Orbital Decay (Galaxy Mavericks Book 7)

by Michael La Ronn

  12

  “It’s done, boss.”

  The next morning, Florian sipped his morning coffee in the canteen of the space station, watching Alpha Distoid revolve slowly as a blue storm brewed on its surface. The gentle hum of the vending machines helped him clear his mind.

  Huxley straddled a chair and sat down.

  “Anything else before we get out of here?” Hux asked.

  “Do I have a dark heart, Hux?” Florian asked.

  “I don’t know what my own heart looks like.”

  “Yeah,” Florian said. “Those bastard aliens ruined this trip for me.”

  “You’re mad about what some carbon-based life form has to say about you?”

  “We’re carbon-based life-forms, Hux.”

  “I guess we are,” Hux said.

  “Thanks for the words of encouragement.”

  “Anytime, boss.”

  “Is the staff all done?” Florian asked.

  “They’re getting ready for the end of project celebration,” Huxley said. “You’re expected to go, of course.”

  Florian frowned.

  “What the hell do I care about some damned celebration?” he said.

  “Decorum,” Hux said. “You want them to think you don’t care about them?”

  “I don’t,” Florian said. “I’m ready to go to Kavios Two and take a break for a few days before I figure out my next project. I’m tired of non-profit.”

  “You and me both,” Huxley said.

  “This space station irritates me,” Florian said. “It’s cramped. Even though the Crystalith are gone, I’m still pissed about yesterday. Are we sure they’re okay in the planet’s atmosphere?”

  “All the twenty-four-hour post-release studies show they’re doing just fine. We’re free to go.”

  “Then let’s get the hell out of here,” Florian said, rising. “Radio to Martin and tell him to get my corsair ready for Kavios Two.”

  “But boss, decorum.”

  “Screw decorum!” Florian said. “Tell the staff the space station is closed and they’re all fired. We’ve got to watch our expenses, anyway. I certainly don’t have time for the extra expense report.”

  Hux’s eyes widened.

  “Whoa, boss—”

  “And Hux,” Florian said. “Blacklist them from working in the research industry. Remind them of the non-compete, non-disclosure agreement and that what the Crystalith said falls within it.”

  “This isn’t legal,” Hux said.

  “Of course it’s legal,” Florian said. “They signed a contract to do this job. The job is finished. I can let them go whenever I want.”

  “But you have to give them a chance at gainful employment,” Hux said.

  “The Crystalith embarrassed me,” Florian said. “Publicly, this project was a success. Privately, I’m pulling funding from all xenobiologic efforts. I’m done.”

  Hux sighed. “You’re in a good mood today.”

  “Do you think I want twenty-something brats going around and starting rumors about me? Go. Do it. Now.”

  “They’re gonna hate you for this,” Hux said, grinning. “They’re gonna say you’ve got a…dark heart.”

  “I’ll see you in ten minutes.”

  As Florian walked through the small space station, through the cylindrical tunnel that led to the airlock, he muttered “If that’s how I have to get out of this hellhole, then maybe having a dark heart isn’t such a bad thing.”

  Walking back onto his corsair was like walking back into comfort.

  A female butler in a blue suit with gold buttons waited for him.

  “Sir, it is good to have you back,” Olivia said.

  “How quickly can we get out of here?” Florian asked.

  “We can be at Kavios Two in about three hours, sir.”

  “Good. Then tell Massoud to fire up the engines.”

  “Very well, sir. I should also tell you that your guest has arrived.”

  “Guest?”

  “Miss Russo arrived earlier this morning,” Olivia said.

  “Where is she?” Florian asked.

  “Your study, sir.”

  Florian ran through the airlock, through the salon, and into a small office with granite walls.

  Tatiana lay on a couch against the wall.

  She was taller then he remembered. A fuller face. Her hair was tied back into a ponytail. The acne she’d had when she was a teen was gone, replaced with smooth tanned skin. She wore glasses with a fire red frame.

  She stood.

  Florian stopped in the doorway.

  “You’re not still mad at me, are you?” she asked.

  Florian ignored her comment and they hugged.

  Part V

  Crumbling Heart

  13

  Annaliese Macalestern stared at herself in the bathroom mirror. The gold tile glistened behind her, the shower faucet dropped slowly, and steam clouded the mirror.

  She was wrapped in a towel.

  Slowly, she grabbed a bar of soap off the bathroom counter.

  Her hand quivered.

  She dropped the soap against her will.

  She picked it up again and grasped it with all her might.

  But still, the soap slipped from her hand.

  The muscles in her hand twitched, felt as if she’d gripped a steering wheel too tightly for several hours.

  It felt weak. She willed strength into it, but it was tender. She clenched her hand several times, but she was starting to lose feeling. The muscles were going numb.

  She wiped away a semi-circle of steam on the glass and looked at herself again.

  She whimpered.

  She was only fifty years old. Her face had grown slightly wrinkled with the passage of time, her hair slightly gray.

  She had dealt with aging just as she had dealt with her business—swiftly, decisively.

  But the hand…

  She stuffed it inside her bathrobe, pushed down on it as if the force of her body would help it regenerate energy.

  “Miss Macalestern, you appear to have developed a rare strand of amyotrophic lateral sclerosis, also known as ALS,” the doctor said.

  The day before, she had sat on the examining table of her doctor’s office—the best neurologist in the galaxy—and she had waited with a bated breath as she waited for her lab results to come in.

  The words didn’t sound real. She couldn’t believe them.

  “What do you mean I have a rare strand?” she asked quietly.

  The doctor, a woman the same age as Annaliese, shifted uncomfortably on her stool and wheeled in close, with the results on her tablet.

  “You should have come to us sooner,” the doctor said. “It’s progressing more rapidly than we would expect.”

  Annaliese looked at a chart full of numbers. They didn’t make any sense.

  “But why?” Annaliese asked.

  “We don’t know,” the doctor said. “It could be that your lifestyle is driving the acceleration. Human genetics hasn’t evolved to be suited for space travel yet. The average human might only visit a few planets in their lifetime. However, with your profession, you’ve been to more locales than the average person. You might have been exposed to something that had an adverse effect on your nervous system.”

  “Like what?” Annaliese asked.

  “It’s hard to say,” the doctor said. “We don’t know what causes the disease.”

  Annaliese cycled back through her life in an instant.

  The constant intergalactic travel.

  The constant exposure to different atmospheres and environments.

  The constant exposure to alien life forms.

  The stress. God, the stress.

  “But can’t you treat it?” Annaliese asked.

  “We can give you medicine,” the doctor said. “It will counter effect the deterioration in your muscles for a time.”

  “And after that time has passed?” Annaliese asked.

  The doctor pursed her lip
s.

  Annaliese sat back.

  She gathered her purse, clipped it shut.

  “I don’t need to hear any more,” she said. “I’ll get a second opinion.”

  “Annaliese,” the doctor said. “You don’t have time for denial.”

  “I pay a lot of money for my care,” Annaliese said. “And for two decades I’ve—”

  “Annaliese,” the doctor said. “You have one to two years of good life left. After that, the progression will overwhelm your nervous system. You will slowly lose all muscle function, and you will need care. Within three years you will need around-the-clock care. Within four, you will be in the final stages of the disease, on a ventilator. Other doctors may give you a different timeframe, but the outcome will be the same.”

  Annaliese focused on the doctor’s mouth. The words seemed to slow down.

  “…the outcome will be the same.”

  Annaliese braced herself on the bathroom counter. She looked away from the mirror. Her face bunched up into a soft cry.

  Her phone rang.

  It was Florian.

  Grateful for the distraction, she answered the phone.

  “Yes?”

  “Auntie, we need to talk.”

  “About what?” she asked.

  “I finished the non-profit project and I want to be transferred.”

  His whiny tone annoyed her.

  Had he not sensed the sadness in her voice?

  Probably not.

  And it was better this way.

  She composed herself and tried to ignore the weakness in her hand.

  “Tell me what’s going on,” she said.

  14

  “I don’t care if they don’t agree,” Florian said.

  He watched his aunt on video conference. She was in a bathrobe, sitting on her large California King bed with a canopy.

  “I suppose,” Annaliese said wistfully.

  “What do you mean suppose?” Florian asked. “I want to hire Tatiana as my associate director.”

  “I suppose that’s fine,” Annaliese said. “Tatiana was a good nanny.”

  Florian paused. He expected more resistance from his aunt. That she was agreeing to a brand new position that he was creating on a whim and giving to someone with no experience…was strange. He had expected a fight.

  “It’s settled, then,” Florian said. “I will strong-arm HR if I have to. Thanks, auntie. This means a lot.”

  “It’s fine,” Annaliese said.

  Florian’s face went wrong.

  “What’s wrong, auntie?”

  “It’s nothing,” Annaliese said.

  “Clearly it’s something,” Florian said. “You’re hardly paying me any attention.”

  “Is attention what you want?” Annaliese asked. “You thrive on it more than money.”

  The insult took him aback.

  “Is it the board?” Florian asked. “What kind of crap are they pushing on us now?”

  “It’s not the board,” Annaliese said. “Regarding Tatiana, do what you need to do. I have an appointment that I need to attend.”

  “Okay,” Florian said. “You sure you’re all right? You can tell me.”

  “I’ll see you tomorrow,” Annaliese said, disconnecting.

  Florian tucked his phone in his pocket. He regarded the conversation for a moment, and then shook his head.

  “I don’t care if you don’t agree, you dimwit,” Florian said.

  His corsair cruised through hyperspace. In his office, he reclined in his chair with his feet on his desk.

  He stared at the director of HR on his videoconferencing app. The director, a woman in a red dress with heavy makeup, frowned at him.

  “Florian, there is no precedent for this,” she said.

  “Then that makes me a trailblazer,” he said.

  “We can’t just hire people off the street and stick them in positions of power.”

  “Isn’t that called external hiring?” Florian asked.

  “This is different.”

  “Different my ass!” Florian asked.

  “We have laws to worry about,” the woman said. “It could be considered a bad employment practice.”

  “I don’t care,” Florian said.

  “How do you think others are going to perceive this?”

  “I don’t care,” Florian said.

  The woman sighed. “I don’t agree with this. I’m pushing back.”

  “And I’ll push you out of this damned company,” Florian said. “Do you forget who I am?”

  “I know who you are,” the woman said. “But my job is to protect this company from itself, whether you like it or not.”

  “Then give me your resignation,” Florian said.

  “You have no authority over me,” she said. “You’re not my boss.”

  “Like hell I am,” Florian said. “I’ll get your resignation one way or another if you don’t approve this position and get everyone else onboard. And no, it’s not a threat. I would never do that. It’s a freaking guarantee with one hundred percent warranty that I’m going to have your fucking head if you don’t do what I want!”

  He disconnected.

  Tatiana and Hux had been listening from the corner of the room.

  “Flo,” Tatiana said, her face worried, “if it’s going to cause this amount of trouble, maybe I should—”

  Florian held up his hand.

  “They’ll come around,” he said.

  “Since when did you learn to treat people like that?” she asked.

  Florian laughed.

  “In this company, you’ve got to order people around if you want something done. I’ve tried to be nice. Didn’t get me anywhere, Tati.”

  He grinned. “Throwing my status and money around hasn’t hurt, either.”

  Tatiana looked hurt.

  “What’s wrong?” Florian asked.

  “It’s just…your mother didn’t raise you like that.”

  “What the deuce do you know about how she raised me?”

  Anger rose in Florian’s breast.

  “I was your nanny,” Tatiana said. “I was practically your mom.”

  “I defend those I love,” Florian said. “I don’t care what the cost is. Do you think a pretty face with a MBA is important to me? If HR can’t see what an asset you’ll be to me, then I’ll have their heads.”

  He rose and walked out of the office, stopping in the doorway.

  “Welcome aboard, Tati,” he said. “You’re going to like it here.”

  15

  The next morning, Florian received a flurry of emails.

  First: New position created: Associate Director of Non-Profit. Reporting to Florian Macalestern, Salary range $1,700,000 to $2,750,000 with directors and officers coverage purchased by the company.

  Second: We are pleased to inform you that Russo, Tatiana has been extended an offer for the Associate Director of Non-Profit position and has accepted.

  Third: Company corsair, laptop, phone and tablet approved for Russo, Tatiana. Corporate security clearance created. Approved by Masashi Sakamoto.

  Florian read the emails with a smirk. HR had gotten into line, after all.

  And then he read the last email again and cursed.

  Approved by Masashi Sakamoto.

  Florian got what he wanted, but there was going to be hell to pay from Sakamoto. There always was.

  But he could deal with it.

  Tatiana slid the door to his office open. She was dressed in a white suit and ready for work.

  “I just want to thank you,” she said.

  “Say nothing of it,” Florian said, grinning.

  “So what’s on the agenda for today?” she asked.

  “I’m trying to get a new assignment. The sooner I get out, the better.”

  “But won’t our positions end?” Tatiana asked.

  “There’s always a place for me and my staff,” Florian said. “Don’t worry.”

  Florian’s phone rang.

&n
bsp; It was Annaliese.

  “What’s up, Auntie?” Florian asked.

  “How soon can you be home?” Annaliese asked.

  “Geez,” Florian said. “I’m doing just fine this morning, thanks.”

  “I need you back on Macalestern,” Annaliese said.

  “I can be there later today.”

  “Good,” Annaliese said. “I’ve called an emergency board meeting.”

  Florian almost fell out of his chair.

  “What’s going on?” he asked.

  “Just come home as fast as you can. I don’t want to discuss it over the phone. Needs to be in person.”

  “Well, damn,” Florian said, running a hand through his hair. “I’m on my way. But are you okay?”

  “I’ll see you soon,” she said, disconnecting.

  Florian reclined in his chair. “There goes my beach vacation.”

  The watery planet of Macalestern came up upon Florian’s corsair like a tidal wave.

  Florian, Huxley, and Tatiana waited in the airlock and watched the ship as it approached the blue planet and wove its way through a long tollway of metal rings that led toward the planetary orbit.

  Commercial spaceships passed the corsair in the other direction, large box-like spaceships that were empty from delivering goods—food, electronics and other dry goods that a water planet needed.

  As the corsair descended into Macalestern’s atmosphere, Florian wondered what was going on with his aunt.

  She was acting strangely.

  Had to be something with a competitor. Maybe a lawsuit.

  “Think we’ll get out of Non-Profit?” Hux asked. “I’d say we deserve it.”

  Florian shrugged. “God knows we do.”

  The ship rattled, drowning out any chance for conversation. Florian held onto his straps, watching as heat pooled around the window and then dissipated, revealing a deep blue ocean roiling in the middle of a storm. Rain pattered against the corsair’s windows as the ship dropped altitude.

  The living platform was a giant oblong circle in the middle of the sea—stretching for hundreds of miles, it housed a booming metropolis, whose red and orange and blue lights flickered in the rain.