Selling Out: A Galactic Empire Space Opera Series (Mercenary Warfare Book 1) Page 16

  “I have been in awe of the natural beauty of your planet, and the beauty you’ve created in your art, architecture and even your culture. You’ve overcome difficulties through strength and hard choices, but instead of a police state, you’ve created a place where people have so much respect for one another that they express it every day, every time they come face to face. It is truly an amazing achievement, like none I’ve ever seen.”

  He let a silence fall over the room, so his point would carry, and so the Briveen could sense his deep sincerity. He meant every word he said. He’d realized the true beauty of what the Briveen had accomplished. They’d faced extinction, been forced to implement rules to ensure survival, yet the planet hadn’t become some dystopian nightmare. Despite the tedium of the rituals, it was the most peaceful place Cabot had ever seen.

  It was time to close the deal.

  “In this short time I’ve been on Briv, I have come to love it. Last night, I communicated with PAC command, explaining what I’ve realized.”

  He glanced around at the rapt faces. He had the complete attention of every person in the room. Good. Now, to reveal his piѐce de resistance.

  He wished he could stretch the moment. There was a special kind of joy in delivering the right thing, at the right time, with just the right flair. Such a thing did not come along often.

  “The PAC has launched a large, intensive study on ensuring healthy Briveen genetics. Right now, the funding and the team are being created. The best reproductive specialists in the PAC will participate, and the research will not stop until a solution has been found to increase fertility rates until they are equal to those on Earth.”

  He let that announcement sit for a moment before continuing, “This initiative will happen regardless of your decision here today. It will happen because it needs to, and it is long overdue. The PAC expresses its sorrow that it has taken this long to attend to this critical need.”

  He bowed deeply and returned to his chair.

  One of the proconsuls—the one named Gerrek—spoke. He had mottled green scales and kind eyes. “We are deeply gratified by what you’ve said. Our biological limitations have shaped us in more ways than one,” he made a small gesture to indicate his arms, “and if the solution to our reproductive difficulties were found, it would open up many opportunities.”

  The other proconsul, Bret, nodded. “It would be a tremendous gift for our people to have greater choice in our personal lives.” She turned her head to look where Brak sat next to Gretch. “And to stop forcing some of our brightest minds to leave.”

  Brak looked shocked, but Bret shifted her attention to Cabot. “It is my understanding that the PAC wishes to provide us with protection from the Barony Coalition’s aggressive incursions on our space. Is that correct, Mr. Layne?”

  “Yes,” he said simply. “It is.”

  Gerrek spoke again. “And in return, we would support the PAC by giving them the full output of our manufacturing industry, to be paid for at market value?”

  “Yes,” Cabot said again.

  The proconsuls exchanged a look.

  Bret looked to each side of her to include the rest of the council, all of whom had remained silent throughout the proceeding. “It is the opinion of my co-proconsul and I that this is not only an agreeable pact, but a necessary one. By strengthening the PAC, we strengthen ourselves. Even more so now, with their pledge for medical research.”

  Gerrek added, “It will not be easy to cancel or postpone our existing contracts, but we believe that not doing so would be harder in the long run. This is not a perfect solution, but it is the best we can manage in trying times. Does the council agree?”

  When there was silence, Bret asked. “Are there any dissenters?”

  More silence.

  Hopefully that was a good sign.

  Gerrek said, “Normally, we would take at least a day to affirm an agreement of such magnitude. But before coming in here, Bret and I were informed that one of our warships have spotted at least three Barony ships on long-range sensors. Time is of the essence. We may already be too late.”

  Bret straightened and lifted her chin. “We, the government of Briv, do solemnly bind ourselves to this pact. We accept responsibility for whatever outcomes it may bring.” She let out a breath. “In light of the circumstances, we will suspend all due ceremony. Expediency in finalizing this pact is more important.”

  Cabot was impressed. Brak was right that this group was more progressive than they seemed. He was worried, too, that the situation had become so serious.

  “Then I suggest we contact Fallon at Dragonfire Station, and inform her immediately.”

  Gerrek spread his hands. “I’ve just sent confirmation, along with my official credentials to verify. Now we can only wait.”

  ***

  TIME PASSED SLOWLY when billions of lives hung in the balance. At least, it did when all Cabot could do was sit and wait.

  He wasn’t used to being in such a helpless position. Or such an inactive one. He’d done everything he could, rocketing across star systems to get here, open negotiations, and present the deal. Now he was locked out of the action, relegated to sitting and waiting.

  A man could fit a lot of thought into a mere few minutes. First, Cabot thought about the luxury he’s enjoyed, having felt relatively safe all his life. Sure, he’d flouted many a PAC law in his lifetime, but he’d known he could always flee to a place where those same laws would be enforced to protect him. He’d had access to as much safety as he’d wanted. That might all be obliterated if this deal didn’t go through. Not that he thought it likely for the PAC to reject the deal it had initiated, but Cabot had nothing to do but think about eventualities.

  He thought about what it would be like to have to evacuate Dragonfire. To lose his home and the community he’d become a part of. Where would he go? Would there be anywhere he could go?

  Finally, he considered how little he mattered. He’d spent his life receding into the shadows, deriving his satisfaction from seeing to the needs and desires of others. If this was the end of the PAC, and the end of him, had his life been a worthwhile one?

  Thirty minutes of introspection later, Fallon’s face appeared on the oversized voicecom panel displayed at the head of the room.

  “Proconsuls. Council.” She bowed her head politely. “ We have reviewed your terms, and I’m pleased to see we have an agreement. It is our honor to work with you in this matter.”

  Bret and Gerrek bowed their heads as well.

  Bret said, “Commander, as we’ve indicated, we have suspended ceremonies in the interest of haste. There are Barony ships headed our way right now, and we do not know their intentions. We doubt they mean anything good for our planet.”

  “We’ve been tracking those ships, Proconsul, since they left their own space. And we’ve dispatched several of our own ships to aid you. The good news is that you will not have to wait weeks for us to arrive. The bad news is that current estimates indicate that, if those Barony ships continue all the way to Briv, they will do so at least twelve hours before our closest ships arrive.”

  The proconsuls exchanged a long look. “Let’s hope their vector carries them past Briv on a routine trade delivery to another system. But I’m glad to know that if they don’t, we’ll have support.”

  “You’ll have everything we can give you,” Fallon promised. “May I suggest we speak every three hours as the situation develops?”

  “We’d welcome that,” Gerrek said. “In the meantime, we will begin preparing for what happens if those ships are locked onto our coordinates.”

  “We’ll be doing the same,” Fallon affirmed.

  “In three hours, then.”

  The screen went black. Cabot’s mood had gone from jubilant to deeply worried.

  “How far out are those Barony ships?” Gretch asked. “Assuming they’re on a direct course and maintain their current speed.”

  “They’re moving fast, relatively speaking. If they’re comi
ng here, we have thirty-six hours to prepare.” Bret looked grim.

  Cabot hadn’t expected this turn of events. Maybe nothing would happen. The Barony vessels might go right by on their way to the Orestes cluster or something. Or they might just be experimenting with how far they could push the PAC.

  Or in thirty-six hours, the Briveen could be facing an invasion.

  Bret and Gerrek stood.

  “We must begin preparing for the worst,” Bret said. “I urge all of you, including Brak, to gather your belongings and immediately go to the orbital elevator. You’ve done your job here, and done it well, but it’s in your best interest to get away from here.”

  Cabot stood, as well. “Is there anything we can do to help?”

  Gerrek shook his head. “We’ll have all available ships in orbit, and our ground forces will be mobilized. We will also recommend that any offworlders or citizens with ships at the docking station depart within the next four hours, burning hard to get out of range. There’s nothing more for you to do here.”

  “Telling people to leave won’t cause a panic?” Nagali asked.

  Cabot flinched, hoping the outspokenness of one of his attendants didn’t offend. But the Briveen did not seem bothered.

  “We are Briveen,” Bret answered. “We will stand with honor.”

  They would, too, Cabot was certain. They were a magnificent people, in ways he was only just discovering. If he had anything to offer them, he’d remain, but he was no fighter. No pilot. He was just a trader, and a sellout of one, at that.

  “May the ancestors watch over you,” he said with a low bow of respect.

  “And you.” Bret said, returning their bow. “Now go, friends. Waste no time.”

  ***

  Cabot had imagined the end of this mission many different ways, but none had involved him hurrying back to the Outlaw to escape what might, or might not, be a full-scale invasion.

  He took no comfort from knowing he would escape. He was glad his companions would be safe. But for once in his life, he wished he were more like Fallon, or one of her team. Someone who fought, and bled, and defended.

  Brak escorted them through a labyrinth of corridors to their quarters. Outside Cabot’s door, she bowed. “Thank you for your work here. But I will not be leaving with you. If the Barony Coalition does come, my people will fight, and they will need doctors. Please get to the docking station as soon as possible, and get away from here.”

  He’d known she would stay. In her own way, she had as much of a hero complex as anyone else he knew. “Take care, Brak.”

  “You too.”

  Then she was gone.

  In his quarters, he threw together his belongings. While Omar finished his own packing, Cabot carried his luggage next door to the women’s quarters. He was sure Arlen would pack quickly, but Nagali might need some prodding.

  Upon entering, he was surprised to see her ready to go, sitting on the couch next to her luggage.

  She looked up at him. “This makes me sad.”

  “Because you were hoping to stay here for a while and work some business?”

  “No.” She frowned. “Well, yes, but that’s not what I meant. This just feels so surreal. It’s like, what century is this? We’re supposed to live in a time when planets don’t attack other planets. We don’t all have to love each other, but interplanetary war?” Her shoulders sagged.

  “The PAC only continues if people support it,” he said, setting his bag on a chair.

  “I didn’t mean the PAC. They don’t have a monopoly on peace. And it’s never been perfect. I mean just plain being civilized enough to realize that this kind of struggle serves no one.”

  “And who, besides the PAC, encourages being civilized and peaceful, however imperfectly they might do it?”

  She sighed. “Fine. So I’m terrible for operating outside of PAC laws, but wanting them to keep the galaxy in line. I’m a hypocrite.”

  “Yes, you are, but since you’ve never started any wars, I’m fine with that.”

  She fixed him with a stare. “What’s your point?”

  “I don’t have one. I just like arguing with you. Apologies.”

  She let out a chuckle. “Ridiculous. We’re both ridiculous.”

  “What’s ridiculous?” Arlen stepped out of her bedroom carrying her luggage. Cabot wondered what had taken her so long.

  “Nothing,” Cabot said. “Ready?”

  The doors opened and Omar appeared before she could answer. He took a quick look around. “All right. Let’s go.”

  They all exchanged glances, then started for the doors. It wasn’t how they expected to end this trip, but there was nothing left for them to do here.

  ***

  They had to wait only a few minutes for the orbital elevator to arrive. No one got off.

  Cabot felt both relieved and disappointed to board the elevator, stow his luggage, and take a seat. He no longer wore a cloak, and was set to go back to his life as a plain old trader.

  He should have felt elated for having done the job he’d been sent to do, but the uncertainty facing Briv overshadowed everything. It wasn’t just Briv, either. It was also what Briv’s invasion would mean for the PAC. Control of Briv would tip the scales in Barony’s favor, enable them to gain more allies.

  Only ten people had entered, but the doors closed.

  The voicecom announced, “All systems go for ascension.”

  The elevator began its climb.

  Normally, people would chatter during a ride up or down. Cabot’s group of four remained silent, and the other six passengers, all non-Briveen, said little amongst themselves.

  A loud bang and violent lurch caused screams of fright from the other passengers. A Sarkavian woman had been thrown from her seat, but the human with her helped her up.

  “Is she okay?” Omar turned to ask.

  The elevator dropped briefly, then came to another hard stop. Cabot felt like he’d he’d been thrown against a wall.

  “What’s happening?” Nagali asked him, anxious but not panicked.

  Cabot could say a lot of things about her, but she had grit.

  The voicecom came to life. The person speaking sounded in control, though far less nonchalant than they had previously. “Attention passengers. There has been an equipment failure. For your safety, you will be returned to the ground via a backup tether. Do not be alarmed. You are only twenty meters up, and will reach the ground in moments.”

  They began a slow, crawling descent. But they touched down safely and the doors of the elevator reopened.

  “Should we get off?” the Sarkavian woman wondered aloud.

  The voicecom spoke again. “Passengers, we apologize for the difficulty. Please disembark from the elevator. We will perform maintenance and have it working as soon as possible. Since this may take some time, we suggest you return to your accommodations.”

  “What about the other elevator?” A man asked, but the voicecom didn’t answer.

  “Should we go back to our quarters?” Arlen wondered.

  “Yes, I think so,” Cabot said. “Maybe we can find out what’s going on.”

  Omar grimaced. “I think we already know.”

  Cabot sighed. “I’m hoping we’re wrong.

  ***

  They weren’t wrong.

  “Where did the ship come from?” Cabot asked Proconsul Gerrek via the voicecom in Cabot’s quarters. Omar sat beside him, while Nagali and Arlen were across the room.

  “We believe it was hiding behind one of the moons of an uninhabited planet. It’s small, and we didn’t see it until it was too late.”

  “Why would they disable the elevators? That will make it harder for them to get planetside.”

  The proconsul dipped his head in agreement. “We can only surmise it somehow fits their strategy. Unfortunately, this confirms that those ships are coming here and planning to invade.”

  “Have you talked to Fallon?”

  “Bret is speaking with Jamestown now. Fallo
n will be informed by the regular PAC chain of command.”

  “Right. Of course.” Cabot felt foolish. Fallon might be his contact in the PAC command, but she would not be in charge of an event like this.

  “I’m sorry you’re now stuck here with the rest of us, but glad you weren’t hurt. Please remain in your quarters. The station is heavily fortified, and will be well-protected. It’s the safest place you could be right now.” Gerrek looked regretful.

  “We’ll be fine,” Cabot assured him. “Thank you for calling on us. We won’t keep you further—I’m sure you’re overburdened as it is.”

  “Yes. There is much to do.”

  The screen went black, leaving Cabot and Omar looking at each other in silence.

  Omar spoke first. “So we just sit here, waiting for the invasion?”

  “That’s what he said.”

  Omar’s right eyelid lowered, a sure sign that he intended to disobey. “Yeah, I don’t think so. If we’re stuck here, let’s find a way we can help.”

  Cabot smiled. “I was thinking the same thing. I’ll see if I can get hold of Brak. Since she didn’t do as she was told either, she might have some ideas of how we can be useful.”

  ***

  Judging from Brak’s face and posture via the voicecom display, she was not delighted to hear from him. “You should remain at the station. Soon, they will be evacuating the upper levels to the underground shelter. Citizens will be directed there, as well as other designated disaster shelters.”

  Alarm zinged up Cabot’s spine. That seemed like an extreme move at this point. “Why?”

  Brak clacked her teeth. “According to Gretch, Barony ships launched missiles in advance of their arrival. Most likely, they intend to create maximum chaos to distract and weaken us before their ships arrive.”

  “Will defensive systems be able to destroy the missiles?”

  “Unknown. It’s possible.”

  He recognized prevarication when he saw it. “But not likely.”

  “No. The latest in missile technology makes them able to spoof their coordinates, making it difficult to get a positive lock until it’s too late.”