Gun Runner

by Larry Correia

  Jackson looked at the guards here on the walkway, those above, those back down by the car, and followed the captain into the Warlord’s lair.

  Chapter 11

  Inside the wide entry area were more cameras and another guard. Warlord led them down a hallway with a gorgeous real-stone floor. Or was it a composite so cunningly made it was impossible to spot as a fake? The hall opened into a large room with a ceiling three stories up and tall windows. The windows were mirrored so those inside could see out, but nobody outside could see in, and Jackson assumed they were massively bulletproof. Still, they were too large for his security tastes.

  In the middle of the great room were couches arranged around a low table. On the floor was a rug made of the skin of some animal that was almost twenty feet long. The skin had a jagged stripe pattern to it. On one wall was a large display showing various video feeds of Big Town along with graphs and other metrics. On another were feeds and displays of Swindle’s solar system. The third wall was a collection of claws, teeth, and a few taxidermized heads of strange animals.

  “Come. Sit down.” Warlord gestured toward the couches.

  The captain and Shade walked over and sat. Jackson, Tui, and the others decided to stay alert and standing. The Warlord and one of his lieutenants sat down. The lieutenant was a big man, hardened by battle, scarred, and clearly a mod job. He watched the crew with a predator’s eyes. Six guards stood in various places around the room and down the hall.

  Warlord saw that most of the crew had remained alert and frowned. “Please, do not insult my hospitality. I understand your line of works requires a cautious mindset, but we are all friends here. Your associates should sit.”

  The captain nodded at Tui, so they did.

  They were all imbedded with Jane’s short-range wireless, which allowed them to text by brain wave. Jane had originally wanted to embed it in their brains. But there was no way Jackson was going to give anything direct access to his brain again, so she had relented and planted his subdermally. That way, if he wanted it out, he could cut it out with a knife. Up to this point, they’d kept the chatter quiet, but the captain sent a message.

  “Play cool but be ready.”

  “Would you like a drink?” Warlord asked. “A bite to eat?”

  “We’re fine,” the captain said. “Maybe later.”

  “It’s always straight to business with you, isn’t it? You must forgive my need for conversation. Swindle is so far off the beaten path that I rarely have visitors.” Their host looked to Shade. “How is your father?”

  Father? Jackson thought. He didn’t know Shade had a father. Not a living one, at least.

  “He’s doing very well, thank you.”

  “And you,” he said to the captain. “How is your leg? Last time you had complaints.”

  “It’s better. Doctors actually regrew the knee.”

  “And here I thought you didn’t believe in mods.”

  “It’s a regrow, not a mod,” the captain said pointedly.

  “A valid distinction. I don’t entirely trust bio mods myself, but sometimes you have to have them. Isn’t that right, Fain?”

  The lieutenant shrugged.

  “Fain is a big believer in mods.”

  “I’m a believer in getting the job done,” Fain said.

  “Indeed. He has accumulated so many mods. It’s amazing he still looks human at all.”

  Jackson noted that Fain was studying the Tar Heel security force. He seemed almost dismissive, until his eyes lingered on Tui. The big, tattooed fellow just smiled, affable as could be, but Fain clearly recognized someone who was as extraordinary as he was and gave a small nod of acknowledgment. Tui returned it. Soldier to soldier.

  “My apologies, this is Fain. Think of him as my right-hand man.”

  “This is my Chief of Security, Tui Fuamatu, his men Katze and Bushey, and Jackson Rook is one of my pilots.”

  “It is a pleasure to meet you all…I am happy to hear about your knee. They regrew my foot a year ago. Can you believe that? One of the most complex structures of the body, yet science allows us to make a new one.”

  “What happened?” Shade asked. It was unlikely she cared, but she was polite.

  “A small caliban bit it off down on the surface.” He flexed his foot. “But it feels fine. Splendid even. They’re ambush predators. The bugger was waiting for me.”

  “That sounds like a story,” the captain said.

  “We were out on a patrol looking for something larger. There was a small ravine off the side of the trail. An eight-footer burst out and knocked me over. By the time I blew its brains out—although they’re not really brains like we have—it had chomped through my exo and taken the foot. Swallowed it whole.” He snapped his fingers. “That fast.”

  The captain shook his head in wonder. “That sure is something.”

  “I got the better end of the deal.” Warlord pointed at one of the mounted heads and grinned. The hideous thing looked like it came off an ant crossed with a crocodile. “My foot wound up in his belly, but his skull ended up on my wall.”

  Jackson was kind of starting to like this Warlord. But then he noticed there were two human skulls decorating an end table, one slightly larger than the other, and he wondered who those had belonged to.

  “And how is Big Town?” Shade asked.

  “We’re surviving. But not all. Those ISF bastards are slowly killing us with these sanctions. The ISF presents itself as a garden of peace, but its flowerbeds are full of vipers.”

  Jackson found himself nodding in agreement. The ISF had backed the rise of a brutal and illegitimate government on Gloss. They’d supplied the scum who had murdered his family and friends. Jackson was more than happy to help anyone the ISF was against, to defend what was theirs on general principle.

  “I can afford a new foot, but how many of my people can? They work like dogs down on the surface. They bleed. They die. Some come out worse with ruined lungs. Ruined eyes. Missing limbs. We could help them, but the ISF hampers me. They set quotas on our exports. I could triple exports, easily, but they shut down my traffic through the gate.”

  “They’re a meddling bunch. It’s not right,” the captain said.

  “No, it’s not. It was our people who were stranded here. Our people who died. It’s our people who risk their lives on the surface. Our people who built this orbital and keep it safe. And those jackals in the ISF want to take it from us. Did you know they are strip claiming us now?”

  “The ISF?” Shade seemed a bit surprised.

  “Not directly. Their robbers go in and out through Kalteri. And the ISF just looks the other way. They allow it. There’s no way they don’t know what’s happening. They rob us, sabotage our operations. But it’s going to end.”

  “I brought you some goodies, but if you want me to bring you something sufficient to take on the ISF, I’m gonna need a bigger boat.”

  “A direct confrontation against the ISF would be futile,” said Shade.

  Warlord smiled. “Let’s keep them thinking that, shall we? So, show me what you’ve brought. You did source all of my order, right?”

  “And more.” The captain unrolled the clear tube he’d brought with him on the table, activated the display, then tapped an app. The picture was of leaves. The warlord and his lieutenant moved a bit closer and looked at it.

  “A plant?”

  “Your people are going to love you for this,” the captain said to the Warlord.

  “What is it?”

  “Mangoes.”

  “The fruit?”

  “They’re delicious. These are engineered to grow like vines on the outsides of your houses. These are everbearing, so you’ll have a continuous crop. And they’ve been designed to produce a load of nutrients. It’s the latest from Earth.”

  Warlord shrugged.

  Shade looked a little disappointed with his reaction. She’d probably been hoping the mangoes would make more of an impact, but that was before she’d seen on the
drive here that somebody else had already sold them genetically modified oranges. “We’ve brought seeds in three flavors. Your people will appreciate the variety.”

  Warlord nodded. “Very good. What else?”

  The captain showed him the formulas for some new medicines they could replicate for various ailments. He showed him a high-yield meat-growing vat, complete with an edible packaging they could make here on the orbital. He showed him the crate of a new quantum computer chips that could process at massively parallel speeds. There were the plans and tech for better water filtration. Tech for mining and reducing ore. There were dozens of things.

  When the captain finished, Warlord sat back. “You are making me very happy. You have all of this in that ship you have docked above Raste?”

  The captain glanced at Shade.

  “You thought I wouldn’t know?” He cocked his head toward the surprisingly advanced display of the Swindle system. There was a real-time marker for everything bigger than a garbage truck. Including one for the Tar Heel, which was sitting next to the fourth planet. “We picked you up way out there. You know, I could still take that ship if I wanted.”

  The captain just smiled. “Except you’re too smart to ruin such a long-term mutually beneficial business arrangement for a temporary gain.”

  “The golden goose eggs,” added Shade, who had apparently decided she was now an expert on Earth sayings.

  “You should have just flown straight here and saved yourself the fuel. Do you not trust me?”

  “It’s not you, Warlord,” Shade said. “It’s standard operating procedure. Not everyone is as trustworthy as you are. And we simply can’t be lax.”

  Warlord gave her a patronizing smile. “I’m not insulted. If I were you, I wouldn’t bring my ship here either. Of course, what’s to prevent me from simply taking you hostage, until they deliver everything you’ve showed me for free?”

  Jackson noticed all the guards in the house were standing ready. Tui, Bushey, and Katze had already picked their targets.

  But their captain was too cool for that. “Well, you wouldn’t want to do that, because the moment any of my crew is threatened, a message will get sent to the ISF and the Americans, detailing the full inventory of every delivery we’ve ever made here. If they knew how bad their embargo’s been working, they’d have no choice but to beef up their presence. That would put you in a bit of a pickle, now wouldn’t it?”

  Warlord seemed to be enjoying this. He motioned at his lieutenant. “Fain here told me I should kill you because you know too much. But I like you. I’ve always liked you, Holloway. You have to choose your friends wisely, I tell him.”

  “Yes, you do.”

  Despite the casual death threats, Jackson knew he had been witnessing a dance of negotiation. But still, that last bit was a reminder. Maybe even a threat.

  “So, what else have you brought me?” Warlord rubbed his palms together greedily. “Let us get to the good stuff.”

  “Jackson, why don’t you tell our client about the Citadel?”

  Warlord turned to him curiously. Jackson had done his best to stay quiet and unnoticed so far. “This one was a pilot, you said?”

  “Of ships, passable. Of mechs…a virtuoso. Jackson here fought in the civil war on Gloss. On the people’s side, of course.”

  Now that had gotten Warlord’s attention. “By hand?” He tapped the side of his temple with two fingers. “Or by head?”

  “Fully integrated,” Jackson said.

  “The only way to fly! Not a mere operator, we have a real warrior in our midst.” Warlord was impressed. “And a freedom fighter to boot.”

  Jackson shrugged.

  “You’re a hero.”

  “I was just another guy who didn’t like having a boot on my neck.”

  “That’s how all heroes feel. Believe me. That’s why I’m here. Nothing good will ever flourish without men who are willing to get a little blood on them. Civilization needs men like you and me. Without us, it all descends into chaos.”

  “He’s just a kid,” Fain said, scowling at Jackson. “What are you, fifteen?”

  He was twenty-two standard, but Fain was just being insulting. “I got a real early start.”

  Warlord nodded, because apparently so had he. “I too was a child soldier. You wouldn’t understand, Fain. When it comes to flesh and blood, you’re as good as it gets, but when a soldier’s mind is fully integrated with a mech, together they become an unstoppable force. The information comes upon you like a flood. You see all, know all, react faster than thought, and move like the lightning strike. You feel through plastic skin, walk on titanium bones, and dispense death with a whim. You become a god of the battlefield.”

  Jackson nodded. If anything, Warlord was understating the feeling. “Yeah, pretty much that. Only Citadel is the latest in mech tech. It’s a step above anything I’ve seen.”

  The Warlord’s eyebrows raised a bit, and he leaned forward on the couch. “Tell me more, brother.”

  Shade seemed pleased at that honorific. On a personal level she obviously didn’t like Jackson much, but she did like closing deals.

  Jackson reached down and slid the display to a video from Raycor of Citadels in action. As it played, a grin broke out on Warlord’s face. “Beautiful. Simply beautiful.” It was a series of quick cuts of the sleek machine, running, leaping, climbing sheer cliffs, diving through buildings, while stats like power to weight ratio, reactor efficiency, and armor density scrolled by, that sort of thing.

  “Point zero zero six reaction lag? Incredible. That’s an order of magnitude faster than my first mech!”

  If the available intel was to be believed…“Jackal, correct?”

  “Yes,” the Warlord answered. “The factory advertised them as swift and deadly. They did not tell us the swift was for how soon before they broke down, and the deadly meant for the pilots.” He laughed. “And what did you fly in your war, Jackson?”

  “A cobbled together Thunderbolt 5, until it got shot out from under me. Then I was assigned the lone Shockwave on Gloss.”

  “Ah, both classics. Was yours made by Alphex or Durendal?”

  This guy did know his stuff. “The Durendal. The captain here smuggled it in for us. That’s how we first met.”

  “So tell me, Jackson, have you flown this Citadel yet?”

  “Yes. Briefly.”

  “And?”

  “Supple. Very smooth. No lag. No jerk. No truncates. It’s like wearing a set of summer clothes. It’s shockingly quiet, but with power to spare.”

  “Did you link in? How was the interface?”

  “I did not.” He wouldn’t do that ever again, but Jackson didn’t feel the need to spill his whole life story to some random dictator, so he lied instead. “Didn’t have the chance. But according to the stats though, it should blow your mind. Gen seventeen neural uplink speeds are off the charts.”

  “Oh.” Warlord groaned in anticipation. “And it’s up there above Raste with those League fools.”

  “It’s in good hands,” the captain assured him. “It’s not going anywhere until we bring it here.”

  “You sure? The Swindle system has no shortage of pirates.” Not that Warlord had any relation with those unsavory types, of course.

  “My very capable XO is in command of the Tar Heel, and my infosec is in the hands of someone who regularly bests tier-one AIs.”

  He was, of course, talking about Jane, who was basically a wizard.

  “Woe be unto the fool who tries to heist that ship,” said Shade.

  Warlord nodded. “Yes, indeed.”

  And Jackson figured he probably had his own people up there on Raste. Heck, he might have paid off the League.

  Warlord turned to the captain. “I could talk mechs all day, and perhaps later Jackson and I shall, but I must be concerned for my people first. What other cargo do you have for me aboard this magnificent treasure ship?”

  “Everything that you requested,” Shade said. “Chemicals,
assemblers, raw materials, plans. Designs for new centrifuges.”

  “I need weapons.”

  “How about plans for a laser cannon that will extend the range of your grid? But more importantly, a design for mirrors that won’t degrade as fast when the laser hits them.”

  Shade pulled up the details of everything they’d brought on the weapons side of things. It was a gold mine. Truly. And Jackson realized he hadn’t known the half of it. It surprised him how well the captain and Shade had kept the full extent of the inventory hidden. If they sealed this deal, Jackson wouldn’t be stuck looking at low-end, mechanic’s-special freighters. He would be able to buy a nice ship.

  Only then a worrisome thought came to him. Warlord’s arsenal was larger and more sophisticated than Jackson had first thought. Much larger. Too large, too much for strictly defense. He was planning some kind of strike. He had to be. And then another thought came right on the heels of that realization. If word got out, it could undermine the Warlord’s plans. How could he trust the crew of the Tar Heel to keep it quiet?

  Maybe Warlord hadn’t been making threats before. Maybe he’d been revealing his intentions. A sinking feeling formed in Jackson’s gut. He glanced over at Tui, who was looking as jovial as usual…except for his eyes.

  “You have working models of each of these?” their host asked.

  “Of course,” Shade said. “They’re currently dismantled so we could slip them past the inspectors, but how else could you know plans were worth anything without the actual goods to test?”

  The Warlord nodded, pleased. “You are a fat goose. Very fat. And I want it. I want it all. What are you asking?”

  That confirmed it to Jackson. This wasn’t just another delivery. This was a life-and-death gamble. And Jackson suddenly saw just how precarious the team’s security situation was. It would be so easy to attach some explosives to their ship while they were offloading. Or kill them quietly here, load their corpses on the Tar Heel, and send it out into interstellar space, never to be heard of again.

  The captain said, “I had to hit six systems to cross everything off your shopping list. It cost us a pretty penny to get through that many gates. Plus we got searched twice, and that was just in the Nivaas system. Did you know that? They’re tightening things down.”