Lotti’s carefully controlled expression cracked when she heard that. “What?”
Hirsen lowered his gun and placed the safety on. She wasn’t going to strike at him now. He had her.
“Ring any bells? She should. Edith Sharpe. Your first surrogate mother.”
A deafening silence extended over the warehouse. One ganger burped. Another snickered.
Hirsen sighed again. These kids lacked flair.
“What about her,” Lotti said, tough-gal screens back up, but Hirsen could see under the act. She was out of her element. Surprised. If they had been boxing, she’d be against the ropes now. Hirsen kept jabbing.
“Sharpe’s dead, four months ago, killed by enforcers,” said Hirsen. Same day the construct had almost gotten them both killed. “Sorry.”
“That what you wanted to tell me?” Lotti laughed, making sure her goons saw how tough she was. “I barely remember her. She was never around. She gave me up when I started trouble.”
“Not true,” said Hirsen, “she lost you. You were never adopted, you see. Those fake IDs? They weren’t good enough to stand Child Protection Services’ scrutiny. They came knocking. They took you away.”
Lotti shrugged. To someone with a heart, she’d have looked like a scared child pretending to be uncaring.
Hirsen knew better. He had studied her, read her profile, seen her in action. Most people hesitated for a second before killing someone. Newgen’s agents were lethal because they lacked that hesitation. It was surgically extracted out of them.
What surgery and pseudo-zen personality reprogramming had done to Hirsen, life in the streets had done to Lotti. She didn’t hesitate. At all.
She was putting on an act, true. But it was for him. To make him believe she was vulnerable.
So he’d leave her an opening.
He made sure she saw him take off the safety of his gun. He winked at her. I see you.
“Sharpe spent the rest of her life keeping an eye on you,” he said. “At first, that is. During your orphanage days. She paid off quite a few surrogate families to stand your antics. It worked, for a time. Then, well, you know. They assigned you to that family. It didn’t work out. You dropped off the map. Burned your ID. Joined the gangers. Thrived. Became the Boss. Sharpe never took her gaze away from you. You were alive, she made sure that went on.”
Lotti laughed at that. “Hot damn, Deli. What a story you’re telling! This gets any more surreal, I may believe I’ve snorted a lollipop and forgot. But you got one thing wrong. Me and my gangers, we’ve been at this alone. No businesswoman to bail us out of trouble.”
“Is that right? When you got your eye gouged out during that brawl, who paid for the vat-grown replacement?”
Lotti blinked. Didn’t answer.
“You thought Alwinter has ganger’ health-care or something?” Hirsen said.
“I—”
“When you killed that mobster’s daughter because she burned your lollipop side-business down, why do you think her daddy didn’t come after you? Someone paid a lot of money to the enforcers to make daddy disappear in the middle of the night.”
“You—”
“Hey, Nerd,” Hirsen went on, “that tumor you got, remember the free clinic that killed it for you? Guess what, retro-viral injections aren’t free. Sharpe knew you were loyal to Lotti, she decided it was good to keep you around.”
The list went on. Security paid off to look the other way when Lotti was just starting out, an amateur making too much noise. Ex-boyfriends who changed their minds about getting revenge on the ex. Someone had hired a mercenary squad to take her out once. That squad got paid off, set against their original employers.
Strange how life worked. These last four months, the most dangerous in Lotti’s life, she’d survived them without Sharpe’s help. She did it all by herself, because in her line of business, if one lived long enough, was smart enough, and mean enough, one may learn a thing or two. Lotti had done more than that. She was a natural born leader.
And probably on the sociopathy spectrum.
“Why are you telling me this?” Lotti asked.
“Wrong question,” said Hirsen. “What you should be asking is this. Why are you worth keeping alive? Ganger trash, no one gives a damn about. What makes you so damn different?”
“I guess you’re about to tell me, Deli-darling.”
“Name’s not Deli, and I’m not your darling,” Hirsen said calmly. “I am Daneel Hirsen. Agent, Newgen batch D-77. And you’re not Lotti, ganger. Your real name is Isabella Reiner. Your father, Isaac Reiner, was the last free President of the Systems Alliance before Tal-Kader murdered him and the rest of your family fifty years ago. Tal-Kader’s here to finish the job, Isabella. All those ships duking it out in the sky? Vortex, Hawk, the entire Sentinel fleet? All these people, they’re here because of you.”
It went as well as he could have expected. Lotti burst out in laughter. The gangers burst out in laughter. Hirsen smiled placidly and looked at his wristband’s watch. Then at the hints of the fake sky through the cracks of the warehouse.
“Hear that? Boss’s fancy real name’s Isabella! That’s so cute!” a ganger said.
“What the hell is a Reiner, anyway?”
“Screw that, what’s a President?”
“Like a King, I guess, but in space, and with people telling him what to do.”
Nerd intervened there. “That’s not what a President is. You have to vote for one, and they leave after a couple years without having achieved anything.”
“Sounds boring.”
Nerd shrugged.
“So what, Boss’s is a princess, right?”
The gangers were having a field day. Hirsen kept on smiling and looking at his watch.
“No,” said Nerd, “it’s not transfer—”
“Yes,” said Lotti. “That’s exactly what I am. My boys, I’m a space princess! Kneel before me!”
“Hail!” Many gangers knelt, their multi-colored hairs bobbling with the movement, not unlike a group of peacocks.
Any time now.
Lotti stopped laughing first. She cleaned a tear in her eye, then turned to face Hirsen. “I never pegged you for a candy user, Delagarza. What did you eat? Ah, don’t bother answer. Tell you what, in exchange for the good story I’m going to give you a five minute head-start.”
“It doesn’t matter what you believe,” said Hirsen. He glanced one last time at his wristband. “It matters what the Edge believes…Scratch that. It matters what the enforcers believe. Open the news, Isabella. Go on. Any channel will do.”
“Don’t call me that,” said Lotti. Hirsen’s mocking expression made her doubt herself. Laughter died down among the other gangers. She opened a holo and made it big enough so those behind her could see.
Lotti and Hirsen’s faces floated above a blond reporter. The woman’s lips were pulled stout in an expression of disapproval.
“—the urgent communication from Alwinter Security Department identified the woman as Lotti, no second name, and the man as Daneel Hirsen, one of the most wanted terrorists across the Systems Alliance. According to Security’s spokesperson, the ganger Lotti claims to be Isaac Reiner’s daughter—despite the obvious age difference—and she also claims that Tal-Kader, our benevolent overseers, are responsible for the tragic accident that destroyed the Monsoon. Obviously, Mark, claims such as these cannot be allowed to prosper. If the less informed members of our community heard these blatant lies, they may lack the context necessary to see them for what they are. Dangerous terrorist propaganda. Something has to be done, and for my part, I hope AlSec shows these terrorists that lies have consequences.”