Rebel Stars 1: Outlaw (10 page)

~

They spent the next hour settling into their treehouse—their level of it, anyway; the trees were massive enough to support as many as ten "floors," with screens of leaves between each to provide some measure of privacy—which involved a fair measure of squabbling, as there were nine of them and only six bedrooms. Webber had zero interest in the arguments and politics and was happy to discover Jons had accepted a roommate (him) in exchange for second choice of rooms. He took one looking inward over the park with clear views through the branches.

Webber was in the act of dismantling his bags when Gomes popped in the door. "Webber. Downstairs. On the double."

"What's up?"

"I said get your ass downstairs." She withdrew.

Jons unrolled a shirt with a snap. "Looks like I made the right choice of roomies. If she murders you for forcing her hand during the attack, I'll have this joint to myself."

"I hate you." Webber grabbed the Settler of Scores from his drawer, pocketed it, found his shoes, and headed out.

At the base of the tree, Gomes waited alone. Webber put his hand in his pocket.

She rolled her eyes. "Come on with that. You think I'm mad at you?"

"Aren't you?"

"Initially? I wanted to tear your head off and jam it in a torpedo tube. After sleeping on it, however, I decided that things have turned out for the best."

He withdrew his hand from his pocket. "Because there was no way you could keep hiding repeated acts of piracy from us."

Gomes had a good laugh. "Thought I was going to have to start drugging you lot. Or swap you out for a crew of lesser scruples. Never thought you'd all go for it." She gestured down the path. "Let's walk."

He fell in beside her, glancing up at the ethereal purple splotches on the trees. "Where are we off to next? A volcano temple? A castle in the clouds?"

"To fence the goods."

He sputtered with laughter. "And you want me there? Your dauntless janitor?"

"Jons seemed like the logical option." She smiled with half her mouth. "But MacAdams insisted we take you."

This pleased him more than he would have liked to admit. They descended to the tube, popping out several stops later. Aboveground, amidst a tangle of buildings that all climbed to what was clearly the maximum allowed height, MacAdams and Taz waited on the corner.

Gomes fell in beside them. "All set?"

MacAdams nodded. "Cargo's moved and we're on sched. Site's right around the corner."

Webber scowled. "Before we strike a deal to offload our small fortune in booty, you think you ought to clue me in as to what we're doing?"

"It's a standard meet," Gomes said. "Four-and-four. I do the talking. You three stand around and look mean. I expect his side will be doing the same."

"What kind of arms are we bringing? Stunners? Toothies? Poison fingernails?"

"Nada."

"And just so we're clear, 'nada'
isn't
pirate lingo for 'the biggest guns we can stick up our asses'?"

"Nada is nothing is what we were born with."

"Check me if I'm being stupid," Webber said. "But these guys are professional criminals? Robbers, looters, strong chance they're murderers?"

"If they're any good," Taz said.

"And we're supposed to believe
they
won't be armed?"

MacAdams chuckled. "Tell me this isn't your first time in a Nude Room."

"Nude Room?" Webber glanced between them for signs of a joke. "Man, last week I was swabbing the decks. Everything we're doing is my first time."

Gomes gave him a look. "Do you think we're the first people in the history of crooks who wished they could know if they could trust their business partners? This is the Locker. They solved the trust conundrum a hundred years ago."

A block later, she stopped in front of a clean white building whose first eight floors were blank cement. They entered a white reception room. Webber sat while Gomes transferred her paperwork from her device to the receptionist's.

After processing it, the young man behind the desk smiled. "Right through that door, Ms. Gomes."

A door slid open in the wall. She thanked him. Webber and the others followed her into a short hallway not unlike an airlock. The other side opened into another white room with benches and cubbies. Before the door was done closing, the other three had seated themselves and begun to strip.

Such things weren't wholly out of place on a spaceship, but just in case they were messing with him, he waited until Gomes had peeled her top off before he started undressing. As the others finished, they went to a cubby and deposited their clothes inside. The cubbies sealed with a hiss. A second hiss announced their contents had been sucked away deeper inside the building. Naked, Gomes glanced at him, eyes trailing down his body, then gestured to the door in the far wall.

The next few minutes of his life involved navigating a labyrinth of scans. Once the machines decided he was completely unarmed of weapons and chemicals, and that his handful of mods and implants weren't housing anything aggressive, he was allowed into a room resembling the one they'd stripped down in. Here, the cubbies held white jumpsuits and slippers. The team dressed.

They exited into another reception area and were greeted by a smiling employee. "Are you ready, Ms. Gomes? Or do you need another minute to discuss matters with your people?"

"Let's go," Gomes said. "As I was just reminded, I'm not getting any younger."

The woman chuckled and pointed them down the hallway. "It will be the door on your left."

Gomes padded down the hall, stopped at the door, gave them a final look, and entered.

Inside, a man stood from a table. Three more men were behind him, backs to the wall. All were dressed in the same uniform white.

"Glad to finally meet you in person, Captain Gomes," the man at the table said. Webber couldn't place his accent. He smiled, eyes crinkling. "Perhaps one day such measures won't be necessary."

"I look forward to that, Captain Ikita." Gomes swung out a chair. "I suppose it all depends on how things go today, doesn't it?"

He smiled tightly. "I am not in the habit of attending a Cleaner in order to
not
make a deal."

"One-point-two, then."

"Was that our agreement?"

"On delivery of goods matching Nevedia's manifest." She scooted forward. "We've got the goods on site. The Cleaners have already inspected them to confirm."

"So I was told." Ikita tapped the tips of his thumbs together. "Since reaching our agreement, however, my buyer on Jupiter has decided that perhaps these meds are not worth as much as he first proposed."

"That sounds like your problem."

"It is a problem for us both. If my profit on the items is so minimal, it is hardly worth the bother to purchase them from you. You see?"

"Why don't we quit with the bread and get to the butter?"

He narrowed one eye. "An even million."

Gomes let out a long sigh, stood, and turned to the others. "Let's go."

Ikita rose halfway from his chair. "Captain, walking out is no way to reach a deal."

She snorted. "Neither is trying to job me down to a mil."

"And how much of that is raw profit? Half? I have run ships like yours, Captain Gomes, and I know the costs. Your expenses are the lowest in the chain."

"Mine aren't as low as you think. I had to take on unanticipated crew."

He lowered himself to his seat. "Crew is a drop in the bucket."

"Not this crew. They each pull a percentage."

"A
percentage
?" Ikita spread his arms, planted his palms on the table, and leaned forward. "Why would you pay them a percentage?"

"Does that contravene some unwritten Law of the Inky Void?"

"The only law against it is common sense. Why pay points when you can walk into any bar on this rock, announce you're paying 3K for a cruise, and walk out with a full team?"

"Because I don't want crewmen worth 3K." She stared into his eyes. "I want people worth a percentage."

He leaned back, tucking down the corners of his mouth. "As they say, your business, your party. Then again, offering a percentage was your decision. I do not see why that should compel me to pay more than I am comfortable. Otherwise, I am squeezed on both ends, you see?"

"Oh, quit whining," Webber blurted.

Every eye in the room turned his way. Ikita's eyebrows drew together. He chuckled, confused. "I am sorry, but did you say
whining
? In the manner of a dog?"

"No." His face burned. "Could be a little kid."

From the back wall, the three men in white jumpsuits pushed forward, moving to sweep around the table. MacAdams and Taz stepped to either side of Webber. MacAdams looked amused; Taz looked pissed. Gomes stood up fast enough that her chair squeaked.

Ikita held up a hand. His jaw was tight, but his anger had receded from his eyes—for the moment.

He turned on Webber. "For a man like you to say such a thing to a man like me, there must be a great truth shouting from your heart. Insisting you speak no matter how great the risk. Am I correct?"

"I sure hope so," Webber said.

The man laughed. "Then speak."

"It's just like you said: a matter of risk. In this equation, we're the only ones absorbing any of it. If someone gets hurt in the attack, it's us. Afterward, if Nevedia comes after someone, it's us. We're on the hook coming and going. But you? All
you
have to do is load some shit on a ship and fly it off to meet your buyer."

"You make it sound very simple."

"I'm sure there's a world of shit I'm not privy to," Webber said. "No pun intended. But I'm also sure those meds are worth cash money. Otherwise, we wouldn't have had to put our lives out there to get them."

"You are correct," Ikita said. "There
is
a world of shit of which you know nothing. Not only that, but you are disrespectful."

"It'll probably get me killed some day. I can only hope it isn't right now."

Cracks manifested in the man's stony expression. "It helps that you have raised a fair point. Doubly so because, in doing so, you expose yourself to yet more risk. Such an act demands respect."

Webber's heart began to slow. "When you're born with nothing, eating risk is the only way to get somewhere in life, right?"

Ikita inclined his head, sat, and shifted his gaze to Gomes. "If I have not misidentified the captain here, where do you stand, madame?"

"Though my bosun is shipping for a whipping, I believe he has a point." Gomes folded her arms on the table. "And I am sure that someone will be willing to pay you full price for those meds. If they won't, people start dying. It's Jupiter."

Ikita's mouth showed signs of a smirk. "Why do I get the impression I am about to be told to fuck myself?"

"Because you're canny. A fellow worth knowing. Or I wouldn't be here." Gomes lifted her brows. "And that is why, despite feeling insulted that you're trying to dicker me down on a price we'd already agreed to, I will accept 1.15."

He tapped his lower lip. "Perhaps you are worth knowing, too. I accept." He glanced at Webber. "Your first drink tonight, make it a toast to me, yes?"

Webber saluted. "No doubt."

~

Outside, back in his own clothes and shoes, he waited with MacAdams and Taz while Gomes made calls to finalize the transfer of the meds. Taz produced a straight, finger-sized pipe and inhaled green clouds of sweet-smelling vapor. She prowled the front of the plain white building, glaring down any pedestrian who came too near.

Whatever was eating her, MacAdams didn't look too concerned. He stood beside Webber, arms folded. "Who are you?"

"Mazzy Webber. Maintenance and custodial. What do you mean?"

"I know. Webber, the simple janitor. Who is suddenly unionizing his pirate crew and then busting the balls of one of the nastiest gangsters on the Locker."

Webber craned his head toward the building. "Who, Ikita? He looked like somebody's tailor."

"A tailor who's got more bodies under him than the Tri-Bay Bridge."

"If he's so big and bad, what's he doing negotiating with nobodies like us?"

MacAdams shrugged the hillocks that were his shoulders. "Maybe he sees an opportunity to add Gomes to his roster. Maybe he's tight on cash and needs a quick play. All I know is he was there in that room with us."

Webber considered this. "Gomes didn't seem too concerned about him being apt to take me down."

"Maybe she just doesn't care about you." He chuckled, frowning. "Or maybe she wanted to see how well you handled yourself. And that's what I'm asking: where'd you come from?"

"Like I said, the supply closet. Everyone has to start somewhere."

"Whatever you say."

"Hey, as long as we're clearing up mysteries, why were you trying to pulverize that little guy on Beagle?"

"Oh, the night we first met?" MacAdams laughed. "Wasn't nothing. The runt cheated us at cards."

"In that case, I'm sorry I helped him out."

"Water under the bridge. Listen, tonight we're meeting at the Hook and Claw. Hashing out the next hit."

Webber glanced up. "Another one? We just finished up the last one."

"Then what better time to start planning the next?" MacAdams clapped him on the shoulder, knocking him forward. "Eight o'clock. See you there."

He shoved off, gathering Taz in his wake. Aromatic vapor spiraled behind her. Webber tipped back his head to take in the buildings, the artificial sky just three hundred feet above him. He was wheeling and dealing under the roof of one of the freest places in the system. He was about to get more cash dumped in his account than he'd made in the last year. Maybe there was more to life than he'd let himself believe.

"You angling for a promotion?" Gomes walked up on him, stowing her device in her pocket. "Or a keelhauling?"

He shook his head. "MacAdams just clued me in. Had no idea Ikita was such a big knife."

"You're lucky I'm high on a million bucks. Otherwise I'd boot you out on your ass."

"Sometimes ignorance is the best advantage you've got, right? If I'd been smart enough to know better, we walk out of there with less."