Rebel (4 page)

"I can live with that one," she said promptly.

"You're sure?" he asked with a smile.

"Easier than you can live a celibate life for the next six months," she replied. "Your choice."

"Let me see a menu and check the prices and then I'll make a decision."

She laughed, he laughed, and both of them decided they were very fortunate not to have been born Molarian.

It would be a few days yet before they knew
how
lucky.

Cole and Forrice walked past the gaming tables of Duke's Place and sat down at the Platinum Duke's table.

"I got word that you wanted to speak to me," said Cole.

"How soon can you be ready for a major action?" asked the Duke.

"That all depends. Define major action."

"The biggest outlaw on the Inner Frontier is the Octopus ..." began the Duke.

"Human?" asked Forrice.

"I don't know," admitted the Duke. "I don't think anyone does, except his lieutenants."

"Okay, so he's the biggest outlaw on the Frontier," said Cole. "Go on."

"I'm surprised you haven't heard of him."

"Why should we?" asked Cole. "We're not exactly long-term residents. The
Teddy R
goes out after selected targets, and then it comes right back to Singapore Station."

"I'm sure someone on the ship has heard of him," said the Molarian. "After all, we've added more than four hundred to our various crews. Maybe the original members of the
Teddy R
don't know who he is, but beings who've lived most of their lives on the Inner Frontier probably have."

"I repeat: What about him?" said Cole.

"There's a consortium of some forty-three worlds that would like lo put a stop to his activities."

Cole shook his head. "Not good enough. Spell it out."

"They want him killed or imprisoned, and his fleet demolished."

"How come no one's asked us to do this sooner?" asked Forrice. "We've been a mercenary fleet for just short of a Standard year now."

Cole shot him a look that said:
Dumb question.

"They never thought you were strong enough until now," replied the Duke. "Word has spread that you prefer to assimilate enemy ships and crews rather than destroy them, so they figure every time you score a major victory you're that much bigger and more powerful for the next assignment."

"What's the bottom line?" said Cole.

"They'll pay you the sum of—"

"That's David's bottom line," interrupted Cole. "I want to know what we're up against."

"I don't have exact numbers," answered the Duke. "It's estimated that he's got between three hundred and four hundred ships."

"I don't think much of your notion of fair odds."

"When you hear what they're paying . . ."

"Later," said Cole. "Tell me what kind of armaments they're carrying."

"I haven't the slightest idea."

"How many planets do they control?"

The Duke shrugged. "I told you: forty-three."

Cole shook his head. "That's how many are willing to pay us. How many does he control—planets that are too afraid to join the consortium?"

"I'll find out. Don't you want to hear the price?"

"After you find out what I want to know, then we'll talk price," said Cole. "Although right at the moment, I'm inclined to tell you to forget it. They outnumber us six or eight to one, maybe more. We've got a lot of small class-G and class-H ships. If they've got any Level 4 thumpers or Level 5 burners and commensurate defenses . . ."

"So you'll lose a few ships," said the Duke. "You'll replace them with the ones you assimilate."

"Those ships you shrug off are filled with people who depend upon me to keep them alive, or at least give them a fighting chance to survive."

"You have to expect losses. This is war, Wilson."

"Not if we don't declare it," said Cole. "And war has nothing to do with dying bravely and nobly for your side. Our job is making the other guy die bravely and nobly for
his
side."

"You really don't want to hear the price?"

"Not now."

The Duke shrugged. "Okay, but if I can't make my commission, at least go place some bets at the tables."

"You don't know our Wilson," said Forrice. "He never gambles." A hoot of alien laughter. "That's probably why we're willing to follow him."

Cole noticed Val approaching them from the alien
jabob
table. "She's smiling. I guess she won her money back."

"How can she drink like a fish and stay so beautiful?" asked the Duke.

"A better question is how can she abuse her body the way she does and stay so fit and powerful?" said Forrice.

"She's certainly not like any other woman I've ever met," agreed the Duke.

"She's not like anybody anyone's ever met," said Cole. "Give me fifty like her and I could probably conquer the Republic."

"If
she felt like it," noted Forrice. "That's always the wild card."

"She always feels like conquering things," replied Cole. "The problem is that she doesn't always feel like obeying orders . . . though I must admit she's getting better at it."

Val reached the table, pulled up a chair, and ordered a bottle of brandy from a robot waiter,

"You're going to share that with everybody, right?" asked the Duke with a smile that said he was gently teasing her.

"With my shipmates," she replied seriously. "You own the stock. You can order your own bottle."

"You know," said the Duke thoughtfully, "I'll bet
she's
heard of him."

"Of who?" asked Val.

"The Octopus."

"Ugly son of a bitch," she said contemptuously.

"You've met him?" asked Cole.

"Not lately. I knew him, oh, about ten, eleven years ago."

"Is he human?"

"Sort of."

"What does that mean?" asked Cole.

"He's either a freak or a mutant," answered Val. "He doesn't wear a shirt, and he's got six misshapen hands sticking out of his sides."

"Can you tell us anything else about him?"

"He's smart," she said. "Almost as smart as me. Physically he's not much."

"With six extra hands?" said the Duke.

"They're not arms, just hands."

"It's still impressive."

"He tried to grab my ass with one of them, so I coldcocked him," replied Val. "He never tried again."

"Doubtless why he's still alive," said Cole wryly.

"Damned right," said Val seriously. "Why all the questions?" Suddenly she turned to the Duke. "You got us a commission to take him out."

"It's still in the negotiating stage," said Cole.

"That means you won't agree until you know what he's got," said Val decisively. "I can't help you. Like I say, it's been ten years."

"There's no rush. Forrice and Jacovic are still working our new ships and crews into shape." He turned to Forrice. "Any potential command personnel there?"

"Too early to tell," replied the Molarian. "I think we should leave our people in place there for the time being."

"Does Jacovic agree?"

The Molarian shrugged. "You'll have to ask him, though I can't imagine he doesn't."

"All right," said Cole. "When we put our people permanently in command of the new ships, take the personnel from Perez's and Jacovic's ships. I'm getting to where I don't know half the crew of the
Teddy R.
I want to keep the ones that I still have."

"That shouldn't prove a problem," said the Molarian. "I'll make the transfers when we go back to the ship." He stood up. "And now, if there are no objections and there'd better not be, I think I'll take my leave of you and go over to the Glowworm, where I plan to try my luck at the
stort
table."

He headed off toward the door in his graceful spinning three-legged gait.

"I don't know what he enjoys about that stupid alien game," remarked Val.

"Stort?"
repeated Cole. He smiled. "He wins at it."

"Big deal. He ought to try the
jabob
table right here."

"You were lucky, my dear," said the Duke. "It's got a fifteen percent break for the house."

"That's what makes it so challenging," she said. "Most places it's only two percent."

David Copperfield waddled over and sat uncomfortably on a chair that was made for humans.

"Where have you been?" asked Cole.

"I thought someone ought to find out what's going on in the galaxy," replied the little alien.

"The Republic's still at war with the Teroni Federation," said Cole. "You didn't have to go to a subspace radio for that. It's been going on for twenty-odd years."

"Trivial stuff," said Copperfield with a contemptuous sneer. "Spica II won the divisional murderball title. The Deluros VIII stock market is up three percent. And there are now thirteen books, disks, cubes, and holos about the mutiny aboard the
Theodore Roosevelt."

"Each more inaccurate than the last, no doubt," said Cole with no show of interest. "Did you learn anything useful?"

"Not on the radio," admitted Copperfield, "but a cargo ship that just landed reports that the Navy decimated six more worlds on the Inner Frontier."

"Why would a naval commander obey an order to wipe out six neutral Frontier planets?" said Cole disgustedly.

"Not everyone is a mutineer," said the Duke with a smile.

"Oh, well," said Cole, "if they're done, maybe we can clear Four Eyes to make a quick trip over to Braccio II." He got to his feet. "I'm going back to the ship now. David, I'm sure the second I'm gone the Platinum Duke is going to tell you about all the trillions we can make for no effort at all if we accept the assignment he's working on." He paused. "First, you do not have the authority to negotiate or accept it without my approval, and second, you are not subtle enough to slyly introduce it into the next ten conversations we have as if it just came up spontaneously."

"Steerforth, you cut me to the quick."

"Just remember what I said, or I'll take a butcher knife and go hunting for your quick."

"I'll come with you," said Val, getting up and grabbing her bottle.

"I thought you'd want to spend the night celebrating your win," said Cole.

"I do," she said. "But I want to hide half the money first, just in case my luck turns."

"I can hold it for you."

She considered it for a long moment, then thrust a wad of Republic credits, New Stalin rubles, and Maria Theresa dollars into his hand.

"I wouldn't trust anyone else with it," said Val.

"I appreciate that."

"Where will you be if I need it back in a hurry?"

"If you think you'll need it back to cover some losses, why not just keep it?" said Cole.

She shook her head. "I've got to at least go through the motions."

"If you come by for it later, I could just refuse to give it to you."

"No," said Val seriously. "If I'm liquored up and you won't give me my money, I might kill you."

"You won't."

"I don't
think
I will, but you never know . . ."

"I've never seen you that liquored up," said Cole. "I'll take my chances. You can have the money back when we take off on our next mission, whatever it is."

She stared at him, then nodded and took her bottle back to the Duke's table.

Cole made his way to the
Teddy R,
where he found Rachel Marcos waiting for him.

"What's up?" he asked.

"We just finished the damage report from the Machtel operation," she replied.

"What damages?" demanded Cole. "Not a shot was fired."

"Some space debris damaged the
Longshot
and the
Penny Dreadful
inside one of the wormholes."

"I assume their structural integrity hasn't been compromised, since they made it back to Singapore Station."

"They seem okay," she reported. "But if the abrasions aren't fixed, the ships
could
begin developing problems."

"It is anything Slick can't handle?" asked Cole.

Slick was the
Teddy R's
only Tolobite, an alien who along with his symbiote, which acted as a second skin, was able to work long hours in the airless cold of space.

"He's seen the holographs of the damage and thinks he can fix it, sir," said Rachel.

"Okay," said Cole. "Run the reports and holos by Mr. Odom"— Mustapha Odom, the
Teddy R's
engineer—"and if he agrees, tell Slick to go to work on them."

He went to Sharon's office, waited until she was through with her work, and took her to dinner on Singapore Station, where he ran into Forrice.

"I low did you fare?" he asked.

"I broke even," replied the Molarian. "Tricky game,
stort.
Just when you think you've got it figured, you find out that it's more complex than you imagined. Must have been invented by a Canphorite." Suddenly he smiled. "But I heard some good news: The Navy has stopped killing everyone and is going home."

"Until the next time," said Sharon.

"Until the next time," agreed Forrice. "If you have no objections, I'll take one of the shuttles and head off to Braccio II in a few hours."

"I suppose it's okay," said Cole. "But there's no reason why you should be the only happy Molarian on board next week. Take Braxite and Jacillios with you."

"I'll take Jacillios," replied Forrice. "But Braxite messed up one of his legs somehow when we were running the new ships through their paces. He's in sick bay with some pressure bandages on it."

"So give him some crutches and take him along anyway."

Forrice shook his massive head. "Men can get along fine with one leg and a crutch or a prosthetic, but Molarians have to have the use of all three. Believe me, he'll be in so much discomfort that he won't be able to partake of what's awaiting us on Braccio II."