The First Nova I See Tonight by Jason Kilgore (the false prince .txt) 📕

Dirken shook his head, laughing despite himself. He glanced over to Yiorgos, and the cyborg gave him a sincere look. Dirken knew what his partner was thinking. Despite the double-cross and privateering, 'TakTrak hadn't actually tried to kill them. Besides, he had to admit to himself that if the roles were reversed, he might well have done the same to the Corthian.

He lowered his weapon. "Get the fuck out of here, 'TakTrak."

'TakTrak seemed to relax. Then, from behind Dirken, a voice yelled, "Drop your weapon!"

He swung around with the rifle.

Behind him and at a slight distance stood ten silver-robed and cowled figures, each aiming a blaster at him and Yiorgos.

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

ROBED FIGURES

"I said, drop the rifle!" the figure in the center commanded, speaking with an Australian accent.

Dirken lowered the rifle, his eyes darting to Yiorgos's. His partner gave a subtle nod, grimacing. They were outgunned. So Dirken dropped the weapon and raised his hands.

Their hostage-takers wore silver robes that seemed out of place in the jungle, sparkling, modern, and festooned with communication devices and sensors. Their blasters were military-grade and new-looking, yet despite all the tech they employed, they used a length of hemp rope around their waists to hold the robes together and wore rough sandals, as if they couldn't make up their minds whether to look modern or ancient.

'TakTrak gave a series of angry whirls and clacks and stood up. He took two strides over to Dirken, started to step past, but then twirled and punched Dirken in the face.

Dirken returned the blow with an uppercut, knocking the Corthian back.

"Stop!" the Aussie commanded.

Dirken and 'TakTrak glared at one another, fists raised. "That was a sucker-punch, 'TakTrak. Low even for you!"

'TakTrak responded with an indignant chirrup and kept his fists raised until Dirken backed away.

"Yeah…. Probably wise you don't try a fair fight, 'TakTrak," Dirken said. "Corthian bones break easy."

The robed Aussie went over to 'TakTrak, who had picked up the rifle. A second followed her carrying a large case. She pulled a translator device out of her robe pocket, activated it, and handed it to 'TakTrak.

"We saw your ship go down," she said to him. "We feared all had been lost. Here is your payment, as promised." Her voice sounded very familiar to Dirken.

'TakTrak eagerly took the case and opened it, revealing a king's ransom in United World hundred-chit notes.

Dirken whistled. "So that's what it's worth to sell out an old colleague!"

'TakTrak tilted his head. He chirped a response, and the new translator interpreted it with an ironically sultry, female voice. "It's just business, Dirken Nova," it purred. He poked angrily at the device, and the voice changed, but now to that of a gruff, drill instructor sort as he spoke, each sentence shouted in stern exclamation. "I am sure you will be treated fairly! I was told they will not kill you — if you do as they say!" He paused a moment, shouldering his rifle. "It is just business, friend Dirken! I must attend to Feleesha and see if any others of my crew survived! Until next time, old rogue!"

'TakTrak gave a nod to Yiorgos, then the Corthian stepped back into the jungle the way they had come.

"Next time I won't spare you!" Dirken shouted after him, then he felt lame for doing so as he heard 'TakTrak clacking with laughter.

The silver-robed figures encircled Dirken and Yiorgos, keeping their distance, blasters aimed. One figure stood out from the others, armed not with a blaster, but with a broad-bladed sword in a scabbard and with a robe trimmed in sky blue. He had a salt-and-pepper beard spilling out of his cowl, but his face was still lost in shadow.

"So who are you?" Dirken said. "The Earth Welcome Wagon?"

The Aussie folded back her cowl, revealing blond hair and blue eyes.

"The bartender!" Dirken said, remembering the woman who served him his drinks at the Ruby Lounge.

She nodded. The others lowered their hoods, as well — all but the one with the sword. Dirken immediately recognized several of them: the handsome young ensign from the Excellentia, the bald and cowering slave who had been with the Bloodhawk as he entered the interrogation chamber, the bald-headed bodyguard with the cybernetic implant who had been with Governor Juarez in the musty, industrial hangar in New Miami. Even the greasy middle-man, Weed, who had recruited Dirken and Yiorgos on Mars at the Gamma Ray Gramma, which kicked off the whole mission. As one, they all raised their left arms in salute, their sleeves dropping to their elbows revealing a branded "A" on the undersides of their wrists.

"Hello again, mate," the Aussie said. "I knew you were the scrappy type. Figured you'd make it here more or less unscathed, though I 'spect you'll need another shot of Heraclean grog." She winked and lowered her arm, and the others lowered theirs as well. "We are the Acolytes of AVA."

Yiorgos asked, "Why would you follow a dead computer from a thousand years ago?"

She ignored the question. "Don't suppose you know what happened to a couple of our members who are missing?"

"I suspect I do," Dirken said. "The albino woman?" She nodded. Dirken continued, "She was killed by Eow after fighting with us… and saving our lives."

The Aussie looked down. "That was Birgitta," she said somberly. "And there was one named Andy. He was on 'TakTrak's ship with you."

"Yeah, the male escort. He was wounded, possibly mortally, by 'TakTrak. You know… the Corthian you just made fabulously rich."

The Aussie flashed an angry glance toward the robed figure with the blue trim before returning to a neutral expression. "I see." She picked up the duffel bag and opened it, revealing the Heart and scrutinizing it, her eyes growing wide.

"Why the hell did they defend us?" Dirken asked. "They didn't know shit about us!"

"Hey, fuck-face," Weed the greasy recruiter said. "Show a little fucking thankfulness for their sacrifice."

Dirken was about to retort when the Bloodhawk's slave interrupted,