Blood Money: A Galactic Empire Space Opera Series (Mercenary Warfare Book 2)

by Zen DiPietro

  Had she left to give him privacy or because she had tasks to attend to? He’d thought he had her pegged, but now he questioned everything.

  It was exhausting.

  He dressed in the cramped necessary, which was no treat but a better option than having her return to find him naked. He couldn’t discount that she might do that intentionally, either.

  He felt a little bad to have a bunk, narrow as it was, as well as quarters assigned to him, even though he had to share them. He’d suggested to Anja, one of the Atalans who had taken a leadership role for the group, that perhaps some of her people might prefer to stay in quarters. She had politely declined, saying they were accustomed to sleeping together en masse, and would feel isolated if closed into quarters by themselves.

  They’d at least created more space in the cargo hold so the entire group could be together again, rather than spread across the ship. Cargo now occupied some unusual spaces, but for now, the solution worked.

  The only place for six people to reasonably meet was now the mess hall, provided none of their guests were using it. As Cabot had breakfast, the other five filtered in. First Doony and Roma, who didn’t seem entirely comfortable in each other’s presence, then Nagali, Omar, and Peregrine arrived in quick succession.

  Cabot left the briefing of the newcomers to Peregrine. She had the most experience in such things, and the kind of intimidation that would keep Romo in line, should he decide he wasn’t as enamored of Nagali as she thought he was.

  “So that’s where we are,” Peregrine announced in summation. “We need to locate my associate Arcy, as well as get to the bottom of this slaving ring. Thoughts?” She looked from Doony to Romo.

  Doony’s lined face had gone from serious to grim. “I hadn’t heard about a slaving ring so close to PAC space. I have some contacts below, people I trade with when I come out this way. Best way to get info is to go to the surface and talk in person. Pretend I know about what’s going on and am looking to move some flesh, if the price is right.” His lip curled. “Not that I’m looking forward to associating with such people.”

  Peregrine looked to Cabot.

  “Doony’s old enough and grizzled enough to be taken seriously. I’m not dirty enough, but this guy can get it done.” Cabot had no doubts about his skills, but one of his rules of sales was that you always sent the right person to do the job.

  “I’m dirty enough,” Nagali announced. “I’m known for leaving my own husband to die, along with a few other things we need not talk about. And I can sell it.”

  Peregrine’s frown settled more deeply into her face, but she continued to look to Cabot for his assessment.

  “She’s right,” he said. “She’s spent the last decade cultivating a cutthroat reputation. And she can convince just about anyone of just about anything.” Including himself.

  Omar looked like he wanted to protest, but Nagali threw him a dark look. He held his tongue, but his right eye narrowed, which meant he was legitimately upset.

  “Then I should go,” Romo argued. “I can have your back.”

  “No,” Nagali barked, before anyone else could speak. “You’re too green. You don’t have the cred for a meeting like this. Only Doony and I can pull this off. It will be up to the rest of you to keep track of us and get surveillance info.”

  “That’s my specialty,” Peregrine said. “I can give you remote trackers they won’t be able to detect, and keep tabs on you at all times.” Her eyes flicked from Omar to Cabot to Romo. “I’ll take Cabot and Romo to the surface with me. Omar, you’ll remain here and maintain the ship.”

  Omar’s right eye narrowed further and he started to speak, but Peregrine held up a hand and cut him off. “I’m going to need to use this ship as an interlink site, which means it’s critical you keep that link functional. It’s not a bullshit job. This is where I need you.”

  Omar’s lips tightened, but he nodded.

  “Good.” Peregrine stood from the mess hall table. “The next orbital elevator will descend in an hour. Cabot, Romo, and I will be on it. Another will descend twenty minutes later. Doony and Nagali, you’ll be on that one. In the meantime, Doony, now might be a good time for you and Nagali to work out your story. And I’ll get together the tracking gear. Questions?”

  They all shook their heads.

  “Dismissed!” Peregrine slapped the table lightly before about-facing to the door.

  Romo looked slightly dazed, while Doony wore an expression of admiration.

  “She’s a cracker, that one,” Doony announced.

  Cabot wondered what a cracker meant to Doony. He clearly meant it as a good thing, but Cabot wasn’t familiar with the term.

  EXACTLY ONE HALF-HOUR LATER, the orbital elevator carrying Cabot, Peregrine, and Romo began its descent.

  Before leaving the ship, Peregrine had outfitted Nagali and Doony with subdermal tracking devices.

  Another glimpse into her regular job. Cabot had never heard of such technology, and he kept himself more in the know than most.

  As they rode down, he had a momentary twinge thinking about Nagali and Doony together, infiltrating slavers. Not because she might be in danger, though. Of course not. No, his concern must be that she might corrupt his relationship with his long-time associate. If something happened to Doony, he’d miss out on a lot of future opportunities. That would be a shame.

  He sneaked a look at Peregrine in his peripheral vision. She’d performed a minor makeover on herself before handling the surveillance details. She must have done it quickly, too, given how long it had taken her to work the tech.

  She now had medium-length, dark-brown hair, and her skin was darker. Her facial features were more rugged, too. She looked like a typical, unremarkable Rescan woman.

  He wondered if her teammates were versed in this presto-change-o skill or if it was particular to Peregrine.

  As the elevator descended, he had time to reflect. He should probably be worried. Nervous, perhaps. He wasn’t, though. His experience and his confidence in Peregrine somehow kept him from feeling like they were doing something utterly ridiculous. The fact that he had reached a point in life where he now saw the tail end of it approaching didn’t hurt, either. His days were finite. If they ended sooner than expected, it wasn’t the worst thing if he spent those days on something bigger than himself.

  Prelin’s ass. Peregrine, Fallon, and their like were turning him into a hero, weren’t they? Those were definitely the sentiments of some starry-eyed hero type. How inconvenient.

  He made a mental note to engage in some underhanded tactics as soon as all this was taken care of. Something that would allow him to look at himself in the mirror.

  He felt bad for Omar, though. Stuck on the ship, holding down the fort, unable to do anything but wait.

  At least Cabot would be seeing some of the action, though only in an auxiliary way.

  Assuming they succeeded, Nagali would have a fantastic new story to tell. One that would get her some definite cred in the trading world, regardless of which way she spun it—either as the cheater who cheated the cheats or the hero to the people. Either way, she’d come out a winner.

  She always did. As long as she survived.

  The elevator reached the bottom, and the doors opened. As he followed Peregrine out, he looked her over, wondering how many weapons she had concealed on her person. Ostensibly, this was a law-abiding planet and not the kind of place a person showed up visibly packing. Not if they wanted to move about freely, without attracting attention. Or worse, alerting the local authorities.

  As far as travel stations went, Terceron had a fairly small one at the base of their orbital elevator. Cabot reached the doors and got his first look at the planet.

  Rural was the first word that came to mind. The air was sweet and natural. The town wasn’t a bustling metropolis of high-rise buildings, but a sprawling mix of buildings of various sizes and materials. Streets didn’t run at right angles, but seemed to curve haphazardly. Organically, some m
ight say.

  Cabot wasn’t a city snob, as some people called those who disliked smaller places. Dragonfire Station was like a small city, and he appreciated how such places developed their own culture and identity. People tended to look out for one another, too. Maybe he could use that fact to his advantage here, somehow. If the opportunity arose.

  “This way,” Romo said, leading them to the right. “Mabel’s Café is a few blocks down.”

  Peregrine had asked for a location they could sit, loiter, and not look out of place. Romo had said that Mabel’s Café would be perfect.

  A thirtyish woman of uncertain ancestry greeted them warmly as they entered. A soft, automated hum cut off when the door closed again.

  “Hi there! Sit anywhere and I’ll be right with you,” the woman said. She wore a short dress with a frilly shirt.

  Peregrine selected a table with four seats near the back and sat facing the door. Cabot sat next to her which left Romo no choice but to sit across from them.

  True to her word, the woman arrived carrying menuboards. “Thanks for coming in, what brings you three to town?”

  Peregrine’s eyes narrowed suspiciously, but Cabot sensed only wholesome goodwill.

  He smiled at the café worker. “Unfortunately, a client wanted to meet at Cerberon to transfer some goods. We stayed as long as we had to, then made for your planet, where we could clear our lungs with some fresh air.”

  She smiled. “You’d be surprised how often I hear that. I went to Cerberon once, just to say I’d seen it, and that was enough for me. Not my kind of place,” she confided, handing the menuboards to them.

  “What do you recommend?” Cabot asked, scanning the listings.

  “Everything’s good. It’s all made from local ingredients, right here from Newport. No synthetics, either. But people seem to really like the grilled vegetables and the zeslan steaks.”

  “Zeslan?” Peregrine asked.

  “It’s a fungus that only grows on Terceron. Kind of like a mushroom, but meatier and with lots of protein. We grill it, then coat it with a light sauce.”

  “Sounds great. I’ll have that.” Cabot wasn’t hungry, but in this kind of place, all you had to do was order food and you could linger as long as you liked.

  “Me too,” Peregrine said, handing back her menuboard.

  “Make it three.” Romo seemed glad to have the decision made for him, and Cabot had some doubts about his character. He never trusted someone who shied away from making their own decisions.

  Just after their food arrived, looking and smelling pleasantly edible, Peregrine said in a low voice, “They’ve reached the surface.”

  They spoke no more about it, but while they ate, Peregrine glanced frequently at her wrist, where she wore a subtle receiving device. Cabot hoped he got the chance to examine it more closely later, because he’d never seen anything like it.

  On the other hand, that piece of tech might be of the I could show it to you but then I’d have to kill you variety, so maybe it was better he didn’t get the chance to examine it.

  Cabot enjoyed the food, and judging by the empty plates of his companions, they did, too. Once the local woman cleared the dishes, she poured him a cup of tea and a cup of coffee for Peregrine. Romo stuck with water.

  Loitering wasn’t as easy as he’d thought it would be. Rather than sit suspiciously quiet, they manufactured small talk, but although Cabot excelled at small talk, doing so simply for show felt conspicuous.

  “They’re on the move,” Peregrine muttered at the end of a sentence about how she preferred locally-grown produce to goods shipped in from other planets, even though it meant less variety.

  She said nothing more, so they continued sipping their beverages and talking about the price of tango fruit, the weather on Sarkan, and how Romo was hoping to take a vacation on Dineb soon.

  Tedious.

  Finally, after another glance at her wrist, Peregrine sat up straighter. Cabot recognized the change as an indicator of coming action.

  “Let’s move,” she announced. She’d already transferred funds to pay for the food and drink, so they expressed their thanks and compliments on their way out the door.

  Outside, Cabot waited for Peregrine to tell them more. He found it odd, yet interesting, to rely on someone to tell him what to do.

  “They’re headed east. So we’ll head east.”

  Romo squinted in the sunshine. He didn’t seem accustomed to natural light. “How?”

  The town did not have abundant taxis.

  “That.” Peregrine pointed to a bland, silver ground car. “I have the unlock codes.”

  Romo blinked at her. “How did you—“

  But Peregrine had already started for the car. Cabot gave Romo a nudge to get him going.

  “The fewer questions, the better,” Cabot advised. “Just go with it.”

  Romo seemed dissatisfied with that, but said nothing more as he climbed into the back seat. Cabot took the front passenger seat, and neither of them complained when Peregrine settled in to drive.

  Cabot checked his chronometer at regular intervals, and after an hour of driving east, Peregrine pulled to the side of the road to concentrate on the device on her wrist.

  “They’ve gone underground,” she announced.

  “You mean you can’t track them anymore?” Romo piped up from the back.

  “No. I mean they’ve gone under the ground. Some sort of tunnels. There’s no record of them in public record. Either they’re very old tunnels that have been discovered for modern use, or someone has created them in more recent years. Either way, Nagali and Doony are definitely onto something.”

  “Can you tell anything else?” Cabot asked. He was curious about how much her technology told her. Not that she was likely to reveal everything to him.

  “It’s chilly where they are, so it’s not climate controlled. Unfortunately, I can’t tell how many people are with them.”

  “You think they’re being accompanied?” Cabot could only wonder what such people would be like.

  “Nearly certain. There are few reasons to go underground like this.”

  “To keep Nagali and Doony from being able to find the place again or to avoid being followed,” Cabot noted.

  “Most likely.” Peregrine nodded.

  “Or to kill them without anyone seeing,” Romo added.

  “If it’s that, then we have a very different situation on our hands,” Peregrine said. “But there’s no reason for them to invite someone in just to kill them. Let’s assume that’s not it.”

  “So why are we sitting here?” Romo asked.

  “Because they’ve moved underground and stopped. They may change heading, and I don’t want to have to double back.”

  Fortunately, they were alone on the quiet road and didn’t attract attention. For the moment, anyway.

  “So we just wait?” Romo asked.

  “Yes.” Peregrine answered. “You expected something more exciting?”

  “Well, yeah, actually,” Romo admitted.

  She smirked. “People always think these kinds of things are nothing but weapons fire, foot chases, and fistfights. Truth is, they are ninety-five percent watching and waiting.”

  “And the other five percent?” Cabot asked.

  She raised her eyebrows at him. “That’s the fun part, with all those other things.”

  He suspected that she had a different definition of fun than he did.

  “So what do you do to pass the time?” Cabot was interested to know more about her.

  “Depends on the situation. Something like this, my team would talk, joke around. Discuss possible strategies. On my own, I’d just keep my eyes and ears open and stay alert. That’s it, really.”

  “I imagine having a team makes a big difference in weathering the tedium,” he mused.

  “Having a team makes all the difference.”

  At that point, she fell silent, and additional attempts at conversation elicited only a grunt or a sideway
s look.

  She spoke again forty-five minutes later. “They’re on the move.”

  Romo jerked upright with a noisy breath. Apparently, he’d dozed off.

  He could definitely be checked off the list of candidates for any future surveillance work. Cabot wondered if he would prove useful at any point.

  Peregrine began driving again. At least it was forward motion, and watching the gently sloped landscape, dotted with houses and fields, was a mild diversion from wondering about what was happening below ground. He could distract himself by wondering about the people who lived in this house or what kind of plant filled that field. What kind of trade goods they purchased and what were the hottest markets on this planet.

  After another ninety minutes of driving, Peregrine again stopped.

  “What now?” Romo asked, sounding slightly anxious. “Have they stopped again?”

  “Yes. They’re about a mile beneath the surface, under the center of that field.” She stabbed a finger to the right side of the ground car, where a field of something green, leafy, and knee-high grew. “But they’re ascending. I think they’re going to pop up in that farmhouse over there or possibly that barn.”

  She pointed out the two structures. They looked like any of the other hundreds of buildings they’d passed.

  Cabot supposed that was the point.

  Romo’s voice came from the back. “Let me guess. Now we sit and wait.”

  Peregrine returned to grunting in response.

  Two hours went by. The sun set quickly, plunging them into darkness. The mood changed from uneventful to creepy.

  “Isn’t it dangerous for us to be sitting here?” Romo finally spoke up.

  “Yes. We risk detection. But I haven’t seen any overt signs of electronic or physical surveillance, so thus far, I’ve deemed it a better risk than leaving our two people entirely alone.”

  She almost immediately spoke again. “They’re on the move. Looks like they’re going back the way they came.”

  “So we follow again?” Romo guessed.

  “Not yet.” Peregrine opened the door of the groundcar. “Now that they’re clear, I’m going to do some reconnaissance.” She speared Cabot with a look. “You’re in charge while I’m gone. You see any shit go down, get out of here. Don’t wait for me, and don’t use the voicecom.”