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“I agree,” Theodora says, surprising the council.
“What about Matteo?” I ask Quicksilver. “Sevro shattered his face.”
Quicksilver’s knife slips on the new oyster, punching into the meat of his palm. He winces and sucks at the blood. “And if he hadn’t have passed out he would have told you where I was. From my experience, pain is the best negotiator.”
“I agree with them, Darrow,” Mustang says. “We have to be certain he’s telling the truth. Otherwise we’re letting him dictate our strategy—which is classic counterintelligence on his part. It’s what you would do.” And it’s what I tried to do till the torture started with the Jackal.
Victra, who has been silent on the issue till now, walks abruptly around the table into the holo projection so that black space and stars play across her skin. Jagged white-blond hair drifts in front of angry eyes as she pulls her gray shirt off. She’s muscled and lithe beneath and wears a compression bra. A half dozen razor scars stretch three inches at a diagonal across her flat belly. There’s more than a dozen on her sword arm. A few on her face, neck, clavicle.
“Some I’m proud of,” she says of the scars. “Some I’m not.” She turns to show us her lower back. It’s a waxy melted swath of flesh where her sister left her mark in acid. She turns back to us, raising her chin in defiance. “I came here because I didn’t have a choice. I stayed when I did. Don’t make me regret that.”
It’s startling to see the vulnerability in her. I don’t think Mustang would ever let her guard down in public like this. Sevro stares intensely at the tall woman as she tugs her shirt back on and turns back to the holo. She reaches for the asteroid with both hands to stretch the hologram. “Can we get better resolution?” she asks as if the matter is settled.
“The picture was taken by a Census Bureau drone,” I say. “Nearly seventy years ago. We don’t have access to the current Society military records.”
“My men are on it,” Quicksilver says. “But they’re not optimistic. We’re fighting a legion of Society counterattacks right now. Gorydamn maelstrom.”
“This is when having your father around would come in handy,” Sevro says to Mustang.
“He never mentioned anything like this to me,” she replies.
“Mother did, once,” Victra says thoughtfully. “Antonia and I. Something about nasty little goody bags that Imperators could collect on the fly if the Rim went off the tracks.”
“That matches with what Cassius says.”
She turns back to us. “Then I think Cassius is telling the truth.”
“So do I,” I say to the group. “And torturing him doesn’t resolve anything. Cut off his fingers one by one, and what if he still says it’s true? Do we keep cutting until he says it’s not? Either way it’s a gamble.” I get a few reluctant nods and feel relief that at least one battle’s won, if a little wary knowing how savage my friends can become.
“What did he suggest we do?” Dancer asks. “I’m sure he had a proposal.”
“He wants me to have a holoconference with the Sovereign,” I say.
“Why?”
“To discuss an alliance against the Jackal. They give us intel, we kill him before he can detonate any bombs,” I say. “That’s his plan.”
Sevro giggles. “Sorry. But that would be bloodydamn fun to watch.” He pulls up his left hand and makes a talking motion with it. ‘Hello, you old rusty bitch, you recall when I kidnaped your grandchild?’?” He pulls up his right hand. “Why yes, my goodman. Just after I enslaved your entire race.” He shakes his head. “No purpose in talking to that Pixie. Not until we’re knocking on her doorstep with a fleet. You should send me and the Howlers after good old Jackal. Can’t press a button without a head.”
“The Valkyrie will attend this mission with the Howlers,” Sefi says.
“No. The Jackal will invite a personal attack,” I say, glancing at Mustang, who has already warned me off that course. “He knows us too well to be surprised by things we’ve done in the past. I’m not throwing lives away by playing into his understanding of our strengths.”
“Do you have anyone inside his inner-circle, Regulus?” Dancer asks Quicksilver. Surprisingly, the two men seem to rather like one another.
“I did. Until your Grays broke Darrow out. Adrius had his chief of intelligence purge his inner circle. My men are all dead or imprisoned or scared shitless.”
“What do you think, Augustus?” Dancer asks Mustang.
All eyes turn to her. She takes her time in replying.
“I think the reason you’ve managed to stay alive so long is because Golds are so consumed with the individual ego that they’ve forgotten how they conquered Earth. Each thinks they can rule. With Orion returning and Sevro’s gains, your greatest strength now lies with your navy and an Obsidian army. Don’t help the Sovereign. She is still the most dangerous enemy. You help her, she focuses on you. Sow more seeds of discord.”
Dancer nods in agreement. “But are we sure the Jackal would actually use the nukes on the planet?”
“The only thing my brother ever wanted was my father’s approval. He did not get it. So he killed my father. Now he wants Mars. What do you think he’ll do if he doesn’t get it?”
A menacing silence fills the room.
