Orbital Decay (Galaxy Mavericks Book 7)

by Michael La Ronn

  The emperor extended his hand. Florian shook it softly.

  “Mr. Macalestern, it is an honor to have you with us,” the emperor said. “To what occasion do I owe an enemy of the galaxy’s presence at my prestigious ball?”

  “As much as I wish we were here for the alcohol,” Florian said, “I’m here for unofficial business.”

  Miloschenko motioned to a group of guards and they surrounded the trio in a circle, with their backs to the emperor so that they could have privacy. Meanwhile, the crowd, who was watching them curiously, moved away.

  “Tavin tells me that you wish to buy weapons from us,” the emperor said. “That’s a one-hundred and eighty-degree turn from your company’s stance two years ago when you lobbied for deproliferation of mass-effect weapons.”

  This guy probably wasn’t the emperor two years ago. Florian wondered how he knew that.

  “The times change,” Florian said. “You of all people should know that.”

  “Indeed,” the emperor said. “We in the Zachary Galaxy know all about the passing of time. But just today I read in the news that your company is increasing support for the Rah Accord.”

  Florian frowned.

  “Tavin here tells me that you proposed that Macalestern would not support the Accord,” the emperor said. His tone sharpened. “Which is it?”

  “It’s the latter,” Florian said. “When I am CEO, that will be the company’s private position.”

  “I understand how corporations work,” the emperor said. “Once you make a commitment, you do not just change course. It takes time. Bureaucracy. Regulation. But I get the sense that you’re perhaps promising us something that is outside of your control, Mr. Macalestern.”

  “Emperor,” Florian said, “I keep my promises.”

  “Does your aunt know about this?” the emperor asked. “I would like to know her thoughts on your proposition.”

  “My aunt has other things to worry about right now,” Florian said. “I have pockets of support in the company.”

  “Ah, so this is deception,” the emperor said. “How do we know we aren’t the ones being deceived?”

  “Would I be here taking my chances with you otherwise?” Florian asked. “I know that you have the power to kill us right now if you wanted to. If you want to decline our offer, you’re more than welcome to, Mr. Emperor, but I suggest to you that this is a very limited window. It’s going to close soon. And when it does, you’ll be wondering what if. What if the Zachary Empire and the Macalestern Corporation were allies? The biggest militaristic force and the biggest corporation. What fun! But, I understand and respect your position…”

  “What do we get out of this?” the emperor asked.

  “The same thing we get out of this,” Florian said. “Money, security, and power.”

  The emperor paused, whispered to Miloschenko, who grunted in return.

  “You intrigue us, Mr. Macalestern,” the emperor said. “Very well. We’ll support your rogue initiative. But not without a test. If we find out that you are deceiving us, you will die along with everyone in your little corporation. We will destroy your legacy in a flash.”

  “And if you deceive us,” Florian said, “I’ll use my lobbyists, lawyers, and connections to destroy your entire economy in a flash. Sounds like we both have quite a bit to lose, Mr. Emperor.”

  The emperor nodded. “Tavin, show them the goods.”

  And then the emperor walked away, the guards dispersed, and Florian scratched his head, wondering if they actually had a deal.

  “Well?” Florian asked Miloschenko.

  “We’ll get one of our ships ready,” Miloschenko said. “I’ll give you a tour myself.”

  Florian grinned.

  “I don’t support the idea,” Miloschenko said. “Don’t get thinking that I’m pro-Macalestern all of a sudden.”

  Bastard. If he wasn’t going to cooperate, then he didn’t deserve any niceties.

  “Good,” Florian said. “Get the damned ship ready and let us know when you’re ready to present. We’ve got things to do.”

  Murmurs spread through the crowd, who turned to face the doors to the ballroom. A woman pushed her way past security and made her way down the long, elegant stairs toward the dance floor.

  Florian squinted to get a good look at the woman.

  Then he saw a glint of gold on her chest. He tapped Hux and Tatiana, and they saw her, too.

  She was coming toward them.

  Police.

  Damn.

  That was the last thing Florian needed right now.

  Florian, Tatiana, and Hux retreated into the crowd, distancing themselves from Miloschenko before the man knew that they were gone. From afar, they watched as the woman reached Miloschenko. She was Indian, dressed in all black.

  “Is he under arrest?” Tatiana asked.

  Miloschenko was rattled by the woman’s presence. He grunted, walked away and motioned for her to follow.

  They watched as they sat at a table and the woman said something threatening to him. Miloschenko laughed. They exchanged more words, and the woman stood and walked away.

  As she passed, Florian backed away deeper into the crowd, hiding from her.

  He watched her walk out of the ballroom, almost as quickly as she came.

  “What’s GALPOL doing here?” Tatiana asked.

  “Don’t know, but maybe our guy is about to go to jail,” Hux said. “Should we go through with the deal?”

  “We’re not backing out,” Florian said.

  Miloschenko walked toward them with an angry look on his face.

  “What the hell was that?” Florian asked.

  “It’s nothing,” Miloschenko said.

  “Yeah, well I hope so,” Florian said. “The last thing I need is GALPOL snooping around our deal. Is she or is she not going to be a problem?”

  “Enjoy another round of champagne,” Miloschenko said bitterly. “The ship will be ready in thirty minutes.”

  Part VII

  Frenzy

  20

  They changed out of their formal wear into white suits.

  Miloschenko’s ship was waiting for them on the roof of the event center.

  The ship was a large silver pioneer ship, the kind of ship meant for exploration and observation rather than war. It reminded Florian of a silver fish. A purple beacon glowed on the underside of one of the wings.

  A group of Macalestern employees was waiting for them on the roof, dressed in their telltale white suits with black diagonal stripes across the chest.

  Miloschenko stepped out of the airlock and pointed at Florian’s employees.

  “Who are they?” he asked.

  “They’re my team,” Florian said.

  “Screw your team.”

  “Tavin, Tavin, Tavin,” Florian said. “You know as well as I do that one cannot execute by himself. I’m the idea guy, just like you. My team helps me fulfill my promises. Either they come or this whole thing is off.”

  Miloschenko studied the employees, a group of a dozen blank-faced men and women who waited for orders.

  Of course, they weren’t technically employees. They were…independent contractors hired by Huxley for…security purposes. But Miloschenko didn’t need to know that.

  “Fine,” Miloschenko said. “But tell them to stay out of the way. There’s a lot of delicate equipment onboard.”

  “Quite frankly, I expected a military ship,” Florian said. “Where are the weapons?”

  “You’ll see soon enough,” Miloschenko said, gesturing them onboard.

  The interior of the pioneer ship was just as gray and drab as the military base. The walls were industrial, the lights were fluorescent and harsh, and the air was colder than Florian expected. Goosebumps formed on his arms even though he wore long sleeves.

  In the airlock, they passed by a group of frenzied scientists who were huddled around several computer screens, discussing some sort of scatter plot. When they saw Florian, they stopped and st
ared.

  They entered a hallway with glass walls on both sides. Digital screens were super imposed on the windows, with scanners and equations scrolling across the surface. Below, Zachary, a small navy blue planet, was shrinking away into space.

  “This is our observation skywalk, Miloschenko said. “This is how we study planets and environments.”

  “And what does this have to do with weapons?” Florian asked.

  “Patience,” Miloschenko said. “You’re beginning to annoy me.”

  Florian looked back at Tatiana, Hux, and his staff. They were looking around in wonder.

  “Still think it’s weird that they brought us on a scientific ship,” Hux said. “I mean, sure, weapons are science, but I’m falling asleep over here.”

  Florian shushed him.

  They came to a long corridor with several metal doors.

  Miloschenko stopped in front of one.

  “What kind of weapons do you prefer, Mr. Macalestern?” he asked, opening the first door.

  The first room was an munitions room, and the walls were stacked with guns and bullets. Florian recognized several types of handcoils and rifles, and many others that he didn’t recognize.

  “While this room is for my staff,” Miloschenko said, “we carry a diverse range of arms that we could no doubt sell to you, including our famous cyanide bullets. If the shot doesn’t kill them, the poison will.”

  Florian shook his head.

  “As much as I love shooting guns, Tavin, I could buy those on the black market if I wanted to. Those do me no good.”

  “Ah, so you want something stronger, eh?”

  “Sure.”

  Miloschenko shut the door and started down the hall.

  “We don’t have nuclear weapons onboard but could sell you those as well.”

  “Now we’re talking,” Florian said.

  “We can arrange a tour of our star base if you like,” Miloschenko said. “We even have leftover supplies from when we took out Bartholomew Four.”

  “That sounds fine,” Florian said.

  Miloschenko came to another door and opened it. Inside was a laboratory where scientists in hazmat suits and respirators moved among test tubes with different colors.

  “Chemical weapons,” Miloschenko said. “We’re testing them, but even our defects could perhaps be useful to you. I would sell them to you at a discount, of course.”

  Florian shut the door.

  “What do you want to do, get us contaminated?”

  Miloschenko shrugged. “Occupational hazard.”

  He paused and stared at Florian.

  “I take it the chemical weapons do not interest you.”

  “I’m not planning on gassing my own people, if that’s what you mean.”

  “Ah, so you would prefer to nuke them?”

  “I’d prefer to nuke any entity—or empire—that threatens my galaxy,” Florian said. “No offense to you.”

  “Then sales are off-the-table,” Miloschenko said. “We wouldn’t mind your money, but I’m not going to sell you anything that can be easily used on my own people.”

  “Then why are we here?” Florian asked. “And why does commerce even exist? If the defense industry were that scrupled, war wouldn’t exist, Tavin.”

  “Scruples are not smarts,” Miloschenko said. “And I’m not stupid, Mr. Macalestern.”

  Florian puffed.

  “But there are perhaps some weapons that would be of mutual benefit,” Miloschenko said, grinning.

  He opened a door titled Specimen Room and gestured them in.

  “I think the next display will intrigue you and make you want to immediately open your wallet.”

  21

  The Specimen Room was a two-story room with a floor to ceiling observation window, which was made of curved glass.

  Scientists moved around the room, chatting and discussing charts on their tablets.

  Miloschenko led them up a staircase to the second level.

  Tatiana gasped.

  And then Florian saw it.

  Giant glass tubes were ranged on the wall.

  In the center tube was a large man. His body was a strong suit of gray steel, with molds on the chest and arms that looked like muscles. He was seven feet tall. His skin was scarred and looked as if it had been discolored and disfigured. A long crescent curled across his forehead. It was hard to know what his race or ethnicity was.

  “Meet our prototype,” Miloschenko said.

  “Prototype of what?” Florian asked.

  “A super soldier,” Miloschenko said, handing Florian a physical dossier with a bunch of technical jargon written on it. Florian scanned it. At the top, bold words were printed in red:

  Bartholomew Four survivor

  Super soldier

  “What the hell do I need a super soldier for?”

  “Your imagination is pathetic,” Miloschenko said. “Suppose you need someone to do your bidding. Or, suppose you want an army in which to defend your great galaxy. Or, if you really want to think about the possibilities, since you’re so focused on fear, imagine a soldier like this causing a terror attack.”

  “I don’t follow,” Florian said.

  Miloschenko shrugged. “I can’t understand why you’re not awestruck by this. He’s been conditioned to kill and follow orders. He’s also been lobotomized, so even if he were caught, the orderer of any attack would be virtually untraceable.”

  “Jesus,” Florian said. “You cut out his brain?”

  Florian looked at the soldier’s head, at a scar across his forehead, partially covered by bleached-white hair.

  “Only part of it,” Miloschenko said. “The part that would have any conscience.”

  They stared at the super soldier.

  Florian had always heard that Miloschenko was a scoundrel, accused of human rights violations and other untold horrors. All of the rumors were clearly true. This guy was a sicko.

  But boy would he be useful…

  Florian thought about the possibilities with the super soldier, and they clicked.

  Made sense.

  God, what he could do with a soldier like this, someone he could send to do his “dirty work” without any chance of getting caught.

  Hell, he could send him to put the fear of God in Masashi. Intimidate some of the board members.

  Ah…

  He had to have that super soldier. A whole army of them…

  “He’s a prototype,” Miloschenko said after a while, “but in a few months he would be a viable option. He’s not for sale; only for rent. I would ask for a flat fee upfront per usage and a contingency fee if he is caught. It’ll take me some time to train another soldier until we can mass-produce them.”

  “Uh,” Hux said. “Mass produce? He’s a human, not a product.”

  “All we have to do is start a battle somewhere and harvest the dying bodies,” Miloschenko said.

  Hux cursed.

  “How much?” Florian asked.

  “Not for sale yet,” Miloschenko said. “But we’d be looking at least seven billion.”

  “My,” Florian said, “how would this poor sap feel if he knew he was worth seven billion?”

  “He wouldn’t care,” Miloschenko said. “He’s like an animal. All he cares about is violence and killing. He has been my personal project these last few months and once his field tests are done, I will guarantee his efficiency.”

  The soldier breathed in and out. Florian couldn’t believe his eyes were still closed and how he could sleep standing up.

  “When’s he going to wake up?” Florian asked.

  “When I tell him to,” Miloschenko said.

  “A remote controlled human,” Florian said. “I like him. I’ll buy him and a dozen more.”

  Miloschenko laughed. “That can be arranged. Why don’t I show him in action?”

  “I’m intrigued,” Florian said.

  An alarm sounded on the ship.

  Miloschenko ran to a nearby communication pa
nel and pressed an intercom.

  “What the hell is going on?” Miloschenko asked.

  “Someone’s following us,” the skipper said.

  “What! Who?” Miloschenko yelled.

  “Black corsair,” the skipper said.

  “Didn’t you activate the cloaking device?” Miloschenko asked.

  “Yes, sir, but whoever this is, they probably had a visual on us before we activated it.”

  Miloschenko cursed. He balled his fist, thinking visibly and forcefully.

  Florian grabbed his arm.

  “You dolt,” he said. “You’ve put me at risk.”

  “I’m at risk, too,” Miloschenko said, pushing Florian away.

  “Get me an escape pod,” Florian said. “I’m out of here, now!”

  “There are no escape pods,” Miloschenko said. “Unless they shoot us down and invade the airlock, they’ll never know you’re here.”

  “I can think of other scenarios where we get found out,” Florian said. “You assured me ultimate privacy and discretion.”

  “And you still have it,” Miloschenko said, marching downstairs and into the hallway toward the control room.

  Florian, Tatiana, and Hux followed.

  “I knew this was a bad idea,” Tatiana said.

  Florian stewed.

  The idea of getting caught and being tried for treason suddenly didn’t seem so sexy. Maybe he hadn’t thought of it much before. He hadn’t thought getting caught or discovered would even be an option.

  This bastard Miloschenko!

  Florian stewed even more. Swore that he wasn’t going to get caught. Not in the beginning stages of his plan.

  Not at any cost.

  The skipper came onto the intercom again.

  “Sir, the ship is closer. Permission to enter hyperspace.”

  “No,” Miloschenko said. “Call Ryan Marks and Kyla Jax. Maintain your current course.”

  “But sir, we’re headed for the Rah Galaxy border—”

  “Maintain!” Miloschenko said. “Get Marks and Jax here immediately. They should be on patrol.”

  The skipper agreed and turned off the intercom.

  “Who are Marks and Jax?” Florian asked.