Starfist: FlashFire by David Sherman & Dan Cragg Read Free Book Online Page B

by then your friend from Embata will be feeling up to attending and we can continue this discussion?”
    Stutz nodded affably. “Before you go, ma’am, I want to give you somethin’.” He produced a large bottle filled with an amber liquid. “This is a bottle of Old Snort, the finest aged bourbon in Human Space and it comes from my own distillery. I want you to sample it tonight and tomorrow you tell me if you ever tasted anything so smooth and delicious in your life. Yes, ma’am,” he nodded, “drink it neat or with spring water, ’n you’ll see we Cob’uns know our whiskey.”
    Wellington-Humphreys had engaged rooms in one of Fargo’s most exclusive hotels for the negotiations, something she often did when she wanted off-world diplomats to feel comfortable during difficult meetings. She and Rafe Pieters were sitting in their suite, relaxing.
    “ ‘Old Snort,’ ” Pieters laughed, regarding warily the bourbon Stutz had given Wellington-Humphreys. “Well, let’s try some and see if the old boy knows what he’s talking about. ‘Old Snort,’ Julie, where did he come up with a name like that?”
    “Same place they came up with a name like Hobcaw.” Wellington-Humphreys grinned, holding out her glass. “ ‘Pokin’ fun at strangers’ seems to be ingrained in the ‘Cob’un’ culture. One finger, please. No, make that two! I need something strong after sitting in there with those characters, but I don’t trust this stuff not to make me go blind or something. But you know, Rafe, I could actually get to like that old bastard. There’s more behind that ugly nose of his than sinuses full of snot.”
    “Julie!” Pieters shook his head, pretending shock. He poured her whiskey and then himself. He regarded the amber fluid carefully. “We might be taking our lives in our own hands, drinking this stuff. That’d be the ultimate insult, wouldn’t it? Send buffoons as negotiators and then have them poison us to boot.” He laughed and regarded the label on the whiskey bottle. “ ‘Old Snort’ indeed!” He sniffed the bourbon carefully and raised an eyebrow. “Umm, might just do!” Then: “They’re stalling, you know that, don’t you? They want to keep us talking while they plan something. We’ve negotiated with them for years on these very same issues we’ve been discussing all day, Julie, and always it’s been they’ve done nothing anybody else wouldn’t have done, nobody likes us, everybody owes us, blah, blah, blah. They can be the most fractious, disagreeable, one-way people to deal with. I think we need to report that to the President, advise her she’d better get ready for the other shoe to drop.”
    “You mean the Ordinance of Secession?”
    Pieters nodded. “Yes, and her response.”
    “They really aren’t buffoons, Rafe, you know that, don’t you?”

“Yep. That’s how I figured out they’re up to something. Chin-chin, Ho Chi Minh!” He touched his glass to hers.
    They sipped the bourbon.
    “My God, Rafe!” Wellington-Humphreys gasped, “it goes down like water and burns like fire!” She took another sip. “Ohhhh! Off with the shoes, my toes are on fire!”
    “It really is damned good stuff!” Pieters whispered, holding his glass up to the light, admiring the whiskey. “I can see how Jenks Moody might’ve overindulged last night.”
    “Rafe, you’ve dealt with these people before, what are they really like?”
    “Well, I’ve had contact with the ‘Cob’uns’ as the people from Hobcaw like to call themselves. A long time ago. That was during one of the Silvasian wars, I can’t remember which, can’t keep them straight anymore. I was a second lieutenant in the infantry in those days, yes,” he smiled as Wellington-Humphreys raised her eyebrows, “the old economist, ah, the distinguished old economist, who now stands so humbly before you, was a goddamned ground-pounding soldier once.” The Old Snort was having its effect on Pieters. Eagerly he poured himself