Now, Chaoxiang needed to hire Japanese Yakuza for a major operation, and also needed a cut-out to block any knowledge that China had a hand in this effort.
One major mountain range demolished was a suitably large enough warning, so his bosses didn’t want to risk another direct effort. Plus, if the Japanese ended up pointing the fingers at either their own people or the South Koreans, that would be bonus points.
The man leading them into the back pushed on a piece of the wall that opened and outlined a door that had been hard to see in the darkness of the club.
Once the three men got through the door, their ears were happy to be saved from the constant pounding of the beat of the music.
The back of the club was clean, and Chaoxiang and his partner were shown into a small meeting room. Inside, they were met by a young, attractive lady with long black hair and a ready smile. She took their order for drinks and left to acquire the liquor that wasn’t available at the small bar inside the meeting room. Chaoxiang noticed that Crystalline Methamphetamine and XTC were available as selections alongside the liquor.
Moments later, two South Korean members of the local criminal organization stepped in. Once the introductions were accomplished, Chaoxiang got down to business.
He wanted information from a certain group in Japan, and he wanted the response if the project went bad, to stay in Japan.
The two South Korean gentleman smiled. They both understood this could be a nice operation. The group the Chinese wanted to hit, and the potential value of the information was worth millions. Besides, the Chinese would expect the information, but, they understood copies would be made, right?
If they would be able to get the Japanese to take the fall for the crime? Well, that would be considered a job bonus. His group might have to work with the Japanese, but liking them was entirely another matter.
Las Vegas, NV - USA
“Now, I’m not complaining, exactly,” Nathan said as he sipped on his coffee while waiting for the light to change. “But our little girl has a sleep schedule from hell, I swear it.”
Darryl followed the instructions from the GPS on his phone. They stored the F12berlinetta in a rented garage and drove an all black Mercedes S550. It kind of pissed Darryl off, he was looking forward to using the flying car, but all they got to do was come over from Colorado in it.
“Too easy to spot,” had been the reasoning and Darryl agreed with the assessment, but didn’t like the answer at all. It took away from riding in the car.
Still, the S550 was a sweet ride, and he did admit, fast as hell.
“Eyes on the targets?” Darryl asked.
Nathan turned to look at his little tablet, “Still good. ArchAngel’s little techie spies are on the job. In another,” he looked up at the time, “five minutes we can tell overwatch we got this.”
“Sounds good,” Darryl said and turned into a pleasant neighborhood. It wasn’t, according to John, as nice as Mason’s area but it was new and fortunately it didn’t have a security post.
Well, good for them, not so good for Mr. and Mrs. Switzer.
—
“You are going to eat that?” Gabrielle asked, watching Eric lovingly pat the large styrofoam container sitting between the two of them in the car.
“Yes, I am going to eat that,” he agreed, “I’m going to open the lid, inhale the delicious aroma and sip the broth like the golden, delicious nectar of the gods that it is.”
“And then?” She asked, eyeing the cup like it might have a snake inside that was waiting to bite her, “what is it called?
“Posole,” Eric replied, turning left down a side street, “with an ‘E’ at the end.”
“Well, posole with an e,” Gabrielle said, “just know that you are eating a kiss-blocker until your mouth smells better.”
“Oh, seriously?” Eric asked, jerking his hand away from the cup.
Gabrielle took a couple of extra loud sniffs and nodded.
Twenty seconds later, Eric pulled into a stop-n-rob, and Gabrielle looked around, “Why are we stopping?”
Eric jumped out, ran inside and was back out before her voice finished echoing in the car. He slid something in a brown bag in the second spot next to the styrofoam cup.
“And that is?” Gabrielle asked.
“Kissing Roto-Rooter,” Eric smiled, “Cinnamon Schnapps.”
“What?” She looked over at him, “you are covering the Posole with an e with alcohol?”
Eric smiled, “No, it’s mouthwash.”
Gabrielle’s shook her head and punched him in the shoulder, “have your cake and eat it, too?
“No, I wouldn’t dream of that,” Eric replied, pulling into the neighborhood for the Gants, “I want my Posole and your kisses, too.”
Gabrielle reached over and patted Eric on the arm where she had slugged him, “Well played, Mr. Escobar, well played.”
Nice muscles, Mr. Escobar, nice muscles indeed she thought.
—
“So, you haven’t driven in how long?” Scott asked Barnabas, the two of them driving to North Las Vegas.
“It wasn’t that long ago, in fact, I had to drive here in Las Vegas, well, outside of it,” Barnabas answered.
“That’s right, you took care of the assassin, right?”
Barnabas snorted, “Not so much an assassin, as a gravedigger and trigger puller. He played on the stupidity of those sent to him, mostly. Once or twice he shot someone from a distance, I didn’t dig too deeply to understand the details.”
Scott shrugged, “Dead men tell no tales. Didn’t you use that last grave for him?”
“Karma,” Barnabas replied.
The two men settled into an easy quiet as Scott drove their car to the street one over from the McWhorters and slowed to a stop next to the curb. With ArchAngel watching the house, Scott decided they would run from one street over if anything looked amiss. That way, no one was going to see them casing the house.
And no one could possibly imagine how fast they could arrive.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Chapter 8
QBS ArchAngel
“Did you say twenty-one-fucking-years?” Bethany Anne asked, her voice pitched an octave higher than normal. John and Peter, both stopped in their tracks, turning back around when Bethany Anne had stopped walking in the middle of the hallway.
Peter raised an eyebrow to John who shrugged in return. By the look on her face, it was obvious she had just been surprised by either ADAM or TOM. Peter gave John the sign language for ‘A’ and John shook his head, signed back the one for ’T’.
The bet was on.
Bethany Anne’s eyes rolled to the top of her head, “Why the hell didn’t you tell me!” Her shoulders dropped, “Yeah, I do remember that. Dammit.” She started walking and when she got even with the guys they kept pace. “When the fuck am I ever going to remember to stop being so impatient?”
This time, the comment seemed to be directed at herself, not one of her mental roomies.
“What happened, boss?” John asked.
She turned to look up at him, “You know how I demanded seven years of servitude from Captain Kael-ven T’chmon?”
“Yes,” John replied, “how did twenty-one years come into play?”
“How did you know it was twenty-one?” Bethany Anne’s eyes went distant for a fraction of a second, “I said that out loud, didn’t I?” Both men agreed she had, “Dammit.” She paused and exhaled, “Seems that he agreed to seven Solar Years. My impatient little ass didn’t listen to TOM when he tried to explain that a Solar Year isn’t equivalent to our solar year. So, the translation stuff changed everything to the normal Solar Year which is…”
She got cut off as John jumped in, “three of our years.” He snorted, “Leave your home, travel the galaxy, become the Earth’s first alien slave.” He chuckled, “Perhaps you should take a couple of lessons in negotiation.”
“Perhaps,” Bethany Anne agreed, “I should allow TOM to interrupt me and actually warn me next time.”
The three of them reached the meeting room’s doors, and before she walked in, Bethany Anne hissed, “Perhaps then I wouldn’t have alien tag-a-longs for the next twenty-one fucking years!”
—
The room was large and had two specially made seats, more like small couches without backs which Captain Kael-ven T’chmon and Scientist Royleen were both sitting at the moment. Presently, Kiel was working with the Wechselbalg in another area of the ship. He got to learn about fighting Wechselbalg and how to take a beating for killing Coach.
Often.
Apparently, half the Yollin crew supported their captain and took his oath as their own. Now, she had half a damned ship’s worth of vassals she didn’t want.
Fuck my life, she thought.
On the other hand, Team BMW and most of those based in science and mechanicals loved the new toys. Royleen, when he saw how those who were waiting for repatriation were going to live, had decided to give his oath of obedience and help as well. It wasn’t a bad place, but it didn’t have much to do for a scientist that needed to continue learning, either.
The G’laxix Sphaea, or as she found out the translated name, the Dawn of a Golden Future, was being worked on right now by a large team. Some were going through and making sure they knew what was what. Another group was seeing what technology they could acquire or use, and a third was updating the ship for Bethany Anne.
When Bethany Anne got a good look at the sleek craft, she said, “That ship is beautiful.” She paused about three seconds before adding, “Mine!”
It wasn’t long before the scientific and research teams started working on the new ship. So far, they didn’t have a clone of ArchAngel to install into the craft, but Marcus and others were working on that as well. The biggest challenge had been locating a viable place to work on the spacecraft. This time, Stephen had come to the rescue. A large set of warehouses was still under his name, and those who worked in it still understood Stephen’s requirement for secrecy.
So, Team BMW got working on it. Pod shuttles raced from the asteroid belt with the best workers for the new technology. They filled three huge warehouses with the new ship under cover of night, and a meteor shower.
The team dropped some very small meteors, well to be truthful they stole the idea from the Chinese operation a few years back, and lit up the Mediterranean sky. A little subterfuge with the satellites by ADAM and the Queen’s people and one alien spaceship was safely hidden inside a warehouse guarded by some very, very deadly people.
The first attachments to the space ship were temporary gravitic plates that could be controlled by TOM or ADAM in case they needed to get the ship out of there.
Once they accomplished this first step, the orders were changed to have everyone stop attackers long enough to load into the ship, and the anti-gravs would take most away.
The remaining outside Wechselbalg were stationed to harass attackers until the ship was away, then they would disappear into the surrounding area and be picked up later.
Once the plates were in place, plans for the gravitic shields and the gun emplacements were drawn for installation.
Then everyone got down to some serious work.
—
“Gentleman, ladies, and aliens,” Bethany Anne said to the group, “We need to discuss what it is going to take to move forward with our plans so that people can go through that gate.” She sat down at the head of the table. “Ok, talk to me Michelle,” Bethany Anne spoke to Dr. Brown-Williams, in charge of the food production while accepting a Coke over her shoulder from Peter and twisting the top off.
Dr. Brown-Williams nodded, “We have more than enough production for plant and protein with the new growth containers based on the fully nutrient-focused setup. We have the right fish in the tanks to create the fertilizer that goes through the system to provide the plants which in turn clean the water fed back into the fish tanks. With the corrected light systems, the fish are breeding now as well. We’ve added the crustaceans some of the teams have asked for as well.”
“Oh God!” Bobcat blurted out, “I’m going to get crab in outer space?”
Dr. Brown-Williams smiled, “Yes, Bobcat, you are going to get crab in outer space. Perhaps not a large variety as we are dealing more with farming of shrimp, but crab is in the plans.”
“What about wheat, corn and such?” Bethany Anne asked.
“If you can provide the space, I can grow them. With the light amplification systems, we can now generate the right wavelength to feed the growth systems, and the gravity plates help tremendously. I’ve talked with Marcus about water, and he confirms that we can change the water D to H ratio on the comets we can grab and use the water available from them for personal use and food stuffs.”
“How much space do you need?” Bethany Anne pressed.
“I’m modifying the needs now based on growing fungi and yeasts and using the new 3d printing capabilities to make them palatable. We have stocked up like crazy on some items, such as spices. They just aren’t something we can produce effectively. I’ve enough of the nutrients to fill a small moon.”
“Yeah, funny you should mention ‘moon,'” Bobcat interjected. Bethany Anne put up a hand, and he stopped, allowing Dr. Brown-Williams to continue.
“So, for the massive number of people you have asked me to consider, and with the systems we can use based on the latest Kurtherian technology for energy and gravity, we can stack food production like crazy. We are going to have more of a problem with protein, except for the 3d-printed stuff.
But, we can use the droppings from the livestock as fertilizer for the plants. I’m going to need many square kilometers of land with a pretty substantial height, to implement hydroponics for growing our food. One kilometer gives me a million square meters to play with. Not including walkways, the higher we go I get another million cubic meters to play with per one and a half meters of height. For animals, I need to grow twenty pounds of greens for each pound of beef we raise.”
“Good thing Nathan isn’t here, or he would be crowing how the Wechselbalg will have to start eating more vegetables,” Bethany Anne said, with a few chuckles going around those who knew he was the only Wechselbalg who truly enjoyed eating vegetables.
“We can easily get up over a hundred thousand plants a week from the hundred and twenty Freight Farms growtainers we have. Plus, with the enhancements we have been adding on, we expect to triple that output,” Dr. Brown-Williams added before summing up her findings, “You find me enough space to easily get into the containers, or duplicate the technology outside of the boxes and I can feed a million people.”
“People are going to need to start porking each other to get us to a million,” William grinned while talking softly, but Dr. Brown-Williams only caught some of the comment.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t plan on pork in the mix, should I?” she asked, oblivious to the chuckles near Bobcat, William, and Marcus who kept his face straight while his friends smiled.
“No, maybe, although some will miss bacon once our stores are depleted,” Bethany Anne replied.
“Not necessarily true,” Dan interrupted, “I’ve spoken with those in charge of food for the Yollins, and they have a similar saying to our chicken.”
“What, everything tastes like chicken?” Bethany Anne asked.
Kael-ven T’chmon chuckled, the sound coming out more like a raspy clicking of mandibles inside his mouth. When he spoke, everyone with the new translation software and the embeds for communications could understand him. The rest had translation hardware and a single ear piece in their ear. Both of the Yollins had a similar setup for communication.
“I have had your chicken,” Kael-ven spoke, “It is rather plain like a Talik which is everywhere. I have had your pork, and it is pretty tasty, similar to our bistek-barook. There are plenty of the animals on the southern plains of many of our continents.”
“If it is so tasty, why don’t you eat it?” Bethany Anne asked.
“We do ea
t them, just not very often as they are expensive. Bistek-barook are very aggressive animals, and have no herd mentality so are a very poor choice to use as a feed animal. They are considered a sport kill within the third and fourth tier of our society. However, you have to be willing to take the limitations to actually claim a Bistek-barook kill, or you will be sent back out with a knife to kill one. Society will shun you forever for having tried to gain the prestige dishonorably otherwise.”
“What are you allowed to kill them with?” John asked.
“Anything you can hold in your hands, but you cannot have on any powered armor,” Kael-ven replied.
My Ride is a Bitch (The Kurtherian Gambit Book 13) Page 9