Overkill Read Online Free PDF Page A

dead. And don’t even think about coming back here.”
    Orion rolled her eyes at the Sergeant. “Save the boogie man lecture. He’s been dodging bounty hunters all his life. Frank, I’ve seen Legion recruiters tatt passed-out drunks on bar floors to meet quota. He’s clean as green and smart as a Trueborn.” Her voice softened. “And you owe me.”
    The flint in the sergeant’s eyes melted, and he took Orion’s hand in his natural one. “We haven’t forgotten. We never will. It’s not him I worry about, Orion. You’re asking me to take your son from you.”
    Orion covered his hand and my forearm with hers, and whispered, “Jazen’s not my son, not by blood. But he’s someone’s son. He needs to find his past, and he can’t find it with me. I’m fine.” She blinked, then turned away. “Tatt him before I cry.”
    I patted Orion’s arm, then nodded at the sergeant. The laser crackled and my forearm burned so hot that I bit through my lip.

    “Parker?” On the Dead End runway, fingers touched my arm, just below my tatt. Kit the Line Wrangler peered up at me, her brow furrowed. “Your arm okay? You were rubbing it.”
    “S’fine. For a lady who carries a Barrett, you worry a lot about the welfare of strangers and poison spiders. Would anybody on Dead End weep if Cutler managed to kill a grezzen?”
    She smirked as she shook her head. “If Cutler carpet bombed the grezzen to extinction, they’d rename the planet after him.”
    I climbed down off the Abrams, rubbed my eyes, and stretched. “As long as Cutler lets me get a meal and a shower within the next three hours, I’ll rename the planet after him.”
    My Handtalk vibrated. I tugged it from my pocket and turned away as I answered.
    “Parker?” It was Zhondro. “My darling arrived in good health?”
    “Not a scratch. Even Cutler’s special rounds.”
    He sighed. “Good. Maybe that will calm him down.”
    I rolled my eyes. “Cutler? Now what? Fuel?”
    “No. The local kerosene tests quite satisfactorily. Those old turbines were designed to run even on rubbish. The outfitter wishes to discuss the local guide situation.”
    I gripped the Handtalk tighter. “There’s nothing to discuss. Cutler’s people vetted Bauer months ago. He knows the ground, he knows these grezzen better than anybody alive, and they prepaid the outfitter for him already.”
    They had to make arrangements months in advance and sight unseen, and nobody did it better than Cutler’s people. Cutler’s family built its empire on moving information around the Human Union. Nothing moved through normal space faster than light, and light took decades to move through normal space, even among the inworlds. Human communications, from contracts to Cutlergrams, had to shortcut through jumps. Only C-drive vehicles like cruisers could jump. So information traveled just as slowly as every tourist, legionnaire, or plasti of Coke traveled.
    “Apparently that is not what this fellow has just told Cutler. The outfitter has demanded a meeting in person in one hour.”
    Meeting. I smiled. “Aha!” Outworld cultures, despite their differences, shared one hatred. Well, Outworlders didn’t precisely hate Earthlings, but they hated Earthlings’ wealth, privilege, and attitude. Outworlders lived by the maxim that it’s easier to take a Trueborn’s money than it is to take a Trueborn. “They’re trying to retrade the deal, Zhondro. Tell Cutler to take the board out of his ass and give them five percent more. Arguing will cost us more than that in delay.”
    “No.”
    I rolled my eyes. “Okay, leave out the board part. But tell him! Blame me if you want to.” I swallowed. Cutler was both blue-nose enough and prick enough to do just that, and fire me on the spot.
    “I meant no, he’s not meeting the outfitter. Cutler said that is precisely the sort of triviality resolution for which he overpays you.”
    Crap. I sighed. “I don’t even know where the outfitter is. If I knew, we