That last was typical. Drunk Crew Welcome wasn’t always a good thing.
“Captain Chevell,” said the man across from him, Republic uniform starched so crisp you could shave yourself with the collar. It was a dress uniform, lieutenant’s insignia on the shoulders, wings on the breast, a bunch of other medals Nate was too bored to take in. The ID tag said Evans, which might even be his name. Nate didn’t care about that either, because this man was a piece of a great machine, and the machine didn’t care about names, only results. The uniform went nicely with dress hands, folded in front of the lieutenant. Fingers that hadn’t seen a blaster since basic training, not a callus anywhere. This man was content behind a desk, and probably good at it too. The Navy hat was on the table to the man’s right, almost like a barrier. Possibly a necessary barrier — the other man seated across from Nate with Evans wasn’t an officer. Not even close. He had scars, and muscles, and was wearing dress fatigues that said I’m always on duty, even in your Spacer Bar. He wouldn’t have finished that with asshole because Republic Marines were always polite, but he would have meant it. So yeah, that hat was a good barrier between the two: on the same side, but different points of view. “Are you the captain of the Tyche?” Evans said it like Teach.
“Certainly not,” said Nate.
“You’re … not?”
“No,” said Nate. “I’m the captain of the starship Tyche.” He pronounced it like Lady Luck intended: Tie-Key. “Say it with me. Tyche.”
“Tie. Key,” said Evans, face blank.
“Good work,” said Nate. “You were going somewhere with that, right?”
“Captain Chevell,” Lieutenant Evans said again, “it would be nice to hear your perspective.”
“My perspective?” said Nate. “I’m not sure it needs a perspective. You’re talking cash money for a milk run.”
“Exactly the kind of perspective I was hoping for,” said Evans. He brightened. “Are you willing to take on the job?”
“Hold up,” said Nate.
Evans looked a little lost. “You said ’cash money for a milk run.’ I’m not sure—”
“Where there is milk, and it’s cash money, there’s always a fly in it,” said Nate. “Always.”
“A fly?” said Evans. The Marine next to him hadn’t even looked sideways at Nate, not once, eyes straight ahead, jaw clenched. Or, Nate thought, perhaps it wasn’t clenched — the man might have had a jaw made of rocks and rubble. It would be nice if Kohl was here, because Kohl spoke that kind of language. But Kohl was off getting drunk or laid or a hundred other things he wasn’t being paid for, which left Nate here, alone, in a Spacer Bar that smelled of anger and Drunk Crew, ass hanging out, trying to negotiate with the Republic. A Republic who didn’t negotiate, which made it fun, and crazy at the same time, and if Nate was being his honest authentic self, like that holo kept telling him he should be, it was why he was pulling the tiger’s tail.
Time to pull harder. “You’ve listed a fee, payable on delivery of an unspecified object, that is frankly astonishing,” said Nate.
“Yes,” said Evans, “that’s—”
“Hold on to your drink,” said Nate, watching as Evans’ eyes went to the empty space in front of him. No drink, because a man like that didn’t drink on duty. “Or, hell, watch me hold mine.” Nate took an exploratory sip of his beer, which the bartender — a cute young thing with braids that glowed green in the dark interior of the bar — had assured him was vat-grown as he’d dropped Republic coins in front of her. It didn’t taste half bad, but the other half wasn’t great. Whatever. At least it didn’t taste like soy beer. Evans was watching him drink, or was watching Nate’s hand holding the beer. One of Nate’s hands, like one of his legs, was metaclass="underline" all shiny gold and precision metal and gleaming gears. It was that metal hand, or rather how Nate had … acquired it, that made him cautious when dealing with the Republic. “An astonishing fee means astonishing danger,” he said, “or it means you’ll fuck me. And I don’t mean a nice, cozy fuck, full of gentle whispers and soft kisses. I mean a—”
“I understand what you’re saying,” said Evans, his lips pulling tighter.
Good Goddamn, but is that Marine smiling? There was something in the way the mound of muscle’s face had twitched that made Nate proud. “An astonishing fee means you don’t mean to pay it. And getting paid is of high importance to me and mine, if you know what I mean. So here’s what’ll happen. We’ll talk terms.”
“The terms are clear,” said Evans. “Five hundred thousand Republic credits, payable on delivery.”
“Do I,” said Nate, “look like a stupid man to you, Lieutenant?”
Evans paused. “Not … particularly, Captain.”
“Perhaps green, young, unused to the rigors of command?” Nate raised his eyebrows.
“No. I would say not.”
“Then why are you treating me like a gullible child?” said Nate. “I need three things from you.”
“Three?”
“Three,” said Nate, giving the Marine a glance. Nope, the man still wasn’t moving. Like a sphinx, that one, about as readable as a rock. Nate hoped they wouldn’t get into any trouble, because without Kohl, it would not be fun business, not for Nate. The Marine would have fun. He held up his gold hand, digits clicking as he extended his fingers. “First, you’ll pay me twenty percent up front. This isn’t a number that horrifies you. It’s a rounding error in your budgets. Not enough for me and mine to run, but enough for us to know there’s a higher chance of you paying the rest rather than spacing us all. Two,” and a second metal digit clicked up, “you’ll tell us what the cargo is. You’ll tell us because of what happened two years ago, when I took Republic cargo, and then was raided by the Republic, and your clowns tried to charge me for hauling contraband. Took months to work through that, you assholes tried to stiff me on my completion bonus, and I was in jail. A jail, Lieutenant. Third, you’ll hand over a load of torpedoes. Nothing fancy, no crust-crackers, just some simple ship to ship nukes, because I’m fresh out, and the only place to get nukes is from the Republic Navy. Sort of.”
“Sort of?” said Evans.
“Sort of,” agreed Nate. “The thing we’re dealing with here is trust, Lieutenant. Trust can be bought. I’m offering to sell you mine, for a twenty percent advance, knowledge of the cargo, and thirty-six ship to ship nukes. How’s that sound?”
The lieutenant thought about it. Nate watched the man’s eyes scan the room, the rough crowd giving them a circle of calm because nothing said stupid like picking a fight with the Republic Navy. “You’re aware,” he said, after a suitable period of reflection, “that we could seize your ship, kill your crew, and do the job ourselves?”
“Sure,” said Nate, “you could try doing that.”
“We are the Republic Navy,” said Evans.
“Like I said,” said Nate, “you could try. There’s a couple of problems. First, you’ll have to scare up someone who knows how to fly my baby. Not a common ship, not anymore. Those Endless Drives are a thing of wonder and beauty, and the flight systems behind them take a loving touch, Lieutenant. My crew has a loving touch. The Tyche, she’s our home, our palace, our playground, and our friend. She’ll fly true for us, and she’ll crash and burn for you and yours.”
Evans was watching him. “You said two reasons.”
“I did,” said Nate. “The second reason is because you’re the good guys, Lieutenant. You don’t raid a peaceful freighter, kill the entire crew, and then steal their ship. No. In this instance, you’re trying to pay top dollar because you don’t have an Endless ship on hand, you want a dedicated crew, and you want a package delivered. I’m your man. But with those three stipulations.”