by Ron Bender
He taps on his desktop. “They have diminishing supplies, limited support at home, and nowhere to run. My men patrolling over there might be the reason they’re feeling pressured to cross into your territory. You can deal with it yourselves, on your side of the border, or you can sign the contract and let us take care of it for you.”
He indicates a chair as a corner of his desktop opens and two cups of coffee rise up.
I sit and watch him. Every line in his frame hints at masculine dominance. I wonder if I can find an accurate history on him. He’d be a wonderful study on the effects of power on personality….
“Excellent.” He looks down at the screen.
My eyes follow his. I can see a large stream of numbers flicker across one corner. A contract fee.
“On behalf of myself and my corporation, I’m very pleased to welcome you into the AlphaTek family. I can start a pursuit of the rebels now if you like…. Of course. And I’ll have a government liaison in front of your desk within the hour. Thank you, sir. Goodbye.”
He slides his dv into his suit jacket and clears files off his desk screen with a swipe.
After a long moment of appraising what must be my disheveled appearance, he asks, “How did you sleep?”
He slides a coffee toward me and lifts one for himself.
His sympathetic tone catches me off guard, and I find myself winding tight with all of my pent-up frustration.
“My daughter is missing. How do you think I slept?”
He doesn’t react to my tone. His eyes go past me to the windows. “What do think of my office?”
“Your executive assistant let me in here. At the time, I didn’t know it was your office.” I take a careful sip of coffee. It’s strong and flavorful. I savor it.
He sits, patient, watching. I sense that he’s still waiting for my answer.
I frown. “It has a wonderful view.”
“Hmm.” He slowly nods. “You weren’t born a CitOne were you?”
I can feel the blank frozen expression on my face. I reply carefully. “You have my file. You’d know that already. Why do you ask?”
“Most CitTwos who come in here comment on the view first.” He sips his coffee.
I meet his gaze, trying not to glare. “In your experience then, what do CitOnes comment on first?”
“They all want to know who makes my suits.” He leans back in his chair. “They understand that this office is just a pretty box, and they’re here to talk to me. Being a CitOne, for someone born to it, it isn’t about money. It’s about a person’s social ability, their contacts, their leverage, having other people as resources, and having the understanding that everything they want is a single contact away.”
I stare at him. He’s a caricature … hollow, shallow, egotistical, like his bad costume uniform from yesterday.
He says, “If you’re going to pretend to be a CitOne, you need to learn the rules.”
“I don’t need to pretend. I have a CitOne citizen card.” I seethe just a little. “But thank you for the lesson.” I set the coffee down. “Why am I still here, in the building? Jen said it’s because you’re worried I’ll be targeted, but that doesn’t make sense. Why would they care about me? I don’t have anything to offer them and you just said it yourself, my CitOne status isn’t organic. I don’t have a familial inheritance.”
“Maybe I thought you’d want to be here in case there’s news.”
“No. I don’t buy that. I know men like you. You don’t do anything without considering the cost.”
“You’re right.” He steeples his fingers. “I don’t. And I’ve considered the potential cost of you going missing because these men decide they need more leverage against Baylen. Your ex-husband is a possible link to lost resources that far outstrip your importance. If they can’t get what they want from him using the girl, then they may turn to you next.”
My hands fist at my sides. He’s talking about Maggie being dead. Dead. “You know all this.” I feel a cold chill down my spine as I speak. “And yet you’re still sitting here, unmoving. If it’s only a matter of time, then do something. Send in your troops. Leverage your own social ability. Get my daughter back.”
“It’s not that simple.”
“Why not?”
“There are treaties, legal obligations, risks to economic stability for the entire Corporate Control Zone.”
David’s words from dinner ring in my ears.
“You don’t care about Maggie at all, do you? The only thing you care about is what Baylen can provide as a potential asset.”
“Why wouldn’t that be the case, Doctor?” He leans forward. “Your employer is contracted to provide you and your child with basic security. AlphaTek is the security provider that your employer signed with. That means AlphaTek and its subsidiaries will do what we can to recover your child. However, nowhere does it state that we are obligated to cross international borders and go against a hundred different laws, contracts, and treaties. It certainly doesn’t cover actions that could destabilize a Corporate Control Zone or compromise AlphaTek’s standing on the Corporate Council.”
He goads me like a mouthy street lawyer. “Have you even read your benefits package? The concept of fine print has been around for a long time.”
I glare at him. Maybe he turns into an even bigger dick when he’s tired.
He watches me calmly. His overall body language shows he’s relaxed and in control. His next words are delivered with cold calculated precision. “You are not my client. You haven’t paid me to take on any of the risks I’ve mentioned. So, when I go to Texas, it’ll be when I’m fucking ready, and you can bet it’ll because your ex-husband is a better return on investment than your five-year-old daughter.”
I jerk to my feet. If there wasn’t a desk between us, I think I would’ve slapped him.
I breathe deeply out through my nose, trying to calm my anger. He has all of the control and I have none.
The only option I have is to master my emotions.
When I find the words, I’m pleased that they come out of me steadily and smoothly. “All I want from you is a ‘Yes, Doctor, I have a team in place in Texas and we have your daughter safe and sound.’ If you can’t give me something close to that in a few hours, I’ll go to the StreamingMedia.”
He scoffs. “And tell them what?”
“That you let terrorists camp outside the city and kidnap CitOne kids. That your contracts aren’t worth the time it takes to sign them.” I pace. “I’ll tell them that you don’t care about the livelihood of a five-year-old girl. I’ll tell them that the situation is a microcosm of their struggle, that if you don’t care about one innocent life who’s within your power to protect, then what does that mean for them. What kind of message does that send to your client base?”
“Honestly, Doctor, that’ll mean nothing.” He stands.
I refuse to look down. I keep my eyes locked on his.
“Do you actually think that mega-corporations operate on the same level as individuals? One life is a small price to pay for economic stability. Even if you brought your speech to the council, you wouldn’t find sympathy. You’re stuck with me because I’m the only one who has the resources to mobilize a covert operation across the border. But if you think you can get help from somewhere else, go ahead.” He waves. “There’s the door.” The maglift rises out of the floor as a large black cube. Doors glide open on one side.
“You bastard.” This time my voice trembles.
“Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a lot to do.”
Jen’s voice sounds overhead. “Doctor Hildebrandt, please follow the marker lights on the floor. The maglift is waiting.”
He doesn’t look at me as I turn.
I get into the maglift and wait for the doors to close before I speak.
“I don’t understand, Jen….” I wipe tears with my palms, fighting to catch my breath. “How can you work for that bastard?”
“I work for him because he’s the most effe
ctive employer in this field. As for his being a bastard… The Ferdinand family line is narrow but extremely deep. Genetics show he is indeed the eligible heir to considerable family wealth.” She pauses and gives me her considered answer. “However, if you’re commenting on his character or behavior, then I’ll say this: Mr. Ferdinand is considered a strategic and tactical savant. That capability can lead him to brutal, bitterly ruthless behavior in situations that call for it. However, he is an extremely effective leader and an excellent CEO. He has earned the complete loyalty of those around him.”
“What does he want from me?” I lean against the wall.
“I can’t say.”
“Can’t say, Jen?” I glare up at the roof where there has to be a cam hidden somewhere. “We’re back to that? Fine.”
The door opens onto a foyer I don’t recognize. “This isn’t the way back to my rooms.”
“That is correct. Mr. Ferdinand has suggested that you might benefit from some food. Please follow the indicated pathway.”
I have nothing, not even the illusion of choice. I simply nod and follow the glowing arrows projected onto the floor.
The silent hallway gives way to a bustling cafeteria area. The normal activities of everyone in the room and the smell of food are familiar, comforting. It’s easy to forget that most other corporations have closed up for the night. AlphaPlaza is constantly buzzing with activity. Global Security isn’t just part of the name; uniformed troops dine with suits, technicians, and secretaries.
Dinner with David was hard. I didn’t eat much and now my stomach reminds me of just how hungry I am.
I make my way through the line and tab my selections from the menu interface.
The simple action that I’ve done so often in other places eases some of my stress. I gather up my tray of food. At the checkout area, I’m signaled through by a flashing green light even before I wonder how I’m going to pay.
Near a large planter inset with a trickling water feature, I find a tiny table that only seats two. Most everyone else is sitting at long tables, chatting with friends and coworkers, some in obvious workgroups, others in a seemingly random mix.
I find myself alone again and my mind goes blank as I eat.
Halfway through my meal, the guard from yesterday straddles the chair across from me. His eyes flicker with endless columns of glittering orange and crimson embers. I notice several of the nearest tables around us become vacant as people pick up their food and move. Either he doesn’t notice or doesn’t care.
He doesn’t speak, and I’m not giving up anything. His kind are all about power and control. Bowing my head, I pretend to ignore him while watching him via the reflection in the glass tabletop.
He’s impassive, a slab of gently breathing stone, his body language so locked down and controlled he may as well be dead. He reminds me a lot of Baylen. Except, as human as he looks, he radiates less life, less humanity than Baylen does.
I find his presence oddly calming.
Finally, I look up and arch an eyebrow at him. “Yes?”
He leans forward, his height bringing his shoulders into my personal space. He keeps his voice low even though he knows there’s no one near us. “The boss just approved a plan to put boots on the ground in Texas. Just got word, a couple of scouts, advance observers, are already in motion, and I just got my ticket to the party. Thought you’d want to know.”
“What?” I stare at him. “You’re going?” I can’t imagine Maggie trusting this man enough to go with him.
His snort is mocking. “I’m more than a pretty face around here. I don’t just stand around the office ya know. Too busy kil—working.”
“No, I meant…” I’m shaking my head, pretending I didn’t hear his slip-up. I file it away in my mind. “I’m surprised your boss decided to act at all.”
“Ouch. That’s a bitter edge.”
“It’s been almost eighteen hours since my daughter was taken. I know the statistics. The first twenty-four hours are the most important.”
“Hey.” His low-pitched bark cuts me off. “It’s not like people have been fucking the day away here.”
“Right. Of course.” I throw his mockery back at him. “Because Baylen is an asset after all.”
“Jesus fuc…” He glowers and sets his hands onto the table edge. “And because some little girl is caught in the crossfire.”
“According to your boss, that doesn’t matter.”
“Whatever.” He drags his lips into a deep frown. “All I know is, people around here get outta joint if there are kids under threat. Everybody else wants to get your kid home safe. Maybe because that’s how people are supposed to feel.”
“And what about you?” I can’t help it. I have to ask. “How do you feel about risking your life to rescue Maggie?”
“I just hope I get to kill a lot of really bad people and maybe find a chance to smile a little while I do it.” His tone is sunshine and lollypops to start. It ends angry. “What the hell else am I supposed to feel?
“You’re insane.” I stare at him.
“You’re the headshrinker.” His eyes are blazing flames. “Anyway, save your shit talk for the flight.”
“Pardon?”
“You’re coming with me on the drop.”
I slowed down my eating while we talked, but now I set the fork down and have a hard time finishing my mouthful. I stare at him. “Into Texas? Me?” I finally swallow. “With you and a bunch of cybered-up soldiers?”
“Yep.” He looks bored now. He glances around the room and then casually picks single leaves off the potted plants.
“Why?” I ask. “Why am I going?”
“Who else is gonna calm the kid down after we pull her out? I mean I guess we could just tranq the hell outta her…. But either way, I’m not flying for three fucking hours with a kid screaming the whole way. That’s bullshit.”
“Oh.” That strikes me as a true statement. This guy definitely doesn’t look like ‘good with kids’ would be in his psych profile.
“It’ll be fine.” He leans forward, tossing the leaves into the tiny flowing waterfall. “You’ll be fine. You’ll probably stay with the VTOL. Course, they’ll want to run you through some safety protocols first.”
“When are we going?” I asked for action….
He shrugs. “Soon. We’ll get a mission greenlight. You still got time.” He points at my tray with his chin. “You should eat a lot now. We don’t get to eat again until we’re back.”
I wait for him to leave, and when he doesn’t, I turn back to my food. My stomach is churning, and I’m not even sure I want the rest of it.
After a moment, he starts to pick at my food.
“Excuse me?” I look at him sharply.
“Hey, that’s great, Doc, you got boundaries,” he says. “I love boundaries.” He keeps picking, his eyes locked on mine.
“Is everyone who works here an asshole?” I mutter.
“Wait until you get your compressed safety training before we lift.” He chuckles, his face a mask of twisted happiness. “The guys who teach civilians the basics … those guys are assholes.”
3.09
Mission Go
“Is she going?” Basillio asks as I drop into step with him. He slows but doesn’t stop. He’s in full dress uniform. Everything is creased and polished.
It’s been a bad day for some of us. I remember that a few of our dead were coming home at sun rise. He always attends the ‘Return of Remains’ ceremonies.
Always.
He doesn’t use implants to remember names either. Pretty sure no one in the corporation knows all of our dead except for him. I can’t keep up with lists of names like he can. Maybe my name would show up on that list someday.
I answer him. “Yeah. She almost lost her shit in the cafeteria. Whatever the hell you said, it wasn’t enough for her to actually kill you….” I grin at his frown. Maybe he’s unhappy with the outcome. “But, she was fucking pissed, figured you weren’t gonna help
.”
“She’s pissed because at some level she saw the mirror I held up. It didn’t trigger anything, so we’re onto plan B.” He shrugs.
“Why?” I ask. “I don’t get why we’re dragging her to Texas. It’s gonna be dangerous, and having her there for the kid… That’s such a line I almost fucking choked on it.”
“Keeping her safe is part of your job. If she triggers, you’re the only one who can keep her in check. If she doesn’t or can’t trigger, it’ll be better for other reasons.”
We step into a maglift. Jen gives us priority movement. The back mirror fades to a screen with an image of one of our white twelve-ton VTOLs on its approach into the city’s airspace.
Our men.
He pulls up a data file and it floats on the corner of the screen as he skims it. It looks like a stock report.
I check my internal clock. “She’s probably ready to go now.”
“That bad, huh?” He glances up.
“Civies, Boss. I tell ya, they come with built-in nervous puking as the default.” I smile, not caring if I’m the only one who likes my humor. “Plus … I made her eat a lot earlier.”
“That’s kind of you.” He keeps his tone flat and looks up at me. “You didn’t lose it on your first drop?”
“No.” I don’t make an effort to hide my contempt at the idea. “And when I finished advanced training with my upgrades, it was like my outside finally matched my insides. Cube’n up bad guys is my calling.”
“Keep her out of trouble. If she flips into killing mode…,” he says quietly, his eyes on the VTOL. “Bring everyone home safe.”
The maglift opens on my floor. “Done.” I start to walk away.
“Moro is Control on this drop,” he says.
“Fuck.” I shake my head and keep going.
“I’m sure he’ll say the same thing when I put him in charge.” The doors slide shut between us, and I’m sure he doesn’t hear my swearing.
I meet up with the doc outside the washroom where I left her. “You all done puking?”
She shoots me a dirty look as she wipes her mouth.“Such a sympathetic response.”
I check her out in her standard issue outfit. The reactive skin armor binds up nice in places as she walks, and it could stand to be more tailored. I like the promise of what’s under it.