there’s only one general. Indigo Jaxx, newly created duke of that city.
‘From his son, sir.’
My parcel is the size of a small bomb. Seeing me scowl, Debro takes the envelope from my fingers.
‘It’s OK,’ I say. ‘I can read.’
She looks slightly surprised. ‘So what . . .?’
Then she gets it. Raising her eyebrows, she passes the envelope to Anton, who nods approvingly.
‘Clever,’ he says.
The address looks odd because Vijay uses a machine that strikes one letter after another onto the label.
‘No trail,’ Debro says. ‘No electronic traces.’
Anton nods. After a second, it occurs to me he’s asking about the note inside. So I hand him Colonel Vijay’s message.
‘Want to take a guess who’d like you dead?’
I shrug. ‘Could be the Enlightened. I killed one of their generals, and blew up his mother ship. Could be the U/Free. Ms Osamu didn’t like how things worked out between us. And then, of course . . .’
Shouldn’t be saying this.
Not sure I care.
‘. . . there’s always Jaxx. Less public to have me murdered than fix a court martial or send me somewhere dangerous.’
Debro’s laugh sounds strained.
‘Only you could have all three sides wanting to kill you at once.’
All three . . . I run that again. Never thought of the U/Free as a side before. They’re the observers. Strictly neutral. God knows, they tell us often enough.
‘Sven? You OK?’
‘Neurons firing,’ the SIG tells Aptitude. ‘Blood vessels tightening. He’s thinking. Can’t you tell?’
My parcel is wrapped with tamper tape and sealed. It has a military frank mark, but no return address and feels heavy enough to contain a fistful of shrapnel if that is what someone has in mind. ‘Just taking this outside.’
Anton has the sense to nod.
No trigger and no shrapnel wrapped round an explosive core. The SIG told me it was safe. All the same . . .
One end has a black glass cap. The other a quick-release carabiner clasp. So it can be clipped to a belt. Pointing the cap at a bush, I push what looks like a trigger button. Nothing happens.
So I push again.
When that doesn’t work, I decide Vijay’s present is broken. I’m heading back to the roof terrace when the handle suddenly drags, and then comes free. A smoking gash scars the stair wall behind me.
A prod at the wall creates a smouldering hole. I make another before deciding Debro won’t thank me for messing with her plaster. But the temptation is strong, and the wooden rail looks old and in need of replacing anyway.
My first blow severs it. My second sends a section clattering down the stairs.
There are three controls on the sabre’s handle.
A silver button turns the blade on. A wheel adjusts for colour and visibility. A smaller wheel below that produces a low humming.
‘You’re grinning,’ Anton says.
Yeah, quite possibly. I have a laser dagger that’s saved my life. But this, I didn’t even know laser blades this big existed. If I’d had one when I met the ferox I’d probably still have both arms.
Anton sees the handle hanging from my belt.
As if by telepathy, Debro looks where he’s looking. Her face drops. ‘That’s your present from Vijay?’
‘Smart, isn’t it?’
‘You realize it’s illegal?’
My grin must widen, because she sighs.
Neither Debro nor Anton is paying attention to Aptitude. She’s standing at the edge of the terrace, blushing deeply, rereading a letter in her hand for what is obviously the fifth or sixth time.
‘Printed on that machine?’ I ask Anton.
‘The envelope certainly was.’
Could be Colonel Vijay’s careful by nature. Could be his father’s spies intercept his messages. General Jaxx is capable of that. There’s another option, of course. The Colonel’s trying to avoid the attention of our glorious leader.
OctoV, the glorious and undefeated.
Makes me wonder why.
That thought vanishes when knocking begins at the front door. Someone wants our attention. Wants it badly, by the
‘From his son, sir.’
My parcel is the size of a small bomb. Seeing me scowl, Debro takes the envelope from my fingers.
‘It’s OK,’ I say. ‘I can read.’
She looks slightly surprised. ‘So what . . .?’
Then she gets it. Raising her eyebrows, she passes the envelope to Anton, who nods approvingly.
‘Clever,’ he says.
The address looks odd because Vijay uses a machine that strikes one letter after another onto the label.
‘No trail,’ Debro says. ‘No electronic traces.’
Anton nods. After a second, it occurs to me he’s asking about the note inside. So I hand him Colonel Vijay’s message.
‘Want to take a guess who’d like you dead?’
I shrug. ‘Could be the Enlightened. I killed one of their generals, and blew up his mother ship. Could be the U/Free. Ms Osamu didn’t like how things worked out between us. And then, of course . . .’
Shouldn’t be saying this.
Not sure I care.
‘. . . there’s always Jaxx. Less public to have me murdered than fix a court martial or send me somewhere dangerous.’
Debro’s laugh sounds strained.
‘Only you could have all three sides wanting to kill you at once.’
All three . . . I run that again. Never thought of the U/Free as a side before. They’re the observers. Strictly neutral. God knows, they tell us often enough.
‘Sven? You OK?’
‘Neurons firing,’ the SIG tells Aptitude. ‘Blood vessels tightening. He’s thinking. Can’t you tell?’
My parcel is wrapped with tamper tape and sealed. It has a military frank mark, but no return address and feels heavy enough to contain a fistful of shrapnel if that is what someone has in mind. ‘Just taking this outside.’
Anton has the sense to nod.
No trigger and no shrapnel wrapped round an explosive core. The SIG told me it was safe. All the same . . .
One end has a black glass cap. The other a quick-release carabiner clasp. So it can be clipped to a belt. Pointing the cap at a bush, I push what looks like a trigger button. Nothing happens.
So I push again.
When that doesn’t work, I decide Vijay’s present is broken. I’m heading back to the roof terrace when the handle suddenly drags, and then comes free. A smoking gash scars the stair wall behind me.
A prod at the wall creates a smouldering hole. I make another before deciding Debro won’t thank me for messing with her plaster. But the temptation is strong, and the wooden rail looks old and in need of replacing anyway.
My first blow severs it. My second sends a section clattering down the stairs.
There are three controls on the sabre’s handle.
A silver button turns the blade on. A wheel adjusts for colour and visibility. A smaller wheel below that produces a low humming.
‘You’re grinning,’ Anton says.
Yeah, quite possibly. I have a laser dagger that’s saved my life. But this, I didn’t even know laser blades this big existed. If I’d had one when I met the ferox I’d probably still have both arms.
Anton sees the handle hanging from my belt.
As if by telepathy, Debro looks where he’s looking. Her face drops. ‘That’s your present from Vijay?’
‘Smart, isn’t it?’
‘You realize it’s illegal?’
My grin must widen, because she sighs.
Neither Debro nor Anton is paying attention to Aptitude. She’s standing at the edge of the terrace, blushing deeply, rereading a letter in her hand for what is obviously the fifth or sixth time.
‘Printed on that machine?’ I ask Anton.
‘The envelope certainly was.’
Could be Colonel Vijay’s careful by nature. Could be his father’s spies intercept his messages. General Jaxx is capable of that. There’s another option, of course. The Colonel’s trying to avoid the attention of our glorious leader.
OctoV, the glorious and undefeated.
Makes me wonder why.
That thought vanishes when knocking begins at the front door. Someone wants our attention. Wants it badly, by the
Similar Books
