Wings

by Fearadhach MecRaudri

His hope lay in the value of his information, and the promise of more. Sar’s veiled insult actually made him feel slightly relieved, as he could see that it was, in fact, a test. This meant that Cohen -probably- did not plan on simply crushing him out of hand. He still had to pass whatever tests the other man put out there, though.

  He chose the words of reply carefully, “With respect, sir, there is no generosity intended by the invitation…merely courtesy. I heard that you had expressed an interest in the particulars of this incident, and believed that you might find some value in hearing the call. It is a small enough favor, I felt, to give the man who is the public voice for the concerns of the Families first hand access to the information, rather than some dry report. Also, to be frank, I heard that you liked to hear information first hand, and believe it always useful to curry the favor of those above me.”

  Sar nodded slightly in approval at his answer, and stated that he would like that glass of wine after all. Gabern carefully kept the elation from his face. Cohen accepting the courtesy of the wine after turning it down held a great compliment, one which he acknowledged with a grave nod and a slight smile.

  Commandant Sar Cohen held great prestige with both the masses and the Families. Sar’s appeal to the masses could be understood easy enough, as the head of the Academy he represented the secret dream of every plebe out there to have a set of wings and be able to fly, and it put him above he ‘partisan politics’ (HA!) which were splashed across the daily news. When something needed to be believed by all the common folk out there, Cohen’s face showed up on the news saying it. His position could be called, in truth, the PR man for the Families. His place at The Academy made him a logical candidate for it, his power as head of the Cohen family put him in position to take it, and his incredible manipulative abilities clinched the position.

  Cohen could spend five minutes with a complete stranger and tell you whether that person should be broken or converted, how long each would take, and how reliable the plebe would be afterwards. He could take a phrase and turn it so it passed the mind’s filter as inane, but caused doubts to creep up hours, or even days, later. He also lead house Cohen, and there were rumors that the Cohen’s had a secret genetics lab where they had developed Empathy or Telepathy, then implanted key people with it.

  Gabern didn’t believe that for a moment, but he did agree that the Commandant had a way of getting what he wanted out of people which bordered on downright frightening. The man could -and at least once had- cause elections to go in a way they weren’t supposed to, with no more than a single phrase spoken to the unwashed masses.

  Measures were quickly put in place after that to ensure that the Families could manipulate the votes directly if needed. It was still hotly debated behind certain closed doors whether Cohen had done as he did for the purpose of knocking the affected house low, or to demonstrate the need for the ability to ‘deal with’ unfavorable election results. Some noted that the Family he took down that day had been his greatest obstacle to putting the election measures in place, but only in the most hushed of tones. The Commandant could be a dangerous man to have as an enemy, or just as good to have as an ally…or patron. He also liked to hear things first-hand, hence his presence at this unofficial phone call.

  Gabern had extended the invite to Sar as soon as he had learned that the raid on the Fendal mob family’s depot had been executed by The Column, as intended, but that they had stored both the vats and the weapons in the same place despite his instructions. He had known that the Fendal’s were going to be angry, and call demanding answers.

  The two of them made polite conversation as they waited for the call to come in, keeping the verbal sparring to the minimum needed for the two to sound each other out. Gabern knew himself to be hopelessly outclassed, but one who requested patronage expected such. He began to feel nervous as the time wore on, he had expected Fendal to have called by now. Soon the hints would begin to come from the Commandant about flaming stars who got too sure of themselves, then the Commandant would leave, and his hopes would be dashed. Just as Cohen seemed ready to settle into the subject of rebuke, the terminal beeped, and its display indicated an incoming secure call.

  Gabern pressed the button to prevent the call from going to the inbox then let his finger hover over the ‘accept’ button. He smirked to the Commandant, who positioned himself away from the comm’s visual pickup. Gabern held his hand over the button to indicate that he had no intention of answering the call quickly. The Commandant returned the smirk, then nodded in approval. Sometimes the plebes had to be reminded of their place, especially ones who had been given some latitude and might start getting ideas.

  He waited. Timing here was crucial. He had to show himself to be operating from a position of strength, both to Fendal and Cohen. If he answered too soon, he would show weakness to Fendal. If he waited too long, he risked the Commandant motioning him to proceed, at which point the man would become master rather than patron.

  Gabern folded his hands behind his back and leaned back in his chair, counting the tiles. He waited for a couple of minutes, carefully arranging things on his desk. He waited until he heard the Commandant’s breathing change to a more restless pace, then grabbed a random stack of papers, placed them in front of him, and winked to Cohen, who returned the gesture with a slight smile. He picked up a pen, grabbed a page, hit the button on the comm., and a red-faced Lorcan Fendal appeared on his screen.

  Gabern picked up the top page, and made a show of reading it while covering half of the camera and ignoring Fendal’s diatribe. He waited for the man to realize that his ranting fell on unlistening ears, begin to shout louder, then grow silent. He let the silent man stew for a little bit, then put the paper down and signed it.

  A look at the screen rewarded him with a view of a Fendal whose face had gone a deep purple with near-apoplectic rage. He folded his hands on the desk and spoke calmly, “Yes, I am aware that a poorly defended supply depot of yours was raided a few days ago. No, I did not authorize it.”

  ”Poorly Defended!?! I’ll have you know, boy, that base was anything but poorly defended. We had the best towers you bunch of bastards have allowed us guarding it, and it was in a tight enough canyon that your damned birdbrains should not have been able to doge for crap. I know it was you bastards, and I lost some of my best men. You are supposed to warn us when you do something like this. That way I don’t lose anyone that matters, and you don’t lose anyone. As it was, we nearly killed…” Gabern had responded to ‘boy’ with a raised eyebrow and a slightly annoyed expression, then reached toward the button to drop the call. “What are you doing? Don’t You Dare Hang Up On ME!”

  He applied an expression of polite tolerance to his face, and enjoyed watching Fendal’s face twitch while replying in polite, level tones, “If you wish to discuss this matter further, I will do so, but if you wish to insult a high-level member of CentGov intelligence and call him a ‘boy’, then continue to lecture him on things he knows full well, then I see no reason for us to continue our arrangements.”

  Fendal visibly struggled to bring himself under control, his face changing to a more human-looking red. He leaned on one elbow, and began to speak in the measured tones one uses when speaking to an obstinate subordinate. “Don’t go there with me, young man. I have run this Family since before you were born, and I will still be here when you have left this bloody position you so prize behind. Possibly in shame, if you aren’t careful.” Gabern leaned back, and refused to let the other’s tone bait him, but positioned his hands to make it clear he would not tolerate it for long, either.

  Fendal changed his tone to something more civil. “I suspected that there could be treachery afoot, so I had fighter craft not far away. We were able to run your little bastard birdbrains off before they cleared the place out. If you had decided you wanted those weapons or those cast-off meat vats back, that would have been fine. The weapons had already served their purpose, and I don’t exactly have use for defunct vats. All you had t
o do was tell us that you were going to make a raid, and let us know what you wanted to obtain.” His voice began to rise in volume, “And, mister, if you think that you will get out of *Paying* for the equipment which you stole from us, you best think again! We still have some of that equipment, and there are those who would find the fact that we hold…”

  Gabern dropped one hand sharply onto the table, and held the other up to the screen. He kept the same measured politeness in his voice. It took some effort to keep the internal war of anger at this jumped-up plebe threatening him against the amusement at the little man’s tirade off his face. “I will state again to you that we had no knowledge of this raid, and did not execute it. Furthermore, if you ever make a threat like that against me or those I represent again, you will pay for it dearly.

  “You and I, along with my predecessors, have carried out enough of these events that you should know, by now, that we would not just hit one of your facilities without warning. Indeed, I was quite unhappy to hear that you had been hit there, and made some rather pointed inquiries of my own immediately.” Well, not really pointed: More a matter of double checking with a few people that nothing had happened without authorization.

  He didn’t have to check to see if it had been the work of some gung-ho recruits. That depot had been too tough for new recruits, particularly considering the attacker’s lack of casualties. “I am quite sure that this was not done by anyone inside. I will even concede that your facility was significantly better defended than most of the facilities you have operated in the past. It was particularly well defended against attacks by flyers, which is a detail that I find troubling in its own right but not relevant to this discussion.”

  Gabern allowed himself an inward smile as he watched Fendal react to his statement. The man tried to hide it, but didn’t have the ability to school in his features that came with Family training. He could see the Commandant’s amusement of the corner of his eye. At least someone enjoyed this.

  He continued, “What I do find relevant to the discussion is your admission that –against my express and explicit instructions- you had both those weapons and those meat vats in the same place. No, don’t start trying to talk over me, I’m speaking! I don’t care that you saw no reason to do as I asked. Your place is not to understand instructions, but to follow them. That we will get back to later.

  “As for this wild idea of yours that we are the ones who hit that place, you may as well give it up now. With the defenses you had in place there you should have realized that the flyers who hit your facility were top-rate combatants, and you should know by now that we do not risk our top-rate flyers by sending them against defended targets when all we have to do is speak to you to make them defenseless targets.” He rolled his eyes for effect, and returned his gaze to the screen. Fendal had finally realized that he had lost the initiative. Well, he’d never really had it, but that was beside the point. Lorcan generally dealt with his subordinates and, occasionally, members of rival mobs. People who could be shouted down by sheer force of anger, but to show someone of Gabern’s training anger meant you could forget any possibility of winning your argument.

  Gabern watched Fendal’s reactions and confirmed that the guy knew The Column had hit him, meaning that the attempts to place the blame on the Legion were a strategy meant not only get his weapons replaced, but replaced at a discount. He found the man’s belief that he could get the weapons replaced after allowing them to fall into Column hands disconcerting. That the thought he could get it done after allowing that and disobeying instructions Gabern found downright galling.

  Gabern grimaced inwardly at how poorly his predecessor had handled these people, and came to a decision. The Fendal family had been allowed too much latitude for too many years, time to bring them to heel. “In fact, I was quite upset to hear that those weapons had been stolen, since I had not planned to arrange that raid with you for at least another year. Furthermore, you seem to have grown so overconfident in yourself that you are willing to totally ignore my instructions in the disposition of materials given you for covert transport from one corporation to another. As it stands, you are lucky I don’t force you to turn that entire facility over to us, along with whatever weapons are left.

  “I am going to have to take punitive action against you, however. You failed to keep the weapons we allowed you safe, letting them to fall into Column hands. You also failed to keep the weapons separate from the Vats, as instructed, and they are in Column hands as well. No, I don’t want to hear from you how they were useless vats, they did have a purpose. Not that it matters. What matters is that you were given instructions and failed to carry them out. In response, I am denying the request you were going to make to be allowed to buy replacements for those weapons. If you can’t keep them safe, we aren’t supplying you with more. Further, I am going to see to it that the law working its way through your province’s legislature to ban liquor is killed, and may even recommend that they legalize marijuana.”

  “You wouldn’t dare! I worked hard, very hard, to get those substances banned. They provide a great deal of the profit that we use to keep things around here under control. Not to mention the number of your own rivals you have been able to take down from our records. Then there is The Column, and the Intel I have been able to provide you on them, I do believe that Intel led to you discovering one of their bases…”

  He rolled his eyes at the screen, this time earnestly tired of hearing that particular tired argument, “Fifteen years ago, yes. Nothing you have given us in the last ten years has amounted to anything. Not only that, but there has been a marked increase of Column activity in your area in the last couple of years…”

  Fendal cut him off with a hand slapping on the desk, “Which is something we are working diligently on, is the reason you provided us with the weapons, AND is something that has been in decline for the last year! At least it had been. Now that those weapons have been lost to y---”

  A piercing look stopped Fendal from trying to blame the Legion, and Gabern decided he’d had enough, “Have been lost to The Column, who’s activity in your area was in decline, that much I will grant you. Or, it was in decline until yesterday. That is, unless you think one of your rival gangs has managed to recruit elite flyers and is attacking you despite the Conventions?”

  Gabern watched as his points finally struck home. He would probably have taken some satisfaction from it if the man wasn’t so bull-headed difficult to deal with that he would continue to argue anyway. Fendal looked completely pole axed for some moments, and then looked at him in disbelief.

  He hoped, briefly, that maybe Fendal would, for once, not continue to argue after it obviously had ended, but his hopes were dashed. “You really want me to believe that The Column pulled that raid off? They have never had the training, nor the equipment, nor the intelligence capabilities, nor…,”

  “Nor the kind of leadership they need to put all of that together. They have had all of that, from time to time, but not all at once. This…” he stopped himself before mentioning this ‘Lucas’ character who lead them. That could lead to discussions about where the man came from, and other questions for which he did not have answers. He did not wish to give up any initiative at all at this point. Placing a crime organization in to buffer against Column activity required delicate handling, while keeping them strong enough to buffer the threat while preventing them from getting ideas seemed more like an art.

  They always had to be disposed of, sooner or later, but he already knew where this one’s buttons were… He continued on a different track. “This is The Column of today, not of the past. They are more powerful and difficult to deal with, and have a far better network of spies, to boot.” Fendal began to speak, but he waved his hand, cutting the man off, “Which leads us to another discussion. How did The Column find out about the cache in the first place? I know everyone here who had access to that information, and the leak didn’t come from in here. Do you even have an idea of whether your leak w
as human or digital?” Fendal shook his head, a slightly overwhelmed expression still on his face. To allow The Column to gain a cache of weapons put him in danger, and he knew it. “Then I am going to send a couple of our better slicers over, have them go through your data, see if the leak was there.”

  Fendal’s anger suddenly returned. Gabern almost found himself taken off guard by the suddenness of the outburst, and felt satisfied to notice the Commandant’s eyebrows raise slightly in surprise. “OH! You’d just love that, wouldn’t you!? For me to give full access to all our systems to a couple of your slicers?! You think I am a fool? It is no secret that I don’t tell you everything, my dear ‘handler’, and if you think I’m just going to hand all of that over to you on a platter just because you bastards dropped the ball on your Intel!

  “Yea, that’s right, you! You seem to have forgotten the specifics of our little arrangement, so let me remind you. MY job is to have a presence here, keep the other organized crime families out of this area, and make it as difficult as possible for The Column to operate here, possibly even hitting targets of opportunity.

  “Your job is to help me do that, and provide me information on military matters so I can be prepared when something like this is about to happen! Now, since you failed, not only am I supposed to sit back and blithely accept the loss of the weapons, and the men, and the sanctions, but I’m supposed to apologize to you, and let you invade my privacy? I have my own slicers, thank you very much, and they will get back to you after they have torn through our systems. I don’t think…”

  “Yes, I know you don’t think. Seems to be a problem you have quite often. The situation with The Column in your province is bad enough that I may have to consider allowing you to buy replacements for those weapons, but if you won’t allow me to satisfy myself as to your security measures, I’m afraid that’s impossible.” He saw Fendal gear up for another tirade. He silenced the man with a glare. He and the Commandant both knew that sending in the slicers would never have happened, those guys were too easy to bribe. The ploy had served its purpose of derailing Lorcan’s accusations, meaning he needed to put the conversation back on track by deliberately miss-interpreting the man’s intent., “Oh, don’t argue with me now, it is too late. You have already expressed that you are totally unwilling to allow my people the access they need, and I could no longer trust your cooperation even if you were to operate it.