“Good times,” Smitty grumbled.
“Amen to that,” Jack agreed.
“In the Cartography Guild’s defense,” Taylor added, “they did cover for us with the powers that be in the Mercenary Guild once we got back from Rukoria. That’s why we didn’t face any blowback for breach of contract.”
“Well, of course they covered for us.” Billy smirked at his CO. “The contents of those rickety old cassettes you’ve got stashed in a dozen locations around our quadrant said they pretty much had to. I’m still impressed by that move, by the way. Nicely done.”
Taylor shrugged and sipped his coffee.
“There’s something else to note here,” Smitty added. “Something important.”
“And what’s that?” Stan asked.
The Aussie took her husband’s slate and swiped up a new screen. Afterward, she mirrored it onto the briefing room’s Tri-V for all to see.
“Wait, is that…” Frank squinted at the image.
“A map of the planet Emza?” Smitty nodded and put down the slate. “That’s the venue for this new Zuparti contract. Specifically, it’s in the Nawntu Mountains on the world’s northernmost continent.”
“Interesting,” Keeto noted. “Perhaps the gods haven’t withdrawn their favor from this motley little company of ours after all.”
Smitty kept her attention on Taylor. “No one in the Union knows Emzan terrain better than Swamp Eagle Security, especially given that we just worked a contract there not six months ago. I realize the Zuparti have their issues with us, and perhaps rightfully so. Nevertheless, they’d be fools to pass up our expertise to sign another company if all buds are equal. That’d just be bad business.”
Taylor stroked his chin whiskers. “And you two believe this new Vuhov clan will consider us despite all that baggage?”
“We wouldn’t have pitched this otherwise,” Billy said. “Smitty’s right. Nobody knows Emza better than us. Couple that with our rebuilt resources via the Steeldriver deal, and the Eagles are hands-down the Zuparti’s best option at safeguarding their people against these attacks.”
Taylor drummed his fingers on the table. “All right, fine. Let’s throw our names into the hat once we reach Karma Station and see if we can pick up the contract. Billy.”
“Yes, sir,” the XO answered.
“I want you, Jack, and Stan ready to roll with me on the site team as soon as the Osyrys docks with the station,” Taylor said. “I mean to get down in that merc pit ASAP to see who we’re biddin’ against for this.”
“Ayew.” Billy turned to the old men. “Farts, you’re with me after church.”
The old men rolled their eyes at Smitty’s nickname for their duo which, much to their chagrin, had taken root throughout the crew over the last year.
“Smitty, you’re in command while we’re gone,” Taylor said. “Any questions?”
No one answered.
“Cool,” Taylor said. “Everybody return to your posts and begin your prep work to emerge from hyperspace. Church is dismissed.”
* * * * *
Chapter 4: Karma
Taylor felt the tiniest evidence of a bump, then Frank said, “We’re docked, kids. All ashore who’s goin’ ashore!”
Taylor raised an eyebrow at the Buma.
“What?” the pilot asked. “I heard it in one of those old movies at Hell House Throwback Night.”
Taylor shook his head and glanced to the tactical station. “C’mon, Billy, let’s go.”
The pair left the bridge, then pushed off through the ship until they reached Jack and Stan at the tube across to the station. Like Taylor and Billy, both men now wore Eagle-green BDUs and had clearly just come from the armory.
“We plannin’ to go huntin’ Sumatozou while we’re on the station?” Taylor asked.
Jack shook his head. “Not that I’m aware of. Otherwise, I’d have brought along something a little bigger.”
“Make that a lot bigger.” Stan chuckled, then handed a gun belt and a rifle to Taylor, while Jack handed the same items to Billy.
“All righty, then,” Taylor said. “Lead on, fellas.”
Jack led the group off the ship, followed by Taylor and Billy, with Stan in trail to cover their group’s rear. Once inside the station, Taylor paused to get reacquainted with his surroundings.
Corridors ran off into the distance in both directions, with only the smallest amount of curve to them at the far horizons. Shops and businesses lined the walls as far as he could see.
“Never fails to impress, does it?” Billy asked.
“No, it most certainly does not.” Taylor shouldn’t have been surprised. Karma Station was where most of the Merc Guild business for that arm of the galaxy was conducted. As such, it was anybody’s guess how many millions, if not tens of millions, of credits, flowed through these halls each and every day, especially now that—even if slow—contracts were flowing again.
“This way,” Jack said.
The group started forward to an oversized pressure tube—one of Karma’s “glideways”—and entered it, allowing the wind inside to gently blow them down to one of the gravity rings, where Jack got off. Taylor got off behind him and was immediately struck, as always, by the station’s diversity.
The half-gee of the ring allowed all manner of aliens to walk, crawl, or fly down the station’s massive passageway, and he could see easily 15 or 20 species with every glance he took. Nowhere, though, were any of the beings Human. The closest Taylor saw was a group of four Lumar—oversize humanoids with four arms—dressed in security uniforms and carrying their versions of billy clubs. When wielded by a Lumar, they’d be more than enough to crack someone’s skull…permanently.
Note to self. Never cross those guys if you can help it. Taylor acknowledged the leader with a nod, then rounded a corner and almost collided with three other aliens.
“Watch where you’re going, human,” the lead Zuul growled, head down and haunches up.
“Easy, friend.” Billy raised his palms. “We’re sorry about the misstep. You have our word we’ll be more cautious next time.”
Taylor studied the snarling canine and its two compatriots, hand steady at the sidearm holster on his right thigh. Don’t push it, pooch. Otherwise, I’ll be forced to fry your ugly mutt ass right here in front of all these nice people.
The muscular alien gave an audible huff, then stood down. “We go.”
Good boy. Taylor kept his eyes up and his palm down as the canine pack vanished into the crowd. I fargin hate Zuul.
“Well then.” Jack turned up the sidewalk. “Now that we’ve put that little bit of unpleasantness behind us, what say we get on about our business here?”
“Agreed.” Billy checked the time. “Let’s pick up the pace, gentlemen. We’re right on schedule, but I’m always a fan of making a meeting early if I can help it.”
The group proceeded down the passageway for a few more minutes before eventually halting outside a nondescript door marked with a line of alien text Taylor’s pinplants interpreted into English.
Sasha’s Services. His first time here, Taylor had wondered if his officers were pranking him with some sort of new command hazing ritual at an alien nudie joint. As it happened, though, Sasha was the pit’s new proprietor, a savvy Lumar who’d seized on the chance to commandeer one of the industry’s premiere merc pits when its previous owner, Peepo, had been unceremoniously…retired.
“Home, sweet home.” Jack pushed the door open, then led the group through a second, interior door into the wall of sound on the other side. The place was slammed.
“Whoever this friend of yours is, Major, I hope he’s already got a table,” Stan called over the roar of a standing-room-only crowd.
A massive chamber with an open industrial floor plan, the legendary merc assembly hall resembled in many respects a tavern-style public house from Earth, with its loose clusters of tables and seating areas, plus the large, round bar at center-floor. This was probably one of the reasons Ta
ylor had always felt so at home here. Granted, there’d been much about the merc life that had taken him time to grow into these past two years. Deal-making, on the other hand—especially those negotiations that took place over frozen mugs of frothy beverages—had come quite naturally to him.
You learn a lot about people from behind a bar. Taylor chewed his lip as fresh streams of financial data poured like numeric rain across one of the myriad Tri-V monitors. Damn, that’s a lot of contracts. The Merc Guild had just started taking contracts again, and everyone was trying to get in on the first couple of waves.
“Hey, Cornhusker!” a raspy female voice shouted past the scrum of chattering aliens and clinking glassware. “You gonna come grab a seat and drink with me, or what?”
Recognizing the reference to his Nebraskan XO’s call sign, Taylor scanned the crowd in search of the voice’s owner. What he found was a lone Sirra’Kan wearing a skin-tight cocktail dress staring a hole through his XO with her best come hither smile from a booth near the back.
“Wait, that’s your ‘old buddy’ from the Stormriders?” Taylor framed the buddy part with air quotes. “The six-foot-tall feline alien who came here dressed to kill like a runway supermodel from Cheetara’s Casino? That’s your contact. Really?”
Jack coughed into his fist. “Nicely done, sir.”
“Does Smitty know about this?” Taylor asked.
Billy rolled his eyes. “Do you want the Zuparti contract or not? Because if the answer is yes, I’d highly recommend all three of you chuckleheads stow your preconceptions and follow my lead. Ayew?”
“Ayew, Major.” Stan flashed a faux salute. “Or should I say…meow.”
Jack spun aside to mask his snicker.
“That’s it, I’m out!” Billy turned for the exit. “I’ll see you super trooper idiots back on the Osyrys.”
“Hold it, Romeo.” Taylor caught his XO by the arm. “Jokes aside, you put a lot of work into makin’ this meet a reality. I, for one, wanna see where it goes.”
Billy glanced to the Farts, both of whom snapped upright. “That’s better. Follow me.”
The group wove their way through the crowd toward the back corner booth where their bipedal host rose to her feet, her deep brown eyes and faintly striped complexion elegantly framed by honey-blonde hair that cascaded in waves past her shoulders.
Frank would be losin’ his mind right now.
“What’s up, you old tree planter?” the Sirra’Kan said with a strikingly American accent. Afterward, she threw her arms around the Eagles’ XO and squeezed. “Great seeing you, as always.”
“Likewise, Kami,” Billy said, breaking the hug. “How’s life in the brokerage business these days?”
“Eh, it has its perks.” The feline shrugged. “The job pays well, of course, plus it’s worlds safer than my previous occupation. Still, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t occasionally miss the thrills that came with being a merc. Alas.” She tapped a glossy fingernail to the Eagles patch on Billy’s sleeve. “The universe has a funny way of bringing us all back around to the places we least expect, when we least expect it. Wouldn’t you agree?”
Billy gestured to his encourage. “Kami, allow me to introduce the new commanding officer of Swamp Eagle Security, Chief Taylor Van Zant, and two of our senior staff, Commanders Jack Bowyer and Jedidiah Stan.”
“Ma’am.” The Farts nodded.
“Everybody,” Billy continued, “I’d like you to meet Eutowa K’Nami, former staff sergeant with the Emerald Stormriders over in Panama City, and the current attaché to the Zuparti’s Vuhov clan. She’ll be serving as our broker for today’s negotiations.”
Kami greeted them with a wave. “Good to finally meet you guys. Husker here has told me a lot about you.”
“I wish I could say the same,” Taylor admitted. “Sadly, our favorite XO stays pretty tight-lipped about his nomad days between his stints with the Eagles.”
“Does he now?” The Sirra’Kan raised an eyebrow. “Because I can happily fill in some of those gaps after the meeting if you’ve got some extra time.”
“Easy,” Billy warned.
Taylor was quickly getting the impression that he liked this woman. “Maybe another time. Thanks for agreein’ to meet with us, Ms. K’Nami. We really appreciate it.”
“It’s no problem. And please, call me Kami.” She looked around. “Just out of curiosity, Husker, where’s that hard-nosed little Australian spitfire I’ve come to know as your shadow? Don’t tell me she skipped out on making the trip from Earth.” The feline flashed a grin. “Or, you know. Tell me she did, and we’ll really make this a party.”
“I take it you’re referring to Captain Dinah Smith,” Billy said, wearing the look of a man who’d waited all day to get his next words off his chest. “She’s holding down the fort in orbit aboard the Osyrys. And legally speaking, it’s actually Major Dawson now. Smitty and I were married three weeks ago.”
Kami’s grin faltered. “Really?”
“Yeah, really,” Billy said quietly.
The duo shared a momentary look before the Sirra’Kan broke the silence. “Well then. I guess there’s only one thing left to say.”
Billy waited.
“May the days ahead for you and your bride be filled with laughter, prosperity, joy, and above all—love in its purist form. But…” Kami swiped a pair of whiskeys from a nearby server bot and handed one to her comrade, “in the event that it’s not, you can always take heart in knowing old friends and old vices are never far away.”
The Eagles’ XO met their host’s gaze with a warm smile. “Thanks, Kam. That means a lot coming from you.”
“Anytime, Billy.” Kami clinked her glass to his, then fired back its contents. “Now, are we gonna stand around here drinking all day or get down to business?”
“A little of both, I’d expect.” Taylor signaled for a fresh round. “Billy says you’ve got a line on a pretty sweet garrison opportunity.”
“That is the rumor.” Kami sighed. “I’ll be straight with you, boys. My clients initially wanted no part of Swamp Eagle Security for this gig. We’re talking nada. Not after last year’s screw-up with the Ytara clan.”
“We’ve been over this,” Billy said. “Even the Mercenary Guild gave us a pass for that. If your clients truly wanna know what the Eagles are about on a job, let them speak with any of the dozen or more species we’ve dealt with since returning from Rukoria.”
Kami raised her hands. “Chill out, Husker. I got it. And for the record, so do my clients after the chat I had with them about your recent Emza exploits.”
“So the Vuhov clan is prepared to consider our bid, then?” Taylor said.
“Yours and, at last count, 17 others.” The Sirra’Kan lowered her eyes. “Before this goes any further, guys, you need to know something.”
“What’s that?” Jack asked.
“Some things have changed since Husker and I last spoke a month ago,” Kami said.
Taylor wrinkled his nose as the server bot returned with their drinks. “Changed how?”
“The garrison deal isn’t worth 30 million credits anymore,” Kami said. “It’s worth 15.”
“What?” Billy bolted upright.
“Sorry, Husker, I truly am,” Kami said. “The Vuhov thought it over and ultimately decided the best way to address their incursion problem moving forward is to meet the threat head-on. That means contracting with two merc outfits instead of one.”
The Farts exchanged grumbles across the table.
“Who’d you net for the first contract?” Stan asked.
“I have a Goka unit that’s willing to bring three full companies for the price of two,” Kami said. “Otherwise, we’d likely be dickering over 10 million credits right now instead of 15.”
Billy rubbed his forehead. “The Goka can’t always be trusted, Kami. Hell, you were a merc. You know that as well as anybody.”
“You let me worry about the Goka.” Kami kept her focus on Taylor. “So, what do ya sa
y, Chief? Is Swamp Eagle Security still interested?”
Try as he might, Taylor couldn’t hide his annoyance at being caught in what felt an awful lot like a bait and switch situation. Still, he trusted in Kami’s history with his XO. Moreover, Billy was her point of contact for this job, and he’d spent most of the last month in hyperspace, traveling between star systems. That’d left him pretty much unreachable.
“We’re still interested. But.” Taylor raised a finger. “Not for a cent less than 20 million credits. I also want a 5 million bonus for each attack we have to repel usin’ force of arms.”
“The Vuhov clan will never go for that.” Kami frowned.
“Then it looks like you’ve got some interviews to conduct.” Taylor rose from his seat. “It was real nice meetin’ ya, Ms. K’Nami. Fellas, we’re outta here.”
“Wait,” Kami said. “I might can get the Vuhov to sign off on 17 million with a 4 million credit combat bonus, up to three occurrences.”
Taylor exhaled and kept his voice low. “I empathize with your position, I really do. Now I need you to empathize with mine. I came all the way out here expectin’ to throw my hat in the ring for a garrison contract valued at 30 million credits. Now that figure’s been cut in half. I ain’t about that.” He shifted his stance. “What would your clients say to 19 million with a bonus cap of five occurrences?”
“I think they’d like 16 and three a lot better,” Kami said.
“Yeah, well.” Taylor huffed. “My Buma nav officer would like to be the height of a Lumar, but that ain’t happenin’, either. What about eighteen-five and a four cap?”
“Seventeen-five and four.”
“Eighteen-two and four,” Taylor said.
“Eighteen and three.”
Taylor shook his head. “Sorry, ma’am, but I’m standin’ firm at eighteen-two with four engagement bonuses. Under those terms, the first combat is on us, and your clients get two full companies of trustworthy troops who ain’t gonna to turn around and eat them if things go south in the field.”
The Street Survivors (The Guild Wars Book 12) Page 3
