Free Pirates of the Outrigger Rift by Gary Jonas, Bill D. Allen Page B

throughout their territory, then glided forward on the wires. As
they approached the end of their lines, they released and retracted the
trailing hooks and shot them forward again for another great step. Fire, glide,
release, fire—they flew toward her like angels of doom.
    Sai crouched low and tried to disappear into the shadows,
but one of the Flyboyz let out a shrill whistle and Sai knew she’d been
spotted.
    She ran for it, hoping to find someplace where she could
more easily defend herself. Here on the street, she was wide open. To make a
stand would be suicide.
    This just wasn’t her day.
    Sai looked back to check their proximity, but she could no
longer see them. Before she could turn forward again, a booted foot shot out
from nowhere and kicked her in the back, driving her face-first into the curb.
    The three men laughed. Sai pushed herself to her feet. She
spit blood and wiped her split lip with her hand, glancing briefly at the
crimson stain on her fingers.
    The Flyboyz landed, surrounding her.
    “Nice night for a swing,” she said.
    The smallest of the three kicked Sai full force in the
stomach. She doubled over, retching in pain.
    “That’s it, Tork!” the second Flyboy said. “Give it to her!”
    The third, clearly the leader, stood well back from the
others, saying nothing—only watching.
    Little Tork strutted before Sai. “Who are you, bitch? What
are you doing in our sector?”
    Sai looked up, rubbing her stomach with one arm as she tried
to catch her breath.
    “I’m Taj,” Sai lied. “Tenel knows me.”
    “Tenel knows everybody so that don’t mean shit to us. You
got caught in our space so you gotta pay. You got credits? Or,” the little man
smiled, “do we take it out in pain?”
    Tork released his flywire like a whip and cracked it down on
the pavement beside Sai. He arced a loop of the molecular wire, and it sliced
cleanly through the curb. Sai glanced down and watched the curb slide into the
gutter.
    Her eyes glazed for an instant as she reached out with her
mind toward the trio. Her cyber-psi senses traveled the twisted paths of the
circuits that tied them to their flywires. She could see the psychedelic fire
of electrical impulses at the bases of their brains and the electro-neural
pathways to the flywire bands. She readied a data command. Already, she could
see the second Flyboy standing by, command sequences poised to attack.
    Tork kicked her again, this time in the face.
    “Speak up!” he said. “What’s it gonna be, babe?”
    Sai rode out the wave of agony. Strange, she thought, how
the smallest assholes always have the biggest mouths.
    “I don’t have any money. If I did, I sure as hell wouldn’t
be sitting out here in the rain.” She rubbed along her bruised ribcage again,
this time grasping the whisperblade, hidden out of their sight.
    Tork grabbed her wrist and pulled her to her feet. His hand
slipped under her jacket as he yanked her close. “I guess that means tonight’s
your lucky night!”
    Sai stared deep into the Flyboy’s eyes.
    “Could be,” she said smiling, “but not yours!” She whipped
the bright, humming blade out of her jacket in a cross draw, and Tork’s severed
hand flopped to the ground.
    He screamed.
    Sai dove to the right and mentally sent the command
sequence.
    “Whisperblade!” shouted the third Flyboy, who had kept his
distance. He backed farther away to get full use of his flywires and tried to
fire, but couldn’t.
    Sai threw the whisperblade at the second, who still hadn’t
grasped what was happening. The whisperblade flew like an angry hornet.
    The Flyboy saw it coming and tried to duck behind a waste
disposal unit. The whisperblade hissed and whipped around the corner to its
victim.
    Sai heard the shriek but didn’t see the blow. In an instant,
the knife flew back to her. The blade gleamed, but the handle was covered in
blood.
    The final Flyboy stood on the curb across from Sai. They
stared each other down, thirty paces