by Chris Hechtl
“Not a majority,” Rayne said quietly.
“Yes,” he said tightly, eyes cutting to her. “I own 40 percent of the shares. The Irons family gave me their proxy; that's another 5 percent. The rest of my family is good for another 6. That means I control 51 percent of the shares in my company.”
Rayne scowled, then turned a bleak look on her partner.
“Yes, she forgot to mention that. There have been a bit of arm twisting going on, and my family reported it. And two of my family members have died. I'm not happy about that.” His eyes glittered. “The authorities have ruled on both cases as accidental death, but I've put a quiet word in with some friends at the American Justice Department. The DOJ is now reopening the cases and taking a closer look. They'll find something.”
“No, they won't,” Jacky said with a raised nose. “There is nothing to find.”
“Ah, you think so. But it only takes one suspicious act to tear the tissue paper veil down and make people dig for more. Since a lot of money and power is involved …,” he smiled. “I know someone somewhere is going to dig, find something, and keep digging. And if they are told to drop it … well, they might … or they might dig even harder.”
“Jack, be reasonable here. You are an old man. It's time for a new guard.”
“New guard. Right. Who, you?” Jack eyed her and then snorted. “You are good, Jacky, but this was amateur hour. You overplayed your hand.”
“What are you going to do with us?” Rayne asked, suddenly nervous.
Jack eyed her, then her partner. He saw the contempt wash over Jacky's face, then uncertainty replace it. He grunted. “Most bad guys expect the good guys to play by the rules. That they have limits. The bad guys can get away with it until they get caught. Then they expect to get their hands slapped at best.”
“Jack, come on now, we've been friends for …”
“And that's why it hurts so much!” Jack roared, rising to his feet as both women reared back, eyes wide in shock and surprise. Jack rarely ever roared at anyone. “You did this. To me. Betrayed me,” he snarled, stabbing his finger into his chest. “So don't go playing for sympathy. I can't just let you walk away. Nor can I make you disappear as much as I'd like to,” he said with a grimace. Slowly he sank into his chair.
“So, what are you going to do?” Rayne asked, lower lip quivering in fear. Her hand reached out to grasp Jacky's.
“You two are going to give me everything. I do mean everything. Contacts, account numbers, names, all of it. If Roman and Trevor sign off on it, you'll get out with your skin intact.”
“Locked up somewhere?” Jacky asked. “An ivory tower somewhere to go mad?”
“A taste of life is better than none at all,” Jack retorted. “Retirement, right? You wanted that for me not so long ago, remember? Shuffled off?”
“Jack, honestly, it was for your own good.”
“Don't crap all over me and then try to tell me you're throwing rose petals. The stink won't wash, Jacky,” Jack growled. “Your continued existence is contingent on what information you give me, and if it is legit or not.”
“You …”
“I can, and I will,” Jack said. “I could retire you to some meaningless job. Jacky, you are too visible. So, I could do other things. But I will get that information, one way or another.” He eyed them coldly.
“What do you mean? Torture?” Jacky asked. “You don't have the balls.”
“Don't bet on it,” Jack replied. “But I don't have to resort to that.”
“There are laws, Jack.”
“Yeah, down there on Earth and Mars. You're on my station, remember? Space is a dangerous place. We have our own laws here. You two were involved in a criminal conspiracy, sabotage; the list goes on and on.”
He saw that reminder go home with both. He let them stew for a few moments then nodded to Rayne. “I think Rayne knows what I'm talking about.”
She blinked in confusion, still in shock at the turn of events. Then her eyes narrowed. Finally she gulped. “You don't mean …,” she paled, shaking. “It's dangerous, a mindwipe?”
“I might leave it so you two are together when they are done. If you don't get turned into a vegetable in the process,” Jack said. He flicked his fingers to the guards to take them away. “Your choice. Give me what I want, and I'll be selective about what is taken away. Or ... not.”
He watched Jacky look over her shoulder with a spiteful hating look before she was marched out. He turned to look at his viewing wall once more. If ever, if he ever had a family member do that to him … He closed his eyes in pain. Bad enough to have the knife come from a so-called friend. But family? He knew he could trust them; that was why they hadn't sold him out. But all this … his fist clenched.
“You had to do it,” Roman said, resting a hand on his shoulder.
“I know. I just don't have to like it,” Jack replied. “The other arrangements?”
“We're working on it. Groundside isn't my area of expertise anymore so it is going slow. Trevor's given me some leads. We won't ever have enough to go to court though.”
“Court is the last thing on my mind right now. Family is,” Jack replied, turning and opening his eyes to look at Roman. “You don't mess with my family. Ever. I want that message drilled into them.”
“Yes, sir. But the best thing to do is get the rest of your family off Earth,” Roman replied.
Jack nodded. “I'm working on it. With Bret dead …,” he winced, “the kids might go. They have grandkids though and their own careers, friends, family. I don't know. But I'm holding the door open for them. The ones that might take the plunge are the kids. The sense of wonder, all that.”
Roman nodded. “Me too,” he murmured.
“We can do what we can and hope for the best. Plan for the worst,” Jack said, turning back to the view of the stars. “No more, no less. In the end, they have to make up their own minds.”
>---O---<
“So, we're going to digest ESI. That will mean we're tearing apart a lot of Earth's major industrial, mining, and energy corporations. I've offered to sell them back their shares once ESI is deboned and buried. The backers are in full retreat, and the board isn't snippy with me anymore over planning something and not telling them. Which was only fair since I wasn't sure if any of them were still loyal,” Jack replied.
Ursilla smiled politely at him. She was in Earth orbit; that was pretty much all her avatar could do until his words caught up with her four minutes in the future. He also knew that she knew about Jacky. Not the full details—just that she, Rayne, and a couple of her black ops elves like Talia had been in a ferry accident. As he said, space was dangerous. All of them were expected to survive, but they'd suffered extensive hypoxia damage. So much that some had been rendered a vegetable despite all modern medicine could do to repair their damaged brains.
Jacky's sister and surviving family hadn't cared. He'd felt a bit sick over that; they were born again ultra-orthodox Christians who had been severely disapproved of her “lifestyle choice.” Since Rayne had also been incapacitated, their collective estate had fallen into the families. Rayne's family were duking it out with Jacky's now. They each piously stated they wanted the estate to go to the care of their respective family members of course. Since that required custody of their bodies—and Jacky's family had gone on record about how they hated and despised her and Rayne—the custody battle was getting rather vicious.
Most likely it would end up settled to some degree in and out of court. The families would divvy up her shares in the company, and they'd probably sell them to make a quick profit. When they did someone would pick them up. Jack would do his best to make sure it was the right people.
“So, we're wrapping it up. It'll be a while before the dust settles. I need to keep a low profile a bit or it'll keep getting kicked up in the media. I want this put to bed ASAP.”
She nodded eight minutes later. “Good for you, son. That's the right way to do it. The only good enemy is a dea
d enemy or one too scared to stick his head up for you to blow it off,” she said.
“Of course,” Jack replied with a grin. He had shared with her Roman's report on Bert's death. It had been bitter reading. Roman hadn't found the triggerman, but he had tracked down those who had ordered the hit. He'd also dealt with them firmly and permanently to send a message to others to tread lightly. There were some lines you didn't want to cross, not with Jack. Business was business, but family was a cut above. Mess with them, and you're going to regret it. Briefly, he thought darkly as he stared off to the void.
“In the meantime, son, I'd like you and Aurelia to have dinner with me soon.”
“Mom,” Jack sighed. He knew where this was leading. Her eyes glimmered, but she merely smiled.
“Tut tut, son. You don't want to hear the nag, don't give me something to nag about! But I'm not going to go on that subject too much,” she said with a slight smile.
He groaned. She shook her head. “No, I'd like you two to actually be in the same room together for once and sit down for a meal.”
“Mom, we talk daily. All the time.”
“With you out and about in the solar system and Aurelia holding down the fort in Earth orbit? I find that highly doubtful, son. Very doubtful.”
Jack sighed. “Mom, I'm due to Earth in a couple of weeks,” he said, mentally rearranging his schedule. He checked his mail one more time while waiting for her response.
“Good,” she replied. “But I wanted you to consider getting implants. There is also another medical procedure I want you to consider carefully. I'm too old, but I think you might squeak in under the wire.”
Jack grunted. His mother had been pushing cyber implants for years. He had the basic identity implant. “We can talk about it when we get there.”
“Good. I want that Mars habitat expedited, son. It's past time the two of you got into the same planetary alignment together. Well past time. And who knows? You just might hook up properly once you've found each other again,” she said wickedly.
“Understood, Mama,” he sighed with a nod. “Gotta go. Love you,” he said as he signed off hurriedly.
“Love you too, son,” she replied eight minutes later, then the connection terminated. He snorted when he heard her soft words. He sat back, playing with a stylus. The idea … yes it did have some potential. Perhaps it was past time that he and Aurelia got their happily ever after.
A Matter of Antimatter
“We're getting a handle on the Bismark, despite some of the security issues that have come up, plus that incident,” Vestri said, standing near the admiral's desk. He was linked to the admiral through their implants so they could view data together, but like always the admiral had that data up on his main view screen as well.
Sometimes Vestri wondered if the man did it as a subtle help to Vestri, a subtle helping hand. He had struggled with using his implants for a while, and sometimes backslid, but he could handle it now he thought.
“Good,” Admiral Irons, president pro-temp and Fleet Admiral of the reborn Federation replied. “I'm glad we've gotten her where she needs to be time wise. The schedule slippage though …”
Vestri shrugged at the inquiring gaze. “It can't be helped Admiral. The incident ate up a lot of the extra time my boys and girls had gotten, and believe me, they are peeved about that loss. Losing more time due to the investigation afterward was like adding insult to injury.”
“I was thinking salt on the wound. I heard some of the howls from the teams who wanted to get back inside her,” the admiral replied mildly.
Vestri shot him a smile. The dwarf snorted. “I can't fault my people for wanting to get the job done. They definitely have that going for them.”
“That and more, Commander. I'll have to remember to thank them sometime.”
“Oh, don't do that!” Vestri rumbled, turning with a mock alarm face. “I'm finally getting what I've wanted to out of them. Tell them they are okay, and they'll slack off!” he said.
The admiral snorted. “If you say so. We'll see about doing something nice for them as a perk, if the budget allows it.”
Vestri grimaced. They were still getting a handle on the budget. Thankfully he didn't have the struggle some of the other departments had. After the invasion of Protodon, everyone wanted more ships, bigger, more powerful ships, and they wanted them yesterday. Fat chance on that last he mused.
“I was wondering; now that we've got the production lines going and you want to shift the corvette line; are we going to retool to antimatter? I was wondering because I got to talking with Captain Logan over the ansible the other day, and he said they've been stockpiling it. A lot of it.”
“Not as much as I'd like,” the admiral replied, sitting back in his chair. “And the answer is no.”
Vestri's massive brows knit for a moment. “Okay, I can think of one or two reasons, like not wanting to go back to the old designs now that we've worked out the kinks of the current production or removing the fusion reactors that we've put in to replace the antimatter and containment facilities. Got that part. But what am I missing? Isn't antimatter the holy grail of starships and civilization? Don't you want it? I mean you set up Pyrax to produce the stuff.” He waved a meaty hand in exasperation.
“I have no intention of making everything run on antimatter due to the bottleneck in production it creates. It's a major headache,” the admiral replied. Vestri frowned. “Think about it. Think about getting it from one point to another. It's inefficient to move, it requires force emitters or magnetic containment which requires power,” the engineering commander nodded, “ and it's all in Pyrax. So, if we need to refuel a ship in say, Protodon, we'd have to ship it. Which means the shipping would need all sorts of modifications, and security …”
“Crap,” the commander breathed.
“Right,” the admiral said, smiling thinly. “One of the biggest headaches during the Xeno war, one of the Achilles heels of the military was our reliance—some would call it an over reliance—on antimatter. The stuff was in everything. When the war kicked off, demand skyrocketed. And one way to win a war is to hit the logistics of the enemy. When supply couldn't meet demand, the military suffered. Therefore the Federation suffered.”
“Okay, so, we're not going to rely on it. What are we going to do with it? Just store it? That's a lot of energy going to waste. Or are you going to weaponize it?”
“The weapon of mass destruction potential is scary,” the admiral admitted. “But no. We are going to continue stockpiling it though. Horatio says he's stockpiled a lot, but really, it's under a megagram. A bit over 950 kilograms.” The admiral shook his head. “That is a lot of energy potential if used in the right place. But it's not enough to fuel the fleet. Not by a long shot.” He was careful not to get into too many details about what it could do, or what he intended for it.
Vestri nodded slowly. “Okay, so, no antimatter powered combat armor or fighters? Or ships?”
“Ships yes. We'll supplement them; a MAM reactor in some ships will give them an additional energy boost in combat or in tight situations.” The admiral smiled thinly again. The idea of a sudden unexpected boost of power might mean survival under the right situation. But it would only work a few times before the word got out and the enemy got wise to it. “Fighters definitely, when we have a surplus. Most likely the elite ones, which will cause a problem. For now, stockpile and we'll revisit that issue when we need to do so.”
“Okay. Just asking.”
“Long term, no, antimatter isn't going to be in everything. Not anytime soon, not with the limited production we currently have, the logistics pipeline won't support it.” Vestri nodded slowly. “And before you ask, no, we're not setting up the same facilities here. In order to do that, we'd have to cut production to the shipyard and equipment manufacturing by up to 10 percent for at least three months.” Vestri scowled. There was no way in Hades he'd let that happen. “Unless I diverted a factory ship, but we've got other uses for them. They're
scheduled up to a year in advance, and I don't want to jiggle that,” he said, shaking his head.
It was bad enough that some of the Federation delegates were demanding factory ship time. It was well and good for a ship to visit a star system, but if they didn't have the mining infrastructure to go with it or shuttles to move the cargo to their destinations, plus the transit time involved, the need for security for the ships …, he fought a scowl and got back to the subject at hand. “For now, we're sticking to the tried and true methods. Fusion is easier to scavenge for fuel in the field. Antimatter will be stockpiled and reserved for the long range scouts.”
Vestri nodded. “Understood, sir.”
“Glad we've got that covered then,” Admiral Irons replied with a smile. “If you've got the time, look up the history. The engineering part. There is even a movie or two.”
“I'm rather busy,” Vestri squirmed. He caught the admiral's look. “Okay, okay, I'll add it my to-do list.”
“You need some downtime too. Consider it homework if you must. Grab a beer, prop your feet up, and watch it.”
Vestri chuckled. To others the amusement seemed subterranean, bass rumbles that threatened to shake the compartment. “Very tempting. I haven't had a beer in … too long,” he admitted.
John snorted and shook his head. “Anything else?” he asked. The dwarf shook his head. “Then dismissed, Commander, with my compliments.”
“Aye aye, sir.”
~~~(>O<)~~~
When Vestri finished eating his MRE dinner, he sipped a beer and considered the situation. He could be an ass, dive back into work, forget the homework, but he knew John would quiz him about it sometime. Then he'd get razzed and nagged about it. It was best to get it over with, he thought in resignation. He looked up antimatter in movies, but when that yielded too many things, he went to the historical archive. The admiral had mentioned Athena, so he added that to the search engine's list.