by Shea Oliver
One of the board members who, was paying close attention interjected, “My esteemed Chairman, you certainly cannot be considering the folly of using a portal to transport an additional portal—can you?” Immediately, a grumble arose among the board members.
“Please, please, I am absolutely not trying to suggest something as dangerous, illegal, and as radical as that,” replied Tomar.
“Well, we simply cannot go about trying to portalize a planet too early. The investment is absolutely ridiculous to bring a bunch of natives up to the level to which we can reasonably profit!” another member added.
“Please, my dear board members,” Tomar stated firmly, regaining the board’s attention, “we all are very aware of what has been tried—and the disastrous results. I do not intend to head down either of those paths.”
On two separate occasions, Corporations believed that they had solved the challenges of bringing one portal through to another portal. The effort had resulted in an explosion of gigantic proportions. Hundreds of thousands had been killed by the blasts. The Ministry had expressly forbidden any Corporation from even beginning experimentation projects designed to attempt to use a portal to transport another portal. More than once, a planet had been portalized too soon and had nearly bankrupted those Corporations that had been overly eager to “develop” it.
Tomar paused again for a few moments to let the board’s attention resettle on him.
“I am suggesting something altogether different. For the last few hundred years, we have all lived in a world of regulations, assumptions, and, frankly—a world of lazy arrogance! We have long thought of the Ministry of Interplanetary Corporate Relations as an organization that brings chaos under control and helps maintain our profits. I challenge that this is no longer true!
“A few hundred years after the Exorthium Colonial Wars, the Ministry granted the Eleven Corporations the licenses to explore space and control the portals. The number eleven has no significance in any religion, business text, or any other place other than we have always had eleven Corporations. We’ve blindly assumed that eleven is the perfect number—that some balance of power or some control exists in eleven. The Ministry has even bailed out Corporations when they have absolutely failed. The assumption of “eleven” has led to stagnation, lack of innovation, and most importantly—an absolute stranglehold on profitability. The time has come to leave those false assumptions behind.”
Tomar stopped speaking and let his gaze wonder around the room. As he expected, some of the board members, especially those whom he had been unable to replace, had either a look of indignation or of shock. Society long ago seemed content with the concept of The Ministry of Interplanetary Corporate Relations and the Eleven Corporations. The Ministry was a five-member committee made up of two members from Koranth and two from Zoranth. They were elected on an eight-year, rotating basis. A fifth member, the Chief Executive of the Ministry, was elected every eleven years, and could come from either Koranth or Zoranth.
The Ministry was actually something of a point of pride among the people of the two planets. It was the only place that the two planets truly had worked in harmony with one another. On each planet, governments continued to quarrel, with occasional wars, trade disputes, and the like, but the Ministry remained strong.
The boardroom stayed quiet for a few moments. One of the members, whose face had shown a bit of shock, rose to his feet. He was an older gentleman, with a few extra pounds on his body. A sense of relief swept across the faces of those members who had been shocked and concerned by Tomar’s statement. All eyes in the room turned to Greylorent Lamrainkia, as he spread his arms in a grandfatherly fashion. “My friends and colleagues, we are part of a wonderfully profitable system that has handsomely lined the pockets of our family and friends. Our new Chairman, young as he may be, means no disrespect to the system we have in place.”
Tomar looked at the man with the respect that was expected. Greylorent Lamrainkia was a man of high standing and had been on the board longer than any other member. His position was nearly unassailable, and the members of the board whom Tomar had not replaced, looked to him for leadership. He had attempted to stop Tomar Donovackia’s takeover, and some members of the board expected that he would maneuver a change soon that would oust Mr. Donovackia.
Everyone’s eyes shifted back to Tomar, who acknowledged Greylorent with a nod of his head. It appeared as if Tomar was encouraging him to continue. The gesture had further emboldened Greylorent, so he proceeded. “Our Chairman is young and has much to learn about leading one of the Eleven. I am of certainty, that with our wise guidance, this young gentleman will be successful.”
Tomar’s face continued to show what appeared to be respect, but inside he was almost giddy with excitement. He was watching this pompous, arrogant buffoon swell himself up even further than expected. Tomar almost wanted to dance.
“As we all know,” said Greylorent, “our Chairman has adeptly positioned himself to run this fine Corporation, with the support of its board. WE, the board, have the final say on the overall strategy and direction of the Corporation. Our joint decision-making power is what heads this company. The Chairman simply sits in the seat at the head of the table and recommends directions that we might potentially consider.”
The tension level in the room suddenly rose as Greylorent finished his statement. He had made it clear that he believed himself powerful enough to oppose Tomar and that he believed Tomar’s control of the Corporation was not as strong as Tomar wanted to believe. He lowered his arms, leaning over and placing his hands on the table. He gazed about the room and in a slow, deep, commanding voice stated, “These are the facts.”
Tomar remained very calm and nearly unmoving, as the eyes in the room moved from intently regarding Greylorent to apprehensively staring at Tomar. He met each person’s eyes, moving from board member to board member, but skipping Greylorent. The tension continued to soar in the room, as all members had expected a clash between the two men, but no one had expected it to escalate as quickly as it had.
“I may be young, but I am not as foolish as you,” Tomar stated, as if it were an apparent fact. He tapped a few more buttons on his podium, trying not to snicker, for this was going so much better than he could ever have imagined. Over the next few minutes, Tomar brought up images of other companies, products, contracts, and people. He painted a picture of vastly overpriced, no-bid contracts going to companies that Greylorent secretly owned, of money and bribes flowing into the pockets of relatives of Greylorent, and other abuses of the man’s position on the board. His presentation had been well researched and rehearsed. A few board members were visibly trying not to squirm in their seats.
During the rapid-fire presentation, Greylorent’s face had vacillated between a crimson outrage and a white shade of fear. Of course, he had done all these things, as had many of the members of the board, who had not been replaced. While it may have been ethically questionable to some, it certainly wasn’t completely illegal. As Tomar finished, Greylorent, very calmly, glared at the young Chairman.
“Well, you have certainly done your homework, young man,” Greylorent let the word “young” get drawn out as if to emphasize the immaturity of youth. “You are beginning to understand the more complex workings of the Corporate world. I am glad you are learning, and it is certain that my example will help you as you attempt to become a leader. Although, you are starting at a very low point.”
Tomar could contain himself no longer, and, as a grin spread across his face, he let out a small chuckle. He made a gesture, and a door materialized across the table from Greylorent. A member of the Donavockia Corporate military stepped through the door. He was completely decked out in battle gear. His body was covered with a dark armor that shimmered and reflected light in multiple directions. His battle helmet completely covered his head and face. He stepped into the room, and everyone drew back in shock.
“WHAT IS THIS OUTRAGE?” demanded Greylorent, in a booming, furious vo
ice.
Tomar snickered again. It almost sounded evil this time, and he choked it off before it did. Looking at Greylorent, he began speaking in a constrained voice. “Your abuses of power and your pompous, arrogant attitude are of minimal concern. While you probably broke many laws in what you did, I doubt that we could prove it. However, a few—other things—are provable.”
Tomar tapped again on the podium, and, in the middle of the table, a very disturbing three-dimensional scene appeared. It was of Greylorent, naked on top of a small female and obviously engaged in intercourse. Of the two, Greylorent was easily three times the size of the young woman. With each thrust, the woman let out a shriek that certainly sounded like agony.
Greylorent turned an ashen shade of white, as Tomar began to speak over the tortuous injury being inflicted in the scene on the table.
“One of your many enterprises includes an illegal house of prostitution, well-hidden underground here in the capital. Did you honestly think I would not find it? You are quite a vile and cruel man. Like so many men of power, you believe yourself above everyone else and—untouchable.”
Gesturing towards the scene, Tomar continued, “You like to try every one of your new girls for yourself first, even if they resist. How many of your so-called employees truly understood what they were getting into? How many girls did you trick into lives of prostitution? How did you feel when this poor girl died beneath you? Was it remorse that guided you and the madam to dispose of the body?”
Tomar saw Greylorent’s movement. Everything was falling into place. Tomar had humiliated his overbearing, self-righteous opponent, and Tomar’s plan was playing out even more finely than he had hoped. One of Tomar’s agents had secretly managed to slip a heart-weakening drug to each of the last three girls that had been recruited by Greylorent’s madam. The drug failed to produce results in the first two girls, but when Greylorent went to sample the wares of the third girl, she resisted. Greylorent then became aggressive and violent, forcing himself on her. Due to her struggle, in combination with the drug, the girl’s heart failed, and everything was secretly recorded for this moment. It was now playing out for the board members to witness.
Over the next few moments, the finale was going to play out perfectly. Tomar had recently modified the security protocol to enable board members to come and go in the building without any security checks of their belongings or person. He had discovered that Greylorent flaunted weapons laws and carried a concealed energy blaster whenever he could. It was apparent that he was reaching for it now.
As the gun broke free of where it had been concealed under Greylorent’s cloak, the blast from the soldier’s weapon hit Greylorent full force in the upper chest and neck. He slammed into his chair, rolled backwards, and smashed into the wall behind him. For a brief moment, he looked stunned. Then, his head slumped forward, pulling his body to the floor.
“This meeting is now adjourned. We will continue tomorrow morning,” concluded Tomar, and, turning, he walked through a door that had appeared in the wall behind him.
*****
The stunningly beautiful woman was sitting in his chair when Tomar returned to his office. He looked at her and then gestured for the door to close. It vanished, leaving nothing but a wall behind him. She looked directly at him and, seductively running her tongue across her lips, began to laugh. A translucent monitor floated in the air above the desk. It was a live video of the boardroom, where the body of Greylorent Lamrainkia’s body was being covered and hoisted onto a floating board to be taken to a morgue.
“Your script and performance today should win you an award. It was truly magnificent,” she seductively stated, smiling at Tomar.
He walked over to the table where the glass, which he had moved, using nothing more than the power of his mind, rested. He stared at it for a few moments. Perhaps, he should think it back to the desk. She might be very impressed to discover that he was not only a ruthless, up-and-coming Corporate titan, but also a Transprophetic, but he changed his mind. Perhaps, some other day when it better suited his purpose. He was feeling intensely energized. He didn’t need any tricks to get what he wanted. He was a powerful man on the rise and had just solidified his absolute control of the Corporation. He would get whatever he wanted.
Picking up the glass with his hand, he walked to his desk, placing it where a few hours previous it had sat. He walked to where she sat in his chair and dropped his hands to the armrests, holding each of them tightly. He looked deeply into her eyes. She wasn’t young, but she wasn’t old either. In many ways, age seemed unable to get a firm grasp on her. She had a confidence about her that few people ever were able to maintain for longer than a fleeting moment. Her long, black hair hung loosely and appeared to always be exactly how she wanted it. Every feature about her face was both soft and hard at the same time. She defied easy explanation. How a woman could dress in business attire and yet radiate the sensuality and sexuality as she did intrigued and mesmerized him.
“You may be the Chief Executive Minister of the Ministry for Interplanetary Corporate Relations, but you, my dear lady, are sitting in MY chair,” Tomar told her.
She made no effort to get up; rather, she simply looked back into his eyes, as intently has he stared into hers. She gently placed her hand on his and began slowly running her hand up his arm, across his shoulder. Then spreading her fingers, she slid her hand to the back of his head. She closed her hand into a fist, balling up a mass of his hair, and pulled his head towards hers. Their lips locked in a violent embrace. The kiss was passionate, almost desperate, as if each were fighting for power and at the same time to be overtaken by the other.
As suddenly and as violently as she had pulled him to her, she pushed him away. He stood back up and smiled back down at her. Biting her lower lip, she grabbed his belt, pulling him close again. She slowly undid the latch, unbuttoned his pants, and then grabbed a handful of fabric by each of his hips. She threw the pants down his legs, and they clattered on the floor. He breathed out heavily as he stood there completely exposed. She put a hand on each of his hips and pushed him away, so that he stumbled backwards, with his feet tangled in his pants. His bare bottom barely caught the edge of his desk, leaving him sitting precariously. She rolled the chair quickly to him, landing each hand flat on each of his knees. She pushed her hands upward until only the tips of her fingernails were touching him, and began to run them up his legs, past his thighs and waist, under his shirt, continuing until her hands were up to his chest.
The air exploded from Tomar’s lungs in a violent gasp. She was beyond anything that he had ever known. He looked down into her eyes, which were staring back into his, gleaming with a heinous tint. Her smile widened and she opened her mouth, bending towards him to take him where every man openly, or secretly, wants to go.
Chapter 6
Effective and Efficient
A few miles away, and a few stories underground, Kadamba began to regain consciousness. His head throbbed and his chest ached from the justice enforcement officer’s energy blast. As he sat up and looked around, he realized that he was in a very small chamber. Actually, it was more of a box. It was about four feet tall and four feet wide by ten feet deep. The far end wall of the chamber was transparent, as were about two feet of the ceiling, the floor, and both side walls extending from that transparent end. Kadamba, sliding to the transparent section of this cage, realized there were hundreds of the chambers stacked at least three dozen high. The row of chambers that he was in faced another row of the little prison boxes.
As he scanned the chambers across from his, he could see men and women. Some were lying; some were sitting. Some wore normal clothing while others wore what looked like a bright orange one-piece, tight-fitting suit of some type. In one of the chambers, he could have sworn the man was naked, and in another it appeared to have water or something spraying on the inside. He looked down to see that the woman below him was curled up in a ball, with her head between her legs. As he looked to the left, he
gave a little jump. The man in the next box was wide-eyed and flashing a toothy, hungry grin at him. Kadamba felt like a piece of meat that a starving man was about to devour. He looked away quickly, hoping the man would leave. On the right, the part of the box that he could see was empty.
Then he looked up. The top of the box was barely a foot from his face, and he was looking directly at another man’s anus and testicles. The man was sitting naked looking down at Kadamba between his own legs, tittering. Kadamba, scooting away from the clear end of the box, closed his eyes. Tears began to flow as he starting remembering what had happened before the energy blast slammed into his chest, rendering him unconscious.
A screen abruptly appeared on the wall opposite the transparent wall. A woman’s smiling face appeared and starting speaking, “Welcome to the Purostinov Justice Processing Center,” the perky face announced with a smile featuring overly whitened teeth, high cheekbones, and unbelievably perfect dimples.
It appeared to be a recording and was incredibly annoying. Kadamba asked himself aloud, “Who the hell designs this crap?”
“We are a wholly-owned subsidiary of the Purostinov Government Services Company. We proudly serve the citizens of Stujorkian City, providing the most cost-effective and efficient justice processing in the nation. As a client of Purostinov, you will find your case handled quickly and professionally.”
The recorded, smiling face continued to drone on for a few more minutes, but Kadamba was lost in his own thoughts. He was scared. Deep inside, he knew he had screwed up in a major way. He should have never sold rath to that kid. It was stupid, and he wished he could have those few moments back. He wanted to send the kid on his way, with his money back in his own little pocket and none of the drug. But it was too late.