Chapter 10: Private Box
“When was the last time you saw a tournament in person?”
Jack didn’t answer Otto’s question.
He sat beside the Oligarch of Algreil Aerospace in a shaded booth that showed all the signs of having been built to some other executive’s specifications. Jack knew the thick carpet and plush chairs hadn’t been his former commander’s idea. The view of the arena and the Wellach Cup could’ve been better, too.
“I don’t appreciate your attitude, Jack,” Otto said. “You still seem to be operating under the idea that I’ve done you some kind of wrong.”
“I saw the damn footage,” Jack said. “Doesn’t mean I have to believe it. Why’d the Feds want to drop a whole destroyer on us, anyway?”
Otto sighed. “It’s too bad I can’t introduce you to Admiral Avalon. Maybe then you’d believe me.”
“Maybe.”
“What do I have to do to convince you, old buddy?”
“Let me and my wife go back to the Mother Goose and never come after us again.”
“I’d love to – believe me, if I’d had any intention of keeping you around to catch up on old times, the inclination has rapidly faded.”
“Then do it,” Jack said. He didn’t bother fast-talking Otto. The Oligarch would’ve seen through it at fifteen, when he took over Devil Ray squadron as one of the greatest mechaneers ever to suit up. He’d sure as hell see through it with another twenty years experience.
“Can’t,” Otto said. “Even if your ship weren't impounded in one of the Reformer's shuttle bays, you’d be food for the Feds before you could blink.”
“I’ll take my chances.”
“But I won’t.”
Obviously, or Jack wouldn’t have been sitting in the Algreil Aerospace booth. “At least let me see Ellie.”
“Your pet felid?”
“My wife,” Jack growled.
He could see the scowl on Otto’s face. No surprise there. Algreil Aerospace hadn't been involved in the hybrid trade before the Civil War, but they hadn't condemned it, either. And during the war...
Well, Jack had resigned before the battle of Etemenos for a reason. A damn good reason.
Besides, if half what Jack read in the gossip columns was true, Otto didn’t treat his own wife – Alarie Wein Marchess-Algreil, heiress to the United Shipping Magnate – much better than he would have a hybrid slave.
Nonetheless, the oligarch said, “Very well. I’ll have her brought up to watch the show with us.”
Jack’s eyes widened. “Ellie’s in this building?”
“You think I’d let such a valuable commodity out of my immediate vicinity, Colonel Hughes? You wound me. Of course she's here.”
Then they had a chance to escape, Jack thought. Mecha tournaments could get pretty hectic. If he got even a slight opening…
“I can see your mind working,” Otto said.
Jack’s gaze snapped back into focus.
“Don’t even think about trying to escape. This place is crawling with navy men. They’re all looking for you, in between watching the tournament, anyway.”
“Unless you’re lying,” Jack said.
Otto nodded. “Let’s say I am. Then you have a situation where I just have to ask for their cooperation in apprehending an industrial espionage suspect. Or maybe I should just tell them to secure a rogue hybrid, hm?”
Jack wanted to punch the grin from the Oligarch's face. Trouble was, he knew he’d fail if he tried, and make things worse for Ellie in the process.
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“I’m trying to make this as easy as possible for you, Jack,” Otto said. “You can keep believing otherwise, but at the moment I really do have your best interests at heart. Yours, and your curious little family’s.”
“The hell you do. You never got into anything if it wasn’t for profit.”
“Of course it’s for profit!” Otto looked genuinely offended. “Don’t be stupid. I’m not a noble, you know. I don't do favors. That doesn’t mean it’s a zero-sum game where my profit has to be your loss.”
He jerked a thumb at the screens depicting Federal Navy sailors mingling with the civilian crowd. “It can be their loss, instead.”
“I’d rather help out the Federal Senate than an Oligarch,” Jack said.
“Your little wifey hasn't cured your idealism yet, eh? Too bad the Feds wouldn’t rather help you. I'm here because my people intercepted an Animus Hunter's contact with you. Not just any Animus Hunter, either. Perhaps you'd rather deal with the Senate's own Errard Zelph?"
“What's so special about Zelph?”
“That's right, you quit before the Battle of Etemenos.” Otto's scowl said volumes about his opinion of Jack's resignation, never mind he'd signed off on it at the time. “Zelph isn't just another errant. He was a nob once, maybe even an Imperial bastard a few generations back. He's not just an Animus Hunter, he's their boss, and their founder.
“Oh, and he's the guy who finally killed the Emperor.”
Jack stared.
“So...” Otto cocked an eyebrow. “Still want to take your chances with the Feds?”
Jack kept staring.
Otto nodded. “Thought so.”
The guy who killed the Emperor.
Holy.
Crap.
And Jack had thought about taking Zelph on? Yeah, sure, and maybe he could solo the Federal Navy while he was at it.
Assuming Otto was telling the truth – and it seemed like something too easy to check up on for him to bother lying about it – escaping Algreil Aerospace was by far the least of Jack's worries.
For lack of any better option, Jack leaned back in the plush chair and watched the preliminaries clang away. After a few minutes, he found himself actually paying attention.
He didn't like what he saw.
None of the mechaneers impressed him. Hell, none of them looked half as good as raw recruits from the Civil War. Even those who, from the looks of their machines, were test pilots or military mechaneers looked like they were taking advantage of the weak field to coast rather than to practice.
He said as much.
“Depressing, isn’t it?” Otto rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Most of these losers are just salvagers and port workers and pirates, but the job doesn’t matter. They’re amateurs.”
“What’s wrong with ‘em?”
“They see it as just a game. None of them have any real killer instinct, none of them train like it’s life or death.”
“Even the soldiers?”
“The soldiers are the worst. Weekend warriors! They think capital ships can fight their battles for them. Our Devil Rays could rip through a thousand of these imbeciles.”
Like the nobles used to rip through us, Jack thought. The current crop looked as far removed from the Oligarchy’s elites as those elites had from the psychic aristocrats they fought.
He wondered what that would mean if the surviving nobs ever decided to rouse themselves from the Periphery.
Were the Animus Hunters the only thing the Senate had to throw at the nobs? Sure as hell couldn't be as many of 'em, no matter how powerful they were.
Before he could ponder the question further, the doors to the booth’s elevator slid open. A pair of corporate security officers who Jack recognized as ex-Devil Rays stepped through.
Ellie followed.
He sprang from his chair and folded her into his arms. For a wonder, she actually responded in kind. They’d apparently stopped pumping her full of Limiters. Jack heard the clomp of two pairs of boots on a metal floor, then doors sliding shut and an elevator zooming downwards. He didn’t really register the sounds.
When he broke the embrace, he met Ellie’s eyes. Her ears twitched happily.
He whispered, “You okay, Hon?”
“I am now.”
Otto’s sarcastic applause shattered the moment.
Jack spun on him.
The Oligarch had stood to face them. His face was twisted with disgust. He didn’t even manage his usual fakey grin. “Are you finished fussing over your cat there? As you can see, she’s unharmed.”
Jack didn’t think about throwing the punch. It just came. He put everything he had behind it, consequences be damned.
Otto’s head barely twitched to the side. His hand snaked up and stung Jack on the shoulder he’d led with.
Jack stumbled. If Ellie hadn’t caught him, he would have cracked his head against the elevator doors. His left arm felt like it had been severed by a laser cutter.
“I don’t understand your preferences,” Otto said, “and it pisses me off that I lost an excellent mechaneer because of them."
That explained a lot. Jack didn't remember Otto being such a virulent hybrid-hater during the war.
“But," the oligarch continued, “for old time’s sake, I won’t bring the matter up again. Deal.”
He didn’t mean it as a question.
As the agony in his shoulder faded, Jack forced himself to his feet. Ellie tried to steady him, but he patted her hand and gently pushed her away.
He reached out and clasped Otto’s outstretched hand.
“Deal,” he said.
Somehow, it almost felt like winning.