“Unfortunately,” the colonel said. A native of Queens in his late-fifties, Paul Torrio sported a wiry build with a beak nose and wrinkled, owlish features that had elicited no shortage of Human-Buma offspring jokes around town. Some might’ve viewed such humor as mean-spirited. Unfortunately for Torrio, none of those folks were seated at his current table.
Man, that’s a lot of hair gel. Taylor inspected the colonel’s pompadour, specifically the silver pinstripes that made his sideburns look like landing strips.
“I don’t think we’ve met.” Billy extended a hand to Torrio’s companion. “Major Billy Dawson, executive officer, Swamp Eagle Security.”
“I know who you are,” the captain said. He was younger than Torrio, with a rock-solid build, sharp, pale features, and a full head of burr-cut raven hair. He did, however, speak with the same accent as the colonel.
“Oh, right,” Torrio said. “Van Zant, Dawson, this is my new XO. He’s fresh off the boat from the old neighborhood up north.” He glanced back to the captain. “Mike, meet the Eagles. Now do me a favor and go track us down some drinks. I’ll take my usual.”
The captain nodded, then took his leave while his CO settled in at the table, the latter catching eyes with the Farts as he sat down.
“Jack, Stan,” Torrio said flatly. “How you boys been?”
“Great, Paulie, thanks.” Jack didn’t look up.
“It’s colonel now, remember?” Torrio corrected. “And I’m great, too, thanks for askin’. I sincerely hope that don’t come as too much of a shock, given all the faith and kindness you gents showed me during my brief time on your payroll.”
An awkward silence descended on the booth.
“So, Colonel Torrio. How are things across town at—” Billy cleared his throat. “The River Hawk Defense Group?”
Jack and Stan traded eye rolls over the name.
“Boomin’,” Torrio said proudly. “Hell, beyond boomin’ even. I’ll tell ya right now, Billy Boy. Leavin’ Swamp Eagle Security to strike out on my own was hands-down the smartest career move I ever made. I mean that. Ever since I pulled the trigger on the River Hawks, me and my crew have been swimmin’ in credits! Even with contracts stopped, we’ve found other ways to get business.”
“Three cheers for the North Florida tax code,” Jack grumbled. “Just don’t screw up our state like you did your own, and we’ll all live happily ever after.” That earned him a smirk from the New Yorker.
“Now, now, gentlemen,” Kami cut in. “I think I can safely speak for everybody here when I say no one traveled all this way for a piece-measuring contest—tactically, anatomically, or otherwise. It’s all about credits, is it not? Let’s simmer down and get back to that.”
“No objections here,” Taylor said. “Colonel Torrio, you good?”
The silver-haired merc muttered a curse. “Yeah. I’m good.”
“Excellent.” Kami spent the next few moments bringing Torrio up to speed on the Vuhov’s change in contract strategy. “The Eagles and I have tentatively agreed on a rate of 18.2 million credits with a combat bonus of 5 million per engagement for up to four occurrences. We have not, however, delved into the logistics of how they intend to fulfill their obligation should my clients elect to formalize an agreement.” She turned to Taylor. “Chief Van Zant, what say you?”
Taylor outlined the Eagles’ advanced prep measures and asset projections, along with their expedited timeline to rapid-deploy from Earth to Emza.
“A 12-hour turnover?” Kami raised an eyebrow. “That’s quite ambitious, given the resources your company is pledging to mobilize for this mission.”
“Ambitious, sure, but not impossible,” Taylor said. “Kudos to Major Dawson for that. He’s the one who birddogged this thing from the start, then laid the groundwork back home to facilitate our timeline.”
Billy saluted his CO with his ale mug.
“Oh, please.” Torrio snorted.
“I presume River Hawk believes it can do better?” Kami asked.
“For 18 credits?” The colonel guffawed. “You bet your sweet little tiger-striped rump we can. And then some.” He pointed across the table. “These morons sit here and prattle on about their 12-hour timetable like it’s some sort of crowning accomplishment. Well I got news for ya, sister. It ain’t shit. Know why?”
Everyone waited.
“It’s because they’ve still gotta transition back to Earth from Karma,” Torrio said. “That’s twelve hours plus a week right there. Add to it the two extra transitions it’ll take them to reach Emza post-deployment, and by my count, that’s almost a full month of transit time before a single Eagle boot touches down in defense of your clients.” The colonel eased back in his seat and folded his arms. “Call me nuts, but rapid ain’t exactly a word I’d use to describe that sort of timeline.”
Kami seemed to consider her next words. “Forgive me, Colonel, but you’re an Earth-based company just like the Eagles.”
“So what?” Torrio said.
“So that makes the issue of transit time irrelevant, since you’ll both be making the same number of transitions to reach Emza.”
The colonel’s grin widened. “That’d be true if we were deploying from Earth. We’re not.”
Taylor furrowed his eyebrows.
“Award my company the Vuhov contract and we’ll deploy from right here on Karma, tonight,” Torrio tapped his knuckles on the tabletop. “That puts us on Emza just under two weeks from now, easy peasy.”
Billy sat forward. “Are we to understand that you brought the entire River Hawk fighting force with you to this negotiation—troops, hardware, supplies, and all?”
“Bravo, Cornpone.” Torrio chuckled. “You always were the brainy one in this bunch.”
Kami’s gaze narrowed slightly. “That’s quite the bold move, Colonel, especially given the expense of hauling that amount of resources this far out with no guarantee of a contract.”
“Consider it a demonstration of River Hawk’s commitment to your clients,” Torrio said.
“Don’t take this the wrong way, Colonel, but are
