The Buma and the commander exchanged mutual whatever glances as everyone settled in for church.
“Billy.” Taylor shifted. “Enough cloak and dagger on this big contract of yours. What’s it all about, and why did we high-tail it off world to take a swing at it?”
The XO reached into his forest-green shirt pocket and produced a palm-sized slate, which he swiped active. “We’ll start with the obvious. Why does any merc rush off after a contract?”
“Credits,” Frank said.
“Bingo.” Billy pointed at the pilot. “Now, to be clear. Does this job pay Horsemen-level money? No, not quite. By Swamp Eagle Security standards, however, it’d be the biggest payday we’ve had since re-opening our doors 26 months ago.”
Taylor liked where this was headed. “Continue.”
“I got a call last month from an old buddy I served with on the Emerald Stormriders who now works as a contract broker,” Billy said. “Apparently there’s a group of aliens out in the Cimarron arm who are looking to nail down some muscle to protect their clan from a wave of recent attacks.”
“Attacks by whom?” Keeto asked.
“My buddy didn’t say,” Billy said. “All we know is the assaults appear to be growing more frequent, and the clan in question needs help putting a stop to them.”
“What’s the payday?” Quint asked past his forearms.
“Thirty million credits,” Billy said.
Well, now. That is a mighty handsome sum, indeed. Taylor scratched his chin. “These prospective clients. What species are they?”
“We’ll get to that,” the XO said. “Right now, what’s important is the timeline.”
Taylor cocked his head.
“Per the intel, the clients allegedly needed boots on the ground for this mission yesterday,” Smitty said. “That means whoever lands this gig is gonna need to be wheels-up and fast in order to stave off the next attack.”
“And can we facilitate that timeline?” Taylor asked.
“I think so.” Billy nodded. “I’ve assigned Lieutenants Brooks and Carline to get the ball rolling back home with regard to personnel and resources. With any luck, we ought to be able to ship out within 12 hours—give or take—after our return to Earth.”
Jack leaned forward and tipped up the brim of his cowboy hat. “If I read ya right here, Major, it sounds like we’re loadin’ for bear on this. Just out of curiosity, what sort of headcount are we talkin’ about?”
“I’m thinking all of Riverside and Atlanta Companies, plus parts of Talbot and Avondale for support,” Billy said.
Stan whistled. “That’s almost 80 percent of our roster.”
“Like I said,” Billy continued. “This contract will be a massive undertaking, if we land it. But again, big jobs typically come with big compensation, and this one’s no different.”
Taylor sipped his coffee. “Welp. Sounds to me like you’ve covered all the bases.”
“Thanks, Chief.” The XO reclined in his chair. “I do my best.”
“Now about these clients,” Taylor said. “Who are they, and why have you waited until now to drop that bit of information on us?”
Billy traded looks with his wife. “Their tribe is referred to as the Vuhov clan.”
“And their species?” Keeto asked.
“Zuparti,” Billy said.
“Well, that was fun to dream about while it lasted.” Quint sat up and stifled another belch with his fist. “Major Dawson, Captain Dawson. On behalf of myself and the entire Ryley Osyrys crew, I’d like to personally thank the both of you for dragging us all out here to Karma Station for what can now officially be classified as a complete and total waste of our time.”
“It’s not a waste of time, smartass.” Billy grunted. “I’m telling you, we can do this.”
Taylor shifted in his seat. “Far be it for me to agree with a guy who spent two full seasons wearin’ a Boston Red Sox uniform—”
“Not my fault the Braves traded me,” Quint rebutted.
“Whatever,” Taylor continued. “Point is, I’m in agreement with the slugger. There’s no way the Zuparti will work with us. Not after we went MIA from the Ytara contract 14 months ago.”
Billy raised a finger. “Okay, first, that wasn’t our fault. Had the Cartography Guild been a little tighter with security around their beloved transit atlas, we would’ve never gotten swept up in their feud with the Krulig and been redirected to Rukoria against our will. We’d have proceeded to Sakall like we planned and honored our obligation to the Ytara clan.”
“Good times,” Smitty grumbled.
“Amen to that,” Jack agreed.
“In the Cartography Guild’s defense,” Taylor added, “they did cover for us with the powers that be in the Mercenary Guild once we got back from Rukoria. That’s why we didn’t face any blowback for breach of contract.”
“Well, of course they covered for us.” Billy smirked at his CO. “The contents of those rickety old cassettes you’ve got stashed in a dozen locations around our quadrant said they pretty much had to. I’m still impressed by that move, by the way. Nicely done.”
Taylor shrugged and sipped his coffee.
“There’s something else to note here,” Smitty added. “Something important.”
“And what’s that?” Stan asked.
The Aussie took her husband’s slate and swiped up a new screen. Afterward, she mirrored it onto the briefing room’s Tri-V for all to see.
“Wait, is that…” Frank squinted at the image.
“A map of the planet Emza?” Smitty nodded and put down the slate. “That’s the venue for this new Zuparti contract. Specifically, it’s in the Nawntu Mountains on the world’s northernmost continent.”
“Interesting,” Keeto noted. “Perhaps the gods haven’t withdrawn their favor from this motley little company of ours after all.”
Smitty kept her attention on Taylor. “No one in the Union knows Emzan terrain better than Swamp Eagle Security, especially given that we just worked a contract there not six months ago. I realize the Zuparti have their issues with us, and perhaps rightfully so. Nevertheless, they’d be fools
