by Thomas Webb
Shane focused in on one of the images. “Are those attack fighters?” she asked.
“I’m afraid so,” Cynthia replied. “Bought surplus from the Zaxoid empire. Ares has some serious weaponry, and more than enough capable troops to wield it.”
“Three guesses where they got the funding for something like this,” Shane said.
She was on to something. Lima knew, because he was thinking the same thing.
“Some small planets didn’t have defense budgets big enough to pay for all that,” Zombie said. “Must be a real cash dump. ULS opening up the credits nozzle?”
“Something like that,” Cynthia said. “Ordinarily, these firms get new clients first, then bill them for expense. Only this time they haven’t acquired a new client. This time, someone acquired them.”
Lima began to feel a tingling. The kind he had right before an ambush, or before a source turned up dead. A gut instinct, the culmination of years of experience. “I believe we can deduce who bought them,” he said.
“Homeworld had to go through at least ten layers of subsidiaries, and crack some proprietary encryption to get to this intel,” Cynthia said. “But yes, I think everyone in this room has already figured out who’s behind the purchase of Ares Corp.”
“The firm is now owned by United Les Space,” Lima said.
Cynthia nodded. “You always did have great instincts, Silvio. Ares is now a wholly owned subsidiary, purchased through a series of shell corporations.”
Shane swore, and all eyes turned toward her.
“What is it?” Lima asked.
“With all that’s been going on, it hadn’t even occurred to me. Something Monty said during our meet.”
“If you have intel,” Cynthia said, “don’t sit on it. Out with it, Shane.”
“Monty told me he figured out something was brewing. . . that was the attack on us, as it turned out. I thought the mechs and the destroyed forces outside were it. But what if . . ?”
“What if the attack here was only a fraction of what they could bring to bear?” Lima said, his mind working.
It made perfect sense. ULS was coming for them. Had already done so, as a matter of fact. The attack on the hangar may have only been the opening salvo. With their new friends from Ares Corp, there was plenty more they could throw at them.
“Hmmmm,” Zombie said. “So ULS has got troops, heavy weps, an endless amount of credits, all the pull an interplanetary mega-corporation can muster, and their own fleet of fast movers?”
Cynthia took another sip of her tea. “It looks that way.”
Lima’s brows furrowed. United Les Space had acquired their own private army. And ASI was right in its crosshairs.
“Well fuck me runnin’,” Zombie uttered.
Lima nodded. “I could not have put it better myself,” he said.
-10-
Shane smiled at him, her emerald eyes cutting to the bone. “You look pretty good in that suit, Marine.”
“Thanks,” Hale said.
He offered a lopsided grin in return. He wasn’t used to collared shirts and suit jackets, but for this morning’s meeting Lima had insisted. Considering the monkey suit simply as the ‘uniform of the day made’ it easier for Hale to accept wearing it.
Shane, on the other hand, wore her pantsuit and blouse like she was a ten-year corner office vet. The old man had on his customary tailored jacket and slacks with a crisp white shirt. Lima was as sharp as a composite peristeel blade, and looked for all the world like he could have been the man who’d first invented the suit. He’d even gone with a tie today. Hale had followed his lead sans the necktie—he chalked that up to an instinctual reluctance to give the enemy something with which to strangle you.
He and Shane stood waiting, just a few meters from the massive reception desk in the office building’s front lobby. The old man was working the charm offensive, schmoozing one of the Salusian receptionists. The lobby, almost a quarter the size of the hangar deck back home, bustled with early morning office activity. Floor to ceiling plexglass let in the light of the planet’s blood-red sun. Even after deploying to several planet’s orbiting red stars, it was still weird to see a world tinged crimson. Much like funeral homes, red stars tended to freak Hale out a little.
Shane pulled out her comm device and checked the news feeds while they waited. To pass the wait, Hale participated in his favorite past time—environmental threat assessment. He did a quick preliminary check of their surroundings, noting the entrances and exits, the positioning of the security guards, the number of civilians. This place would present a nice, soft target if someone decided to hit it, he thought.
Hale took a closer look. There were multiple exits, and revolving doors at the main entrance. He glanced to the left and right of the reception desk, noting the security stations. The uniformed security looked fairly competent. Ex-cops or military if he had to venture a guess. A set of escalators led up to a second-floor balcony and landing, where a series of anti-grav lifts waited.
Planetside time was mid-morning. The place was filled with beings, all rushing to get to the office spaces and companies that occupied the building. Hale craned his neck upward. In one of those offices somewhere above, the head of Ares Corporation was about to get a surprise business meeting.
Trace Hale stifled a yawn. With only a brief stay in orbit before Shane took them down, Hale hadn’t had an opportunity to acclimate to local time. His body still thought it was somewhere around two AM, local Sao Paulo Earth time. He wished he’d had some coffee, but there’d been no time for that, either. He also wished he had his pulse pistol, but Lima had said weapons were a no-go. He couldn’t shake the ‘naked’ feeling of being unarmed.
Lima finished up with the receptionist. She giggled as he departed the area in front of her desk. Lima smiled all the way as he walked back over to them. “We are in,” he said.
Hale shook his head. “I’m not sure how you do it, old man.”
“Years of practice.”
Hale, Lima, and Shane moved together to the security stations, where they were waved through with little fanfare. Holographic renderings of their bodies floated inside two-way plexglass imagers as they passed through the screening point. Nothing was flagged weapons-wise, and they moved through without issue. With security cleared, they’d only need to display the unmarked ‘visitors’ passes Lima had scored for them.
“So what’d you say to get us in?” Hale asked on the way up the escalators.
Lima shrugged. “I was going to use an old cover of mine, but as it turned out I did not need to. I simply used the oldest trick in the book.”
“What trick is that?” Shane asked.
Lima laughed. “Flattery, of course.”
“Huh,” Hale grunted. “Guess it pays not to overthink things sometimes.”
They transferred from the escalators to the anti-grav lifts. The transports hung from the side of the interior terrace like neat lines of intergalactic insects. Hale looked down at the atrium, spread out so many meters below. It gave him an excellent birds-eye view of the building’s front and exterior. He spotted an indoor terrarium, with several fountains marking its center. There were the lower level security offices, the front desk, and the scanners they’d just passed through. The building’s plexglass front afforded a view of the city outside, the metropolis sprawling over the surface of the red-tinged planet below. Transports and personal vehicles zipped by in a steady flow of morning traffic.
“We’re past the security checkpoints,” Shane said. “So what now?”
Lima waved his badge in front of the lift’s scanner and pressed the button marked 153. “Just follow my lead.”
The doors shut tight. With the generous number of available lifts Hale, Lima, and Shane ended up with the car all to themselves. The anti-grav lift did its work, and one-hundred plus floors zoomed by in less than a minute. At the designated floor the doors opened quietly.
An expansive suite spread out in front of them. The space wa
s complete with storm-grey marble flooring, and a panoramic view of the city outside. Twin rivers filled with maritime vessels flowed into the distance, reaching all the way to the dark purple of the sea to the south.
“Is this the view being a dirty PMC gets you?” Hale asked.
Shane whistled. “Maybe we should consider a few of those black-bag jobs ourselves?”
“It would not be worth it,” Lima said.
Something about how the old man had said it caught Hale’s ear. “You speaking from experience?” he asked.
“We need to stay focused,” Lima replied.
A red glowing sign, some sort of archaic symbol ringed in silver, dominated a stone wall behind the receptionist’s desk.
“What’s the decor here?” Shane asked. “Upscale hell?”
“’Wannabe tough guy’ would be my guess,” Hale replied.
As they approached the reception desk the human woman seated behind it looked up. She wore her dark hair in a tight bun. The eyes behind her glasses were sharp and alert. Hale would be willing to bet she didn’t miss much.
“May I help you?” the woman asked.
“No thank you,” Lima replied. He kept walking, paying her little mind. Hale and Shane exchanged a glance before following Lima’s lead.
“Wait,” the woman warned them. “You can’t go back there! Mr. Tor isn’t available right now!”
“He is available for us,” Lima said.
Hale turned to watch the receptionist move back to her desk and reach underneath for something. Panic button? Or weapon? He was relieved to see her hand reemerge empty.
“I think we’re about to get company,” Hale said.
It wasn’t long before two of them appeared. An Andarian and a human emerged from a side door. Both had the telltale exaggerated musculature and overly thick necks of artificial steroid enhancement.
The Andarian extended his hand. “Hold it right—,”
He didn’t get a chance to finish his statement before Lima rushed him. The former UNIA case officer grabbed the Andarian’s wrist, twisting and flipping him onto his back. Lima shifted around his downed opponent, twisting the wrist into a shoulder lock, then transitioning smoothly to the oversized Andarian’s back and locking in a rear naked choke.
Hale spotted the second one going for his sidearm. Before his mind fully registered the threat, Hale’s body went into action. Hale leapt over the tangled mess of Lima and the Andarian, grabbing the human’s firing hand and stuffing the pistol draw. Hale followed up, delivering an elbow strike with his free arm. Just like his boss had suggested earlier, Hale continued to follow Lima’s lead. He grappled with his own opponent, twisting the bloated human’s wrist into the same arm lock the old man had just employed.
While Hale dealt with his man, Lima rendered the Andarian unconscious. He confiscated the Andarian’s pistol and threw it to Shane.
“Damn,” Shane said, catching the weapon in midair. She checked the pulse charge before taking a two-handed grip. “I’m glad you guys are on my side.”
“Here,” Lima said, tossing Hale a soft set of flex cuffs and a piece of cloth. Lima quickly secured the Andarian.
“We need to worry about the front desk sending a wave to the local cops?” Hale asked as he applied the cuffs and gag, ignoring the man’s stream of muffled curses. Hale took the man’s pistol and stuffed it into the small of his back.
“Negative,” Lima said. “If you were running this outfit, would you want the authorities nosing around?”
“Good point.”
Hale hefted his guy to his feet and shoved him into a closet. Lima drug the Andarian over and stuffed him inside, piling him on top of his complaining partner before shutting the door. Start to finish, the entire thing had taken less than two minutes.
With the way now clear, they resumed their walk down the hallway. The corridor ended at a set of double doors. No name plate adorned the entrance, but there was no mistaking the place for anything other than a CEO’s office.
“We going to knock?” Shane asked.
“No,” Lima said. He didn’t pause before grabbing the handle and opening the door.
“Guess that settles that,” Hale said. Shane stowed the pistol inside her blazer and they entered together.
The place was just what Hale would have expected. Thick carpet, dark Bocarian oak, native to the planet, paneled the walls. A huge desk of that same native wood. A gigantic holo image of the same symbol at the reception area—the Ares Corporation logo—floated before the desk. Behind it sat one very pissed-off looking Shemari.
“What’s the meaning of this?” he asked. True to his people’s reputation, he didn’t flinch at the intrusion.
The Shemari was broad-chested and wide. A dark grey suit and tie, almost the same shade as his granite-like skin, stretched across his bulky frame. He wore a snow-white dress shirt. A red Ares pin sat on his lapel.
“Tor Dagrostac,” Lima said, calling him by name.
Tor’s hand slipped beneath the desk. Hale shifted so that Shane was behind him. His hands itched to pull the pulse pistol from the small of his back.
Lima had seen the Shemari move as well. “If I were you,” the former spy warned, “I would not.”
Tor Dagrostac’s black eyes narrowed. “Give me a reason not to.”
Lima seemed relaxed. “Tor Dagrostac. Veteran of numerous campaigns with the Planetary Alliance. A Shemari shock trooper, from the famed Dead Planet Squadron. After your last operation, you saw that private soldiers made multiples in credits more than those who volunteered. That was when you started Zeta Group. After several minor incidents, including the arrest and prosecution of several of your employees, you changed the name of your company to Ares Corporation. I know all about you, Mr. Tor. And trust me. . . you do not want to use that pulse pistol under your desk.”
Tor eased back from the desk. He placed both gnarled grey hands palms-down on its surface. “You’ve penetrated both the building’s security and my personal security detail. Were you here to kill me, I imagine you’d have tried it already.” The Shemari leaned back in his chair, and Hale felt some of the tension bleed from the room. “Alright. You’ve piqued my interest. We’ve already established that you know who I am. . . now who are you?”
“Someone who shares a mutual friend,” Lima said.
Tor looked from Lima to Shane. “So you brought your tech support along?”
Lima shrugged. “Something like that.”
The Shemari’s dark eyes shifted to Hale. “And you?”
“Me?” Hale asked. “I’m just the muscle.”
Tor chuckled, shifting his dark gaze back to Lima. “I’m afraid you and your associates are going to have to do better than that.” He glanced at the expensive chrono on his wrist. “I’ll give you thirty seconds before I ask you to leave. If you don’t leave, I’ll give you thirty more seconds before I start making you.”
Hale looked to Lima, watching for his cue. The old man locked eyes with Tor. Ten uncomfortable seconds passed. Then ten more.
“United Les Space,” Lima said, breaking the silence.
Tor’s face soured. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Shane stepped forward. “Are you sure about that, Mr. Tor?”
There was amusement in Tor’s eyes. “What are you getting at, young lady?”
Shane looked to Lima for permission.
“Go ahead,” Lima told her.
Shane keyed up her comm device and sent a command. “Check your accounts, Tor Dagrostac.”
A look of something crossed the Shemari’s granite face. Annoyance? Fear? He pulled up his holo, the thick fingers and scarred hands more suited to holding weapons than entering frantic keyboard commands. His eyes went wide when he saw the screen.
Shane caught his expression. “Let me help get you up to speed,” she said. “What you’re seeing now is all your assets, frozen. Even the dark world accounts you thought no one knew about.”
“This is mad
ness!” the Shemari roared. “Who the hell are you people!?”
“I told you,” Lima said. “We have a mutual friend.”
“Under the laws of the Alliance,” Tor sputtered. “You-you cannot do this!”
“You’re thinking of taking legal action?” Shane asked. “That’s original, coming from someone of your background. I’d invite you to go right ahead, though. We’ve seen your cash flow reports, Mr. Tor. Even with the influx of credits from ULS, by the time your legal challenges worked their way through the intergalactic courts, you’d be out of business.”
Tor Dagrostac’s black eyes narrowed. “You do not have the resources to do that.”
“On the contrary, we have more than enough,” Shane said. “We can tie up your assets in litigation for a very long time.”
The Shemari gritted his teeth.
Shane dangled the bait. “There is one way out of this,” she offered.
Tor looked at Hale.
Hale put up his hands. “Don’t look at me.” He thumbed toward Shane. “I’d do whatever she says, if I were you.”
Tor exhaled and sat back in his seat. He crossed his thick arms. “What is it that you propose?”
“You have a particular client account,” Lima said. “We need to know about it.”
The Shemari shook his head. “I can’t. If you’re the type of people I think you are, you know that if I shared that information with you I’d be ruined. Confidentiality is paramount in this business.”
“If you don’t do what we ask,” Shane said, “you’ll be ruined anyway.”
“Sporh-gack,” the Shemari mercenary-turned-businessman swore.
“Tell us about account eight seventy-three,” Lima said. “Tell us what you know about the ULS account. Give us a name.”
“I can’t,” Tor protested. “My company will be finished. I’ll— “
Lima slammed his fists on the desk. “Give us a name!” he roared.