Night's Dawn 1 - The Reality Dysfunction by Peter F. Hamilton

Author:Peter F. Hamilton
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 2010-03-21T03:00:00+00:00

It was going well, they accepted him, reservations (and he knew some still had them) were fading, breaking down. He was becoming one of the lads.

Along with Bev Lennon and Desmond Lafoe, the ship's node specialist, a brawny two-metre-tall bear of a man, Erick spent the next ten minutes talking trivia while Andre Duchamp sat back with a blank expression reviewing the vector he had just bought.

"I don't see any problem;' the captain announced eventually. "If we use a Sacramento orbit to jump from we can rendezvous any time in the next six days. Fifty-five hours from now would be the ideal… " His voice trailed off.

Erick turned to follow his gaze. Five men wearing copper-coloured one-piece ship-suits walked into the Catalina bar.

Hasan Rawand caught sight of Andre Duchamp as he was about to sit at the bar. He tapped Shane Brandes, the Dechal's fusion engineer, on the side of his arm and flicked a finger in the direction of the master of Villeneuve's Revenge. His other three crew-members, Ian O'Flaherty, Harry Levine, and Stafford Charton, caught the gesture and turned to look.

The two crews regarded each other with mutual hostility and antagonism.

Hasan Rawand walked over to the window booth table, his crew right behind him. "Andre;' he said with mock civility. "So nice to see you. I trust you have brought my money. Eight hundred thousand, wasn't it?

And that's before interest. It has been seventeen months after all. ”

Andre Duchamp gazed straight ahead, his hands cupping his beer tankard. "I owe you no money;" he said darkly.

"I think you do. Cast your mind back; you were carrying plutonium initiators from Sab Biyar to the I solo system. Dechal waited in Sab Biyars Oort cloud for thirty-two hours for you, Andre. Thirty-two hours in stealth mode, with freezing air and iced food, pissing into tubes that leaked, not even allowed a personal MF player in case the navy ships picked up its electronic emission. That's not nice, Andre; it's about as close as you can get to a Confederation penal colony without being shot down to the surface in a drop capsule. We waited for thirty-two hours in the stinking dark for you to show so we could take the initiators in, doing your dirty work for you and carrying all the risk. And when we got back to Sab Biyar what did I find?" Andre Duchamp grinned round at his own crew, trying to brazen it out. "I'm sure you'll tell me, Anglo”

“You went to Nuristan and sold the initiators to one of their naval contractors, you Gallic shithead. I was left trying to explain to the (solo Independence Front where their nukes had gone, and why their poxy rebellion was going to fail because they hadn't got the firepower to back up their demands. ” "You can show me the contract?" Andre Duchamp asked mockingly.

Hasan Rawand glared down at him, lips compressed in rage. "Just hand over the money. A million will see you clear. ” "To hell with you, Anglo filth.

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