“I’m a dwarf with a gun, so you better sit your ass back down.” Noose waved his Stormer and the governor obeyed.
“I told you,” complained one of the district managers. “We never should have sent security out of the room. You stupid fool, Xin!”
“Political negotiations require privacy,” the governor said.
“So you can threaten and insult us confidentially?”
“Shut up!” Noose shouted. “Stop your blathering! I’m not here to debate or negotiate or vote. I’m here to kill the governor.”
“If that’s the case,” Vanders said, rising from his chair, “I take it the rest of us are free to go?”
Noose waved his gun at the politicians. “Hold on now. Nobody’s leaving.”
“Least of all you, Noose,” said Bernd Buhl, stepping through a door under the stairwell with two of his hitters. They all pointed weapons at Noose. “I’m going to enjoy killing you.”
“You won’t kill me before I shoot the governor.” Noose aimed at Xin. “You won’t get paid if he’s dead.”
Buhl laughed. “You idiot, I don’t work for the governor.”
64
“The hell you don’t,” Noose snarled. “You admitted as much.”
“Do you actually think I’d tell you the truth?” Buhl said. Several uniformed Regional Police officers stormed into the room, targeting Noose with their firearms.
“But you phoned your boss and told him you’d meet him tonight.” Noose kept his gun on the governor.
“Apparently, you don’t swim in the same circles as these political sharks. I can assure you, all of them have something to gain from the attack on Stiltzkin’s.”
“They all arranged it?”
“What the hell are you two talking about?” Vanders asked. “I had nothing to do with that attack.”
“Neither did I,” O’Rourke said. “I would never condone such a villainous act!”
Buhl smiled. “No, of course not. But Stiltzkin’s is a wedge you can each use to promote your political goals, on either side of any issue.”
Noose scowled, his thick dwarven brow wrinkling. He glared at the men and women around the table. “If you don’t tell me who ordered the hit on Stiltzkin’s, I’ll kill them all.”
“You won’t get off more than one shot before we take you down.”
“No,” said Noose, pointing through the window, “you won’t get off more than one shot before that takes you down.”
Outside, Joystick had piloted the Sparrow into position near the ballroom. Brilliant flashes of white flame erupted from the twin miniguns mounted on the sides of the aerodyne. Thousands of armor-piercing rounds ate into the armored windows. The outmoded armor could not withstand the concentrated fire from state-of-the-art weaponry and ammunition. With the minigun targeting system wired directly into his brain through his neuroport, Joystick cut a swath of death inside the dirigible, cherry-picking his targets with cybernetic ease.
As the room around them exploded in shards of furniture and fine wooden paneling, Buhl and Noose exchanged fire. They each found their target, but bullets bounced off the dwarf’s body armor and the German’s skull and subdermal plating. Then Buhl’s smartgun, integrated with his cyber-eyes, helped him put a bullet into Noose’s neck. As Reggie and gunman body parts flew around him, Noose stumbled and fell.
Before Buhl could press his advantage, Joystick focused both miniguns on him and ripped into his arms and legs.
Duropane shattered and showered inside the two-story banquet room. Politicians cringed and cowered and scampered to avoid death. Many did not succeed.
Minigun bullets tore a wide opening in the transparent hull. After only a few seconds, the sustained fire of the miniguns stopped, to be replaced with the shriek of turbofan engines as the Sparrow maneuvered through the hole.
The aerodyne hovered into the room. It bumped into the large conference table and pushed it aside as seven surviving politicians scrambled away in terror, stumbling over the bloody corpses of their colleagues. Wind whistled through the room as curtains, napkins, and other debris flew about as if in a tornado. Dismembered police and gunmen sprawled around the room. The Sparrow’s engines powered down to idle. The miniguns swiveled around to cover the entrance to the room.
“Clear,” Joystick’s voice boomed out the loudspeakers. “Don’t none of you socialist bastards try anything or I’ll give you a minigun nomination!”
The Sparrow’s side door slid open. Grue jumped out, leveling a big machinegun at Xin and the other politicians. Earless followed him, an Uzi hanging loosely in her hand. Cori leapt out and ran over to Noose.
“You’ve been shot again, you stupid dwarf!” she yelled, seeing blood dripping from Noose’s neck as she helped him to his feet.
“That Buhl got off a lucky shot,” the dwarf complained, slapping a medpatch to the wound. “I’m fine. You heard what he said about the governor?”
Cori nodded. “Where is he?”
“Over there.” Noose led her to the prostrate German.
Buhl struggled on the floor, trying to get to his feet. But he no longer had feet. His right arm flopped like a landed fish a few meters away; while his left arm was nowhere to be seen. A deep dent in his skull plate leaked a strange grey fluid. Blood poured from him as if from a sieve.
“You’re still alive? You don’t even have cyberware.” He glared at the dwarf, showing no sign of pain. “What does it take to kill you gimli bastards?”
“What does it take to kill you cyborg bastards?”
Buhl stood on his knees, eye to eye with the dwarf. “I’m guessing this is the part where you threaten to kill me unless I identify my employer.”
“Nobody ever said Germans were stupid.”
“I don’t suppose I can bargain my way into making it out of this alive?”
Noose shook his head.
“So, it’s a long slow death if I don’t tell you and a quick one if I do?”
“Nope. It’s just a long slow death.” The dwarf turned to watch Sweetpea struggle out of the Sparrow and waddle over to where they stood.
“Who’s she?”
“She’s a psyker.”
“Drek!” Buhl frowned. “I do not like psykers.”
“You really won’t like this one. She’s going to clean out that brain of yours for us. We want to make sure we get the right bastard.”
Sweetpea stepped in front of the dismembered German and stared at him. Losing his arms and feet had not been enough to cause Buhl even to wince. But he squealed like a skewered pig once the psyker entered his brain.
“Nooo!” He whimpered and collapsed on the ground, squirming as much as his limbless body allowed. “Get out!”
He quivered and jerked spasmodically, spraying blood from his stumps. After a few agonizing moments, his struggles weakened and he sobbed.
“It is done,” Sweetpea said. She walked away from the cyborg toward the gaggle of politicians who cowered under the intimidating stares of Grue and Earless.
Cori followed her. “So? Is it Xin? Is he the son of a bitch that did it? Did he order the hit on Stiltzkin’s?”
“No. It was not a son of a bitch,” Sweetpea said. “It was a bitch.”
65
“It was a woman?” Cori asked.
“Yes,” Sweetpea said, pointing. “That woman ordered the deaths of all those dwarves for her own political ambitions.”
The woman did not flinch under Sweetpea’s glare. The other politicians edged away from her.
“Well, who the hell is she?” Grue asked, stepping forward to grab the politician by the shoulder.
Governor Jones-Utu-Rudeholmer-Xin laughed. “Operations Administrator Elise Chauveau. A thorn in my side for many years. You stupid bitch. What? You thought you could pin this atrocity on me and take my job? Was that it?”
“Something like that,” Chauveau sneered. The other politicians gasped.
Cori walked up and struck Chauveau’s face with her gun butt. Grue’s ha
ndhold kept her from collapsing.
“You killed my sister!”
Chauveau wiped at the blood pouring from her nose. “Your parents should have taught you to mingle with your own kind.”
Cori fired a shot into the woman’s knee. Grue let her fall screaming to the floor.
“Cori,” Noose said, “don’t sink to her level.”
“I won’t. I’m only going to kill her.”
“No, I am,” the dwarf pushed Cori’s gun down.
Xin stepped forward. “None of you are going to kill her. This woman must stand trial for her crimes.”
Noose turned to glare at the governor. “I’ve been exploded, impaled, shot, pummeled, run over, fireballed, dropped out a building, my car and apartment were blown up, and I lost my hat. You might be able to weasel her out of death for that. But she killed a friend. She killed dozens of innocents. Nothing’s going to stop me from executing her for that.”
“This might,” the governor said, a smug grin on his face. “You’ve murdered elected officials and Regional police officers and destroyed public property. How do you expect to escape arrest and conviction for your crimes unless I pardon you? Do you want to spend the rest of your lives in a penal arcology? Or worse, lobotomized?”
“Don’t worry about it, Noose,” Joystick called through the loudspeaker. “I’ll kill all the witnesses and destroy the dirigible. Damn commies gotta be taught a lesson. Ain’t nobody gonna be left to finger us.”
The politicians shrieked in horror.
“You’ve done enough damage, Joystick,” said Noose.
“So, you’re willing to make a deal?” the governor asked.
“Nobody’s making a deal,” Chauveau spat, holding her injured leg. “You’re not going to kill me and I’m not going on trial.”
Xin chuckled. “And how do you expect to escape, Elise? You’re unarmed, shot, and friendless. You’ve also admitted your guilt to witnesses of impeccable respectability.” He waved at the politicians who were doing their best to shuffle away.
“They’re going to die now,” Chauveau said. “Just like the rest of you.”
“How’s that?”
“Earless is going to kill you all,” the administrator said with a smile.
Noose jerked his head around to see Earless throw a thermal grenade into the open door of the Sparrow. Shock distracted him for only an instant, but that was enough to give the pleaser a chance to fire her Uzi at him.
66
Cori jumped in front of Noose and the bullets from the pleaser’s gun hit her, knocking her back against the dwarf. They sprawled into the governor and all three collapsed in a tangle on the floor.
“Woo! Woo!” Earless laughed as she jumped up and down. “Dead dwarves don’t dance!”
The grenade exploded inside the Sparrow. A gout of flame erupted out the door, forcing the pleaser to hotfoot it out of the way. Joystick’s scream boomed from the loudspeaker. As he died, his neural links to the Sparrow malfunctioned and the engines whined to life. The aerodyne spun out of control, scraping across the floor. The miniguns fired in wild arcs, bullets flying everywhere, blowing apart another three district managers. The launcher spewed a barrage of missiles into the walls and ceiling. A millisecond later, the dirigible shuddered with distant explosions. The floor tilted as the ship listed.
“Earless! What the hell are you doing?” Grue shouted at the pleaser in disbelief, his machinegun forgotten in his hands.
“Making money, stupid!” Earless laughed and shot at the goon. “Megacash!”
Grue dove from her barrage of fire, but now Sweetpea moved forward across the tilted floor.
“Get back, fatty!” Earless yelled. She fired at Sweetpea, but the bullets ricocheted off an invisible barrier that surrounded the large woman.
Sweetpea thrust out her hands. A ball of roiling green psykic energy erupted toward the pleaser. The ball exploded in a massive emerald burst. Carpet and duropane shards melted into toxic goo.
The glare died down to reveal Earless standing unharmed amidst the smoking carpet. She snickered and wiped at an imaginary bit of dust on her shoulder. Behind her, the Sparrow twirled and crashed through the rent in the hull and toppled out of the room.
Earless waved a hand at Sweetpea. “Not good enough, rotundo!” Tentacles of solid black shadow shot up through the floor and enveloped the fat woman. She yelped in fear and pain as they constricted her.
With supreme effort, Sweetpea reached out with her mind and disintegrated the tentacles in a burst of light and energy. More windows shattered, bodies slid across the floor, and Earless spun around to land on her ass.
“Let us begin,” Sweetpea challenged.
“Come get some, bitch.”
The psykers attacked one another with savage fury. Energy swirled around them in a hurricane of indescribable forces. Shadow and light and fire and ice and other anonymous powers battled between, around, and through them.
Noose gently turned Cori on her back. Although protected by her vest from the other slugs, one had caught her in the upper arm. Noose pulled a medpatch from a leg pocket and pressed it against the wound.
“You okay?”
She managed a grin. “I was hoping you’d take all the bullets.”
He smiled back. “I would have if you hadn’t gotten in the way like that.”
Cori noticed the kaleidoscopic storm raging around them. “What the hell is going on?”
“Psyker duel.”
“I thought Earless was burnt out?” Cori watched for a few seconds, wide-eyed. “Can’t we help Sweetpea?”
“I can try.” He fired his Stormer at Earless. The bullets melted against her invisible armor.
“Maybe we should just get out of here,” the governor suggested. He cringed as an errant tendril of psykoplasm caught District Manager Vanders and melted him into a pool of purple goop. The governor crawled toward the stairs. “I need to get to the escape pod.”
Earless ran through the swirling eddies of power and grappled with the fat psyker. She punched and scratched and stabbed with ghostly talons that sprouted from her fingers. Sweetpea responded by seizing the pleaser in a hug that hammered her with psykic pulses.
Sparks spewed from Sweetpea’s face as a ghostly spike impaled her. She stumbled backward, releasing Earless. The pleaser grabbed the fat woman, spun her around like a child, and body-slammed her down on the floor.
Coughing and spitting blood, Sweetpea looked up, vanquished. “Where do you find such power?”
“Not telling,” Earless said, and kicked her foe in the gut. Sweetpea slid across the floor and out the window.
“She’s gonna hit the ground like a sack of wet cement.” Earless smiled, but sweat poured from her face and she stumbled against the remains of the conference table.
Grue stood near the stairway, where he had been taking cover from the psykic duel. He fired his machinegun at Earless. At first, her shielding deflected the attack, causing sparks and smoke to flash around her. But there was a sudden flare of light, and Grue’s next bullets pounded into her body armor. She toppled behind the conference table.
“You traitorous bitch!” the goon yelled, striding forward. “I’m going to kill you!”
Earless peeked around the table and wiggled a finger. Grue’s machinegun flew from his hands and out of the ship, followed by his other weapons.
“You can’t shoot me, Grue.” Struggling to her feet, she hobbled back around the table. Blood dripped from holes in her armor. “We’re pals.”
“We ain’t pals! I’m going to rip you apart with my bare hands.”
Earless groaned with effort as she summoned up a shadowy tentacle to entangle Grue’s legs and pin him to the floor.
Noose took careful aim on the pleaser’s head.
“Drop the guns, both of you,” Administrator Chauveau ordered, pointing a pistol at the dwarf. Noose and Cori complied.
“Where’d you get a gun?” Cori asked.
“It wasn't difficult to
find what with all the dead cops around here,” Chauveau replied. She noticed Xin skulking away. “Governor, don’t go trying to leave. I still have to kill you.”
“Kill the governor of Atlanta?” Xin stopped halfway up the stairs. “How do you expect to get away with that?”
“Someone mentioned getting rid of all the witnesses and blowing up the blimp. I like that idea.”
“That’s a dirty deed, even for a politician,” Noose said.
“I had it planned all along.” Chauveau motioned to Earless. “Give me a hand.” The pleaser righted a chair and helped the administrator into it.
“Did you have this planned all along?” The governor demanded.
“No. Just killing you at first. But, when Buhl told me that Noose here was catching on, I thought it best to let him get on board. That’s why I suggested we use minimal security tonight to avoid the appearance of cowardice. You fell for that pretty easy.”
“You bitch.”
Chauveau laughed. “So, terrorists attack and all the district managers and the governor are killed. Only I survive. I’ll win next year’s election in a landslide and move into your mansion. It’s perfect.”
“And how did you plan on getting out alive?”
“My ace in the hole,” Chauveau pointed at the pleaser.
“Why did you do it, Earless?” Grue asked, still struggling against the tentacle.
“Money.” Earless sat on the floor, her breath shallow. She took out a medpatch and tried to stick it under her body armor to stop the bleeding. Her hands shook.
“But we had ten million.”
“So, I did it for more money. I can buy lots of patches with more money.”
Chauveau snickered. “Don’t you realize that anyone can be bought? Especially junkies.”
“That’s right,” Earless said, wiping back her matted hair. “You better pay me good for saving your hoop. And extra for having Smith try to kill me. You know, that wasn’t a very nice thing to do. We had a deal.”
Grue laughed. “Deals are meant to be broken. Especially deals with double-crossing, scum-sucking, toilet-licking politicians.”
Dead Dwarves Don't Dance Page 24