Read Online Woken Furies by Richard K. Morgan - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Richard K. Morgan
Ads: Link
going to follow us there.” There was a sudden, stiff pride in her voice. “Not the yakuza, not the First Families, not even the fucking Envoys. No one wants to fuck with the mimints.”
Like most bravado, it was misplaced. For one thing, I’d had it from an old friend six months back that Envoy Command
had
tendered for the New Hokkaido contract—they just hadn’t been cheap enough to suit the Mecsek government’s freshly rediscovered faith in unfettered market forces. A sneer across Todor Murakami’s lean face as we shared a pipe on the ferry from Akan to New Kanagawa. Fragrant smoke on the winter air of the Reach, and the soft grind of the maelstrom as backdrop. Murakami was letting his cropped Corps haircut grow out, and it stirred a little in the breeze off the water. He wasn’t supposed to be there, talking to me, but it’s hard to tell Envoys what to do. They know what they’re worth.
Hey, fuck Leo Mecsek. We told him what it’d cost. He can’t afford it, whose problem is that supposed to be? We’re supposed to cut corners and endanger Envoy lives so he can hand the First Families back some more of the tax they pay? Fuck that. We’re not fucking locals.
You’re a local, Tod,
I felt driven to point out.
Millsport-born and -bred.
You know what I mean.
I knew what he meant. Local government don’t get to punch keys on the Envoy Corps. The Envoys go where the Protectorate needs them, and most local governments pray to whatever gods they give house room that they’ll never be found wanting enough for that contingency to be invoked. The aftermath of Envoy intervention can be very unpleasant for all concerned.
This whole tendering angle’s fucked anyway.
Todor plumed fresh smoke out over the rail.
No one can afford us, no one trusts us. Can’t see the point, can you?
I thought it was about offsetting nonoperational costs while you guys were sitting on your asses undeployed.
Oh yeah. Which is when?
Really? I heard it was all pretty quiet right now. Since Hun Home, I mean. Going to tell me some covert insurgency tales?
Hey, sam.
He passed me the pipe.
You’re not on the team anymore. Remember?
I remembered.
Innenin!
It bursts on the edges of memory like a downed marauder bomb going up distant, but not far enough off to be safe. Red laser fire and the screams of men dying as the Rawling virus eats their minds alive.
I shivered a little and drew on the pipe. With Envoy-tuned sensitivity, Todor spotted it and shifted subject.
So what’s this scam about? Thought you were hanging out with Radul Segesvar these days. Hometown nostalgia and cheap organized crime.
Yeah.
I looked at him bleakly.
Where’d you hear that, then?
A shrug.
Around. You know how it is. So why you going up north again?
The vibroknife broke through into flesh and muscle again. I switched it off and started to lever the severed section of spine out of Yukio Hirayasu’s neck.
Yakuza gentry, dead and destacked. Courtesy of Takeshi Kovacs, because that was the way the label was going to read, whatever I did now. Tanaseda was going to be looking for blood. Hirayasu senior, too, presumably. Could be he saw his son as the lipslack fuckup he evidently was, but somehow I doubted it. And even if he did, every rule of obligation the Harlan’s World yakuza girded themselves with was going to force him to make it right. Organized crime is like that. Radul Segesvar’s Newpest
haiduci
mafia or the yak, north or south, they’re all the fucking same. Fucking blood-tie junkies.
War with the yakuza.
Why you going up north again?
I looked at the excised spinal segment and the blood on my hands. It wasn’t what I’d had in mind when I caught the hoverloader up to Tekitomura three days ago.
“Micky?” For a moment, the name meant nothing to me. “Hey, Mick, you okay?”
I looked up. She was watching me with narrow concern. I forced a nod.
“Yeah. I’m fine.”
“Well, do you think you could pick it up a bit? Orr’ll be back and
Like most bravado, it was misplaced. For one thing, I’d had it from an old friend six months back that Envoy Command
had
tendered for the New Hokkaido contract—they just hadn’t been cheap enough to suit the Mecsek government’s freshly rediscovered faith in unfettered market forces. A sneer across Todor Murakami’s lean face as we shared a pipe on the ferry from Akan to New Kanagawa. Fragrant smoke on the winter air of the Reach, and the soft grind of the maelstrom as backdrop. Murakami was letting his cropped Corps haircut grow out, and it stirred a little in the breeze off the water. He wasn’t supposed to be there, talking to me, but it’s hard to tell Envoys what to do. They know what they’re worth.
Hey, fuck Leo Mecsek. We told him what it’d cost. He can’t afford it, whose problem is that supposed to be? We’re supposed to cut corners and endanger Envoy lives so he can hand the First Families back some more of the tax they pay? Fuck that. We’re not fucking locals.
You’re a local, Tod,
I felt driven to point out.
Millsport-born and -bred.
You know what I mean.
I knew what he meant. Local government don’t get to punch keys on the Envoy Corps. The Envoys go where the Protectorate needs them, and most local governments pray to whatever gods they give house room that they’ll never be found wanting enough for that contingency to be invoked. The aftermath of Envoy intervention can be very unpleasant for all concerned.
This whole tendering angle’s fucked anyway.
Todor plumed fresh smoke out over the rail.
No one can afford us, no one trusts us. Can’t see the point, can you?
I thought it was about offsetting nonoperational costs while you guys were sitting on your asses undeployed.
Oh yeah. Which is when?
Really? I heard it was all pretty quiet right now. Since Hun Home, I mean. Going to tell me some covert insurgency tales?
Hey, sam.
He passed me the pipe.
You’re not on the team anymore. Remember?
I remembered.
Innenin!
It bursts on the edges of memory like a downed marauder bomb going up distant, but not far enough off to be safe. Red laser fire and the screams of men dying as the Rawling virus eats their minds alive.
I shivered a little and drew on the pipe. With Envoy-tuned sensitivity, Todor spotted it and shifted subject.
So what’s this scam about? Thought you were hanging out with Radul Segesvar these days. Hometown nostalgia and cheap organized crime.
Yeah.
I looked at him bleakly.
Where’d you hear that, then?
A shrug.
Around. You know how it is. So why you going up north again?
The vibroknife broke through into flesh and muscle again. I switched it off and started to lever the severed section of spine out of Yukio Hirayasu’s neck.
Yakuza gentry, dead and destacked. Courtesy of Takeshi Kovacs, because that was the way the label was going to read, whatever I did now. Tanaseda was going to be looking for blood. Hirayasu senior, too, presumably. Could be he saw his son as the lipslack fuckup he evidently was, but somehow I doubted it. And even if he did, every rule of obligation the Harlan’s World yakuza girded themselves with was going to force him to make it right. Organized crime is like that. Radul Segesvar’s Newpest
haiduci
mafia or the yak, north or south, they’re all the fucking same. Fucking blood-tie junkies.
War with the yakuza.
Why you going up north again?
I looked at the excised spinal segment and the blood on my hands. It wasn’t what I’d had in mind when I caught the hoverloader up to Tekitomura three days ago.
“Micky?” For a moment, the name meant nothing to me. “Hey, Mick, you okay?”
I looked up. She was watching me with narrow concern. I forced a nod.
“Yeah. I’m fine.”
“Well, do you think you could pick it up a bit? Orr’ll be back and
Similar Books
