Chicks in Tank Tops by Jason Cordova

Author:Jason Cordova [Cordova, Jason]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Science Fiction, Military, Collections & Anthologies, Action & Adventure
ISBN: 9781982192358
Google: BJQ3zwEACAAJ
Amazon: 1982192356
Publisher: Baen
Published: 2023-01-03T05:00:00+00:00

“Yes,” da Vinci had said, eyes sparkling as she spun her cart, weaving between the workshop tables. “A great improvement, and one we can adapt.”

“Thank you, master.”

The door crashed open, and Borgia stepped through.

“So, you are leaving us, Master da Vinci? After all of my patronage?”

Gia stifled a shriek. More frightened than she had ever been in her life, she clutched her cart. Through the windows, she saw a score of the duke’s men surrounding the house.

Six more big men entered behind Borgia. At a signal, two of them strode forward and seized da Vinci.

“What is the meaning of this? How have I offended my lord? I am a free man and merely return to Firenze, the city of my heart.”

Her master was frightened, too. And that was the most terrifying thing of all.

An ugly light shone in the duke’s eyes. “Oh, of course. But my dear Leonardo, you have been so useful to me. Your canister-darts. Your mortars. Your maps. I’m really not sure I can do without them.”

“I am sorry, my lord, but my mind is quite made up.”

“Your mind is made up,” repeated Borgia. “Yes, that marvelous mind of yours. That concerns me a great deal. For if it goes elsewhere, then who knows where its deadly fruits might next appear? In the artillery of the king of France perhaps? Among the infantry of Venezia? Or even”—his face darkened—“in the hands of my most gracious lord, His Holiness Julius II?”

Gia’s blood thundered in her ears. It was known throughout Italy that Borgia and the pope hated each other, and that Cesare alone had escaped Julius’s purge of the Church from what he had described as “Borgia filth.”

And Cesare had maintained his place only by dint of the armed might that made him too powerful to dismiss, and too dangerous a rebel. Armed might made possible by the devices of Leonardo da Vinci of Milano. And Gia had helped him.

“My lord,” said her master, with a haughty dignity that almost masked his fear, “I have commissions in Firenze, from the Church, from many noble houses. For paintings. Nothing more.” He gestured to the sketches and half-finished canvasses standing about. “I have done enough in the service of the sword. I wish to dedicate my life from here on to works of beauty. So that God may forgive me for the part I played in war.”

“So that God may forgive you?” shouted Borgia, stepping forward and grabbing her master by the beard so that he cried out. It had been the wrong thing to say. “You will not buy that forgiveness from Julius with paint, old fool! No, the only coin that buys remission of sin for you is blood and iron.”

Da Vinci gasped. “What will you do, my lord? Will you murder me?”

“No,” said Borgia. “Death? For trying to run out on me and sell the secrets of my defeat to the highest bidder?”

“I was not—” But Borgia cuffed him to silence. Gia screamed. At a gesture from Borgia, one of his men stepped forward.

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