Dark Age (Red Rising Saga 5)

“My answer to your proposal.”

Spitting an apple seed out of my mouth, I stand, shoulder the gun, take aim over the oligarchs, and fire a round into the Dawn of Hermes. They dive to the floor in terror. The magnetically propelled uranium round carves a trail of blue friction flames over their heads, setting the hair of Senator Krieg on fire, and hits the statue with the force of a pilum missile.

The oligarchs hold their wailing ears and peek out from behind the table. Smoke twirls through the hole blasted in the back of the room. The statue is in ruins. I admire the gun and toss it back to Nakamura.

I take off my earcaps to dead silence.

“You just bankrupted three insurance companies,” Quicksilver says, stirring the dust into his tea before taking a sip.

One of the Silvers clutches his cravat and, ears deafened by the report of the gun, shrieks in angst.

“Apologies, Bartus,” Quicksilver says. “I told you, you should have split the liability.”

“The forty-nine-year-old human male is temporarily experiencing reduced auditory function of ninety percent,” Quicksilver’s sentinel robot explains.

“Oh. Remind me to tell him later.”

“Yes, master.”

Of the thirty-three industrialists, Quicksilver alone did not move. The moment the gun touched my hand, the air distorted around him, bending the flames away. Sound also seems not to have penetrated. Curious technology. Did it come from his Sentinel drone? I can’t tell. It drifts above his head like a pendulum, emitting arcane high-pitched frequencies. Interesting. Holiday tracks it like a scout, no doubt wondering how best to kill it, and how many ways it could kill her. She better be using that sensor packet she brought. I like mysteries even less than bad breath.

It is time to address the room. “My goodmen,” I repeat four times until I have their attention. “Today is not a day for extortion. Today is the day for patriots. You should ask what you can do for our distressed Republic. Instead you present it with demands. Instead of rallying votes to help your comrades, you jockey for gain.” I look at Quicksilver. I asked for a private meeting, and he ambushed me with this, as I knew he would. For too long, he’s been distracted, cantankerous, as if his coronation were on the horizon and all this was merely an inconvenience. He’s working on something, some project even with all my spies I am unable to identify. We don’t have time for pet projects. What hesitation I had is now gone. The deck must be reshuffled. I soften my tone for him. “There was a time when two men stood against tyranny. Fitchner au Barca and you. Where did that man go?”

He doesn’t care to answer.

“Give them the recording, so I know they all heard me,” I tell Nakamura.

I turn back to Quicksilver. “My answer to your extortion is no. My counteroffer is this: You have five seconds to tell your senators downstairs they will vote with me. Or…”

“Or what?” Quicksilver asks, as if I am still the aspiring politico he knew twelve years ago. I am not. She had better legs, but far less menace.

“Or I punish you in proportion to your ransom,” I say. “You are being intractable for some inscrutable reason. So you will be spanked.”

“Oh dear. How? Will you shoot more of my belongings? Have Sevro drop the ceiling and castrate Daedalus over there?”

A handsome young Silver caught digging in his ear regains his hearing at just the wrong time. He pales and looks at the ceiling. “What did I do? I make condensed proteins.”

“Grow up, Virginia. These antics of your family have grown tiresome.” Quicksilver jabs a finger into the table. “This is how the world works. Quid. Pro. Quo.”

I nod to Nakamura.

She starts counting. “Five…four…”

“Ridiculous theatrics.” Quicksilver strokes that Gold eyeball ring of his. “Matteo isn’t even this dramatic.”

“Three…two…one.”

I walk toward the door.

“Remember, we built this Republic!” Quicksilver calls after me. “Us. Not you.” His voice spikes sharply toward anger. “Virginia! Don’t be a fool. Come back and be reasonable. You need us.”

“That’s what you fail to understand,” I say at the door. “There’s no scarcity principle at play here, goodman. You taught me better than anyone, where there’s need, a Silver will always appear. Doesn’t have to be you.” I toss the earcaps across the room. They land in Quicksilver’s teacup. “Your votes, goodmen. If not for the Republic, for yourselves.”

I leave.

Holiday smiles as we enter my shuttle. “Did you enjoy that, ma’am?” she asks.

“Far too much.”