by David Bruns
He blinked to hold back the tears that threatened to spill over. The assassination attempt had been a sign, a sign for him to refocus on what really mattered: what he, Anthony Taulke, could give back to his fellow travelers on this journey of the human race—and getting the recognition he so richly deserved.
Adriana cleared her throat. Anthony flushed, realizing he’d been lost in his own thoughts.
Adriana sat upright in her chair, her shoulders thrown back, head at a slight tilt as she waited for him to spill his secrets. Her dark eyes raked over him, leaving Anthony feeling as if he was being assessed as a business property and his partner still had not decided if she wanted to invest.
He shot a look at Viktor but got no help from his Russian friend. Viktor had made it clear from the beginning that he was the creative side of the partnership. He would make the tech possible, but it was Anthony’s responsibility to deploy it. He wondered how Viktor would respond when he found out Anthony was planning to give away the Savior Network lock, stock, and barrel.
For free. Not a cent of profit in the venture. How would Tony react? He dismissed his son. Everything that boy had in this life came from his father. Tony owed him.
The thought of his own son made Anthony think about the Child again. He was not in the clear yet. Cassandra was still reaching from the grave to foil his plan.
First things first, he still had to deal with Adriana. She was the traitor on the council.
“Anthony,” Adriana said in a sharp tone. “You had something you wanted to tell me.”
Anthony tried to corral his thoughts. His mind felt slippery, his thoughts like hummingbirds zipping in all directions.
“I haven’t been completely transparent with you,” Anthony began.
“Do tell, Anthony.” Her gaze made him feel like a naughty schoolboy sitting in the principal’s office.
His head was beginning to hurt again. Maybe he’d pushed himself too hard in the recovery. Too late now. He’d set this train in motion and he was either the conductor or about to get run over.
“The satellite network that Xi Qinlao is building for the council is more than just a new platform to control the Lazarus nanites. It will deploy next-generation nanites.” He shot a glance at Viktor, whose lips were sealed shut. No help there. “Nanites that are capable of killing the old Lazarus version and taking over permanently.”
Adriana frowned, creating a delicate furrow in the center of her forehead. “But that would mean…”
“That Elise Kisaan is no longer needed,” Anthony finished for her.
He watched Adriana sink back into her chair. “How long have you been planning this?” she asked.
Anthony looked at Viktor, who shrugged like a bear coming out of hibernation. He refused to meet Anthony’s gaze.
“Since the beginning,” Anthony said finally. “Since you broke me out of jail.”
Adriana’s frown deepened. “So your plan all along has been to cut Elise Kisaan out of the network? Why didn’t you tell me?”
“The less people that knew, the better,” Anthony said. “It was Viktor and myself—and Xi, because she had to build the system for us.”
“Tony? Surely you told your own son.”
Anthony shook his head.
“Ming? Did she know?”
Anthony sighed, his expression softened. Ming’s name set off another chain reaction of emotions in his head.
“No, not even Ming.”
Viktor roused himself at Ming’s name and seemed like he was about to speak, then thought better of it.
“And now?” Adriana asked. “This nonsense with Graves and the Neo woman, what’s all that about?”
Anthony rested his forearms on the table and leaned forward. The glass of the tabletop was cool against his skin. It was almost time to share his vision with his closest friends. The Qinlao shuttle had docked. He would wait for Tony and Xi to join them.
The double doors to the council chamber opened and Tony entered. Instead of his normal saunter, his son strode with purpose and took his seat at Anthony’s right hand. Anthony waited for him to say something. As the silence deepened, he said, “Is Xi coming?”
“I’m afraid my aunt will not be joining us. Ever.” A new voice. Anthony spun in his chair.
Ming Qinlao stalked past him. Her maglev chair was gone and she looked healthy—no, deadly. Anthony experienced a rush of conflicting emotions in his throbbing brain: joy that she was alive, anger at her having put him through the pain of her death, and dread at the expression on her face.
She wore the black MoSCOW suit Viktor had made for her, the matte-black material hugging her curves. Ming served a nod to Viktor, who smiled back at her. Then she pulled Xi Qinlao’s chair out from the table and seated herself. The Qinlao family logo loomed on the wall behind her.
Anthony’s brain processed the look exchanged between Viktor and Ming. And she was wearing the suit from the Russian’s lab.
For the first time, Anthony felt a tickle of fear run up his spine. Viktor was his friend. Viktor was his confidant. Yet Viktor had helped Ming fake her own death. He looked around the room, seeing only blank faces now. What else did he not know?
“Pop,” Tony said, interrupting the freight train of thoughts racing through his head. “I think you need to call the meeting to order. We have issues to discuss.”
“I’ll decide when and how we call—”
Anthony broke off when the empty chair under the Kisaan corporate logo filled with a holo-figure of Elise Kisaan. She looked drawn and worn, but also very angry. “I move we open the meeting, Anthony.” Her voice, amplified by the speakers hidden in the headrest of her chair, was terse.
“Very well.” Anthony reached under the table for the polished Mars rock that he used as a gavel. He rapped the baseball-sized chunk sharply on the table. “This meeting of the Council of Corporations will come to order. In attendance are—”
“I think we can dispense with roll call, Pop. We’re all here.”
“Fine.” Anthony left the heavy rock in front of him. “Let’s move on to new business.”
Ming spoke: “Let’s discuss the satellite network my aunt was building for you, Anthony.” Her words were razor sharp. “The satellites were more than just transmitters for the Lazarus Protocol. My aunt was producing nanites. I reviewed the design myself—and consulted with Viktor, of course. You were planning to destroy the Lazarus nanites and replace them with your own design, a design that only you could control.”
Anthony searched for a measure of compassion in Ming’s gaze, but found nothing. His head throbbed. He needed to stop this madness. “If you ask Xi what she—”
“Xi Qinlao is dead,” Ming snapped. “The nanites are destroyed. The satellites are being reconfigured back to their original purpose.”
Elise spoke next. “You were going to betray me, Anthony.” Her amplified voice crackled. “What then? Have me eliminated? I joined this council in good faith, I held up—”
“You forced your way onto my council!” Anthony shouted. He knew he needed to keep his cool, but the pain in his head was almost unbearable. He shouted again. “You and your Neo scum. And this child of yours, this half-breed mutant. Do you deny you were going to take over again? The Neos rise up and retake Earth. She put this council in danger.” He looked around the room for support, but found nothing.
Surely they had to know the truth: the Neos were reshaping the Earth.
“Don’t you see?” he said, pleading. “The Neos want to turn the Earth into some kind of greenhouse for the solar system. Think of the impact on the human race. I was going to stop them. I was going to put the future of humanity back in the hands of the people. We are a Council of Corporations, what do we know about the good of mankind? Who are we to decide?”
“So you were going to kill me?” Elise said in a heated voice. “And my baby?”
Anthony felt the whirlwind in his mind slam to a halt. The baby?
“No,” he said. “Never. Who d
o you people think I am? I’m in the business of saving people—hell, I even called my project the Savior Network. It’ll go down in history…” His voice trailed off. They didn’t believe him. “I would not hurt a child. You know me.”
“Do we, Pop?” Tony said. “Do we know you?”
Tony got to his feet and paced around the perimeter of the room. “Let’s review the facts. You launched the Lazarus Protocol, planning to give your invention to the United Nations, but you lost control of the project to the Neos. You went behind our backs to help General Graves, who went on to destroy the very space station the Neos were using to control their masses. Still, for some reason, we gave you a third chance to do the right thing. Adriana even broke you out of prison. All you had to do was run the council and still you can’t help yourself. You hatch another harebrained—and expensive—plan to take control of the weather on Earth.”
He passed behind Anthony and kept walking. “Did it ever occur to you that there were larger forces at play? Did you ever stop trying to save the world and notice that the New Earth Order was working toward the goals of the council all the time? The weather patterns on Earth are doing just fine. Cassandra preprogrammed the nanites to continue even after her demise.”
Tony stopped behind him and sighed, resting a hand on his father’s shoulder. “She was a fine piece of work, if I say so myself. It was really a pity she got blown up. Such a waste of resources.”
Anthony kept trying to follow Tony’s words. The Neos were working for the council?
“I don’t understand, son,” he said.
Tony spun his father’s chair around, looming over Anthony. He could feel the puff of Tony’s breath in his face, taste his last meal, see the rage in his son’s eyes. And it made him squirm back into the cushions of his chair.
But there was no escaping Tony.
“No, you don’t understand, Pop! You don’t understand anything. It was me, all me, the whole time. The Neos, the space station, Cassandra—I built it all. I built it because I couldn’t trust my old man to do the right thing for the Taulke family business. How do you take over the world without a little genocide, Pop?” He slammed the chair back into the edge of the table, jarring Anthony’s teeth together.
“You don’t!” Tony screamed. “You. Don’t. And yet every time I turn around, my old man is fucking up our business. This has to end, Pop.”
Anthony saw a gleam of deep red in Tony’s right hand. The Mars rock flashed down at his face. He felt an explosion of pain in his right temple. He blinked, but his eyes were gummed with liquid. He swiped at his face and his hand came away red.
Blood. His blood.
“Tony…” he managed to say. “Son.”
The rock hit him again in the same place, but he had lost feeling in that side of his face.
He tried to speak again, but the words came out as a hiss.
The last thing he saw was his son’s face. Lips peeled, teeth clenched. It might have been an expression of rage. Or maybe a look of horror.
Or it might have been a smile.
Chapter 33
Adriana Rabh • Council Chamber, Olympus Station
Adriana never saw Tony palm the Mars rock from the table in front of his father—until it was too late. She watched the young man stalk around the room like a wild animal, each step seeming to amp up his anger to a new level.
Tony has this under control, she told herself. Tony told her not to worry.
But she hadn’t done that, had she? Adriana Rabh didn’t take orders from a kid half her age, no matter what his last name was.
She listened with growing horror. Tony was working with Elise and the Neos. Tony was behind the meteoric rise of the New Earth Order. Tony Taulke took a third-rate, tree-hugger religious movement and turned it into a global juggernaut bent to his own purposes. She took a fresh look at the younger Taulke, so like his father and yet, obviously, so unlike him as well.
Adriana had made a horrible miscalculation.
Her shoulders tightened into anxious knots. Tony was blaming everything on his father, but how long before Anthony spoke up about the child? How long before Tony started looking for someone else to blame for the death of Elise’s child?
She tried to send another pulse to Fischer, but his comms were off.
For his part, Anthony seemed behind the power curve of comprehension. His movements were slow, his reactions distant, and he seemed unable to process what his son was telling him. In that moment, she pitied him.
By the time Tony made his second circuit of the room, his face was scarlet with anger and his movements precise, almost robotic. He paused in front of the Taulke family logo, spinning the older man’s chair around and leaning in with a rigid ferocity to his frame.
She heard Anthony say something in an urgent whisper, but the words made not a dent in his son’s expression.
Tony’s arm flashed down in a piston strike. When his hand came up again, a splash of red flew across the table. The moment froze in time, all eyes fixed on the streak of bright red. The blood contracted on the smooth tabletop into crimson globules, like rain beading on a windshield.
Tony stood, breathing heavily, his eyes wide as if he was unable to process what he’d just done. Then Anthony made a wheezing noise and the spell was broken.
Tony lost control. Again and again, he pummeled the figure in the chair with the heavy rock. Strings of blood whipped up and all around, painting the walls, the floor, even the bold Taulke logo behind them.
Finally, Tony stopped. He let the weapon drop to the table where it rolled away from him, leaving a bloody track in its wake. He gulped air, swayed on his feet, then collapsed into his own chair, pressing a shaking hand to his forehead.
The only sound in the room was the hiss of the air system, the only movement the stars above them. The stillness dragged on for seconds, then minutes. Adriana’s gaze flicked around the table. Viktor stared at the tabletop, his eyes locked on a drop of blood the size of a dime. Elise’s face in the holo image was still, unreadable. Ming Qinlao watched Tony through narrowed eyes, a ghost of a smile on her face. She was a dark one, Adriana thought.
“We needed a change in management,” Tony said abruptly. His voice made Adriana startle in her chair. “I—we—have waited too long and invested too much to just give our competitive advantage back to the people who fucked it up in the first place.” He grinned, a feral smile, made all the more ghoulish by the streak of smeared blood on his cheek. “Imagine. Giving our most precious asset to the United Nations? What was he thinking? That planet—once we’re done remaking it—is our asset base. Skilled engineers, labor, food, it’s all there for the taking and Pop just wanted to give it away.”
He kicked Anthony’s chair, making it spin slowly to face the table. Adriana tried not to look. Anthony’s square jaw and firm, cosmetically enhanced lips were smashed beyond recognition. The divots where his eyes used to be were just battered pools of mush. She clamped her hand over her mouth and locked her eyes on the table.
“Too soon?” Tony laughed at his own joke, then spun his father’s corpse to face the wall. He pushed it away from the table, sliding his own chair underneath the Taulke logo. He looked around the room with approval in his gaze. “Say what you will about my old man. He was a shit businessman, but he knew how to do interior design. I like this place. Five families, five council members. Simple. Bing-bang-boom.”
“What about General Graves and the Neo woman?” Adriana said, trying to keep her voice calm. She needed to buy time to find Fischer and stop him. “They’re supposed to be placed on the Council of Corporations in the morning. Can you imagine the public backlash if we don’t follow through?”
Tony yawned. “First things first, Adriana. I propose that we disband this Council of Corporations and reform as a new entity, the Syndicate Corporation.” He scratched his chin. “SynCorp, for short. I like it. All in favor?”
There were no dissenters.
“I hardly think the UN will let us
go back on our word just because we changed our name, Tony,” Adriana said. “Public opinion will—”
“Public opinion will be what we say it is,” Tony finished for her. “This shit about asking people what they want and voting on options is no more. We decide what the future looks like. We lead. We take what we need when we need it and the people follow. Simple, efficient.”
Adriana guessed her job as ambassador to Earth had just been made redundant.
Tony energized the holograph station in the center of the table. After a few seconds, the head and shoulders of the Taulke security head came into view. “Mr. Taulke, what can I do for you, sir?”
“Good evening, Mr. Quince, I need you to take care of a few things for me.”
“Of course, sir.”
“General Graves and Corazon Santos. I want you to kill them for me.”
“Sir?”
“Kill them. Liquidate, eliminate, whatever you guys call it. Shoot them, throw them out an airlock, I don’t care, I just want them terminated.”
“Sir…? Can I speak to your father?”
“No, you may not.”
“Sir, I—” He stopped speaking when Tony spun Anthony’s chair around to face the camera.
“My father is not with us anymore, Quince. I’m in charge.”
“I understand, sir.” Quince recovered his composure remarkably well. “Anything else?”
“Yes, there is. I want you to put Ms. Kisaan’s child under armed guard in the hospital.”
Quince cleared this throat.
“Problem, Quince?”
“The baby is with the general and Ms. Santos, sir.”
Tony sat up in his chair. “What?”
“Yes, sir, they—”
“Find them and get that child back. Do not injure the child, do you understand?”
The room trembled, making the holograph glitch. Tony stood, leaning into the screen. “What was that?”
Quince was looking offscreen and nodding. “Sir, we have possible intruders. Deck six … and seven.”
“Go!” Tony killed the holo. He turned to the holographic image of Elise Kisaan. “What did you do?”