Orbital Decay (Galaxy Mavericks Book 7)

by Michael La Ronn

  Florian had spent hours looking at the painting, trying to interpret what it meant. Used the tips his father gave him on interpreting artwork. To him, it seemed like one was standing on the bridge of a spaceship as it crumbled, caught fire, and crashed into a mint-colored, psychedelic, foggy world from which there could be no return.

  At least that’s what his life felt like until now.

  The smell of lamb wafted into his nose.

  The private chef, a tattooed woman in a chef’s outfit and toque, lifted the cloche and read him the night’s menu: lamb cutlets with mint sauce, and a medley of carrots. For dessert, a gluten-free chocolate ice cream sandwich with chocolate syrup.

  He tucked his napkin in and through the candelabra in the center of the table, he spotted his aunt cutting into her lamb.

  “How is it, Florian?” Annaliese asked.

  Florian chewed.

  Tasted like five-star lamb. The kind his dad always loved.

  “Fine,” he said.

  “Good,” she said. She cut her lamb into small cubes and dipped them into a ramekin with mint sauce. “I’ve been thinking about what you told me earlier today.”

  “What?” Florian asked.

  “About acting like I love you.”

  They are in silence for a few moments.

  “That’s why I have decided to end your time at the academy and enroll you with a private tutor.”

  “What!” Florian cried.

  It was a relief that he didn’t have to go back to school, with it’s stuck-up kids and mean teachers and the word “excellence” being muttered every time someone even attempted to do something against the rules.

  But he didn’t want his aunt to know.

  “I like it there,” Florian said.

  “Perhaps you do,” Annaliese said, “but you’re right that we should start spending more time together. Therefore, you will accompany me on my business trips. When I am not around, Tatiana will watch you, and you will spend your mornings in the tutelage of the esteemed Sterling Thistleton.”

  Florian banged his fist on the table.

  “I won’t go!”

  “You will go,” Annaliese said. “And its settled.”

  Silence.

  “It’s about time you saw the galaxy. It’s time you see what your father and I built. It will be yours before long. Don’t you care about the family legacy?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “We leave tomorrow,” Annaliese said. “There’s a moon waiting for us.”

  Part III

  Forgotten Memory

  5

  The brownish hues of Reader IV swirled into view like something out of a dream.

  Florian watched with his hands to the glass on the bridge of his aunt’s corporate cruiser as it slowed to a stop with the planet taking up the entire bridge view. A beige storm danced across the surface of the planet.

  He had never been to Reader IV before. Aside from the breathtaking sight, which he’d seen in textbooks, there wasn’t much else to see.

  “The client’s ship will be here in approximately five minutes,” a uniformed captain said, monitoring his control panel.

  A satellite with a blinking beacon passed by the ship, its dish spinning and rotating in the direction of the nearest star.

  The captain, who had taken a liking to Florian, pointed at the satellite.

  “That baby has been out here for ten years studying Reader IV,” he said.

  “Whoa,” Florian said, marveling at the satellite.

  Annaliese stood next to him in her trademark business blazer, with a tablet under her arm.

  “The things you see when you travel,” Annaliese said. “I paid for that satellite, if I remember correctly.”

  “You did?” Florian asked.

  Annaliese winked.

  He couldn’t believe in these last few months how much of the galaxy his aunt had an influence on.

  She had warmed up to him somewhat. When he talked stuff related to the family business, she loved to talk and it wasn’t awkward. In all other areas, she was…lacking.

  Tatiana stood next to Florian. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” she asked.

  “Have you two ever been here?” Annaliese asked.

  Florian and Tatiana shook their heads.

  “Reader IV is the second-largest gas giant in the galaxy,” Annaliese said. “It’s got so much personality, doesn’t it? The real estate around here will be some of the most valuable in the galaxy in a few years.”

  “Why do you need a planet?” Florian asked.

  Someone behind them cleared their throat.

  A Japanese man in a blue suit. His face was freshly-shaven and he adjusted his cufflinks, as if he just put on his coat. His hair was slicked back and had a slide of gray on the side.

  “Annaliese, we should be going. Corsair’s ready.”

  “One moment,” Annaliese said. “I’m spending quality time with my nephew.”

  The man hesitated, unsure what to say.

  “That’s Masashi,” Annaliese said. “Masashi Sakamoto. My Chief Operations Officer. He’s the one in charge of the executing the vision I lay out for the company. Under my direction, of course. Reader IV’s development has been his little pet project for the last eighteen months.”

  Masashi nodded to Florian and bowed. “Nice to meet you, Florian. Big shoes to fill, kiddo. Big shoes.”

  Florian didn’t know what to say. He seemed like all the other executives at his aunt’s company; serious and all business all the time.

  “Pay him no attention,” Annaliese said under her breath as she looked away, frowning. “He hasn’t a clue what to say around children…kind of like me.”

  Florian laughed.

  “To answer your question,” Annaliese said, “I don’t need a planet like this. Not really. No one can survive on a gas giant. It’s the space around it we want. You see, a lot of people are going to want to visit this place in around twenty years. They’re going to want new places in which to vacation and to spend their money.”

  Florian looked out over the planet, ahead at the glittering stars.

  “Your father and I have worked hard to make sure that everyone in the galaxy can have a place to go,” Annaliese said, “whether it be home, or vacation, or business…for the right price. We aren’t just a company, Florian. We don’t sell things. We sell space. Premium space and all the accoutrements that go along with it. And people have proven time and time again that they will line up to buy it, and that they will pay fair prices for it.”

  “It’s an interesting business model,” Tatiana said. “Didn’t you learn about this in school, Florian?”

  Florian shrugged.

  Masashi cleared his throat again.

  “All right,” Annaliese said. “When I come back, we’ll send a drone into Reader IV, just for fun.”

  “Can I fly it?” Florian said.

  “I was thinking Tatiana could,” Annaliese said.

  “Aw, man!” Florian said.

  “Of course you’ll be flying it,” Annaliese said. She brought Florian in close.

  For the first time, he didn’t resist.

  “Well,” she said, smoothing out her blazer. “It’s time to do some business. Straighten your tie, Florian, and stop by your room on the way to the airlock. You need pomade.”

  A conference ship appeared in the distance, a small gray dot on the underside of Reader IV.

  From the cockpit of the corsair, Masashi increased the ship’s speed.

  Florian gripped the handle of his seat.

  “Now remember,” Annaliese said, “I need you to be quiet. You don’t speak, got it?”

  Florian and Tatiana nodded.

  Masashi flipped a switch on the control panel. In the rearview camera, two corsairs flew behind them—the CFO and Chief Counsel and their entourages.

  “This is The Discovery calling for Conference Ship Fifty-Nine,” Masashi said. “Requesting permission to dock.”

  After a mome
nt of silence, a voice responded on the radio.

  “Please provide your leader or participant code,” a female dispatcher said.

  “Leader code five two seven eight nine ten fifty,” Masashi said.

  “Passcode accepted,” the dispatcher said. “State your name.”

  “Macalestern Corp, Lead Ship, comprising of Annaliese Macalestern, Masashi Sakamoto, and two minors.”

  “We have you in conference room seven,” the dispatcher said. “Permission to board granted. Please use airlock two.”

  “Roger,” Masashi said, re-orienting the corsair.

  The conference ship appeared bigger now, a large disk basking in the light of Reader IV. A huge yellow gravity ring rotated around the middle of the ship, and the ship itself rotated slowly. The side of the ship was covered with long, slanted windows. From afar, Florian spotted what looked like lush plants and dark, wooden tables. People sat at them, having meetings.

  “How much are we paying for use of the ship?” Annaliese asked.

  “Ten thousand an hour,” Masashi said.

  “Why wouldn’t they meet us on Macalestern again?” she asked.

  “Spooked about the press. They don’t want this to go live until a deal is done. Too afraid of Zachary intervention. Plus, the ship is a neutral zone.”

  Annaliese sighed. “Thank God for whoever invented conference ships. I wouldn’t mind moving this company to the top of our merger and acquisitions list.”

  “What’s a conference ship?” Florian asked.

  “A place where two businesses can do deals in the middle of space,” Annaliese said.

  “Why wouldn’t you just do it virtually?” Florian asked.

  “Sometimes you have to handle things in person,” Annaliese said. “And doing business on a corsair like this just won’t do.”

  She turned to him.

  “If you’re going to run this company someday, you need to start experiencing what I do.”

  “Brace for landing,” Masashi said.

  The airlock of the conference ship was quiet. The Macalestern corsairs were the only ones in the airlock.

  Several circular drone bots swept the floor.

  Florian stepped off the corsair and marveled at the clean space.

  Several serious-looking men and women in suits and portfolios joined them.

  Chief Counsel, the CFO, and the real estate sales team.

  All of them paused upon seeing Florian.

  “It’s not a good idea to bring kids,” the CFO said.

  “Ah, but it is,” Annaliese said.

  Then she said something out of earshot that Florian couldn’t hear.

  Tatiana clucked her tongue.

  “What’d she say?” Florian asked.

  “Nothing,” Tatiana said after a moment. “Just remember to be quiet, okay?”

  “I’m old enough to be treated like an adult,” Florian said. “Tell me.”

  “Be quiet!” Tatiana said.

  He pulled at her shirt.

  “Tell me!”

  “Florian,” Annaliese said, “do you want to go back?”

  The threat silenced him.

  The CFO muttered something, but when Florian glared at him he simply smiled.

  “Remember the strategy,” Annaliese said.

  Everyone nodded.

  “Let’s go make a deal, shall we?” she asked.

  6

  A family was waiting for Annaliese and her team in a conference room with a perfect view of Reader IV.

  A Latino family. They sat at the table nervously, as if they had seen the weight of a hard life and were waiting for more trouble to come their way.

  The family elder was a late middle-aged man in a wheelchair. He wore a cowboy hat, a denim shirt and a string tie. He had a bushy mustache and his cheeks were beginning wrinkle. Despite the serious look on his face, he had a warm air about him. A blanket rested on his lap.

  “Benito,” Annaliese said, moving around the table to shake the man’s hand. He shook it reluctantly. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you in person. I’m surprised you’re here. We didn’t see any ships in the airlock.”

  “Can never be too cautious,” Benito said. “I had someone drop us off. They’ll be back in half an hour, so let’s cut the small talk and discuss the deal.”

  “You’re that worried about the empire?” Masashi asked.

  “Why don’t you switch places with me, eh?” Benito asked.

  His wife sat next to him, quiet and sullen. Her hair was tied into a bun and she wore sunglasses. Next to her was a couple, a man and a woman, maybe their children. The woman balanced a young boy in her lap. He wore a soccer jersey and had a baby face.

  “This is mi familia,” Benito said. “My wife, Tonia. My son, Delfino. Daughter-in-law Xiomara, and grandson, Eddie.”

  Eddie stared at Florian.

  Florian looked away. The two couldn’t have been any more different. He got the sense that he wasn’t here to make friends. Not this time.

  “Your grandson looks like you,” Annaliese said. “I believe he’s right around my nephew’s age. Florian, why don’t you play video games with him?”

  But Eddie stared at Florian blankly, uninterested.

  Annaliese’s team introduced themselves, moving energetically around the table until everyone knew each other’s names.

  Then Masashi shut the door.

  “We’ll respect your time,” Annaliese said. “But you really should know that you’re safe here. These conference ships are neutral zones per the GALPOL Accord.”

  “Who told you to say that?” Benito asked. “You look smarter than that. Do you think we care about what happens while we’re here? What happens when we leave here is what I’m pissing my pants about.”

  Annaliese was unfazed by Benito’s brusqueness.

  “Well, are we going to do the deal or not, Mr. Puente?” she asked.

  “I’m sure you had a whole boatload of attorneys draft up the contract,” Benito said. “I’d do the same thing.”

  “You’re a shrewd businessman,” Annaliese said. “At least, you were, right?”

  “I won’t accept a one-hundred-year loan,” Benito said. “We’ll pay the moon off in fifty.”

  “You won’t be around in fifty years,” the CFO said, concerned. “A planetary default isn’t something you want to leave poor little Eddie with here. Your descendants would never recover—”

  “Fifty years,” Benito said.

  The CFO sighed and frowned.

  “Fine. Fifty years,” Annaliese said. “What else?”

  “Take out the little bits in your contract that try to control how we make our money,” Benito said.

  “You’re referring to…”

  “All of it,” Benito said. “No restrictions on anything.”

  “That doesn’t serve our interests,” Annaliese said.

  “Your contract doesn’t serve mine,” Benito said. “You corporations and your land interests, water interests, air interests. If I take a shit, you’re interested. I won’t agree to it.”

  “How about we grant you exclusivity,” Chief Counsel said. “You have full rights for a period of, say, twenty years before we reclaim—”

  “Nope,” Benito said.

  “Then we increase the price of the planet by five times,” Annaliese said. “You want the full moon with no encumbrances, you can pay for it.”

  “You sure your courts will even enforce those clauses?” Benito asked. “You want to try explaining in court that you in essence own my people? Think that’s going to go well in the event of a dispute?”

  Chief Counsel smiled, and then whispered something to Annaliese.

  “Perhaps we can find a middle ground,” Annaliese said.

  A sly grin crept across Benito’s face.

  “Last condition,” he said.

  “We’re listening,” Annaliese said.

  “We want asylum in the interim after the sale and before habitation,” Benito said. “Me an
d all three thousand of my followers.”

  “Mr. Puente, that’s unconscionable!” Annaliese said.

  “Asylum, or we walk.”

  “We can’t just write a check and get you asylum,” Masashi said. “We’re in the real estate business, not government.”

  “You have pull with them,” Benito said.

  “I could perhaps make a call for your immediate family,” Annaliese said, “but—”

  Benito pushed away from the table.

  “We’re done here,” he said.

  “How unreasonable,” Masashi said. “You’d walk away over this? We can probably agree to the rest of your conditions, but this—”

  “You don’t have the burden of a people on your shoulders, nut bag,” Benito said. “No offense. But if I fail, my people die.”

  “If we fail, we become the corporate laughingstock of the galaxy, competitors will eat our strategy, and we’ll all be in the poorhouse,” Masashi said.

  “Better you than us then,” Benito said. “Because we’re already in it. And it’s cramped as hell, amigo.”

  “Allow me some time with my team,” Annaliese said. “I can’t promise you something like this on the spot.”

  “Well, you’re gonna have to,” Benito said.

  “Any deal on asylum would have to be extra-contractual,” Chief Counsel said.

  “I’ll shake hands if you will,” Benito said.

  “Let’s be honest,” Annaliese said. “We can afford to walk away. We can afford to take the moon and sell it to someone else willing to terraform it, and we can probably get three times what you’ll pay over the life of a loan on day one. But can you afford to walk away, Benito? Can you really afford it?”

  “I won’t walk from hell to hell 2.0,” Benito said. “If you even understood an iota of our suffering, you would understand. We appreciate your interest in helping us, but we’re the ones who have to pick up the pieces of our shattered lives and live anew. So say what you want. I don’t give a damn.”

  His son said something in Spanish. Benito replied in rapid Spanish, waving a hand.