Page 21 of Star Claimed Omega
Waiting on the other side was a thin-boned man in a ridiculous crimson velvet smoking jacket.
His argent hair was pulled taut from his temples, and silver-rimmed ocular implants framed his obsidian eyes.
His crew, an unsettling mix of jittery nerves and heavy weaponry, shifted beside him.
‘Don Oriel Salvatierra.’
Santi’s utterance conveyed the raw, abrasive quality of his uncompromising tone.
‘Alvarro,’ Oriel returned, his lips twitching into a forced, brittle smile. ‘Xander’s XO. Your reputation precedes you, as does your overweening confidence.’
Another man emerged at Oriel’s left.
He was broad-shouldered, draped in a frost-colored overcoat with baroque embroidery, chewing a cigar with blatant disdain.
‘Don Gavriil Dureshkin of the Koshari Syndicate,’ Santi acknowledged. ‘And here I thought I’d never meet a hero of mine.’
Gavriil’s only response was a baleful glower.
He spat a fleck of tobacco onto the deck plating. ‘I hope you brought more than hollow flattery and callow courage. This little intercept maneuver is costing me substantial commerce.’
Santi’s expression was calm and polite. Too much so.
‘Now I understand what they mean about never meeting your heroes. This isn’t a ploy,cabrónes,’ he rasped, letting theinsult settle. ‘This is a formal enforcement initiative. Is there somewhere we can have a quiet chat?’
The two Dons exchanged tight-lipped glances. Oriel gave a subtle shake of his head.
‘You have no choice,’ Santi continued, a simple statement of fact. ‘I have six Signet Corvettes with their rail gun turrets locked onto your four other ships. We outgun and out-muscle you, so what’s your preference? A civilized exchange or an unplanned display of fireworks?’
Oriel’s fragile composure snapped. ‘You freakin’mostrobastard.’
‘That sounds distinctly like capitulation, and it is music to my ears,’ Santi returned, allowing himself a slight, cold grin.
Oriel choked down a litany of curses, spun on his booted heel, and marched through the corridor.
‘After you,’ Santi encouraged Gavriil with a flourish of his hand.
The Koshari’s Don sneered, but he strode forward.
Santi followed, his strong guard forming a moving fortress around him.
They stepped into what appeared to be an ops room.
The walls crackled with flickering interface panels, and the long table sat squat, scattered with coffee mugs and the residue of a recent meal.
Santi ignored the slovenliness and selected a worn leather seat at the end of the desk.
He sank into the chair and propped his boots high on the table’s edge.
Oriel fixed him with a murderous glare.
Santi offered him a casual smile. ‘My apologies. Is this seat yours? It’s occupied now.’
Rigo and Boaz immediately secured the perimeter and established dominant guard positions.
Kaal blocked the central hatch, preventing any sudden forced entries.
Zev, a blur of silent efficiency, activated Miral’s uplink, and her holo-presence shimmered into view near the ops table.
