.” He looked confused. “Your dad ordered it with fewer guns, more shields, and increased cargo space. That’s not generally how we roll.”
“I see,” he said, confused about she was getting at. She glanced at him, a little annoyed. Suddenly a light went off. “Oh, crap. Uhm, we’d be willing to take her off your hands.”
“Oh, really?” she said with overly exaggerated interest. “That would be lovely. What would you be willing to pay? The ship is quite valuable.” Jim thought frantically. What would a ship like that be worth? He accessed his pinplants and searched the Galnet, then choked.
“I can’t offer a fraction of its value,” he admitted, then used his pinplants to scan their bottom line. It was quite a bit better off after they’d gotten paid by Wathayat for that gig, but still nowhere near what the Bucephalus was worth. “How about twenty million?”
“Hmmm,” she said and Jim looked surprised. He’d expected her to laugh at him. “That’s an interesting offer, however I can’t afford to profit on that sale too much. You see, it would get taxed on Earth. You know...accountants.” She took a slate from her belt pouch and tapped on it. “I’ll sell it to you for double what we bought it for,” she said and slid the slate across. There was the bill of sale where they’d paid the bankruptcy court on Earth for the ship. His eyes bugged out. “Surely, you can handle that?”
“Sure,” he said and considered those incredibly black eyes. They had an oddly amused twinkle to them. Jim reached into his pocket and took out a ten credit note and slid it across to her. She tapped on the slate and his pinplants pinged him. Cartwright’s Cavaliers had just accepted the transfer and mastery EMS Bucephalus from the Winged Hussars, for twice the original sale price.
“Pleasure doing business with you,” she said and offered him her hand. Jim stood and took it, then almost fell. For an instant, it felt like when Splunk touched him, and the two had merged to control the Raknar. It was over so fast, he wondered if it was just vertigo from standing too fast. He opened his mouth to say something, but she was gone.
“What...?” he said, shaking his head. He almost followed her, then decided he was just imagining it. Had to be. He brushed it aside the moment he remembered he had a ship again! He needed to get back to his office and start hiring a crew. He looked for Hargrave and couldn’t find him, so he went ahead and took a cab back to the starport. There was a lot of work to do.
* * * * *
Epilogue
The cab maneuvered on its uni-ball drive to shoot between traffic and drop Jim at the front door of the Hilton safe and sound. It seemed human-operated cabs on Earth, especially around starports, were becoming increasingly rare.
“Twenty-nine credits,” the machine announced. Jim slipped his yack into the slot and thumbed the ID to withdraw the credits. At least robots didn’t need tips. Pocketing the card, he climbed out into the blustery January Houston weather. The thermometer hovered around 50 degrees Fahrenheit, and for Houston that was damned cold.
“Good afternoon, Commander Cartwright,” the doorman said, holding the cab’s door and touching the tip of his hat.
“Edward,” Jim said and handed him a five-credit note. He still liked cash for tipping; it just felt better.
“Will you be needing anything tonight, sir?”
“I might want to go out to dinner later.”
“I’ll notify the concierge to be on the lookout.”
“That would be great. I heard there is a new Cochkala restaurant near the starport.” The tall man gave a little shudder and tried to smile.
“You merc types always have the strangest tastes,” he said. “Don’t go in for alien food myself, but I’ll let him know to check into it.” Jim thanked him and headed inside. The manager caught his attention from the desk and Jim went over to see what he wanted.
“Mr. Cartwright,” he said in his New York accent, “I have a message chip for you, just arrived from the Mercenary Guild.” He placed it on the desk and Jim took it. A little hologram had the logo of the Four Horsemen. So not the Guild, but one of his fellows. He’d yet to hear a peep from the Guild, and more than a month had passed.
“Thank you,” he said and turned to go, but before he could get more than two steps away, the manager spoke in a hushed and urgent tone.
“Oh, sir? There’s someone here to see you. They tried to insist they be allowed access to your suite, but of course I refused. They are in the bar, if you care to meet them.”
“Who is it?” he asked, and the manager whispered the response in his ear in hopes that his discretion might be able to save Jim from the encounter that was waiting. “Oh,” Jim said, nodding as he headed for the elevator.
“Jimmy?” he heard from the direction of the bar. Fuck. “Jimmy, my God, is that really you?” He turned to see his mother strutting across the lobby toward him.
“Hello, Mother,” he said. He considered continuing on toward the elevator, but discarded the idea. He knew this would happen when the current issue of Soldier of Fortune came out. He was on the cover, striding down the gangway from Bucephalus, Hargrave and his other officers following behind. “Large and In Charge,” the article headline read. When he’d left Earth all those months ago, he thought he’d looked a little ridiculous in that uniform. Now, it seemed to fit him just fine. That article might have been written tongue-in-cheek, but it was fairly flattering. Hard not to be after the series of contracts he’d won, and the millions he’d brought back.
“Jimmy, I’ve tried to get in touch with you, but the bitch you hired at the office won’t forward your messages!” She sniffed in mock hurt. “She wouldn’t even let me in Thad’s old office.”
She’d been an incredibly beautiful woman once. Now she weighed almost as much as Jim. At five-foot-ten-inches, tall by average North American standards, she was very large for a woman. She was light complexioned with high cheekbones, long blonde hair and striking blue eyes. His father had said she had a figure that would stop a rampaging Tortantula. Now it looked like she had one that would feed a company of Tortantula. She’d put on at least fifty pounds, and it looked like a lot of it had been from drugs and booze. She looked hard-used, and her clothes were not the usual pristine high-end brands she’d stuck to exclusively when he was growing up. The handbag appeared to be a knockoff, too. He dimly wondered what she’d done with the money.
“That’s because you aren’t allowed near the c
ompany,” Jim told her. “Try to get into the offices again, and I’ll file a restraining order.”
“Jimmy, is that any way to talk to your Mom? I mean, really.” She tried to blow it all off. “Anyway, look at you!” She said and inspected his uniform. The golden eagle of commander favored by the Four Horsemen leaders, Cavalier logo on his chest. “You’ve lost weight!” she said.
“Some, yes. Been working hard,” he told her, unable to pass up the compliment.
“Great, so why don’t we have dinner. You can catch me up on what’s happening! I need to know everything.”
“I don’t have time, Mom. We’re hiring a few hundred new people, and frankly...I don’t want to see you.” She had been looking annoyed until the last, then she looked worried.
“Jimmy, why are you being this way?” He heard the elevator open behind him.
“Maybe because you almost destroyed the Cavaliers, stole millions of credits, caused us to lose billions, and then went on a two-year bender to spend it all?” She looked sideways and snorted. “Don’t even try to say you didn’t. Come on, Mom, look at yourself! Do you have any idea what I went through trying to save this company?”
“You look fine,” she said. “I saw that article. You bought the ship back, ordered a bunch of guns...” He glared at her. She seemed to notice something behind him but went on. “Can’t you spare some time for your own mother?”
“Where were you two years ago when I had to live in a dump and do software work just to survive? I studied for years to run the company, and you ruined it.”
“It was all just a misunderstanding,” she said, then her face darkened and she yelled past him. “Excuse me, but this is a private conversation!” Jim felt a hand slip into his arm and Adayn was by his side, comfortable and familiar. He felt his confidence soar. “W-what...I mean, who is this?” she asked, trying to sound sweet and interested when her body language was fearful at best.
“Adayn Christopher,” she said sweetly and held out her hand. Jim was impressed, he could feel her tension. She was a much better actor than his mother.
