by Mike Smith
“He said that they were going to kill him. That they had somebody close to Jon, somebody that he trusted. Is it true?” she asked fearfully.
“I don’t know,” Robert replied hesitantly, drawing her closer to him, offering her his reassurance. “But I do know this. I’ve met a number of the people surrounding Jon Radec over the years, and they all share one trait—they love him unconditionally. In all my life I’ve never seen such fierce loyalty and devotion to one man. They would sooner die than hurt him. They would fight and die for him, knowing that he would do exactly the same for them. Compared to that, Benson’s threats are meaningless.”
“I hope that you are right,” Sofia agreed, leaning into his embrace.
Chapter Fourteen
Capella, Alpha Aurigae System
Jon continued to observe the distant building, even as the light started to fade. Another day on Capella was coming to an end. He had stood this silent vigil for the past three days, ever since he had been informed this was the source of the transmission sent to Captain Harrison. That had been further reinforced only days later when David had finally stumbled out of the forests on Altair, dehydrated and suffering from exposure, but deliriously waving a datapad, shouting that he had found them. The device detailed every communication and fiscal transaction between the leader of the group of mercenaries on Altair and a company called United Stellar Defence & Logistics; which turned out to be one of numerous shell companies owned, managed and operated out of the building a few hundred meters distant.
The tall, dark, glass and steel structure loomed hundreds of meters over the surrounding low-rise buildings, casting an ominous shadow in the setting sun. The building was the headquarters for United Stellar Services, a massive fiscal conglomerate, which had regional offices in almost every star system spanning the Confederation. Jason, and his small team back on Terra Nova, had spent the past few days probing into every confidential database, rumour or report ever written about the company.
While they had been doing that, Jon had been tackling the far thornier problem of how to gain entrance to the building. For while his reach and authority was boundless, commanding hundreds of warships and tens of thousands of troops, he had found himself impotent to gain entry to one single building. Certainly while he could send in the marines to secure the building, or order detailed audits to inspect every record contained within, any such actions would simply alert the owners and whatever evidence might exist would soon be erased.
The sound of footsteps approaching from behind gave him a welcome reprieve from the headache of trying to work out how to proceed unnoticed. Turning his head at the approaching figure he was surprised to observe Paul stepping out of the shadows to stand next to him, the two of them observing the dark building in silence, the only sounds from the warm evening breeze flittering across the balcony of the building where they both stood.
“I wasn’t expecting you,” Jon commented. “I thought that you would be back at Terra Nova. Who have you left in charge?”
“The Doctor signed off on David returning to active duty yesterday. So I thought I would hop on a shuttle over here before you lost patience and did something stupid.”
“Like what?” Jon asked amused.
“Not a clue, probably getting stuck climbing through an open window on the thirtieth floor or something.”
“I hadn’t thought of that one—yet,” Jon laughed. “Did Jason find anything before you left?”
“Yes,” Paul said, passing him a datapad. “Everything he found is in there. However, I know you’re in a hurry so I’ll summarise it for you. United Services, via various cross-holdings, hedge funds and investment vehicles, is actually owned by one extremely wealthy, powerful and old family. The Malthuses. They trace their history back almost as far as Marcus, back to the very founding of the Imperium. The family is currently headed by one James T. Malthus.”
Jon thought for a moment, the name ringing a bell, sure that he recognised it, when suddenly it clicked in his head. Five years ago, soon after his arrival with Sofia on Eden Prime, after the signing of the Confederation Charter. One evening during the unending procession of congratulatory parties, an aging Senator, with grey hair and an expanding waistline. “Senator James T. Malthus,” he echoed, as the man’s words that evening suddenly came rushing back.
“You knew him?” Paul asked, surprised, as Jon never seemed to pay much attention to politics.
“I know him,” Jon ground out.
“You knew him,” Paul corrected him. “He’s dead.”
Jon looked stunned. “We’re sure of that?”
“99.9% sure,” Paul confirmed with a nod. “As that is how close the DNA match was with the body that they pulled from the Senate. They had to do a DNA match as there was not much left of the Senator after a large slab of ceiling landed on him.”
“Which means that it is more important than ever that we get inside there,” Jon nodded towards the dark monstrosity slowly being consumed by the advancing shadows. “Before any remaining evidence is completely erased.”
“I have an idea about that. Well, actually, it was Miranda’s. She thinks that it is time we expand Vanguard, to increase revenue. You know, setup some offices in various adjoining systems, purchase some additional ships, expand our routes, that sort of thing.”
“I don’t see what that has got to do with getting us in?”
“Money,” Paul replied. “We need seed capital for the initial investment. It’s fortunate that United Services happens to have an extremely large corporate finance division. We have an appointment with their head of corporate banking tomorrow morning.”
“We?” Jon echoed, surprised, as several months ago he had turned over full control of the company to Miranda.
“I didn’t think you were going to be prepared to wait here while I have all the fun. Hence you’ll be accompanying me, as my accountant.”
“As a bean counter?” Jon replied aghast. “What do I know about counting money?”
“Seeing that I hear you are now richer than God, I think you had better learn fast.”
“Okay, fine,” Jon huffed. “Now that we’ve got a plan to get in, we just need to work out how we’re going to get back out.”
“Leave that to me,” Paul replied with a smirk. “As I didn’t come alone. I brought some friends with me.”
*****
“This plan is never going to work,” Jon hissed.
“Sure it will. It got us into the building, didn’t it?” Paul motioned around at their opulent surroundings. The small waiting room they had been promptly ushered into had the décor of some imagined Old Earth hunting lodge. There were fur pelts lining the wooden floor, a blazing wood-fuelled open fireplace, and the requisite stuffed animal head hanging over the mantelpiece.
“Any minute now somebody is going to walk in and recognise me, and our cover will be blown,” Jon insisted.
“Nobody is going to recognise you,” Paul disagreed, reclining on the luxurious sofa, crossing his legs at his ankles. “Everybody knows that Emperor Radec is up there,” Paul twirled his fingers upwards in the direction of the ceiling. “Aboard his flagship, busy plotting revenge, death and destruction upon his enemies. That is when he is not broadcasting fire and brimstone speeches to the Confederation at large. Anyway, you look nothing like him.”
“What do you mean I look nothing like him? I am him, I mean me.”
“No, Emperor Radec stalks around dressed like the Grim Reaper. You?” Paul smirked. “You look like you just walked out the discount suit section of the nearest department store.” For unlike Paul, who was dressed in a flattering, form fitting dark suit, Jon wore a dull grey, wrinkled suit that was at least one size too large for him, and had indeed come from a discounted selection at the nearest department store.
“I look like a goddamn bean counter wearing this,” Jon cursed.
“Seeing that you are a bean counter, my bean counter more precisely, I consider it a fool-proof disguise.”
Jon just shot Paul a disgusted look, but quickly snapped his jaw shut as the door to the room slid open and a receptionist, dressed in a severely cut business suit, motioned to the pair to follow her. The two of them were quickly ushered into a spacious office, prompted to take a seat, and informed that Mr Atherton, head of Corporate Banking, would be with them shortly. Once she had departed and the door had slid shut, the two of them quickly inspected the office. They were unable to find any surveillance cameras; not surprising considering it was a private office and the highly confidential conversations likely to take place within. Therefore, after confirming they were not being observed, Paul quickly walked around the imposing desk and, upon spotting the powerful workstation cleverly concealed within, withdrew the data-crystal Jason had supplied to them only hours earlier and deposited it into the computer’s auxiliary input port. The crystal was promptly retracted into the machine, vanishing from sight, the only visible indication of anything happening was some additional status lights on the front of the workstation demonstrating that it was busy processing the program secreted within the crystal.
Unable to penetrate the effective firewalls surround the company’s servers, at least not without raising suspicion, the powerful software worm written by Jason would now spread from this workstation, infecting all the other machines in the building. The worm was designed to search out any pertinent information and, upon finding it, make a copy, heavily encrypt it, then upload it to a remote server. After which the worm would erase any trace of the copy, and itself.
“Job done,” Paul stated confidently, returning to his seat on the other side of the desk. “Now all that we need to do is make small talk with Mr Atherton for a short while, before making our exit. After which we stroll out the same entrance that we used to enter. What could possibly go wrong?”
That question was answered almost immediately, when the door to the office slid open, to permit the entry of Atherton. However, it was not his presence that drew their attention, but the half-dozen heavily armed guards behind him, with their pulse rifles levelled squarely at them both.
“Captain Harrington, Commander Radec, so good of you to make an appointment and drop by. It saves us all the trouble having to go looking for you.”
“See, I told you that this was never going to work,” Jon announced smugly.
*****
“Are you really sure that this is a good idea Captain?” Gunny inquired, eyeing the officer as he continued to stuff his already bulging pockets with additional spare ammunition clips and grenades.
“If you’ve got something to say, just spit it out Gunny,” Captain Stefan Frasier insisted. He had been slowly climbing the walls on Terra Nova and had jumped at the offer from Paul to accompany him to Capella to join Gunny and the rest of the marines.
“I was just wondering if you had any ulterior motives in joining this operation?” Gunny inquired mildly.
“Damn right I do,” Stefan heaved the heavy assault rifle from the table and slung it over one shoulder. “I plan on getting some payback on those sons-of-bitches who killed my men on Altair. See how they like it being on the receiving end for a change.” He patted the butt of his assault rifle fondly. “Revenge might be a dish best served cold. But me? I prefer to dish it out plenty hot enough. You have a problem with that Gunny?”
“Me? No.” Gunny drew out the word. “But you go ahead first. That way if you topple over backwards with all that artillery you are packing, I’ll be able to catch you,” he smirked.
“Funny Gunny, real funny. Now let’s go kick some ass.”
“You heard him men.” Gunny raised his voice to be heard by the other marines who were packed into their small forward operating base—an empty coffee shop. The area had been evacuated an hour earlier, with the simple lie that a photon leak had been detected in the surrounding energy distribution grid. The twenty-seventh century version of a gas leak—same concept, bigger bang.
The marines streamed out of the small shop into the mid-morning sunlight, taking up defensive positions around the main entrance to the building, waiting for the signal from Jon or Paul, unaware that neither were currently in a position to be able to call for help.
*****
Jon and Paul immediately raised their hands at the sight of the gun barrels all firmly pointed in their direction.
Atherton just laughed. Stepping aside, out of their line-of-fire, and turning to his men, he ordered. “Kill then.”
Jon and Paul exchanged worried glances.
“Excuse me,” Paul hurriedly interrupted before a dozen pulse rifles could open fire. “But didn’t you mean to say, seize them and take them to our leader?”
“No, I had it right the first time. I’ve already had very clear instructions from my leader. Kill them.”
Taking a hurried step back, both men quickly looked around, but the office was spacious enough that there was no cover in the immediate vicinity. “Any suggestions?” Paul asked.
“Nothing yet. You?” Jon replied, his eyes shooting in all directions, desperate to come up with a plan.
“I have nothing. So if I have any final last words, I guess now would be a good time?”
“I would make it quick,” Jon muttered.
“Okay,” Paul drew in a deep breath. “I am sorry that I slept with your wife. I didn’t mean to, it was an accident. It just sort of happened.” Paul exhaled, relieved that after five years he had finally got that secret off his chest.
Jon meanwhile went completely blank, unable to believe what he had just heard from his closest friend. A man that he considered a brother, the closest that he had left to family. “You did what?” he demanded, turning around to face Paul. Completely ignoring all the men with guns pointing in their direction.
“It was only once, and it didn’t mean anything, really. It just sort of, happened. Anyway,” Paul added hurriedly, upon noticing Jon’s expression. “You did tell me to go ahead and say it.”
“I thought that you were going to say something like it was great knowing you. That you wouldn’t have changed a thing and that you were proud to stand at my side. Not this,” Jon said scornfully. His fingers unconsciously balling into a fist. “You lying, cheating, backstabbing bastard,” he roared, letting fly a punch that caught Paul squarely under the jaw, knocking him to the ground.
Stumbling back to his feet, Paul swiped at his mouth, stunned to see a smear of red come away from his cut lip. “Me? I’m the lying, cheating bastard? I’m not the one to go behind Sofia’s back and screw the first skirt that looked at me twice,” Paul snarled. Letting loose a punch of his own, he caught Jon squarely in the stomach. Everybody in the room could clearly hear the breath rush out from him, as with a strangled cry it was his turn to crumple to the ground. “That was for cheating on Sofia,” Paul spat on his prostrate body.
“You don’t know the first damn thing,” Jon wheezed from the floor. With a cry of rage he leapt from the floor, catching Paul around the waist to send both crashing to the floor, each trying to get leverage to pummel the other.
Observing the unfolding mêlée, the guards slowly lowered their weapons, wincing as a particularly sharp right hook from Paul caught Jon squarely across the chin with a loud crack.
“Don’t need go shooting nobody boss,” one of the guards sniggered. “Those two gonna kill each other first, without our help.”
“Watch them,” Atherton ordered the guards, as he moved in the direction of the pair. Cursing as Paul stumbled backwards into him, he managed to catch hold of the man just before he could take another swing at Jon. Trying to prise the two of them apart, so focused was he in trying to restrain Paul that he failed to notice the subtle nod between the two men, and the massive right hook that Jon unleashed. At the very last moment Paul ducked Jon’s fist, which went crashing into the bridge of Atherton’s nose, breaking it. All Atherton could see was stars. The next thing that he knew, he was being twisted around, and he could feel the cold metallic barrel of his gun being pushed
against his temple.
“Drop your weapons,” Paul ordered from behind Atherton’s back. At the momentarily hesitation from the guards, Paul flicked the safety off the pistol and depressing the trigger slightly, yelled, “Now!”
The guards, now no longer smiling, hurriedly let their rifles fall to the floor.
“You’ll never get out of here alive,” Atherton scowled.
“Says the man with a gun to his head,” Jon replied contemptuously while, like Paul, taking a couple of tentative steps forward, towards the door. Trying to keep Atherton between them and the guards, who were looking back at them with furious expressions.
“On three?” Jon whispered behind Paul’s back.
“Three,” Paul cried pushing Atherton towards his guards, trying to block their line of fire for as long as possible while the two of them made a mad dash for the door. Even then they almost didn’t make it, as the guards dived for their rifles, or simply reached for the pistols at their sides. The two of them had barely reached the door when shots started to erupt all around them. Fortunately the door was unlocked and Jon shoved Paul through first, diving after him.
Scrabbling for the pistol on the floor, which had been knocked from Paul’s grasp when he hit the ground, Jon turned the pistol, pointing it to face the door. When nobody immediately followed them through, he shifted his aim slightly to the control panel at the side of the door, depressing the trigger repeatedly, loosing shot after shot into the glass panel. When it became obvious that nobody was going to be following close behind them, Jon struggled to his feet, cursing at his bruised ribs.
“Did you really have to hit me that hard?” he demanded.
“I had to make it look convincing,” Paul replied, accepting the hand from Jon, getting to his feet. “We need a way out of here, and fast.”
“Let’s try that way,” Jon suggested, forgetting that his sense of direction was truly appalling.