Hard Strike

by Eric Thomson

  “That’s awful,” Annear replied in a soft voice after digesting his words. Decker sensed she believed him. “I can understand your reaction when you saw me earlier.”

  “But what an amazing coincidence,” Talyn said, “that Piet would find his lost love’s half-sister.”

  “I’ll tell you about an even bigger coincidence.” Annear briefly looked over Talyn’s shoulder. “The folks who saved me aboard Thebes a few days ago reacted in the same manner as Piet did when they saw my face for the first time, especially the one who called himself Ned Sarkin. What are the odds I’d run across two large, powerful men, Armed Forces veterans now in the private security business, who seem startled by my resemblance to someone they once knew?”

  “Perhaps this Sarkin fellow recognized you as Magda Annear and was surprised to find a wealthy woman, daughter of a Commonwealth senator, traveling in a rundown frontier trader,” Talyn suggested.

  “No. I got the impression Sarkin saw a ghost when he entered the cabin, not a minor Cimmerian celebrity slumming it with the interstellar hoi polloi.” Annear took a sip of wine, eyes resting on Decker once more. “Perhaps Avril had a partner before you, Ser Yorik.”

  “Could be. We didn’t talk much about our respective pasts.”

  “Don’t ask, don’t tell. Not a bad policy, I suppose, if one has things to hide. But twice in the space of days is an incredible fluke, no? Of course, I don’t believe in coincidences. Things happen for a reason.”

  “Funny, I wouldn’t take you for an adherent of determinism,” Talyn said.

  “I’m not. However, if you trace related events, even those who seem only superficially connected, sufficiently far back to their root causes, you can’t help but notice inevitable linkages.” Her mouth twitched. “Would you like to hear my theory on why two different men reacted in the same way at the sight of my face within a short period? I’ll tell you right now it’s not because I’m an extraordinary beauty. Far from it.”

  “Do tell.”

  “Occam’s razor, my dear Eva. They’re not different men.”

  The two officers sensed movement behind them.

  “No sudden gestures, please. Collette and Allyson have both of you in their sights. Needlers with non-lethal darts, but it’ll still be a nasty wakeup call.”

  “What’s the meaning of this, Magda?”

  “We can drop the pretense now that I satisfied my curiosity. You’re not Eva Cortez, my dear, and I doubt your gorilla is Piet Yorik or Ned Sarkin for that matter, which means you’re unlikely to be Lena Taryen. I arranged this meal merely to find out why my face seems to trigger a reaction in him. But please, finish your meal. There’s no point in letting good food go to waste.”

  — Thirty-Seven —

  Magda Annear swallowed the last bite of her torte with evident relish, then dabbed at her lips with her napkin. The rest of the meal had passed in strained silence though she frequently glanced at her guests with amused eyes.

  “Wonderful, as always. A good human cook is worth his weight in rare metals.” Annear took a sip of coffee. “Do you know what’s so ironic about the present situation?”

  “That the daughter of Nerys Annear is mentally unbalanced?” Decker asked in a friendly tone, winking at her.

  “How impolite.” She glared back. “You’re a guest at my table. Try to show a modicum of manners.”

  “Guests aren’t forced to eat while needler-armed thugs keep a bead on them. But please go ahead.”

  “If not for my learning of Eva Cortez’s death from Assistant Commissioner Bujold during Thebes’ layover on Mission Colony, I might have accepted you two as the real deal.”

  “So she’s your friend in the colonial administration. I wasn’t aware Kristy played for several teams. Unfortunately, you’ll need to replace her,” Talyn said before raising a delicate coffee cup to her lips.

  “That’s right,” Decker chimed in. “Bujold’s career ends as soon as a Professional Compliance Bureau team arrives in Ventano. The Constabulary frowns on its senior officers playing more than just footsie with people like Kerlin and Cortez.”

  Annear made a dismissive gesture. “Corrupt cops are easily replaced. But those aren’t the only ironic things. Your impulse to save me from the fake Howlers aboard Thebes was equally felicitous. If I’d never encountered Ned Sarkin and Lena Taryen, I might have been less suspicious when you showed up on Hadar’s doorstep this morning. But you obviously didn’t expect to see me again under these circumstances.”

  “Fake Howlers?” Decker pushed his empty plate away and sat back. “Would you care to explain?”

  A feral smile curled Annear’s lips.

  “Satisfy my curiosity, and I’ll satisfy yours.”

  “Why?”

  “Gudrun Mariano tells me they condition SOCOM officers against interrogation. The only way you’ll answer questions is voluntarily, correct?”

  “And you figure we’re SOCOM now? How do you manage that sort of mental gymnastics?”

  “Oh, please. Commander Talyn and Major Decker traveled to Archeron in pursuit of a lead, and then vanished. The next morning, Eva Cortez and Piet Yorik show up at Hadar’s office.”

  Annear waved her fingers at them.

  “You’re obvious skilled at disguises, but I’ve seen you once too often, most recently on video from the talk you gave the Gendarmerie’s senior staff yesterday. Studying side-by-side pictures of Ned Sarkin, Piet Yorik, and Zack Decker turned out to be highly educational. Some things can’t be hidden without prosthetics or surgery. Yes, the people waiting for Sarkin and Taryen at the Howard’s Landing spaceport took pictures. Not because I suspected you might be SOCOM, but because I wanted to know why you looked at me as if I was a ghost.”

  She turned her eyes on Talyn.

  “You were more difficult to match with Lena Taryen and Hera Talyn, but then your physique is rather common and less noticeable. Not being a natural beauty is helpful in your line of business, isn’t it?”

  Talyn shrugged.

  “You’re free to believe what you want.”

  “I don’t merely believe, Commander, I know. Did you murder Gustav Kerlin and Eva Cortez? Kristy Bujold said Kerlin’s assassination was a professional job.”

  Decker exchanged a brief glance with his partner signaling he would end the charade, then said, “Talk to us about the fake Howlers we killed, Magda, and we’ll tell you.”

  He took another sip of coffee and smacked his lips.

  “Excellent stuff. Better than what Eva served, and she was no slouch in the luxury department.”

  “Okay. You’re aware of my husband’s identity, right?”

  “Pavel Yagudin,” Talyn said. “One of those rare business tycoons with a conscience.”

  “I’m not sure Pavel knows what a conscience is, but his survival instincts are impeccable. He and I split up approximately two years ago because he didn’t agree with my forging closer ties to Louis Sorne and his friends on Pacifica and Earth.”

  “Smart man. I’d dump a psycho who willingly cozies up to power-hungry maniacs. Not just dump but...”

  Decker pointed his index finger at Annear and mimed pulling a trigger.

  “You and Pavel seem to share the same barbaric views, Major Decker. Or should I call you Zack? He somehow found out I was touring the sector in recent weeks to prepare my allies for the day of reckoning. I’m sure you’re aware of how important the personal touch can be. Don’t ask me how Pavel found out. The attack on Thebes wasn’t the first attempt by his tame mercenaries, but it would have been the first to succeed absent your intervention.”

  “Everyone makes mistakes. Why was he after you?”

  “To renegotiate the terms of our separation from a position of strength, far from Cimmerian courts. He has friends in select Rim Sector star systems more sympathetic to his position.”

  “How did you know they weren’t real Howlers?”

  A contemptuous smile briefly flashed across her face. “Because we own the Confede
racy.”

  “Who’s we?”

  “That’s a new question. Time for you to answer one of mine. Did you murder Gustav Kerlin and Eva Cortez?”

  Talyn jerked a thumb at Decker.

  “He killed Gustav. I did Eva. I should have done Bujold as well, but we’re not cleared to terminate corrupt Constabulary personnel. Who is the we holding a mistaken belief it owns the Confederacy?”

  “A group of enlightened politicians, industrialists, financiers, government officials, academics, and other like-minded people. We want to replace the Commonwealth’s rotten political foundations with stronger, better leadership and help humanity become the dominant species in this part of the galaxy. And for that to happen, we must put an end to the squabbling between fractious star systems and Earth.”

  “I heard of them.” Decker looked up at the ceiling as if dredging his memory. “They call themselves the coven — no, the conclave or the constipation, something crappy like that.”

  “The Coalition, Major,” Annear replied a dry, biting tone.

  Decker snapped his fingers and pointed at her.

  “Right. The Coalition. And you think those sad sacks own the Confederacy of the Howling Stars? You’re hilarious, Magda. Has anyone ever told you that? Don’t mistake them doing the Coalition’s bidding in exchange for money as anything more than a purely contractual relationship. No one owns the Howlers.”

  “And yet we do.” A sly smile briefly creased her features. “She who can destroy a thing controls it, and if she controls it, she effectively owns it. Am I correct, Commander Talyn?”

  “How did that come about?”

  Annear wagged a finger at her.

  “Ah. An answer for an answer. I told you who we are. Now tell me what you expected to achieve by visiting Hadar at his Kusan Exports office and posing as Eva Cortez and her muscle.”

  “Burrow our way into the Democratic Stars Alliance so we can find and secure the MHX-19 before you kill more innocents.”

  “We killed no one, Commander. My dear aunt Bronwen received a warning in time to evacuate Silfax, including the shift underground. She ignored it as she ignores anyone who isn’t either useful or obedient.”

  “Let me guess, she thinks you’re neither of those things, right?” Decker gave her a cocky smile.

  “Are you always this tiresome, Major?”

  “Sadly, my partner is just warming up,” Talyn replied. “It gets worse. How did the Coalition impose its will on our Howler friends?”

  “I don’t know, and that’s the truth, but they assured me we control the Confederacy’s leadership to the point where disobedience means instant death. As I said, if you can destroy something, you control its destiny. My turn again. You weren’t expecting me as the DSA’s chief executive, were you?”

  “Considering you’re the daughter of a Commonwealth senator known for supporting star system sovereignty against centralization by Earth? No.”

  Magda’s face momentarily tightened at the mention of Nerys Annear.

  “My mother is entirely devoid of vision. She and the other Outworld senators stand in the way of progress.”

  “My turn,” Decker said. “When and where is the next bomb due to go off? I’m guessing this won’t be a pinprick such as yesterday’s and this morning’s automated ships. As a bonus question, do you hold a grudge against the Valerian family as well? Or is destroying its shipping merely a coincidence?” A pause. “Then again, destroying one of the Annear family’s most important properties helps deflect suspicion away from you, so perhaps attacking Valerian assets is also meant as a distraction.”

  He caught Hadar Wilborg’s reaction out of the corner of his eyes the moment he spoke the Valerian name. It wasn’t much, but the quick sideways glance at Magda spoke volumes.

  “Thought so,” Decker said. “Hera, if we accept the theory that this mayhem — pun intended — is to pave the way for a savior who’ll head a government of national unity with the blessing of the Honorable Hector Valerian, Governor General of Cimmeria, then I would suggest the lovely Magda intends to be the next prime minister. Does that sound about right, Magda? Not that it’ll work. Your life is rapidly coming to its end. I figure thirty-five hundred counts of first degree murder at Silfax are worth several death sentences.”

  “Do you think I would stop at thirty-five hundred, Major? That was merely the beginning. If Calvo doesn’t concede tonight and ask Hector to dissolve parliament, the next bit of encouragement will be much deadlier.”

  “Why? Did you put your remaining MHX into a five hundred kilo bomb buried beneath R.E. Howard’s statue?”

  An unexpected burst of laughter escaped Annear’s lips.

  “That would be interesting. I never liked the government precinct’s unimaginative architecture. But doing so strikes me as overly dramatic. I’ll need the machinery of government to rule Cimmeria, so bombing the capital is out. No. I’m afraid many prominent families will shortly suffer a devastating blow, enough to encourage their support of a new regime capable of suppressing these maniacal Democratic Stars Alliance radicals throughout the Rim Sector. No one likes radicals, Major, free, democratic, or otherwise. Not even me.”

  “What happens to your supporters?” Talyn asked. “The true believers you co-opted into the DSA? You know, those who genuinely want the political reforms that remove, or at least minimize the influence moneyed families exert on the democratic process?”

  “You mean the useful idiots? I don’t really give a damn, Commander. If humanity is to reach its full potential, it cannot be burdened with those motivated by sloth or envy rather than a desire to surpass themselves for the betterment of everyone. Once I seize the levers of power, they’ll vanish, either into the woodwork voluntarily or into the ocean, dropped from a shuttle, if they insist on pushing their foolish notions.”

  “You have to admire the DSA’s severance program for sheer ruthlessness,” Decker said giving his partner a knowing look. “And I thought ours was overly harsh. Dropping dissidents into the sea without parachutes from ten kilometers altitude? Sucks to be a revolutionary cadre once your usefulness expires, doesn’t it? You’d think the starry-eyed morons would learn from history because it has always been thus. Still, I’m having a hard time faulting Magda for wanting to rid Cimmeria of social parasites, though I’d rather see them find meaningful work than an early grave. But that’s the radical outlook, I suppose. Remind me of the cure for cognitive dissonance, Hera?”

  “A shot through the heart of the closest Coalition critter.”

  “Right.” He grinned at Annear. “My sort of remedy.”

  “I hope you enjoy taking it as much as you like dishing it out, Major.”

  “Why? You plan to kill us?”

  “Me? Heavens forbid. Why should I get blood on my hands? But the Gendarmerie might find it necessary to kill a pair of offworld terrorists by the name Cortez and Yorik. Alas not before they commit the DSA’s next act of mass murder, once that will touch the Rim Sector’s most powerful families.”

  A ferocious smile transformed the Marine’s expression.

  “Be careful, Magda, darling. Every time you strike me down, I shall rise up more powerful than ever.”

  “Oh dear.” Annear’s face scrunched into a mask of amused skepticism. “How dramatic. It almost sounds like a line from some third-rate holostory.”

  “Don’t discount the big guy because he likes to quote ancient history. Many have tried to kill him over the years. None succeeded.”

  “A combination of luck and skill, no doubt?”

  “No.” Decker’s smile turned into demonic leer. “Hell didn’t want me then. It still doesn’t want me now.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Ever had the devil perch on your shoulder and whisper you can’t resist the storm?”

  Annear thought about it for a few moments.

  “Once or twice, I suppose. If you mean that metaphorically.”

  “Want to guess what I reply?”

 
; She glanced at Talyn.

  “Should I ask, Commander?”

  “Humor him. It’s easier that way.”

  “Okay, I’ll bite. What do you say to the devil?”

  “I am the storm.” The Marine’s fiendish laughter filled the dining room like a living presence. “Hell’s too damn scared to let me in.”

  “How droll. I suppose there’s no chance you’re destined for heaven, is there?”

  “Of course not. Even if they offered me admittance, I’d refuse because I can’t face an eternity without indulging in my favorite sins of gluttony and lust. But go ahead and try to use us as scapegoats. It won’t work.”

  — Thirty-Eight —

  Hadar Wilborg turned a skeptical look on Annear. “Are you sure that’s wise, Magda? We should drop them into one of the bottomless ravines in the outback and be done. Remember our timetable. Changing the plan now won’t help.”

  “Listen to him,” Decker said. “The more you complicate your scheme, the easier it’ll be for us to gum up the works.”

  “I’m not changing the plan, Hadar. Instead of the authorities tracing tonight’s big bang to a couple of DSA supporters, I’ll let them blame our guests, initially under their Mission Colony Freedom Collective identities. But imagine what will happen once we leak the fact that undercover Fleet SOCOM officers, working with the DSA, are responsible for tonight’s devastation. One cannot buy disruption of that nature for love or money.” She turned a sickening smile on Decker. “And you’ll be reunited with my half-sister while doing us a favor. A win-win proposition, no?”

  “Please reconsider,” Wilborg urged. “These are dangerous people. I doubt our folks on the inside will approve of the added risk. Stick with the planned sacrificial goats and let me dispose of them.”

  “Enough,” Annear snapped. “We’re taking them with us instead of the designated fall guys. I’m sure our security team can contain two prisoners until the time comes. They’re SOCOM officers, not invincible demi-gods.”