Star Vigilante (Vigilante Series) (22 page)

“Despot, when I fix a problem, it stays fixed.” Matt smiled coldly. “Failing to tend to the underlying human politics that led to this tragedy would only leave you and your cousins free to repeat such a stupidity. For the best of commercial motives, of course.”

“Be cautious, Vigilante,” warned Ioannis, frowning. “The Derindl are not blameless in this matter.”

“I know—which is why I wonder if Nikolaos’ sexual alliance with Autarch Dreedle will gain him what he expects to gain . . . or simply a surprise?”

Fascination showed on Ioannis’ granite face, then his expression turned neutral. “Thanks for the information. That maneuver is a countercheck I had not anticipated. Your price?”

“No price. It’s free.”

Ioannis showed disbelief. “Nothing worthwhile is ever free.”

“How true. And sometimes the price takes a while to sink in.” Matt nodded to the side. “Sorry—more calls to take. But a final piece of free advice—I would get the colony’s Genetic Primary carrier out of space and down-planet, into a safe house.”

“I am well aware of the unique value of our Primary.” Ioannis looked sour, as if an ulcer were acting up. “Until later.”

Ioannis’ image blinked off. Before the next caller came on line, Matt sneaked a screen look at Eliana. She appeared distracted, involved in interior thought. A moment earlier she’d been watching him with respect and a growing anxiety. Now, only a fey sadness filled her as she stood beside the accel-couch, her gaze fixed on the next holosphere image. He turned his attention that way.

Ex-Despot Nikolaos’ grizzled visage peered out at Matt, the squinty, rat-like eyes filled with suspicion. The man’s lips were contorted, as if he’d just bitten into a sour lemon. Behind Nikolaos, an antique liquid-crystal map of Sigma Puppis star system hung on his office’s drab wall. On the map blinked the routes of incoming and departing freighter and starship traffic. Several blinked red. Behind his pretty, new Executive desk, Nikolaos jammed both hands together, leaned forward, and peered at them.

“You’re crazy, Vigilante. You know that?”

In the Pit, Matt shrugged. “Some say that. Others don’t. Nobody who attacks me stays alive long enough to argue. Why did you call?”

Nikolaos spit off to one side. “Maybe to send you a bill for structural repairs to my Clan Hall. Why did you attack me?”

“Why was Eliana laser-gunned on your front steps?”

Shock filled his craggy face. “Eliana wounded? Is she all right? How did it happen? Does that explosion at the uptown silo have anything to do with her injury?”

Matt ignored Eliana’s volcanic anger as she stood beside the accel-couch, her expression venomous as her cousin played his game. “It does. That’s where the sniper shot from. And by the way . . . how did you know she was only
wounded
, not killed?”

Startlement flooded Nikolaos’ heavy face. “I . . . uh, I just assumed, you said—”

“I said she was ‘laser-gunned’—not whether she was alive or dead. Explain.”

Nikolaos sat back abruptly. “I can’t. Just my deep hope that—”

“Don’t lie to me!” Matt reached forward, one hand hovering just above a control panel. “Despot, I have hypervelocity missiles outfitted with tightly-damped neutron bombs ready to flood your Hall with killing radiation—at a single gesture from me. Don’t play me for the fool.” He flexed his fingers above the panel.

“Stop!” Sweat beaded Nikolaos’ forehead. “I was assured she would only be wounded, not killed and—”

“Assured by
whom
?” To his left, Eliana stepped forward, aiming for Nikolaos’ holo image the way a mongoose tracks a snake. Matt blinked quickly. Mata Hari
emitted a holo sign in front of her saying
Stay out of pickup range
. Eliana flushed with anger, stomped her foot, and then sat on the flexmetal deck to his left, out of pickup range. She focused intently on the holosphere and on her dear, dear cousin Nikolaos.

The ex-Despot’s mouth moved soundlessly; he gulped. “A . . . a Halicene Conglomerate representative. The Port Trademaster. It promised to shift some freighter traffic to my Port so we could carry out repairs on the field. It’s been awhile since we had regular traffic and—”

“Spare me.” Matt caught Nikolaos’ rat-eyes, holding them as he would hold a spider he was about to kill. “I wonder what Autarch Dreedle would say if she knew her former human lover was making a new deal with the Halicenes—one she knew nothing about?”

“New deal? What was the old deal?” Nikolaos asked suspiciously.

“Why—the old deal to replace the old Autarch with her.” Matt folded his hands in his lap. “Surely that was the logical outcome of her effort to transfer power to you? Enough power and you would hang yourself in the neonatal placental unit deal with the Halicene Conglomerate, while she looks blameless.”

Bitterness filled Nikolaos’ face. “Are you saying I was used by that woman?”

“Why not? That’s the way it looks to me.”

Nikolaos sighed. “You enjoy trying to make me turn against my natural ally. Why?”

Matt shrugged. “What if it were true? That you were used? Think about it.” He smiled, inviting Nikolaos to dwell within the insanity of paranoia forever. “Now, I really must go—my comsat charges are going to be astronomical. Good day.”

Nikolaos’ image disappeared. Eliana stood up and stalked over to him. She put hands on her hips and looked down at him. “You’re not done, are you?” Despite the strain of learning her half-brother wanted her infertile and the Despot of another Clan had arranged for her wounding, she showed remarkable poise. A brave woman with much courage indeed . . . .

“Should I be?”

Eliana rubbed the plastifoam cast on her shoulder, trying to smooth out the RapidHeal ache left by Regen. “Perhaps not. I’m learning a lot, but you’re making yourself a pile of enemies.”

“So?” Matt assumed a businesslike manner. Work was the only anchor that would protect him from a woman like Eliana. “Watch me move my
Go
game pieces. The day’s not yet over. And would you kindly step out of pickup range? I like to keep ‘em guessing.”

“For the moment.” Eliana again sat down on the nearby deck plates with legs folded under her, her partly clothed appearance one that was hard to ignore. As was her womanly expression, a look that said she desired quality time with him, on a personal level.

Oh, shit
. Reining in his hormones, Matt said “Next caller.”

A blurry image of the Pericles leader Spyridon materialized in the holosphere. The man’s white-haired, patrician face stared thoughtfully at them from a location undetectable to
Mata Hari ’s
Back-Track software. The Greek spoke. “Why are you drawing attention to yourself?”

“Why can’t I track your signal, Elder Spyridon?”

“Did you think I was limited to a simple domehut in the mountains?” Spyridon grimaced. “You’re not the only one who can piggyback on a carrier-wave. Or intercept tightbeam maser communication links. Answer my question.”

Matt shook his head. “No. You answer mine. Why did you alert the Halicene Conglomerate Port Trademaster at Olympus to my impending visit with Nikolaos?”

Spyridon glanced aside, then back, licking his lips. “Who says I did?”

“Nikolaos doesn’t.” Matt leaned forward, resting his chin on his palm. “He doesn’t even know that the Trademaster contacted him after hearing from you.”

The old man shrugged. “So what if I did? Only the crossbreed was hurt—that’s no loss.”

Slowly, like a glacier, Matt leaned forward. Close enough to fill Spyridon’s own screen with the coral-eyed image of a very, very angry Vigilante. “Spyridon, if I knew at this minute where you were, I would destroy you. Totally. I show no mercy to those who attack my Patron.”

“Stalemate.” The master of the Pericles group raised an eyebrow. “Answer my question.”

“The answer is I wanted to talk to you. Directly and without intermediaries.” Matt sat back in his Pit seat, aware of
Mata Hari’s growing mind-interest in the jigsaw pieces he was assembling. “Are you aware that Despot Ioannis has his own deals going with the Halicene Trademaster?”

“So I’ve heard.” Spyridon scowled. “As I told you, the rot among the Greeks has eaten deep. And the worst of that rot are the crossbreed animals they raise!”

Eliana, to her credit, bit her hand rather than break her silence. But her bare shoulders shook and one hand clawed the air, grasping for Spyridon’s eyes. Yes, she would be a good comrade in arms. Focusing his attention on Spyridon, Matt smiled hungrily.

“Spyridon, the definition of an animal lies in who eats whom!” He thought-blinked, uplinking to the man a deep space image of the Halicene MotherShip. “Old man,
this
is your true enemy—it will eat Halcyon. Then the next planet sunward. Then it will enslave you all—for sale on the Flesh Markets of Alkalurops.”

“Never!” Spyridon cursed, spittle flying from his lips. “The crossbreeds are the key contaminant! Without them, I could rally the Pure Breed and—”

“Idiot!” Matt said, breaking the man’s tirade. “You would melt before the Halicene weapons like snowflakes on hot steel. Good day.” He blinked, cutting the signal.

“Matt,” Eliana said softly. “Why do so many people want me dead, injured or out of the way?”

He rested a moment, watching the blinking lights of incoming calls that demanded his immediate attention. Matt finally gave her the answer she deserved. “Patron, you believe in a principle—the principle that people are more important than a contract. Too many of your fellow humans, and some Derindl, carry a business contract inside of them, rather than a soul.” He turned and met her appraising look. “Surprised?”

Eliana shivered with the nearness of the danger that sought her out. But then she canted her head, her look mischievous. “Matt, do you think AIs have souls?”

“Woman—have you no brains?” scorned his alter-ego from the ceiling. “Of course we do!”

Eliana looked up challengingly. “Prove it!”

“Ladies!” They both shut up and turned to him. One sat nearby, with alluring soft eyes, and one filled his mind with a scalding hot image. That was the trouble with neurolink pain—you couldn’t flinch away from it. “Mata Hari! Stop.” She did. Eliana looked puzzled, glancing from him to the ceiling and back. “Ladies—I don’t need you two fighting on this Bridge. Please, some silence while I take this call?”

Eliana still kneeled on the deck plates, her expression silent but determined. His partner growled and moved to predatory alertness. The
Mata Hari persona-image appeared in his mind, sharpening a looong knife at a grinding wheel.
Sheesh!

The holosphere glimmered, glowed, then assumed the reddish hue denoting a many-times downlinked Vidcast signal coming from a far distance. Far enough away to develop a redshift shadow. When the image steadied, Matt beheld the calm, three-eyed stare of the Mican griffin-tiger known as Legion.

“Vigilante, we will assert a repair lien against you for any damage done to our mining machinery by your recent intemperate use of a thermonuclear sampling device on the surface of the planet Halcyon.” Legion flapped its brown-feathered wings slowly, calmly.

Interesting. The Mican’s use of such formal, temperate phraseology indicated it was recording this conversation for later replay to the Anarchate provincial base—in case it needed the help of a Nova-class
battleglobe. Matt feigned surprise. “My apologies, Prime Dominant Three, called Legion.” He blinked, uplinking an image of the blast and the undamaged Stripper. “As you can see, your strip-miner is completely undamaged by my sampling device. However, I cannot say as much for the planetary scar your Stripper has left behind despite the frequent complaints of contract violations by the local Derindl—” Matt stopped when the Mican waved its needle-studded tail. “Do I assume you’ve now shut off your recorders?”

“You may.” The Mican studied him. “Little monkey primate, you irritate me. I wonder if that useless tegument you call skin has enough nerve endings in it to feel the impact of a neurowhip? One so powerful it feels like you stepped into a plasma torch.”

“You’ll never know.”

Legion opened its muzzle, displaying canine incisors that would have made a tiger proud. “Overconfidence comes before a mighty fall.”

“I agree.” Matt now smiled back toothily. “Which is why I wonder at your negligence in not assuming I sent a few Nanoshell packages your way, upon system entry, before we braked down from lightspeed?”

Legion’s tail whipped the dark air of its office aboard the Halicene MotherShip. “Did you?”

This was almost fun. He laughed. “Come, come, Director—your Tactical CPU and your Strategic Advisors must somehow earn their drugs and their retirement pay!”

Legion snarled, pacing around its office. “They are! By alerting me to your idiotic nuclear blast. You are aware the Stripper will decimate the planet’s ecosystem if you attack it from orbit?”

Matt rubbed his hands together gleefully, ignoring Eliana’s strange look, doing his best to confuse the alien’s expert system algorithms that sought to explicate human behavior. “Yes, so I assumed. I wasn’t trying to destroy it. I was ‘sampling’ it. It’s some toy.”

The Mican stopped pacing and settled down on
grey metal deckplates, resting its snout on heavily clawed forepaws. It growled. “How much do you want?”