That’s a good quality for any officer to have.
“You may want to take a corvette to whichever ship stays in course,” Clarke told Navathe. “It’s going to be safer.”
“Appreciate that,” Navathe said. “But no thanks. I want to see the look on Erickson’s face when we avenge Beowulf.”
Clarke grinned to no one in particular and dropped out of the channel. He had to talk with the guys of NavInt, see if they could cook something special for Erickson.
“VORTEX, this is Captain Clarke of the Hawk,” Clarke’s message said. At this distance, he’d have to wait only minutes for Vortex’ response. Not that he cared much for it. “You should see the special video we’ve cooked up.”
The message played a video, taken from Hawk’s sensors, of Vortex leaving the orbit of Dione. It added tidbits from planetary newscasters talking excitedly about what it meant. Sure, the hosts were bought and paid for by Tal-Kader, but it was hard to justify such maneuver. They called it, an aggressive gambit.
NavInt had added a new voice-over to the video, where the EIF called Vortex and Tal-Kader cowards. They announced Vortex’s intentions of destroying Dione before letting Isabella Reiner get away. It was an effective piece of propaganda, especially for one made on such a short notice. It wouldn’t convince more than a tiny percentage of the Systems Alliance to openly rebel against Tal-Kader, but when the populations’ percentage represented entire Star Systems…the numbers added up.
“You like it? We’ll send couriers with a copy all across the SA. I bet it is going to make Isabella even more popular with the people once they find out her enemies are willing to kill colonies to stop her. Erickson, can you imagine what Tal-Kader’s going to do to you if Hawk manages to leave Elus with this video in tow? I bet that even if you get Isabella, that’s not going to save your ass. After all, Tal-Kader’s going to need to ax someone to save face. I think I know who. Clarke out.”
He reclined against his g-seat, almost enjoying the pull of gravity.
“That’s devious,” said Navathe, who had heard the whole thing. “Think that’ll work?”
“Oh, yes,” said Clarke. He had learned a thing or two about Tal-Kader’s corporate culture during his own trial. Men like Erickson were like sharks. If they smelled blood in the water, they’d pounce. And Erickson’s co-workers must be just the same as him. Vying for a promotion, happy to cull the competition…
“In any case, he’ll now focus on destroying Hawk,” said Navathe.
“That’s the point,” said Clarke. “I want him aiming at us. He has his win condition, we have ours. Falcon gets Reiner, we win. Even if…well, you know.”
“Yeah,” said Navathe. “I know. Let’s make it count.”
28
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
HIRSEN
The hideout had changed much the last few months. Less clutter, less people, and a nervous sort of discipline filled the gait of the remaining gangers. Most sported new scars, some were missing limbs.
Hirsen’s assessment of Lotti had been correct. Just like him, she was a survivor. While the enforcers purged Alwinter of undesirables, she had managed to keep her band alive. Not thriving, exactly, judging from the state of their reg-suits. But alive.
Lotti herself sat at the center of the warehouse in a throne built out of car seats and spare parts. She regarded him with disgust. “You again? You really pushed your luck this time, Deli-cake.”
“Deli? Not exactly,” said Hirsen. He gestured at the circle of gangers that surrounded him. Many pointed plastic guns at him. Others, the true stuff. Metal and lead. “Is this necessary? I recall we went through the same dance already.”
The ganger leader jumped out of her throne. A makeshift sling allowed her to carry a rifle. Judging from the make, she’d stolen it from Alwinter security. Probably used a ‘ware cracker to bypass the DNA lock. And she hadn’t given him a call? Bad manners.
Less than a year ago, seeing a non-3d printed weapon in Alwinter was rare. Nowadays, it had become more and more common. Soon enough, smart bullets would follow. What else? Drones imported from Jagal, search-and-destroy clouds, portable flamethrowers. Hirsen had been away from the Edge’s capital a long time now. He wondered what new toys had been cooked up to kill people in creative and violent ways.
“Anyone followed you?” she asked. Hirsen noticed her body was tense, right hand close to her leg. Hidden weapon there, probably an ice pick. She was getting ready to execute him.
The gangers hadn’t bothered to pat him down. Why would they bother? He was old, trusty Delagarza, the ex-regular who got too comfortable.
Two options here, Hirsen thought. Either she listens to me, or I dermo-patch her and take down the gangers.
He didn’t like his odds with option number two. He was a quick shot, and they were amateurs at best, but the numbers still favored them heavily.
“We need to talk,” Hirsen said. He allowed Lotti to get close, but kept an eye on her hands.
“What about? Another late night interrogation? We’re closed, Deli. If you haven’t noticed, we’re being hunted out there.”
“Take him out for you, Boss?” a ganger offered. “Don’t waste your time.”
Lotti flashed her a smile. “Thanks, but I like to bring a personal touch when dealing with friends.”
“I’m here for you, Lotti,” Hirsen said. “No more business. I’m here to tell you a story.”
“A story? How nice of you,” Lotti said. Her hand slipped to her pocket, and she stabbed at Hirsen in a flash of movement, without a hint of hesitation.
Hirsen took a single step back, and in the same motion drew Krieger’s pistol and aimed squarely at Lotti’s forehead.
He pressed the trigger.
All the surrounding gangers took aim.
“Wait a fucking second! Nobody moves!” Lotti screamed. Her eyes had widened at seeing the barrel’s end. Her icepick had missed Hirsen’s eye by a notch.
“That’s right,” Hirsen said, keeping his aim steady, “they shoot, I release the trigger by reflex, your brain becomes ganger pudding. Also, standing in a circle like that, you guys are going to kill yourselves as much as you’ll kill me.”
“What the fuck, Delagarza,” Nerd said.
“Sorry, Nerd,” Hirsen said. “Like I said, I’ve a story to tell. Everyone, weapons to the floor. Now.”
Nobody moved. Hirsen sighed and looked at Lotti.
“How do I know you won’t shoot the moment they do it?” she asked.
“I can’t possibly kill them all before someone reaches their gun.”
“I’ll still be dead.”
“Smart girl. We’d both die. I plan on walking away from this. No offense, but ganger trash is not worth dying for.”
“Not cool,” someone said.
“Shut the fuck up, sweetie,” Lotti told them. “Alright, everyone do as he says.”
To make sure the gangers behind him actually did so, Hirsen walked a tight circle around Lotti, keeping his gaze aimed at her and his finger firmly planted in the trigger. Her own gaze followed said finger. After he confirmed everyone was unarmed, he set his back behind a wall and lowered his gun.
“My story begins with a man named Bruno Choffard. Remember him? He had a lovely gig faking IDs for foreigners. Turns out, sixteen years ago, he gave fake IDs to a woman and the little baby she was smuggling into Alwinter. As payment, he received a bunch of credits and papers to a spaceship he eventually sold as scrap. The woman’s new name was Edith Sharpe.”