Omega Force: Rebellion (OF11), стр. 37
"My name is Pirend," he said, walking out of the office and closing the hatch behind him.
"We’ve disabled all of the implants that Imperial Intelligence put in her to make her resistant to interrogation," Mok said. "That includes the two that would have killed her if we began pressing too hard."
"You get anything useful yet?" Jason asked.
"They haven't been at it too long. A couple hours at most," Mok said. "You can observe on the monitor there…I'd advise against it. Anyone trained and operating as Qazvi Ba will be a tough one to break even without her implants helping."
"I'm surprised you came out here yourself for this," Jason said. "The criminal empire that easy to run you can drop everything and play spy versus spy?"
"You'd be shocked to learn how little there is to actually do in my position," Mok said in a rarely candid moment. He moved back from the bar and handed Jason the drink he'd been preparing. "The Twelve Points operate more or less autonomously, passing along reports to me through intermediaries as well as their tribute. If the amount is sufficient, I pretend not to know they're holding back and skimming off the top, and they pretend to not be plotting my demise so they can move into my position."
"Sounds tedious."
"You have no idea. Most of what being a crime lord entails is simply the ability to accept a level of risk that would turn most suicidal. Having a good eye for business and a keen intuition for when something doesn't seem right doesn't hurt."
"You make it sound so easy," Jason said, nodding at the expensive whiskey Mok had handed him, reminding him he needed to check in on another of his side ventures to see how it was progressing now that the coffee business was self-sustaining. "I'd imagine being a high-level Imperial Intelligence officer probably would give you the requisite skill set and tolerances. Hypothetically speaking."
"Hypothetically, you'd be correct," Mok said with none of his usual evasiveness about his past. "Despite the fact there is no longer an empire, I'd appreciate a certain level of discretion regarding certain assumptions you've made about my past."
"I won't tell a soul," Jason promised. "Not even my crew."
"Actually, they're the ones I'm most worried about, so thank you."
They sat in the lounge in silence as the smooth instrumental notes of a musical style Jason couldn't identify drifted through the air. Given how expensive the yacht had appeared on the inside when he'd come aboard, Jason sent his crew back over to the Phoenix, not wanting to turn them loose and have them break something. The whiskey helped dull the edge of the knife that had been twisting in his guts since Lucky had gotten separated, but the constant worry had manifested itself into a migraine headache that wouldn't abate. It was the fact he was stuck doing nothing that made the time pass so excruciatingly slow.
"Master, Captain, she is asking for you both," Similan said, having appeared in the lounge like a wisp of smoke.
"That was quick," Mok said, standing and straightening his expensive suit.
They walked down off the main deck down to the more utilitarian deck below. Jason recognized some of the larger components they passed along the way and realized that Mok's yacht had some serious teeth. In hindsight, he shouldn't have expected anything less. In addition to the yacht's armament, the Phoenix had been able to detect two frigate-class ships patrolling the area as well. The irony of all Mok's wealth and power was that it had made him a prisoner, no matter how opulent the jail.
"You didn't even last five hours, Fendra," Mok said when they walked into a stifling hot, humid room with bare alloy walls. "That's incredibly disappointing."
"I'm not an intelligence officer anymore, Mok," Fendra said. "I did what I did for money. I'm not getting paid to let your clumsy goons work me over." She didn't look too worse for wear considering she'd just spent the last few hours undergoing intense interrogations. "I'll tell you what I know in exchange for being turned loose."
"That seems fair…if the information is good."
"You'd actually just let me go?" Fendra asked.
"There's no money in keeping you," Mok said. "I’m a businessman now. This is good business. I might hang on to you for a short time afterwards, of course, but you'll be put in very comfortable surroundings. I can't have you deciding to warn your employers that we flipped you."
"A reasonable precaution," Fendra agreed. "I will have to warn you that I know less than you'll probably want to hear."
"Give us the broad strokes, and then my associates will work with you to lock down the details," Mok said. Jason just leaned against the bulkhead, trying to appear indifferent as this wasn't his area of expertise.
"What about him?" Fendra asked, gesturing towards Jason. "He's notorious for taking these sorts of things personally. Is he going to splatter my brains all over the walls once I'm done talking?"
"I have no interest in harming you," Jason said. "If your plan had worked, I might be singing a different tune. For now, I'll just be happy with whatever information you have."
"Before I was given the Qazvi Ba designation, I was attached to the navy as an intelligence asset," Fendra began, reaching across and grabbing the water Mok had placed there. "When the ConFed attack came out of nowhere—and I mean nowhere—the decision came down from the top pretty quick to run and hide. The thought was to stash the fleet, live to fight another day.
"Once the remaining ships were carefully hidden in the Cluster, I was contacted by