lines faded away. A pearly-toothed smile
broke through.
“Gneaus! Am I glad to see you. I was beginning to think
you wouldn’t answer.”
“I had to think about it.” Dee’s smile faded.
His was a con man’s face, blandly honest, as reassuring as a
priest’s. But little folds uplifting the corners of his eyes
gave him a sly look. “I could still change my mind. Did you
bring my cargo?”
Dee was wearing his natural face. No makeup. No disguise. His
dark eyes, narrow face, pointy nose, and prominent, sharp teeth
gave him a definite vulpine look.
This is the true Michael
, Storm
thought.
Dee was a man of countless faces. Seldom was he out of disguise,
and his talent for shifting identities was preternatural. Given
study time, he could adopt the speech habits and physical
mannerisms of almost anyone. He found the talent useful in his
trade. He was, supposedly, a free-lance newsman.
“Of course. I said I would, didn’t I?” Dee
sneered as if to say he knew his brother would not throw him to
Hawksblood’s wolves.
“Show me, Michael.”
Exasperated, Dee backed off pickup. Pollyanna Eight showed her
pretty face. A little sigh ran through the Center.
“All right. You’re clear in. Out.” Storm
nudged the comm man. He took the hint. He secured the channel
before Dee could come back on.
Lucifer sputtered behind his father and Cassius. Storm turned.
He forbore any remark but, “Lucifer, go take charge of the
ingress locks. Don’t let Michael wander. Get him out of his
ship and search it.”
Dee was treacherous. From childhood he had thrived on sparking
strife. The feud between Richard Hawksblood and his brother was his
masterwork.
He could not help himself. Meddling and deceit were compulsions.
One day his weakness would kill him.
Michael would be involved in more than just bringing Pollyanna
home. He was not a one-track man. He always kept several balls in
the air.
Storm thought he knew what Dee was up to. Richard’s being
interested in Blackworld was the giveaway.
Michael would try to involve the Legion. Merc wars made great
holo entertainment. He had grown rich covering them. He had
engineered a few to have something to tape.
Knowing what Michael wanted was inadequate forewarning. He was
devious. His manipulations might not be recognizable.
The Traffic Comm man established contact with Dee’s
pursuer.
“Cassius. Who is he?”
“Lawrence Abhoussi. One of Richard’s
best.”
“Richard must have sent him out blind. He’s
surprised to see me.”
“Characteristic.” Hawksblood was a demon for
secrecy.
Storm keyed for sound. “Commander Abhoussi, you’re
entering restricted space.”
The Ship’s Commander replied, “We did note the
automatic warnings, Colonel. But we were given explicit orders. We
have to capture the yacht.”
“Polite, anyway,” Storm whispered.
“And scared.”
The Legion had burned respect into Hawksblood’s men. And
vice versa.
“I know the ship, Commander. My daughter-in-law is aboard.
I have to extend her my protection. Why don’t you pursue your
quarrel with her master after he leaves? If the ship is stolen,
I’ll let you send in a skeleton crew to collect
her.”
Abhoussi grew pale. Storm’s defenses were formidable.
“My orders are explicit, Colonel Storm. I’m to recover
the vessel and everyone aboard her.”
“This is getting dangerous, Gneaus,” Cassius
burred.
Storm nodded. “I know your employer, Commander. He’s
a disciplinarian, but he’ll make allowances when you explain
why you lost the yacht.” Storm killed the sound.
“I’m trying to give him an out, Cassius.”
“He knows.”
The Ship’s Commander paused before replying. He kept
glancing off screen. Finally, he keyed for sound and said,
“I’m storry, Colonel Storm. I have no
option.”
“Damn,” Cassius said.
“I’m sorry too, then. Good-bye, Commander.”
Storm broke the link. “Fire Control, activate the passive
defenses. Don’t take the cruiser under fire
broke through.
“Gneaus! Am I glad to see you. I was beginning to think
you wouldn’t answer.”
“I had to think about it.” Dee’s smile faded.
His was a con man’s face, blandly honest, as reassuring as a
priest’s. But little folds uplifting the corners of his eyes
gave him a sly look. “I could still change my mind. Did you
bring my cargo?”
Dee was wearing his natural face. No makeup. No disguise. His
dark eyes, narrow face, pointy nose, and prominent, sharp teeth
gave him a definite vulpine look.
This is the true Michael
, Storm
thought.
Dee was a man of countless faces. Seldom was he out of disguise,
and his talent for shifting identities was preternatural. Given
study time, he could adopt the speech habits and physical
mannerisms of almost anyone. He found the talent useful in his
trade. He was, supposedly, a free-lance newsman.
“Of course. I said I would, didn’t I?” Dee
sneered as if to say he knew his brother would not throw him to
Hawksblood’s wolves.
“Show me, Michael.”
Exasperated, Dee backed off pickup. Pollyanna Eight showed her
pretty face. A little sigh ran through the Center.
“All right. You’re clear in. Out.” Storm
nudged the comm man. He took the hint. He secured the channel
before Dee could come back on.
Lucifer sputtered behind his father and Cassius. Storm turned.
He forbore any remark but, “Lucifer, go take charge of the
ingress locks. Don’t let Michael wander. Get him out of his
ship and search it.”
Dee was treacherous. From childhood he had thrived on sparking
strife. The feud between Richard Hawksblood and his brother was his
masterwork.
He could not help himself. Meddling and deceit were compulsions.
One day his weakness would kill him.
Michael would be involved in more than just bringing Pollyanna
home. He was not a one-track man. He always kept several balls in
the air.
Storm thought he knew what Dee was up to. Richard’s being
interested in Blackworld was the giveaway.
Michael would try to involve the Legion. Merc wars made great
holo entertainment. He had grown rich covering them. He had
engineered a few to have something to tape.
Knowing what Michael wanted was inadequate forewarning. He was
devious. His manipulations might not be recognizable.
The Traffic Comm man established contact with Dee’s
pursuer.
“Cassius. Who is he?”
“Lawrence Abhoussi. One of Richard’s
best.”
“Richard must have sent him out blind. He’s
surprised to see me.”
“Characteristic.” Hawksblood was a demon for
secrecy.
Storm keyed for sound. “Commander Abhoussi, you’re
entering restricted space.”
The Ship’s Commander replied, “We did note the
automatic warnings, Colonel. But we were given explicit orders. We
have to capture the yacht.”
“Polite, anyway,” Storm whispered.
“And scared.”
The Legion had burned respect into Hawksblood’s men. And
vice versa.
“I know the ship, Commander. My daughter-in-law is aboard.
I have to extend her my protection. Why don’t you pursue your
quarrel with her master after he leaves? If the ship is stolen,
I’ll let you send in a skeleton crew to collect
her.”
Abhoussi grew pale. Storm’s defenses were formidable.
“My orders are explicit, Colonel Storm. I’m to recover
the vessel and everyone aboard her.”
“This is getting dangerous, Gneaus,” Cassius
burred.
Storm nodded. “I know your employer, Commander. He’s
a disciplinarian, but he’ll make allowances when you explain
why you lost the yacht.” Storm killed the sound.
“I’m trying to give him an out, Cassius.”
“He knows.”
The Ship’s Commander paused before replying. He kept
glancing off screen. Finally, he keyed for sound and said,
“I’m storry, Colonel Storm. I have no
option.”
“Damn,” Cassius said.
“I’m sorry too, then. Good-bye, Commander.”
Storm broke the link. “Fire Control, activate the passive
defenses. Don’t take the cruiser under fire
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