by Zen DiPietro
“You’re part of the team, then,” Arin translated.
“I wouldn’t go that far.” Cabot smiled. “But I’m on your side.”
Arin chuckled. “Good to know. And I mean that. This is a time when a person really needs to know who their friends are.”
“This might be a good time for me to ask if there’s any chance of you looking the other way while I briefly store some flammable materials before a buyer can pick them up.”
Arin pretended to consider it. “How flammable?”
“Highly.”
“No.”
Cabot said, “Did I say highly? I meant only somewhat.”
“Still no.”
They grinned at each other.
“I’m glad we had this talk, Chief Triss. More tea?” Cabot reached toward the pot.
“Thanks, but no. I need to get on with my rounds. They take longer these days.”
“I bet.” Cabot stood to see Arin out. “At least you have Fallon and her team on board to help.”
“Can’t do any better than that,” Arin agreed. “We’re pretty lucky here on Dragonfire, all things considered.”
“Stop by for tea tomorrow and I’ll let you know what I’m hearing on the trader channels.”
Arin bowed at the waist, a moderately deep bow that showed appreciation and respect. Cabot liked that, since PAC etiquette only required a perfunctory bow for a mere shopkeep. He returned the bow.
“Shall I have your gift for Nix delivered to your quarters?”
“That’d be great. Thanks.” Arin ducked out of the shop, his shoulders stronger and straighter as he continued down the concourse.
AS HE CLOSED up his shop at the end of the day, Cabot felt moderately pleased. In addition to his transactions with Doony and Arin that morning, he’d served as the middleman for a large shipment of wheat he would never even lay eyes on, but would nonetheless make a modest profit from. Money for nothing but a few minutes of coordinating suited him just fine.
He’d also acquired a large quantity of orellium that someone wanted to be rid of, fast. He guessed the woman had a serious cash flow problem that needed a quick fix. Cabot had happened to have a colleague by the name of Arlen Stinth who was right in that neighborhood on a trading run.
On good days like this, business was a game to be played, connecting this piece to that one and solving little puzzles along the way. He lived for that stuff.
Fallon’s appearance in his shop right at closing time didn’t surprise him. He had a sense for when there was a certain zing of commerce in the air, and today was definitely one of those days.
“Chief. What a pleasure to see you. Can I help you find something?”
“I hope so. But it isn’t here.” Fallon gestured to the door, indicating a need for privacy.
It wasn’t the first time he’d locked up so they could have a conversation. After securing the door, he gestured to the chair Arin had occupied several hours prior. “Please, have a seat. I’m sure your feet are tired.”
“Less than when I was really the chief, going from deck to deck and doing my rounds. Nowadays, I do a lot of sitting at meetings and debriefings.” Nonetheless, she sat.
“Are you yearning for the old days of hiding in shadows and stabbing people in the face?”
His comment had the intended effect of softening the set of her jaw, though she didn’t quite smile. “Something like that.”
“You are a truly frightening woman, Chief, and I mean that as a compliment.”
“Wouldn’t take it any other way.” Finally, her lips curved upward at the corners.
“So what can I do for you?” he asked. “I’m guessing you’re not here for a gift for Nix’s presentation night.”
“No. I’ve got that covered. How’s the mercenary scene looking? Are you seeing smuggling? Scarcity? People looking for intermediaries to help move PAC supplies to Barony?”
Cabot rubbed his chin. “No overt smuggling, other than those who always do that kind of thing. They’re small potatoes, though, and working inside the PAC, so not what you’re looking for. Scarcity’s becoming an issue, and it’s causing market prices to fluctuate. And of course cargo ships are harder to come by, since all official vessels are so focused on making sure each planet has sufficient food and medical supplies.”
“I imagine traders with cargo haulers, like Arlen, are doing well right now,” Fallon mused.
“More demand than she can supply, which means she can charge more for transport services. But everyone in the business knows how quickly the bottom can go out of the market, and how fast we might find ourselves with nothing to transport. Dangerous times.”
“They are. Which is why I wanted to ask how you’d feel about helping me again.”
Ah, there it was. Cabot always knew when a sales pitch was coming on. He could feel it in his bones. He was certain Fallon would object to the idea of diplomacy and interplanetary relations being anything like sales, but to him, it all boiled down to the same thing. People who needed something, and wanted to secure it for the lowest possible price.
“Another treaty?” he asked.
“No, this is about your business, not mine. There are places someone with your experience and connections can go that even the cleverest undercover officer can’t. But the question is, are you willing to use your connections on the PAC’s behalf?”
He didn’t have to think about it. “I made that decision already when I agreed to help you with the Briv situation. I already burned any nonpartisan cred I had. So fine, everyone knows I’m firmly allied with the PAC. Might as well build on that, if it’s mutually beneficial.”
“Are you willing to do some investigating for me?”
“You mean, use my partnerships, relationships with colleagues, and personal reputation to dig up dirt for you?”
She didn’t flinch away from his gaze. “Yes.”
“Count me in, Chief.”
“You can call me Fallon.”
“You’ve said that before,” he pointed out pleasantly.
She shook her head with a rueful smile. “Fine. I’d suggest you talk to friends in low places. People you can trust. You’re going to need someone to have your back. Preferably people with their own connections.”
“As it happens, I do have a friend or two with ties to some rather…shall we say, off-the-books activities?”
“I couldn’t be less surprised.”
He liked how Fallon could convey amusement with just her eyes. She had a very expressive face, to someone like him who knew what to look for.
She stood. “That’s all for now. I need to work out some details. I’ll get back to you tomorrow when I know more.”
“Good. I’d hate to miss out on Nix’s presentation. I hear you’ve been helping her with it.”
“I think you’ll be impressed. But that’s all I’m going to say. I’ll see you tonight.”
He bowed, and she did the same in return. She always gave him the bow of an equal, which he secretly liked very much.
After she’d left and the door was once again locked, he went to the voicecom on the counter.
He took a moment to gather himself before initiating the call. He knew exactly who he needed.
He only hoped the price wouldn’t be too high.
2
“I told you that you wouldn’t be able to stay away.” Nagali’s dark eyes glinted at him. Behind her, Omar peered into the voicecom at Cabot.
“Actually, you didn’t say that,” Cabot disagreed.
“I didn’t? Whatever. I thought it.” She leaned forward and her long, black ponytail swung over her shoulder. “And I was right.”
He mentally counted to five before speaking again. “So you were, then,” he agreed blandly. “How did you enjoy Briv?”
Omar spoke up. “Hard to say. It was strange. There’s a lot of change going on there.”
“How so?” Unlike other planets, Briv was very insular, keeping a lot of its current events private.
“Some people want to ditch all the gestures and formal stuff, and others are clinging to the traditions.” Omar shrugged. “Same shit, different planet.”
Nagali rolled her eyes and shoved him away from her shoulder. “You are so pedestrian. It was exciting. The people on Briv…well, it’s like they woke up from a long sleep. They want to change the old ways, and they’re making it happen. They’re happy. It was invigorating.”
Interesting. Cabot wondered what Brak thought of the developments. He hadn’t seen the Briveen doctor much since the events on her homeworld, because she and the crew of the hospi-ship Onari had left Dragonfire to dispense medical treatment.
“It sounds exciting,” Cabot agreed. “Why did you leave?”
Nagali lifted her chin, giving her a haughty look. It suited her. “Business was good, but I was ready for a change of pace. I bore easily.”
Omar made a face behind his sister’s back. Cabot ignored him.
“I remember.” He wasn’t entirely successful at keeping the dry tone out of his voice.
She smiled at him as though he’d said something complimentary. “Yeah, you do.” Her deep, whiskey-rough voice went through him like a knife.
Briefly, he considered just saying, Nice talking to you, and cutting off the call. But no. He had a job to do, and he’d do it to the best of his ability. Letting his ex-wife get the best of him was not an option.
That didn’t mean he couldn’t needle her a little, though. “Dauntless Station doesn’t seem like a change of pace. That’s just your typical routine.”
“A brief stop. I was thinking we’d head to Bindi Colony. Or Dineb. I’m not sure. I have many exciting opportunities.” She tilted her head, like a queen considering what tiara she’d wear that day.
He mentally steeled himself, because it was time to get to the point. “If you’re interested, I might have something coming up.”
Omar leaned forward to speak but Nagali swatted him away.
“Is it like the last job?” she asked. “I don’t want to carry anyone’s luggage again.” She pursed her lips into a playful pout.
Cabot felt a twitch forming around his right eye, but smoothly answered, “No, nothing like that. I’m waiting on details, but this is something more up your alley. Perfect for you, I’m thinking.”
“How lovely!” she purred. “It’s not often I get to see perfection.” Her expression hardened. “I hope the pay’s perfect, too.”
“Like I said, I’m waiting on details.”
She straightened. “Well when you have them, call us back.”
The screen went dark.
In privacy, he indulged in a little self-pity. He groaned and leaned forward, letting his forehead rest on the countertop. With effort, he resisted the urge to bang his head multiple times on the shiny surface.
AS PER THE standard protocol for large gatherings, Dragonfire’s gym had been converted for the school’s end-of-year presentations. Space stations had to make the most of what they had, and Dragonfire’s design had involved making the gym a multipurpose room, when needed. The sparring ring and exercise machines had been removed, and the climbing wall was hidden behind a curtain. The only evidence of the gym’s real purpose were the three die-hard runners circling the track above. The height ensured they wouldn’t distract from the evening’s main event.
Cabot sat politely through a dramatic monologue, a robotics demonstration, and a particularly sleep-inducing lecture on solar dynamics.
Then Nix stepped up. She took measured steps up to the podium, wearing a long-sleeved black top and loose pants that Cabot identified as some sort of martial arts outfit. He sat up, shaking off his ennui. Whatever Nix had prepared, he was sure it would be better than the other presentations.
“Hello, and thank you all for coming tonight. I’m Nixabrin Maringo and I’ll be demonstrating mixed martial arts. First, I’ll show you a kata.”
A murmur of interest rippled through the crowd, then almost immediately quieted when Nix stepped to the center of the staged area and placed her palms together in front of her. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, then began moving.
She looked like a dancer, her long arms and legs moving in a way that was both fluid and sharp. It wasn’t meant to be beautiful, but it was. Nix traveled in straight trajectories, aligning the energy of her body in a linear fashion. Her body launched her hands and fists like bullets.
She hadn’t been studying long, but she was good. So good the room was silent and transfixed. She didn’t look like the fourteen-year-old they knew. She looked wiser, calmer, and more centered.
At the end of the kata, she gave a small bow and returned to the podium. “Fallon will now assist me with a one-on-one combat demonstration.”
Again, a small murmur went through the crowd. It was no secret that Fallon had become the girl’s mentor, but the idea of their former chief of security giving a public demonstration piqued interest even more.
Fallon stepped out from behind a dark curtain Cabot hadn’t noticed, wearing an outfit like Nix’s. She strode several paces away from her student, exchanged a tiny bow with her, then shifted into a fighting posture, with her knees bent and hands up, but not fisted.
With a shout, Nix stepped forward, throwing a punch, which Fallon blocked with her open palm. She blocked another hit and a kick, then adjusted her stance to duck underneath a punch. She popped up in Nix’s space, shoving her back at the shoulders. Instead of retreating, Nix launched a combination of punches, surprisingly fast and accurate, but Fallon blocked or turned each one aside.
Then they switched roles. Fallon’s hands closed into fists and she punched and kicked at Nix. Cabot had seen Fallon in a real life-and-death fight, and though this was nothing like that, he could see that she wasn’t just humoring Nix.
He was impressed Nix managed to evade all but one hit, when Fallon’s underpowered jab grazed Nix’s shoulder. The teenager absorbed the blow and continued blocking.
Then it was over. They bowed and the audience erupted in applause and shouts of appreciation. The teachers efficiently wrapped up the demonstrations and led the guests to nearby tables covered with light refreshments.
Across the room, Nix and Fallon were talking to Nix’s parents.
“Hi, Mr. Layne.” A familiar voice behind him made him turn.
“Oh, hello Robert. No presentation for you?”
Nix’s best friend shook his head. “Nah. I didn’t do an internship this year. Probably next year. I don’t know what I want to do yet.” He ducked his head.
“Nothing wrong with that. You’re awfully young to have it all figured out. I know some people my own age who don’t really know what they want to do in life.”
Robert laughed. “Well I hope it doesn’t take me that long.”
“I’m sure it won’t.”
Robert’s mom called to him.
“Gotta go,” the young man said. “Nix will be glad you came.”
“I wouldn’t miss it,” Cabot said sincerely.
Nix was popular that evening. Her demonstration had been the hands-down favorite, and most people wanted to congratulate her. Cabot found an out-of-the way nook to smile politely and pretend to sip from a glass of fizzy punch. He waited for his moment. When it came, he stepped in to face Nix, timing it perfectly as someone else moved away.
It was all well and good to wait one’s turn, but sometimes, you have to create your own opportunity. This, too, was one of the rules of sales he lived by.
“Very impressive,” he said to Nix, adding a smile for her parents, who seemed both happy and slightly overwhelmed. “I knew you’d be wonderful.”
“Thanks, Mr. Layne.” Nix grinned at him, and he saw the child rather than the young woman. Funny how she toggled between the two. Maybe adolescents were always like that. He had little experience with people too young to sign binding contracts.
“I didn’t realize you’d begun combat training.”
“I was keeping it a secret, so I could surpr
ise everyone.” Nix peeked at her parents, who certainly seemed that way.
“Well you succeeded. I’m sure you’re both very proud.” He gave her parents the tiniest bow, which they returned.
“Yes, very proud,” her father said. “I’m not sure how two engineers managed to raise a security officer, but it looks like that’s what we’ve done.”
“They say the great ones come from unlikely places.” Cabot lifted his cup of punch to them. “It looks like you’ve raised a great one.”
What parent didn’t like to hear such praise of their child? Nix’s mother leaned into her husband, and Cabot knew they had accepted their daughter’s ambitions. Cabot turned to Nix and gave her a surreptitious wink. It hadn’t been long since she’d sought his counsel on telling them about her intended career path.
“I won’t keep you. Everyone wants to give you their compliments. But I have a small gift. You can open it later.” He handed her the bag he’d been carrying, which held the glittery hair clip she’d admired the month before.
Nix’s eyes sparkled. “Thank you!” Instead of bowing, she gave him a brief but enthusiastic hug. Surprised but pleased, he patted her back.
“It’s nothing.” He stepped aside and immediately someone took his place, talking excitedly to Nix.
Cabot slipped away from the gathering. As he strode down the corridor, he thought about Nix’s future. If she continued with her internship and did well in school, she’d be eligible for early entry into the PAC academy in two years. She’d be a few months shy of seventeen years old by then. What would the PAC look like by that point?
It was good she was learning to fight.
As he rounded a corner toward the lift, Fallon stepped out, forcing him to an abrupt halt.
“Hello, Chief. Funny meeting you here.” Had she been waiting for him, like a spider waiting for a fly?
“We need to talk.”
She wasn’t much for chit chat. Generally, he liked that she knew how to skip all the preliminaries and go straight to business. Today, though, he wasn’t sure how he’d like what she was about to tell him.
