Shadow of Freedom

His eyes glittered as he delivered the none-too-veiled threat, and Hearns’ expression turned colder than ever.

“Why am I not surprised?” She shook her head. “Let me explain something to you, Captain. It already occurred to us that you noble and courageous gendarmes might threaten to kill our civilians. I mean, we are talking about the Solarian Gendarmerie, those champions of truth, justice, and the Solarian way. Tester knows you’ve shown the rest of us poor, benighted neobarbs the high road to civilization often enough! Trust me, we’ve all been deeply impressed by your intervention battalions’ willingness to terrorize anyone who gets in your way…as long as they’re not in a position to shoot back.” Her cold contempt sent a boil of pure fury sweeping through Kristoffersen, but she only continued in that same scornful tone. “We, however, are in a position to shoot back, and if any of the civilian spacers in your custody are harmed in any way, we will hold you—meaning, in case you were wondering, you personally, Major Pole, and all of your personnel collectively—responsible for it. And for your information, the illegal detention of our civilians constitutes kidnapping and unlawful constraint under interstellar law. Which can be—and will be—construed as an act of piracy. And pirates, as you may be aware, are liable to summary execution.”

Kristoffersen stared at her in sheer disbelief.

“So now you’re threatening to try us as pirates?” he demanded.

“No, Captain. We’re warning you that if any of our people are harmed, we’ll execute you as pirates,” she said flatly.

Despite himself, her level tone sent an icicle through Jorn Kristoffersen. No one had ever threatened to execute Solarian Gendarmes! But as he looked into those cold, blue eyes and heard the unflinching certitude in that voice, he felt a terrifying suspicion that she meant it.

“Captain, I think you’d better go tell Major Pole what the situation is before you dig this hole any deeper for all of you,” Hearns told him with a curled lip. “Inform him that he has fifteen minutes to agree to release our personnel. After that time, we’ll come get them. And be sure you tell him what will happen if any of our people are hurt along the way. I wouldn’t want him to wonder why he’s being kicked out an airlock without a skinsuit.”

She turned her back without another word, and the Manty with the flechette gun twitched his head in the direction of the corridor to Victor Seven. Kristoffersen felt himself hovering on the brink of saying something else—or possibly of physically attacking Hearns, as suicidal as that would undoubtedly be. But sanity overpowered fury, and he turned and stalked down the corridor.

* * *

“Tell me, My Lady,” Mateo Gutierrez said over his private link as the Solarian stormed away, “do you think there was anything less diplomatic you could’ve said to him?”

“I certainly hope not,” Abigail replied. She turned her head, glancing back over her shoulder as Kristoffersen disappeared down the corridor, then returned her attention to Gutierrez. “I tried not to miss any of his buttons, anyway.”

“Oh, I’d say you got most of them,” Gutierrez said judiciously. “I thought twice he was going to go ahead and go for his gun, anyway.”

“In which case he’d be dead…and the universe would be a better place.”

Gutierrez twitched as he heard the cold, bitter, genuine loathing in her voice. Hatred was alien to Abigail Hearns, as he knew far better than most, but she was a Grayson. Graysons met the Test in their own lives. They did their jobs, and they honored their responsibilities, and a thousand years surviving on the planet which tried to kill them every single day gave them a sort of implacability which could be frightening to behold. It wasn’t like the fanaticism of the Faithful on their more hospitable and welcoming planet of exile, but it was something a San Martino like Gutierrez—or perhaps a Gryphon Highlander—could understand. Whether even they could have matched it was another question, of course, but Mateo Gutierrez had realized long ago why the mountain clansman in his own genes had responded so powerfully to the Grayson granite inside Abigail Hearns and her people.

“Well,” he went on in that same judicious tone, letting none of that moment of awareness show in voice or expression, “I’d say that if the object was to piss them off, you’ve probably succeeded.”

“Good,” Abigail said coldly. But then she gave herself a little shake and smiled at him.

“Good,” she repeated more naturally. “Because that means they’ll be looking our way, doesn’t it? And that being the case, perhaps you’d be good enough to organize the troops, Lieutenant Gutierrez?”

“Of course, My Lady.”

Chapter Sixteen

“—want him to wonder why he’s being kicked out an airlock without a skinsuit.”