Dirge Danorum
Chapter 20
As the girls and I relaxed in the canteen, we just had to do our best to ignore the gazes of the other stalkers. I was eating; Russet and Tyrian were both drinking hot chocolate. The drink menu was pretty limited, which surprised me. Stalkers were supposed to be a hard drinking lot, so you'd expect a place like this to have a pretty well-stocked bar. Well, it was well-stocked, but not with variety. If you wanted something that wasn't cheap beer, cheap vodka, or cheap whiskey, the odds weren't in your favor. And the sauce was cheap, but that didn't stop the barman from charging an awful lot of rubles for it.
We'd been able to hear the general hubbub generated by Velvet's appearance at Kevorich for a while, but it had begun to die down a bit. It was getting late, after all. It seemed clear that things had gone well for her, if the conversation among the stalkers was anything to go by. That was nice and all, but remember I wasn't interested in Freedom, I was interested in Velvet. Obviously it was good if her ventures succeeded, but at the moment, I just wanted to talk with two normal people. Russet and Tyrian obliged. Tyrian had opened up a bit while we were gone, and it seemed like she was beginning to adjust to her new life.
It couldn't last forever. Things quieted down further, and we all looked up. Velvet had come into the canteen, and the Biker was with her. Grigor was probably resting. For a second it was like an old west saloon when Clint Eastwood came in with his squint turned all the way up, but the stalkers noticed, and quickly went back to talking.
Velvet eyes flicked toward the wall, where various photos of women had been tacked up. Only three of the photos were of her, not counting the one where her face had been lovingly pasted over that of a well-endowed nude model. She pretended not to notice, and she and the Biker joined us at our table. There was just enough room for her not to touch anyone.
"How'd it go?" I asked.
"No one wanted to see Freedom go," the Biker said. He looked all right, but that wasn't anything to go by. You wouldn't know if he was hurt or not; he wasn't the type to let on. "There are plenty ready to pledge, now that there's critical mass."
"People who were lying low, too. Survivors from old Freedom," Velvet added.
I nodded. I'd expected that. "So what's the problem?" It wasn't like I could fail to notice the edge on both Velvet and the Biker. Or rather, the edge that was sharper than normal.
They exchanged a glance. "We're in trouble," Velvet said.
"How?" Russet asked.
"The money you wired with the uplink came through, but someone tracked the transaction. Your enemies on the outside know you're here."
"Oh, God."
"They've hired someone to kill or capture you."
"How do you know this?" I asked. The Biker held up his PDA.
"I was approached for the job."
"Why didn't you say you'd take it?"
"Because I wasn't asked by the client."
I blinked. "I'm missing something here," I said.
Velvet looked down at the table for a moment. There were dark circles under her eyes. She hadn't rested. Her back, where she'd been hit, had to be killing her. "It looks like they hired the Dane."
"If it was really the Dane that contacted me," the Biker said.
"I think it was." Velvet looked at Russet and Tyrian. "The controlling stock is worth over a hundred million; they're not going to spare any expense for these two."
"Who is the Dane? What's he got that we can't handle?" They were saying the word Dane like it had a capital D. Which I supposed it did in any case, now that I thought about it.
"He's not an operator," the Biker said. "He won't come here himself. He's a facilitator. He makes things happen. He's good."
I didn't have to ask how good; if people in general knew about him, and he had the Biker's respect, then it was safe to assume this guy had a well-established reputation.
"He does things differently," Velvet told me. "He's strange. It's never what you expect. He always achieves his objective, but he often does it in a way you won't see coming. It's like – like if he wants to kill someone, he won't shoot them or blow them up, he'll tear down their life until they commit suicide. He'll do things you can't defend against, or wait you up, let you lower your guard yourself, rather than going to the trouble of smashing through it."
"I've heard that one too," the Biker said.
Russet looked like she was going to faint. Tyrian's eyes were wide.
"You freaking serious?" she said, and Velvet looked surprised. This was the first time the girl with purple hair had spoken to her.
"Unfortunately," she said in her English, which had suddenly become awkward, as though speaking to an American took away her confidence.
"Sounds like a charmer," I said.
"But we shouldn't have to worry about him pulling any fast ones here," the Biker said. "This is the Zone. No laws, no games. The Dane will have hired one or more assassins, and it's going to be plain and simple."
"What do we do about it?" I asked.
"It's a race," Velvet said.
"What?" Russet cocked her head.
"A race to Yantar. If we can get there and fortify it, we'll have the best chance of protecting you," the Biker said. "The Dane's operator will try to hit us on the way. It's what anyone would do – it's a long road, and he'll have a thousand opportunities. We'll have to take some steps to improve your chances, but it's still risky. You're up against the A list. Your odds aren't good."
Russet swallowed. Tyrian sighed. Velvet and I both glared at the Biker, who just drank down his cup of vodka.
"Dick," I said. He poured himself another.
"We can do this," Velvet said.
"Nobody's ever beaten the Dane," the Biker reminded her.
"We can. But we have to move."
"We go at dawn."
I sighed. "How many men have you got?"
"Nearly twenty."
"That's a good start."
"It'll be forty by the time we reach Yantar," Velvet said confidently. I didn't doubt her – provided we could all stay alive that long.
"At least we'll have a head start on Duty," I said.
"We don't," the Biker stated flatly. I stared at him.
"They're here," Velvet told me, looking down at her cup. "They're at the gate. They'll know by the end of the week at the latest."
"Duty's here – and they just let you walk in here?"
She let out a small laugh. "I'm not sure these two really qualify as Duty. They're not reliable witnesses."
Could it be? "Where are they?"
"Outside, by the gate." I pushed back my chair and got up. "Rearm tonight," she warned. "We go at dawn."
Like she'd leave without me. I told the girls I'd be back, and left the canteen.
"Mist!" Slayer and Dixon both spotted me at the same time, and both waved their arms like the shout might not have attracted my attention. I went over, shaking my head.
"You guys," I said, trying not to smile. They'd upgraded; they were both wearing full Duty armor, with shoulder pads and everything. There was a mask on both of their backs. Maybe next time I saw them they'd be in exoskeletons.
"How are you, man?" Slayer clapped me on the back. "Glad you're still alive."
"You guys too."
"Where did you find all these chicks?" Dixon demanded. "Maybe we should join Freedom," he said to Slayer, who laughed.
"Why not?" I cut in, sobering quickly. I reached out and grabbed both of them by the shoulder. "Why don't you?"
They exchanged a glance, then laughed even louder. "We're Duty, man." Slayer shrugged, grinning.
"For life." Dixon grinned, thumping a hand to his chest. "Dude, tell him what we saw."
"Bro, you wouldn't even believe this – bloodsucker like twelve feet tall. Arms like tree trunks. Size of a house – if the sucker hadn't had a bum leg, he'd have got us."
I couldn't help myself; my jaw dropped. "How did you stop it?" I asked.
They looked at each other again, looking shocked. "You believe us?" Slayer asked, eyes shining.
"Of course," I said. After all, I'd seen the Blood Demon myself. I'd given him that bum leg with my .44 Desert Eagle, Lunch Box.
"No one else does," Dixon sighed. "They say there's no bloodsucker like that in the Zone."
"Well – there is," I said.
"You don't have to tell us," Slayer said, throwing out his arms. "We fought the son of a bitch."
Dixon patted his rifle. "Gave him the Beowulf," he said.
"He did not like that," Slayer chimed in. "Not one bit."
"Did you kill it?"
"Nah, but he ran off."
"Pussy. We're godlike. We're going to the Center, peace peace peace," Dixon said, trying not to laugh. They high-fived. "Yeah, we're the best."
I really would have liked to hang out with them a while longer, but I had to see the trader before he closed up for the night, and if we were leaving at dawn, that wasn't really that far off. Faction responsibilities; it looked like all three of us were starting to learn about those.
[Author note: there's a Zone Wallpaper on the blog, it's pretty sick. Pseudozone dot blogspot dot com.] - Wish