Selling Out: A Galactic Empire Space Opera Series (Mercenary Warfare Book 1)

by Zen DiPietro

  Grudgingly, Cabot had to respect her ability to charm and distract. When she wanted to, she had a charisma that could rival orellium as a power source.

  “What does something like that go for? I bet you paid a fortune.” Nagali asked, sliding in next to the Trallian and half-sitting on the arm of his chair so she could lean forward and examine the cat armor more closely.

  Cabot didn’t mind her interference in the least. He wasn’t foolish enough to think that negotiation had anything to do with pride. It was about results, and Nagali could help get them.

  “Me, pay a fortune? Never,” the Trallian declared. He appeared to have forgotten that Cabot and Arlen were still in the room with him.

  “Oh?” Nagali peeped over her shoulder at him. “What did you pay?”

  He looked like he would answer, but caught himself. “Ahhh, you almost had me there.” Instead of being annoyed, he laughed. “I’ve always liked your style.”

  “I should have known I couldn’t trick you.” She winked at him.

  It took a herculean effort for Cabot to resist rolling his eyes. He knew of no other person who could get away with winking during business matters, or this pseudo-flirtatious flattery. It was ridiculous. It was insulting. It was—

  “How about I make your friend a special deal?” The man asked.

  It was brilliant.

  “You’d do that for me?” she gave him a sly smile.

  “For you? Of course. I’ll sell your friend this priceless work of art for twenty percent above my cost.”

  Nagali’s smile dimmed. “Twenty? What about that time I took all those ripe darvan fruits off your hands? If I hadn’t, you’d have been stuck with an entire ship full of rotten fruit.”

  He sighed, but smiled as he did. “Fine. Fifteen.”

  “And you’ll show me the manifest so I can verify it’s truly fifteen.” She arched a brow.

  If someone made such a demand in his shop, Cabot would throw them out.

  But the Trallian sighed again. “Agreed.”

  Nagali looked at Cabot, as if his presence were a mere afterthought. “You agree, right?”

  There was nothing for him to do but fall back on his timeworn persona of benign pleasantness. “Who am I to argue with two titans at the controls? I’m just along for this ride.”

  He gave a tiny bow of his head, nothing like a PAC bow, but far more respectful than the usual in trader to trader transactions.

  Within three minutes, Nagali completed the deal. She verified the Trallian’s cost, approved the fifteen percent markup, and prompted Cabot to transfer the money.

  He was now the owner of a set of cat armor. He could almost laugh about it, except this strange little item would ensure that the Briveen would accept him as a representative of the PAC and begin negotiations.

  Time for some major business, of an official and critical type that Cabot had never dreamed of.

  He hoped he was up to the task.

  ***

  “Are you sure we shouldn’t have hired a guard to escort us?” Arlen asked.

  Cabot’s shiny new cat armor was carefully swaddled within a large box of protein bars, and carried nonchalantly on his shoulder.

  “No,” he murmured. “A guard would be just as likely to attack us and try to steal it. Never mind that people around here would notice a hired guard situation, since that means you had something worth stealing. Pretending we have nothing of significant value is the best course of action.”

  Nagali edged closer to them and said in a low voice, “Besides, I’m prepared to defend us if needed.”

  A well-dressed man appeared at the end of the corridor, walking toward them, so they fell silent until they arrived at Cabot’s quarters.

  Once they were inside, Arlen picked the conversation back up. “How are you prepared to defend us?”

  Nagali tilted her head, sending Arlen a look of disdain. “Where did you pick this kid up?”

  “She’s a friend,” Cabot said, with a quiet but sharp edge that told Nagali not to insult her. “She runs an excellent business, and she can be trusted. Unlike some people.”

  Nagali groaned, a sound of frustration and irritation rolled up together. “It’s been eight years! When are you going to get over it?”

  He carefully set the box on the dining table before turning to face her. “I don’t know if I’ll ever get over that. When I even try to think about getting over it, I imagine the faces of those rippers you stole from. They couldn’t afford the loss, and they were ready to take it out on me. You nearly got me killed.”

  “But you’re right here. I knew you’d be fine.”

  “Only because I gave them a five-percent discount on all future transactions and convinced them it wasn’t a loss, but a lucrative long-term investment.”

  Nagali laughed. “Is that how you got out of it? That’s brilliant.”

  He wasn’t amused.

  She sighed and sank dramatically into a side chair. “Fine, do you want the whole truth?”

  “Such a thing could never come from your mouth,” he observed blandly.

  She sighed again. “Believe me or don’t, but here’s what happened. I was contracted to redirect those supplies to Atalus. For the refugees of the war. Children, mostly. So you see? I knew you’d get yourself out of it, and we helped a lot of people.”

  “At a significant profit to you, I’m sure.”

  “So what? Why can’t I help people and make a profit at the same time? Is it a good deed only if I go broke doing it?”

  Cabot glanced at Arlen, who was watching the exchange with intense interest. Better if he and Nagali had had this conversation in private, but there was no way to do that now. “Because for you, the profit is what matters and the philanthropy is just a detail you use to justify it.”

  “That’s not true,” she insisted, her words short and sharp. “And since when are you Mr. Philanthropy? As I recall, you were always perfectly happy doing things that weren’t exactly legal.”

  “Not exactly legal isn’t the same as straight-up theft, or failing to honor an agreement. I may operate in the gray areas sometimes, but I live up to my contracts.”

  “Is it theft if I’m only lifting goods from someone who stole them to begin with?”

  Arlen spoke up. “It is if you don’t return them to their rightful owner.”

  He and Nagali looked at her, but she said no more.

  “She’s right.” He stood behind the couch, not wanting to sit down with Nagali. Doing so would seem like a real conversation, like they had a relationship or something.

  Nagali closed her eyes for a moment. When she opened them and spoke, her voice had lost its edge. “I’m sorry about what happened. Things didn’t go as I’d planned, but I really was sure you’d be fine. I know I put you in a crappy spot, though, and I’m sorry for that. But I’m not as bad as you think I am.”

  “You could have told me what your plan was. I could have gotten off that planet before they knew what was happening.”

  She shook her head. “If I’d told you, you’d have refused to go along with it. And the Atalans really did need those supplies. Which were stolen anyway.”

  “But it was my life you gambled with. You were always too reckless.”

  “You used to like taking chances,” she answered, but her words lacked the heat he’d expected.

  “I have more to lose now.” He meant his life on Dragonfire, rather than his relationship with her, but he saw the hurt in her eyes.

  She stood. “I’ll go. It seems I’m not going to change your mind.”

  She didn’t wait for him to answer. She strode out, chin up and back straight. He almost had to admire that.

  The silence in his quarters landed in a heap between him and Arlen. This view into his personal life complicated their previously fairly simple relationship.

  “Do you think she really did care about the refugees?” she asked.

  “There’s no telling with her,” he admitted. “The trouble with
Nagali is that you can’t predict what she’ll do, or nail down her intentions. But I’m certain she wasn’t doing anything out of pure good will.”

  “Can you believe anything she says?” Arlen sat in the chair Nagali had recently vacated.

  He sat opposite her. “Some would say yes. Some would say no. Strictly speaking, I’d say not exactly.”

  “She did help us with that Trallian,” she mused. “Could she be trying to make up for what she did to you?”

  “I don’t think it can be made up for.”

  Arlen’s forehead wrinkled. “Why not? Traders screw each other over sometimes. It’s part of the business. Just like you manipulated me into being here.”

  Cabot drummed his fingers on his knee. The truth was poised to spill out, like a man whose gut had been sliced open. He might as well tell her now.

  “Because she and I weren’t just partners. She was my wife.”

  ***

  Arlen didn’t hide her displeasure over Cabot’s recent revelation. “When we were on our way here, how could you not tell me that your ex-wife lived here?”

  “She doesn’t live here, per se. She doesn’t really live anywhere. Nagali goes where Nagali decides to go. She’s never had any roots to anything. When I checked, she hadn’t been on the station in months. There was no reason for me to think that she was laying low here.”

  “Laying low, why? Had she done something?”

  “Of course she did. She’s always doing something.” The details didn’t matter to him.

  “You never mentioned you’d ever been married.” She frowned, looking offended.

  “Just like you’ve never mentioned a word about anyone you’ve ever dated,” he pointed out. “Assuming you even have. Personal confidences are not exactly in our nature, are they?”

  She blew out a long, slow breath and ran a hand over her reddish-brown hair. “You’re right. So if we’re friends—I mean real friends, not just friendly associates—we should talk more. About personal things. Right?”

  She looked so young and uncertain that he had to clamp down on a smile. She was, at her heart, so good and honest. She genuinely wanted to be a benevolent person, and a reliable friend. It was too bad a strong nose for business put her instincts at odds with her wholesomeness. Or maybe it was a shame her wholesomeness hindered good business. He could see it both ways.

  But if her ethical nature kept her from being another Nagali Freeborn, then it had to be a good thing.

  But did that mean they had to get personal and share confidences?

  He wasn’t sure. “Should we? I’m no more accustomed to talking about my personal affairs than you are.”

  She twisted her hands in her lap. “Shouldn’t we? How can we be friends if we don’t know basic details about one another?”

  “I can’t deny that’s a good point. I guess I’m just in the habit of not sharing information unless it’s relevant and necessary. Fine. Let’s try it. What do you want to know about me?” He spread his hands in a gesture of offering.

  “Well…how long were you and Nagali married? And was it your only marriage, or do you have more ex-wives stashed across this galaxy?”

  “Just the one. She was more than enough. We were married ten years, give or take.”

  She pursed her lips in thought. “So you went to Dragonfire Station right after your breakup? Which happened right after she abandoned you with those goons?”

  “Yes.”

  “Okay.” She nodded, apparently satisfied.

  “That’s it? I expected more. Questions about the first girl I ever liked, my first sale. That sort of thing.”

  “Oh, that’s a good one. My first sale was selling imaginary cookies at imaginary tea parties. What was yours?”

  “You had the nose that early, did you? Well that’s interesting, and yet not a surprise.” The idea pleased him. Maybe she was right about this sharing thing. “My first sale was my neighbor’s hat. He lost it, I found it, and I charged him a cubic to sell it back to him.”

  She burst out laughing. “That’s awful! It was his hat!”

  “I wasn’t always the pillar of propriety that I am now. And I didn’t like that neighbor. He was rude to my mother once.”

  “Pillar of propriety, right.” She smirked. “Is your mother a trader too?”

  “No. My parents are scholars. They study interspecies relations and sometimes serve as consultants to diplomats.”

  She could not have looked more surprised if he’d announced they were naked dancers in a Dinebian nightclub. “Wow.”

  “They’re lovely people.”

  “So that’s why you’re so good at dealing with all the different species. You must have picked up a lot from them as you grew up,” she mused.

  “I like to think it’s my natural charm.”

  She laughed.

  “Careful,” he warned. “If you keep laughing at me when I suggest I have positive qualities, I might get hurt feelings.”

  “I doubt that. But I’m sorry anyway. I do think you’re charming. It was just funny the way you said it.”

  “Ah.” When she didn’t toss another question at him, he asked, “So have we done enough sharing to make us sufficiently in one another’s confidence?”

  “Not quite. But it’s a start.” She curled her legs up beside her, looking cozy and more satisfied than he’d seen her on this trip. Possibly ever. “This is nice.”

  It was, actually. “Well, it’s not terrible.” He gave her one of his benign smiles.

  She laughed again. “So now that we have what we need, when do we leave for Briv?”

  “First thing in the morning.”

  “So soon? Will Nagali and her brother be ready by then?”

  “They will,” he affirmed. “It’s the benefit of being their employer. I can, for once, tell Nagali exactly what to do, and in some cases, she will actually have to listen to me.”

  “Hm. This is going to be an interesting trip, isn’t it?”

  “Oh, yes,” he agreed. “It most certainly is.”

  5

  Omar didn’t bother hiding his appreciation for the Outlaw. “This is quite a ride, my friend.”

  Cabot gave him a knowing look as they carried gear into the cargo hold. “Don’t even think about it. This is a loaner, and you do not want to get sideways of the owner.”

  Omar held his hands up in a placating gesture. “Just asking.”

  “Right.” He frowned at the number of bags Omar carried. “That seems like an awful lot of gear for two people.”

  Omar lifted a shoulder. “We packed some things that might have trade value.”

  “I warned you about anything illegal by PAC standards. This isn’t just any run. It has to be completely legal and upstanding.”

  “Everything aboveboard,” Omar agreed. “Just normal trade goods.”

  “I’ll need to visually inspect everything. Since time is important here, I’m going to do it while we’re underway. But if I find anything that shouldn’t be here, we’re going to have a big problem.”

  “Wouldn’t expect anything less. But there’s no problem.”

  After strapping the cargo down, Cabot turned to face him. “Good. We’ve had a good relationship for decades, and I’d hate for anything to damage that. I don’t have a lot of what I would call friends. A fact that has just recently been pointed out to me.”

  “Yep. Not too many guys would be cool with you after you divorced their sister.” Omar grinned at him. He had a big, easy grin that was as disarming as it was genuine.

  Charm ran in the Freeborn family.

  “Speaking of your sister.” Cabot arched an eyebrow. “Thanks for that.”

  Omar chuckled. “Can’t blame me. No way do I want to be in the middle of you two. But I’m glad you’ve got things worked out. With three weeks of space ahead of us, things could get pretty unpleasant in such limited confines.”

  “First, I wouldn’t say things are exactly worked out. But I hope she and I have enough of
an understanding for this to work. Second, we need to cut those three weeks down to two. We have a deadline.”

  Rather than be annoyed by that previously unrevealed detail, Omar looked amused. “Well that makes it extra exciting, doesn’t it? How are we going to make that happen?”

  “The logistics have been worked out by the owner of this boat, and she had the help of some whip-smart engineers to do it. We’re carrying our own replacement parts. The rate at which we’ll be traveling, and therefore burning out the parts we normally would not want to burn out, has been calculated. As long as we follow that plan, we’ll get there on time.”

  Omar looked impressed. “I should have demanded more money. I didn’t realize we were working with such deep pockets.”

  “Only as deep as they have to be. This isn’t one where we can pad the bill. It’s just that the end result here is of critical importance.”

  Omar rubbed a hand over his jaw. “Can’t say I’m used to being critically important.”

  “It’s a relatively new one to me too, but I’m working on getting used to it.” Cabot wouldn’t give Omar details about Fallon, Blackout, or their link to PAC command. However, he wanted to be sure Omar knew that the people they were serving were not the kind to trifle with.

  “I guess you’re coming up in the world, aren’t you? Maybe I should set up shop on a PAC station.”

  Cabot turned toward the door. “That would be quite a change of pace for you.”

  Omar followed him out into the corridor and the door to the cargo bay closed behind them. “I am nothing if not adaptable.”

  That was true. Cabot only hoped Omar was adaptable enough to get this job done.

  ***

  Relative speed of travel in space could be at odds with the actual experience of a trip. Whether meandering slowly or going so fast it burned up expensive components, space travel involved a lot of waiting.

  The Outlaw had autopilot, but most of the time either Cabot or Arlen sat at the helm, keeping an eye on things. Occasionally, Omar took a turn. When Cabot gave lessons on Briveen behaviors and rituals, he engaged the autopilot.

  Though his three students were intelligent and keen to learn, the exacting nature of the ceremonies proved grueling to master.