StarCraft II: Devils' Due by Christie Golden Read Free Book Online Page B

rhythmic noise, a sort of dul thunk, that
    occurred every few seconds.
    There was one thing that made it significantly
    different from a coffin, however.
    A head was sticking out at one end.
    Daun smiled a little at the contraption. His smile
    widened at the sound of a voice, hol ow and echoing
    and obviously artificial y enhanced.
    “Ezekiel Daun,” the voice rumbled.
    “The same,” Daun said.
    “I presume you have brought good news.”
    Ezekiel shrugged as he opened the satchel. “Wel ,
    if you cal this good news, then it’l make your day.”
    He reached into the satchel, grasped something,
    pul ed it out, and tossed it in the direction of the iron
    lung.
    Bouncing and rol ing, the head of Ryk Kydd came
    to a stop and stared sightlessly back at Daun. His
    expression was frozen in stark, utter horror, the eyes
    shut, the mouth open.
    “Bring it here,” the voice ordered. “Let me see it.
    Quickly, you idiot!” One of the resocs stepped
    forward. His face betraying nothing but calmness, he
    grasped the severed head by its hair and lifted it up,
    showing it to the man in the iron coffin.
    The only sound for a moment was the rhythm of the
    machine.
    “It’s a start, Mr. Daun.” The resoc stepped back,
    casual y holding the head as he awaited further
    instructions.
    Daun narrowed his eyes.
    “I believe you have two more left, don’t you? Don’t
    come back until your satchel bulges with two other
    trophies: Tychus Findlay and James Raynor.”
    Daun grinned. “Don’t worry, old man. They’re next.”
    He inclined his head and went to the door. He rapped
    on it, and it opened. The resoc awaited him, smiling.
    “Seems like you like your job an awful lot,” Daun
    said to the resoc.
    “Why, yes, sir, I do.”
    “So do I.”

    * * *
Tychus was very warm. It was because he had
    company.
    Curled up spoon fashion in his arms was the lovely
    Daisy. She was sleeping soundly, snoring just a little
    bit. In Daisy’s arms was Annabel e, also dead to the
    world. Behind Tychus, her arm draped over his waist,
    was Anna-Marie, and snuggled up with her was
    Evangelina.
    “Mornin’, sunshine.”
    The voice did not belong to any of the four beauties
    currently sharing his bed. Tychus opened one eye.
    Staring down at him was what seemed like a
    walking cadaver. Impossibly lean and gaunt, with eyes
    that were large and intense, the man stood with his
    hands clasped behind his back.
    Several responses went through Tychus’s head, but
    al of them involved disturbing the ladies, who seemed
    quite comfy where they were, thank you very much. So
    he chose the one option that didn’t disturb them. He
    blinked at the man, sighed, and languidly reached for
    a cigar and a lighter. Daisy and Annabel e shifted
    slightly but otherwise did not seem to be awake.
    Tychus blew a long stream of smoke upward.
    “You got about two seconds to tel me who you are
    and what you want ‘fore I get real nasty.”
    “Who I am is not important,” Cadaver said in a thin,
    reedy voice. He did not appear at al intimidated. “I
    am in the employ of one Scutter O’Banon, and he sent
    me with a proposal.”
    Tychus continued puffing. The girls were starting to
    awaken but, taking their cue from him, merely stared
    at the newcomer.
    “Friend of yours?” asked Daisy sleepily.
    “Wel , honey, that remains to be seen,” Tychus said.
    “Tel me more about this proposal.”
    “You’ve caught Mr. O’Banon’s attention, Mr.
    Findlay. You and your col eague, Mr. Raynor. You’ve
    managed to impress him, and he’s not a man who
    impresses easily. He’d like for you to join his
    organization. He thinks you’d be very valuable assets,
    and he would treat you accordingly.”
    “Wel ,” Tychus said, sitting up and letting the sheets
    fal around his waist. “That’s a mighty flattering thing to
    say. Mr. O’Banon is quite the powerful fel ow, ain’t
    he?” He scratched his bel y absently. “Now … I
    respect power. I real y do. But you know what I