Reiser smiles like that cat. The one who swallowed the canary.
“Oh yeah, I skipped the part about ‘the workout.’ The thing the Gomarii were afraid of. Back when supposedly he was playing pirate with those psycho nomads, the Djini. So, here’s the best we could come up with in Nether Ops, and we lost three operatives just to get this much. Apparently aboard the flagship of the Djini nomad horde—a thing they never do, maybe once every five hundred years they actually get together for common purpose instead of aimlessly wandering the stars—apparently aboard this flagship, there was a training room with two floors. One floor could be lowered onto the sub floor. So, the Gomarii that were captured, were spread-eagled onto the sub floor and then the upper floor was lowered down onto their chests and bodies. The floor locks were disconnected so basically the floor was resting on them. Their chests. A floating floor squeezing the air out of them. Then… the fun started. The Divine Wind began their daily training and workout regimen which involved hand-to-hand combat—note fatalities were common with every session. Then a jungle gym program of leaps and jumps and calisthenics all atop the floor resting on the bodies of these poor dumb Gomarii bastards who had the misfortune of being taken prisoner. Average training session was four hours. Sometimes they did two-a-days. You stayed under the floor, if you were a Gomarii or anyone who happened to be working with the slavers when this kid came looking, until you were dead. They had you hooked up to a life scan monitor. Some lasted for up to four days, lying there as every bone in their body was broken and then shattered, and finally ground into a pulp. No sedation. Barely able to breathe, you were slowly crushed to death, completely aware as each bone broke. They pumped amphetamax gas in there just to make sure you stayed clear enough to enjoy the pain.”
Reiser smiled in admiration at the Djini and the Death Savior’s handiwork. As though he were seeing it live. Who knew, maybe they’d acquired a download that showed the whole Workout Show.
“Kid was slick. Those damned Gomarii left that sector and never came back. They knew what was good for them.”
Reiser leaned back.
“No one taught that kid to go Legion like the Legion did at Ankalor. He just did. All on his own. Like it was hardwired into him. So that’s another rumor I’ve heard about Mr. Nilo, as we call him. I can’t tell you if it’s true or not. But it scares me, Jack, and… to be honest… intrigues me too. A lot of problems in the galaxy could have been avoided with that kind of out of the box thinking. Not saying it’s right, not saying it’s wrong. I’m just saying sket like Kublar and the Chiasm… never would’ve happened. So we got time for one more rumor before I drop your mission on you… Ready, Jack?”
Bowie nodded slightly. Wondering why the wait for a specific time. What was about to happen and why did he have some vague, bad feeling beginning to form in the back of his mind? Maybe it was because the high of his time with the Tennar had faded and he was coming down off of her. Getting that post-euphoric anxiety that came after the high of their actual physical contact. The price one paid for all that forbidden pleasure.
Maybe. But he suspected it might be something else altogether.
“So, this is just a few years ago… if the stories are true… the kid’s company is really rolling. That few trillion has now turned into tens of trillions and he’s the kind of big wheel that’s getting invited into private planning sessions with the House of Reason’s galactic trade and business councils. Anyway… one of his competitors, one of the old guys who’s been in bed with the House of Reason for like forever, he and this kid go to war. Business-wise. But it’s a quiet war and the rumor is it has nothing to do with business really. Except they’re fighting with the mega-conglomerates they each own just like you and I might fight with the holdouts we’re both strapping here in the no-weapons Green Zone of safe-as-all-can-be Soob City. Right, Jack?”
Bowie doesn’t acknowledge that he has no less than three weapons right now. If he has to kill Reiser, he’s already made up his mind he’ll do it with a knife. Fast like a jackhammer. Yeah, people will see him stabbing that hack to death, but no blaster fire. No sound to send automated security into lockdown mode. Stabbing will buy him at least fifteen seconds to get the jump and make for the sled in the garage.
Shame to leave the Tennar. Shame to walk out on whatever this Nilo is cooking up. But… maybe that’s the wise play.
Unless Nilo, the Nilo of the Djini Death Savior variety, wants you for a workout. Then, you’ve made the wrong call.
But it’s also a shame to end up in the wrong hands. Especially in this day and age where law enforcement seems to be a local thing, as do jury trials. Now that the Repub is rebuilding, trying to reconsolidate power, a lot of things are up in the air. Like basic rights. Like trials. Like official penal systems and the guidelines they were supposed to be administered by.
But
