Splintered Reality - part fifteen

Brighde was distracted by visions of “Rick” Sirrelli - - and what he would do to both Gunny and herself when he found out the blueprints they had given him were fake (okay good fakes) still dancing in her head. The clink of dishes from somewhere in the background, and the sizzle of meat on the grill at the back of the restraint served as the background for her troubled thoughts. Gunny’s voice pulled her back to the present…

“So that’s just it? Fakes? You give Richard Sirelli…THE Richard Sirrelli fake blueprints? That’s how you managed to finagle your letter of introduction to the 15 time winner of the great circuit race at New Rome?”

Gunny paused, then continued with even greater aggravation…

“I stuck my stiletto up his nose for cryin’ out loud! I think that might be just a tiny little factor weighing against me when he finds out. He’s not altogether stupid you know…”

“no. not altogether.” Replied Brighde Calmly.

“What were they the blueprints to anyway?”

“The garbage incinerator at the navy shipyard.”

“It’s a miracle he hasn’t figured it out already!” Gunny shot back at Brig.

“Yes. A miracle,” Brighde replied matter of factly.

“As interesting as the this all is,” a voice interjected as it came drifting across the table, “what has this all got to do with us?”

The voice belonged to Gilda Stern and her partner Rosa - - whose tail she slapped away as she attempted to use it to grab another roll off the table, her hands being currently occupied with an overly large beer mug.

“The ship I sold you has the prototype of the capacitor, and there ARE no blueprints for it. I checked with at the Navy Shipyard.”

“So…what…you want the ship back now? Or something like that?”

“Yes, something like that. But no. I don’t want the ship back.”

Rosa, assuming Gilda’s attention was firmly on the conversation, attempted to sneak another roll while Gilda wasn’t looking. Without taking her eyes off Brighde, Gilda slapped the errant tail away from the rolls once again. Rosa frowned as she was foiled by her partner’s peripheral vision that seemed to bear out the old adage about having “eyes in back of her head.”

“So what DO you want then,” asked Gilda, a bit more irritated now.

“I want the ship AND you,” replied Brighde, who, along with Rosa - - who was more intent on her beer than the conversation – seemed the only other calm person at the restaurant.

“How did you find me anyway? Did you follow me?”

“I didn’t follow you,” replied Brighde quietly, “You followed me.”

“I followed YOU, came the surprised reply. I stopped for a quick bite and my favorite burger bar near the asteroid field I am mining – a mining schedule you are taking me away from I might add.”

“I need you. I need the ship. I knew you would come.”

“Oh? How is that,” replied Gilda, a big calmer as well as puzzled - - the first being the result of the latter.

“I…”

Here Brighde hesitated before she continued.

“…I saw it in a vision.”

“A vision.” Snapped Gilda. “So now you are seeing things are you?”

The table grew quiet, if quiet can be interpreted as the sound Rosa’s slurping the foam off her fifth beer, over the din of the diner.

“Ok, said Gilda finally. I’ll bite. What else do your visions tell you.”

“That you are going to help me unite the Minmatar tribes.”

“What do I care about your tribes?” growled Gilda, “I am not exactly from your neck of the woods. Hell I am not even from your neck of the galaxy.”

“nonetheless. You will help me.” smiled Brighde.

“…and what if I just walk out of here and get back to business, and tell you to mind yours?”

“You won’t”

“What do you mean I won’t? How do you know?…oh yes…the visions, said Gilda, rolling her eyes. Then she added, and why me?”

This time Gunny interrupted the flow of conversation.

“We heard what happened, or rather almost happened, when you were attacked. You, quite frankly are very luck. Very, VERY lucky.”

“Ya. So they tell me,” said Gilda as she took a sip of her own beer.

Then she added, “I have never believed a word of it.”

The waiter brought the check and Brighde reached for it. Looking at the check she pulled money out of her pocket to pay the bill, and accidentally dropped it on the floor. As both Gunny and Brighde simultaneously reached for the money, the world exploded in light, shattered glass and screams…

…The front glass of the diner, and the tritanium walls that held them in, where pierced by streaks of light from 60 caliber tracer rounds. Glass shattered and filled the air in tiny particles of glass that gleamed in the air like a thousand tiny diamonds. Whole in the tritanium wall appeared, made by the armor piercing rounds. The first rounds shattered dishes neatly stacked on the counter that divided the kitchen from the rest of the diner – the kitchen staff were the first to die. One waitress, just returning from a break had her arm shattered by another round. The second waitress was not so lucky and soon lay dead at the feet of the first. The tracer rounds continued to scream through the air, piercing what seemed like every square foot of the restaurant.

Every square foot, except, as it soon became apparent as the gunfire stopped, the few square feet occupied by Gunny, Brighde, Rosa and Gilda – who sat looking at the shattered beer mug she held in her hand. A beer mug that had been pierced by one of the tracer rounds that had narrowly missed her head.

Brighde looked around the restaurant that was filled with blood, death, and shattered remnants of the diner. Then she looked back at Gilda.

“I DO believe it. I do…”

Splintered Reality - part fourteen

“HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!”

Rick Sirrelli’s laughter seemed to fill the large space that contained his office. It was obvious to look at him that it was a bit forced, even if it was well practiced. The laughter seemed honed by years of effort using it to humiliate people which – in this case – didn’t work.

“You…he gasped….want…he gasped….to meet Charles Dau’Fin? Wait, he said, gasping for air again, let me guess, you are going to race him in….he gasped….in what? That garbage scow you call a ship? What makes you think you think he would have any interest in meeting someone like you!”

The considerable girth of Sirrelli’s sides heaved again, but eventually he “caught” his breath. There was a long silence while he waited for a reply to his well timed “mirth” -filled only by a menacing stare from gunny and a callous disregard for anything Sirrelli had said so far by Brighde. Once this silence had gone on long enough for Sirrelli to start getting irritated, Brighde continued.

“You,” she said in a measured, calm and quiet tone, “obviously think there is something that Charles Dau’fin wants that I have, or I wouldn’t be here.”

The smile that quickly disappeared from Richard Sirrelli’s face seemed to suddenly reappear on Gunny’s face. Only in her case it seemed a bit more wicked. Gunny reached over her right shoulder with her left arm. She deftly flipped open the lid of a long tub she had slung over her back and removed it’s contents. Gunny tossed the rolled and bound sheets of paper at Sirrelli as if they were a spear. They slid across the expanse of his desk and into his belly. Sirrelli sat there for a moment, pondering the long rolled tube of paper. The paper had a blueish tint to it. Nervously he undid the clasp and unrolled the documents on his desk, they were covered in minute notations, interspersed with electronic circuits. He flipped through the documents.

“…and just what is this,” he asked.

Sirrelli knew very well what it must be. For the first time in his life, he had a hard time playing the game he played so well – playing people.

“What do you think it is fat man?,” Gunny shot back at him. She started to add another comment but Brighde held up a hand stopping her.

“If you wanted the capacitor from my old ship, you didn’t have to try and kill me for it. All you had to do was ask.”

Sirrelli gave Brighde his best “shocked look.” “I never…” He began.

“Give it a rest” said Brighde matter-of-factly.

With that she reached into a bag she had at her side. She skipped a silver disk across his desk as if she were skipping it across a pond.

“Interesting viewing that, she continued, two features. The first one is of a recent mercenary attack on an osprey class mining ship. You note that the security video stops when it is knocked off line by shrapnel from the exploding mercenary ship. The second feature is concord police video from gate cameras. A fine view of someone I know very well being blown out of space….it’s me…or rather original me as people seem to be so fond of reminding me.”

“So if I had just asked you for the plans and specs for the capacitor before? You would have just given them to me?”

“No,” replied Brighde calmly, “but dieing has a way of changing one’s outlook on life.”

“So the knock-off copy has lost the nerve of the original,” Sirrelli shot back at Brighde with a wicked grin.

If he had counted on his reputation, or Brighde’s changed outlook to protect him, neither did so. With a surprising swiftness that belied her size, Gunny was up and over the desk in a moment – a moment later, Sirrelli found himself staring down the length of a rather nasty looking stiletto – the end of which was held well up his nose.

Years of nefarious activities gave Sirrelli reactions which allowed him to remain calm under such situations. However, he also knew that it was unwise to further irritate a woman he already knew to have a short fuse, who currently held 12 inches of razor edged steel pointed up his nose.

“That wasn’t a very nice thing to say,” said Brighde with a smile. “The “knock off copy” as you so rudely put it, is different from the original. The original Brighde would have let Gunny take out your appendix through your nose.”

Brighde paused just long enough to make Sirrelli wonder if she was any different.

“But as I said, death has a way of changing you. Making you realize what is important in life.”

Brighde looked over at Gunny.

“It’s ok Gunny. Really.”

Reluctantly Gunny removed the knife from Sirrelli’s left nostril and slid it back into her boot sheath. Sirrelli noticed, however, that she did not resume her former position on the other side of his desk. Instead she made sure she stood just off his left shoulder, within arms length of his nose.

“So that’s it?” Sirrelli asked, “Your just going to give the blueprints to the capacitor to me?”

“Not exactly,” replied Brighde. “You’ll notice that one page is missing – a crucial page.”

“without which, I assume,” Sirrelli added, “ the capacitor is about as useful as an extremely expensive door stop?”

Brighde just smiled.

Rick Sirrelli reached over and pressed a small section on the edge of his desk. Two small posts slid up in the middle of his desk and emitted a cross section of laser beams that formed a key board. He began pounding away on the keys, with a practiced efficiency that said he wasn’t always in the line of work that he is in now.

“I am sending a message to Charles Dau’fin telling him you have a ship that I think can beat him in the next Great Circuit race.” Sirrelli said.

“I have no desire whatsoever to…” Brighde began, but was promptly cut off.

“You and your…here Sirrelli cleared his throat…acquaintance know how to pique my interest, and I KNOW how to pique Dau’fin’s interest.”