Ballistic (The Palladium Wars), стр. 92
“You got yourself some new clothes,” Tess said to him when he had returned to the group and reclaimed his chair.
“I did,” he said. “It felt like I’d been wearing nothing but that flight suit for three months.”
“It’s a good look. Not that you look terrible in a flight suit.”
“Thanks,” he said and took a swig of his beer to give himself a second to deal with the unexpected compliment.
The light in the bar was dimmed to enhance the effect of the entire space appearing to float in the night sky, so when someone a few seating groups away opened a screen on their comtab, it was noticeable. Aden looked over in annoyance only to see several more screens opening all over the room. The low din of the conversations in the room picked up, and even though Aden couldn’t understand the Acheroni coming from the seating groups on either side, he could tell that their tone had changed. A tense mood seemed to roll gradually across the bar.
“Something is going on,” Maya said.
She flagged down a passing server and engaged in a quick-fire conversation in Acheroni, then turned back to them with a disturbed expression as the server rushed off.
“Check the networks,” she said and pulled out her own comtab.
“Which one?” Tess asked as she did likewise.
“I don’t think it matters,” Maya said. “It’ll be on every one of them. She said there’s news that someone dropped a nuke on Rhodia.”
That revelation stunned them all into shocked silence. Aden took out his own comtab. Almost everyone in the room had a comtab out and a viewscreen open now, bar etiquette temporarily put aside.
“Shit,” Tess said softly when she read her own screen.
The news reports were frantic and repetitive, but they all conveyed the scale of the incident. Aden’s stomach twisted at the sight of the footage of what was unmistakably the mushroom cloud of a nuclear detonation in the clear blue sky of another planet. He knew the scenery well after looking at it for five years, even if he was unfamiliar with the shape of the arcology that was ablaze with hundreds of fires.
“That is insane,” Henry said. Aden had never seen a hint of fear on the Palladian’s face since he joined the crew, but he looked afraid now.
For the next few minutes, they all watched the news feeds and exchanged low-voiced commentary among each other, all variations of the same Oceanian rote invectives reserved for shock and disbelief.
“That puts us in a bad spot,” Decker finally said when the reality of the event had settled in. “A really bad spot.”
“We gave the Rhodies what we had,” Tess said. “That wasn’t anything we did.”
“Someone just nuked an arcology on Rhodia,” Henry replied. “Not even a week after we hand-delivered a black-market nuclear warhead to the Rhodian navy. There aren’t that many nukes floating around out there.”
“It doesn’t even matter if our nuke is connected to that one somehow,” Decker said. “The Rhodies sure as hell are going to assume they were. The minute we cross back into Rhodian space, they’ll reel us in. If only to make sure they have every bit of information they can squeeze from our brains about that bad client.”
I used up all my good luck with that Rhodian commander a few days ago, Aden thought. If we cross paths with the Rhodies again, there won’t be any acts of mercy or forgiveness. Not for a former Blackguard.
“Odds are we weren’t their only supply line.” Tristan picked up his drink and slugged the contents of the glass. Then he grimaced and scratched his head with his free hand. “Nice load of shit we took on with that quarter-ton container.”
“It happened. We all agreed to take it on. And then we all voted to take it to the Rhodies. Now we have to live with the fallout,” Decker said.
“So what do we do now?” Tristan asked. “Once we have the ship out of overhaul. Do we just avoid Rhodian space for the next few years? Half our contracts come from the Rhodia-to-Pallas route.”
“I don’t see how we can go back there,” Aden said. “Not until the Rhodies figure out who dropped that nuke. Because I am pretty sure they won’t just take our word for it that it wasn’t us.”
Maya got to her feet and snatched her empty bottle off the glass table in front of the chairs.
“Before we vote ourselves into another disaster, let me get another drink. Maybe something stronger this time.”
“No rush,” Decker told her as she walked off. “We’re not going to decide anything tonight. Ship’s docked for another two weeks anyway.”
When Maya returned, someone else was with her. Aden looked up from his comtab to see a handsome, lean man with short black hair by her side. His first thought was that she had met a local friend or maybe picked up someone on her way to the bartender station, but when he saw her stiff expression, he knew that something wasn’t right. Across the table, Henry’s body language shifted into an alert posture, and seeing the Palladian’s hand creep close to the hilt of his kukri set off all kinds of alarm bells in Aden’s head.
“And who might you be?” Henry asked.
The man had wrapped one arm around Maya’s shoulders. It would have looked like a casual embrace except for his other hand, which he had pressed against her side. He nudged her downward into one of the empty chairs and sat down in the one beside her, all in one smooth and fluid motion. Aden could see something white and pointy in that hand.
“If your hand goes any further toward your knife, I’ll stick mine straight through her heart,” he said to Henry in a pleasant tone. His voice was honey poured over polished steel. “Your blade may be sharper, but my blade is faster.