The Widowmaker: Volume 1 in the Widowmaker Trilogy Read Online Free PDF Page A

needed to get your blood up. Kinoshita smiled a strangely satisfied smile. I guess maybe we made you tough enough after all.
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2.
    Solio II wasn't much of a world, not for a young man who had been born two months earlier on Deluros VIII and whose head was full of memories of glittering worlds he had never been to. There were less than a million inhabitants: about 800,000 were human, the rest aliens of various species.
    The planet's primary business was trade. It served as one of the handful of transitional worlds, officially part of the Frontier but in reality acting as economic conduit between the mining and farming worlds of the Inner Frontier and the conspicuous consumers of the Oligarchy. It was said that Solio II was the Breadbasket To A Thousand Worlds, though it was a supplier rather than a breadbasket, and it traded with closer to 300 worlds than a thousand, which was still not exactly a trifling number.
    The Solio system had been ruled by dictators for the past half century. The most recent, Winslow Trelaine, had been in office for almost eight years before his assassination. He was the fourth governor in the past half century to die violently; governors of Solio II had a habit of not surviving long enough to retire.
    Colonel James Hernandez, the government's Chief of Security, had made the initial contact with Nighthawk's legal representatives, and it was to his office that the young man reported when he finally touched down on Solio II.
    Hernandez was a tall, lean man with thick black hair, an aquiline nose, a narrow jaw, and dark brown eyes. His chest was covered by row upon row of medals, despite the fact that the Solio system had never gone to war with anyone. A stack of orders was piled neatly on one corner of his desk, awaiting his signature—although his computer, which hovered above the left side of the desk, was quite capable of duplicating his signature thousands of times per minute.
    The rest of the office was spotless, as if he'd just completed inspection. Every cabinet top was pristine, every painting was hung at the perfect angle to the floor, the various holoscreens were arranged by size. Nighthawk imagined that a speck of dust would be treated as an enemy invasion.
    Hernandez got to his feet, his eyes appraising the young man who had entered his office. “Welcome to Solio, Mr. Nighthawk. May I offer you something to drink?"
    "Later, perhaps."
    "A cigar? Imported all the way from Aldebaran XII."
    Nighthawk shook his head. “No, thanks."
    "I must tell you that I can hardly believe I'm here speaking with the Widowmaker himself!” said Hernandez enthusiastically. “You were one of my heroes when I was a boy. I think I read everything ever written about you. In fact,” he added with a smile, “you might say that you are the reason that I became what I am."
    "I'm sure the Widowmaker would be flattered to know that,” said Nighthawk in carefully measured tones as he sat down opposite Hernandez on a straight-backed chrome chair. “But I am not him."
    Hernandez frowned. “I beg your pardon?"
    "The Widowmaker is currently on Deluros VIII, awaiting a cure for the disease that afflicts him. My name is Jefferson Nighthawk, and I'm just someone who's here to do a job."
    "Nonsense!” said Hernandez, genuinely amused. “Do you think we haven't heard of your exploits on Karamojo? You killed Undertaker McNair with your bare hands.” He paused, staring at Nighthawk. “You're the Widowmaker, all right."
    Nighthawk shrugged. “Call me what you want. It's just a name.” He learned forward intently. “But remember that you're dealing with me , not him ."
    "Certainly,” said Hernandez, studying him carefully for a moment. Finally he turned and lit a thin cigar. “Mr. Nighthawk, do you mind if I ask you a couple of questions that are not related to your mission here?"
    "What kind of questions?"
    "You're the first clone I've ever met,” continued Hernandez, taking a puff of his