A definite point.
"I think you are overreacting," said Mika, staring at Gant analytically. "You have not yet recovered from your death."
Low blow.
Gant took that in good humour, but Cormac could see that he was formulating a slap-down retort. But much as he would have liked to see the results of such a confrontation, there was work to do. He cut in with, "The situation in the Masadan system is my main concern and anything I can learn about that situation, before jumping into it, I will be glad of. For this reason: no missile."
"And what will this 'jumping in' involve?" asked Gant, grinning.
"You will all be briefed when I consider the time right." And when I know what the fuck I'm going to do.
The bay was large and crowded with shuttles flown in from the huge conglomeration of ships outside, and with small ships like Lyric II. As he walked down the ramp from his ship, with a small flat briefcase held close to his side, Stanton watched another ship — this one a sharp metallic cone — easing in through the huge shimmer-shield that prevented air, people and ships from exploding out into space. Quickly catching up with him, Jarvellis linked her arm through his and gestured back towards Lyric II. "You know, friend Thorn will see we've taken on more cargo when we do wake him," she said.
Stanton nodded as he observed the cone-ship swinging into its allocated docking area. "Tough," he said. "I just don't want a Polity agent stepping on my heels — especially here." Gesturing to another ship nosing in through the shimmer-shield — this one a flattened ovoid of red metal with stubby wings terminating in ion engines the shape of caraway seeds — he continued, "Another one. I think about half the ships here I already saw at Huma, running arms for the Separatists."
"As did we too," Jarvellis pointed out.
"As did we," Stanton allowed, "but we learnt better. I don't reckon Dreyden quite realizes just how nasty the Polity can get."
Jarvellis squeezed his arm. "Of course he does, darling. He knows it's just a matter of balance. He knows that somewhere there's an AI comparing the likely loss of life here if there was a Polity takeover against lives lost as a consequence of the illegal arms trade. I would also guarantee that this place is scrutinized very closely — and at least here the Polity can do that quite easily. Out-Polity dealing is a little more difficult to keep track of."
"I'd have gone Out-Polity," said Stanton, "if I didn't know for damned sure the Polity want me to have these particular items." Stanton remembered how the dealer on Huma, after selling him the bulk of Lyric II's cargo, had then told him how the drug manufactories could only be obtained here — and that other special items could also be obtained here. Stanton also remembered the watchers in the streets of Port Lock on Huma — Golem every last one of them.
Jarvellis said, "I think you credit them with far too much deviousness — when you have ships capable of wasting planets, you don't have to be devious, just careful not to step on something you might have wanted to preserve… Ah, here come those charmers, Lons and Alvor."
Stanton looked across at the two men making their way towards him. Whatever could be said about their charm or otherwise, Stanton knew that these two men were consummate professionals. As he understood it, Dreyden, having climbed so high, was beginning to realize just how far he could fall, and was becoming a bit twitchy about the possibility of Polity intervention here, and starting to clamp down on the arms trade. These two men maintained the fragile balance despite Dreyden's often idiotic meddling: they allowed enough arms to be passed on to the Separatists to prevent Elysium becoming a target, but kept the quantity supplied low enough to keep ECS from doing anything drastic against them.
"Good to see you," he said to Lons, who as always stayed a few paces back from Alvor and acted the silent heavy — a position that led people to make the misguided assumption that he was secondary to Alvor and less intelligent. Stanton, however, knew that they had equal standing below Dreyden, and, if anything, Lons was the sharper of the two. Lons nodded, and Stanton turned to Alvor who always did the talking.
"Alvor," he said.
"Good to see you, John Stanton. And as always it is a pleasure to see you, Captain Jarvellis," said Alvor, grinning his chrome grin.
"I can't say the pleasure's mutual," said Jarvellis. "But I think you are already aware of that."
Stanton knew that these two had a history, but what lay between them was not hate, just a kind of lazy bickering. Had it been hate, he would have wanted to know why, and then would probably have to kill Alvor.
"Do you have my cargo ready?" said Jarvellis.
"Of course. The main package can be loaded right now." Alvor looked pointedly at the briefcase Stanton carried. "And the two extra items you ordered are with Dreyden, who would like to extend his hospitality."
Stanton considered suggesting Jarvellis should stay with the ship, when he saw her expression, but knew she would refuse.
"Then we accept," said Stanton.
Alvor grinned again, and rested his forefinger against his aug in a somewhat effeminate gesture. "And so your main cargo is on its way. Will we require locking codes?" he said.
"Lyric will handle it," said Jarvellis.
The two men turned to keep pace, as the four advanced across the bay.
"Oh yes, you have an AI on this ship," said Alvor. "Do you trust it?"
"More than I'd ever trust you," replied Jarvellis.
"That's nice," said Alvor as they moved on out of the bay.
"I am dying."
Cormac was alone in his cabin when Dragon told him that. He was lying on his bed transmitting through the submind. No doubt Tomalon would be listening in, but there was not much Cormac could do about that, nor wanted to.
"Is there no way we can help you?"
Silence.
"There is a very good xenobiologist on this ship and the bioscience facilities are the best." Cormac thought his offer faintly ridiculous. Got any wound dressing that's a quarter of a kilometre wide? And how about ten thousand gallons of unibiotic?
"Why would you want to help me?"
"Why not?"
"You avoided the contract killers."
Ah.
"It was you then, not your fellow I killed at Samarkand — or the other two?"
"They are far from here."
"Did you organize things through the Masadans?"
Silence.
"How long until you die?"
"I will have vengeance first."
"What are you waiting for, then?"
"Take me there."
Cormac chewed that one over. "You've lost the ability for trans-stellar flight."
"Yes."
"Why should I help you kill people?"
Silence.
"What would you do if we transported you to Masada?"
"Destroy until destroyed."
"And how much damage could you do?"
"Enough."
"I couldn't be a party to such indiscriminate destruction."
"Vengeance!"
"You're repeating yourself, but your impulse could serve my purposes."
Silence.
"We could transport you there. In return, I would want you to only attack orbital facilities. This we can enforce. You are aware of the capabilities of this dreadnought?"
"I am aware."
"Specifically, then: geostationary over the populated area of Masada are laser arrays. Destroy them — only them. Is it agreed?"
"Agreed."
Cormac cut communication.
"You trust this creature?" asked Tomalon.
Cormac kept his annoyance from his voice. "No. But if it attacks anything other than the laser arrays, we can destroy it and be lauded as saviours."