Asbaran Solutions (The Revelations Cycle Book 2)

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Asbaran Solutions (The Revelations Cycle Book 2) Page 2

by Chris Kennedy


  “If that is what you desire.” The man handed the stack of papers to Nigel as the car pulled to the curb. “It is all detailed in this document.” He opened the door. “This is where you get out.”

  Unable to talk or think, Nigel stepped out of the car and stood on the sidewalk with his mouth open as the limo drove off. He stood that way for a long time.

  * * * * *

  Chapter Three

  Planet Moorhouse, Kepler 62 System

  “Colonel Shirazi, we’re on final approach, but we’re already taking incoming fire. They obviously know we’re coming.”

  “Understood. We need to retake the facility. Get us down, and we’ll take it from there.”

  “Okay…just so you know, the defenses are…fuck…pretty heavy.” The dropship swayed as the pilot maneuvered. “There’s a lot of shit up here.”

  “How long ‘til touchdown?”

  “Fuck! Sorry, sir. Damn it! We just lost one of the dropships. Damn it! There goes another. They’re gone. No survivors. 30 seconds. If I make it. The third dropship’s hit. I’ve never seen so much—”

  Mexico Mikey’s Bar and Grill, Virginia Beach, VA, USA

  “I’m sorry about your father,” Steve said.

  “Thanks, but as you know, we weren’t very close,” Nigel replied. “The best thing he ever did was leave me alone the last few months.” The old-fashioned bartender came by, and Nigel ordered another round. The human bartender was the main reason Nigel frequented Mikey’s; all the other bars in the area had converted to robotic bartenders.

  “He also bought us these beers, too,” Nigel added, “which I appreciate.” He toasted with his bottle, and the two men laughed.

  “So, is this good-bye? I suspect you’re going to be heading to Houston to take over the company, right?” Steve asked. “I mean, you’re the eldest; that’s how it works, right?”

  “For 100 years, that was how it worked.” Nigel held up a slate and flashed the screen at his friend. “But not today, according to this.”

  “What’s that say?”

  “As discussed previously, I was disinherited, as acknowledged by my signature in Block 43 of the attached document.”

  “Did you really do that? Sign your rights away?”

  “Yeah, I did, the day I failed out of school. Remember the limo? They sent a lawyer to tell me about it. Apparently, all of the family was too busy to come.”

  “Really?”

  “Yep.”

  “That sucks.”

  Both men took pulls from their drinks.

  “So,” Steve asked, “are you going to your dad’s funeral? Is that going to be in Houston too?”

  “No, the funeral’s in Chabahar, which I hate. It may not be hell, but it’s close.” He noticed two pretty women entering the bar and motioned for the bartender to send them a drink. “And no, I’m not going. Fuck ‘em.”

  “Aren’t you worried that whoever takes over the company will cut off your funding?”

  “No, my younger brother is taking over, and he’ll do whatever it takes to keep me from challenging his right to run the company.” He held up the slate. “This letter also says that all of the current arrangements will continue in place, pending appropriate behavior.”

  “So, basically, if you’re a good boy, they’ll send you money and if not…”

  “I’ll get cutoff. Right.”

  “Doesn’t that make you mad, though? Isn’t that a lot like bribery or getting bought off?”

  “What a good friend you are to bring that up,” Nigel said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “And yes, I won’t lie, some days it irritates the piss out of me. But other times, I’m pretty okay with it.” He held up his beer. “I mean, really, I have enough money to do what I want and no responsibilities. Who wouldn’t want that?”

  “Judging by the tone of your voice, you.”

  “Do I think about what it would be like to run one of the most powerful companies on Earth, and maybe in the entire galaxy? To control more war-making power than a lot of countries? Of course I do.” He smiled over Steve’s shoulder as the two women he had sent drinks approached.

  “Hi,” one of them said, holding up her drink. “Do we have you to thank for these?”

  Nigel winked at Steve. “Other times, I find I don’t care quite so much.”

  * * * * *

  Chapter Four

  Planet Moorhouse, Kepler 62 System

  “Colonel Shirazi, I’ve never seen defenses like this before. This is way…fuck…way worse than what we were told.”

  “Well, we’ve got to get down and complete this contract. We’ve already failed to retake the plant once, and we can’t afford to fuck it up again. We’re running out of gear!”

  “Gear? Sir, I don’t think you know how bad it is up here. Gear is the least of our problems. I don’t think I can…damn, damn, damn…there goes one of the other dropships. I recommend we abort; this ain’t gonna work.”

  “Can’t you drop faster or something? We need to get down. The company is going to go under if we don’t.”

  “The company is going to go under if we all die, too! I’m serious, sir…fuck, we just lost the third dropship…Screw it! I’m aborting. We can’t—”

  Mexico Mikey’s Bar and Grill, Virginia Beach, VA, USA

  “Dude, I’m really sorry,” Steve said. “First your father, and now your brother. It’s been a bad year.”

  “Yeah, well Farhad was a dick, so don’t cry too hard for him. He was always the ‘bad cop’ when my sister Parisa tried to be nice to me. ‘Don’t baby him, Parisa, he needs to grow up and take responsibility for his life. Blah, blah, blah.’ And besides, being in the mercenary business tends to shorten your lifespan somewhat. He knew what he was getting into.”

  “Did you get another one of the ‘stay away and we’ll keep sending you money’ messages?”

  “No I didn’t…not this time.”

  “What do you suppose that means?”

  Nigel smiled. “Seriously? I think it means I’m going to get my shot at running the company after all.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah. The company is supposed to be passed down through the males in my family, and we’re all out of adult ones. Farhad has two little boys and Parisa one, but none of them are old enough to manage the company, and they won’t be for at least 15 years. And that pretty much leaves me.”

  “Why haven’t you heard anything then?”

  “Bah, they’re probably trying to decide who has to fly here to ask me to come back. They need me, and they have some serious crow to eat. Ha! They’re probably drawing straws, with the loser being the one who gets the job!”

  “Well, don’t forget the little guys who helped you along the way when you make it to the big time, okay?”

  “Hey, who was your first customer when you got your financial planning license?”

  “You were, of course, and with your account, I moved past everyone else in the company in the first month.”

  “Well, don’t screw it up, because I’m going to need it; as soon as one of the little brats comes of age, I know they’ll want to fire me. I was written out of the will, so I’ll only be a steward of the company until they can get ‘their person’ in…but I’m going to have fun with it while I can.”

  Open Arms Apartments, Sandbridge, Virginia Beach, Virginia, USA

  Four days later, Nigel woke to a banging at the door. “‘Bout damn time,” he said, shrugging off the arm across his waist. Disentangling himself from the other arms and legs lying across and around him, he slid from the bed. “C’mon ladies, let’s go,” he said, clapping his hands. “It’s time for me to go take my birthright.”

  “When will we see you again?” the blond asked. Nigel thought her name was Cindy, but was far from positive. That might have been the brunette. He was pretty sure it wasn’t the redhead’s name.

  “I’ll give you a call once I get all of the legal stuff squared away,” he replied, stepping into last night’s p
ants. “It shouldn’t take long.” He shuffled them out of the bedroom and to the door.

  “Hi, Pari—” Nigel said, opening the door. He had expected his sister, but cut himself off when he found the short man in the dark suit waiting there instead.

  He shooed the women out and then asked, “Can I help you?”

  “Interesting company you’re keeping,” the man said. “May I come in?”

  “I don’t see why not,” Nigel replied, moving out of the way, “although I’m not sure what business it is of yours whose company I keep.”

  “It is my business, as my firm is responsible for maintaining Asbaran Solutions’ image. I am personally responsible for dealing with the…issues…you cause, like when you attacked your teacher in front of 17 other witnesses. We could probably stay comfortably in business, just in the fees we receive for covering up your…adventures.”

  “Typical lawyer.”

  “I am not, ‘a typical lawyer;’ I am, in fact, your lawyer. I am charged with keeping you out of trouble and minimizing the damage you cause to your family’s name.”

  “You must be busy then,” Nigel said with a smile. “If the family doesn’t want me to be part of the business, I can find other things to hold my attention.”

  “Indeed,” the short man replied. He shifted from foot to foot, looking uncomfortable.

  “Well, get on with it,” Nigel urged. “We both know why you’re here. My brother’s dead, and the company needs me, the only surviving male heir, to come and take over Asbaran.”

  “Uh, no, that is not why I am here,” the man replied. “Well, part of that is true. As you are aware, your brother Farhad is indeed dead.”

  “Yeah, I heard about it on the Tri-V. I notice I wasn’t invited to the funeral.”

  “The funeral was a private service for close relatives only.”

  “Close relatives? I was his fucking brother! How much closer do you want?”

  “Be that as it may, you were in no way ‘close’to him, nor have you been close to the family since you left school. You have neither come to the company’s facility in Houston, nor have you visited the family estate in Chabahar.”

  “Well fuck you, Mr. High-and-Mighty. The family and the company turned their backs on me, not the other way around. Why would I want to go where I wasn’t wanted? I was told to stay away, so I have.”

  “No, you were decidedly not told to stay away. You were in fact offered a position in the administrative section of the company where, it was hoped, you would learn some self-control and a bit about leading others.”

  “Bullshit.”

  “I know that to be true; I wrote the letter and personally handed it to you.”

  “Well, I don’t remember the letter having that invitation in it.” Nigel shrugged, wondering if he still had the letter. He couldn’t remember ever reading it. “If you’re not here to invite me back to run the company, what the hell are you here for?”

  “We need you to come to Houston. There are some contracts that need to be signed…and some other duties.”

  “Why can’t the new president sign the contracts and whatever the hell else is needed?”

  “Because the new president is currently off-world, and the contracts must be signed by a member of the Shirazi family.”

  “So get my sister to sign them. Everyone likes her; they’d probably allow her to sign in my place.”

  “I’m sure they would. Unfortunately, she is the new president who is off-planet; thus, she is unavailable to sign the contracts.”

  “What?” Nigel exploded. “That’s bullshit! She can’t be the president! It has to be a male heir. It’s in the company charter. How the fuck did she get to be president?”

  “The Board of Directors made an allowance for her to function as the acting president when your brother left to finish off the contract that killed your father. When your brother got killed too, the Board decided to retain her as acting president until her son was old enough to take over.”

  “That is such bullshit. I should have been the president, not her. Why didn’t the Board call me?”

  “Because you were deemed unworthy, based on your past disassociation from the both the organization and your family.”

  “So what makes me worthy enough to come sign the contracts now?”

  “As I have already stated, the contracts are financially significant enough that they must be signed by a member of the Shirazi family. At the moment, you are the only adult member of the family available.”

  Nigel noticed a small emphasis on the word, ‘adult,’ as if he thought Nigel were not sufficiently ‘adult-like.’ Well, fuck him. “No,” Nigel said. “I’m not coming to sign the contracts. You bastards changed the rules once so Parisa could be president, change them again so someone else can sign.”

  “We tried; otherwise, I wouldn’t be here. This rule was integral to the original charter. In order to change it, we would have to dissolve the company. The people who risk their lives on a daily basis for the company deserve better.”

  “Better than what? Better than me?”

  “Better than losing their jobs and getting thrown out into the street,” the man said, starting to lose his cool for the first time. Nigel noticed he hadn’t answered the second question.

  “And what about me?”

  “Yes, they also deserve better than to have the company run by a spoiled brat like you. They deserve someone good enough to run the company like it should be run!”

  There it was, out in the open. Nigel stalked to the door and threw it open. “Get out!” he screamed. “Not good enough? You’re probably the one who talked to my last instructor and sabotaged me in that class. All my life, people have called me ‘Nige’—Never Is Good Enough—and now I see how that’s being perpetuated. You motherfucker, get out, and get out now or I’ll kick your fucking midget ass so hard you won’t need a plane to fly back to Houston!”

  “But the contracts—”

  “Can damn well wait until my sister gets back!” Nigel yelled, giving the man a push that sent him stumbling through the door. “Fuck you, fuck her, and fuck Asbaran!” He slammed the door.

  * * * * *

  Chapter Five

  Planet Moorhouse, Kepler 62 System

  “Shit! There goes dropship Number Four!”

  “Can you get us down?”

  “I don’t know ma’am…I’ve never seen defenses like this. Damn it! Dropship Number Two just got hit; they’re gone.”

  “Are we taking fire?”

  “No, ma’am. They aren’t shooting at us yet. Aw, fuck. Three’s gone.”

  “How long?”

  “We’ll be down in five seconds…Ramp’s coming down…We’re here!”

  “Asbaran, let’s go! Oh, shit—”

  Open Arms Apartments, Sandbridge, Virginia Beach, Virginia, USA

  Nigel whistled a happy tune as he turned off the car, grabbed the two cases of beer, and sprinted up the stairs to his apartment. He had only made it halfway when he noticed there was someone waiting in front of his door—the same pain-in-the-ass lawyer who had come by a couple of months previously. The whistle stopped mid-note, his cheerful mood evaporating like a mist in full sunlight.

  “What the hell do you want?” Nigel asked. “Didn’t I make it clear to you the last time you were here I wanted nothing to do with you?”

  “Yes, Mr. Shirazi, you made it quite plain,” the lawyer said. “I believe there was mention of kicking me hard enough I would fly to Houston on my own.”

  “And yet here you are again,” Nigel said, setting down one of the cases so he could open the door. “Either you’re a pretty slow learner or things have really gone to shit. I don’t care, either way. Get the hell out of here.” He entered the apartment and tried to shut the door, but the lawyer’s foot stopped the door from closing all the way.

  “If you will hear me out for five minutes, I will leave and never return,” the man said. “I believe I possess information you will want to h
ave. If not, you can give me the aforementioned kick you promised.”

  Nigel opened the door. “C’mon in,” he said. “This will be fun. I’ll put on some steel-toed boots while you speak. Five minutes. Your time starts now.”

  The two men walked into the apartment’s small kitchen, and Nigel put the beers in the refrigerator, filling it. Pulling one out, Nigel walked over to the table and sat down. “You’re wasting a lot of your time.”

  “May I sit down?” the man asked.

  “By all means.” Nigel could see the man looking at his beer and knew he was being rude for not offering one to the lawyer. Fuck him.

  “There has been…a situation.”

  Nigel laughed. “A situation? That’s what you call the last six months? A situation? You’re going to have to do a lot better than that, and your time is running short.”

  “Your sister has been taken hostage.”

  “What?” Nigel asked, spraying some of the beer in his mouth. “What do you mean?”

  “I meant exactly what I said. She tried to complete the same mission that killed your father and brother, but she failed and was captured. The mercs holding her sent us a ransom note. We have a month to come up with the money, or they will kill her and the rest of the troops they are holding.”

  “Well pay them, damn it!” Nigel exclaimed. “If you need me to come sign the check, I will. I can be on a sub-orbital this afternoon.”

  “That would be helpful…except that we can’t send them a check.”

  “Why not? Don’t tell me the Board won’t accept my signature. I’ll come down there and shove it up their asses!”

  “While your enthusiasm is commendable, especially in light of your past history, I’m afraid that isn’t the issue. The real problem is that Asbaran Solutions is broke.”

  “Asbaran? Broke? How can that be? Asbaran is one of the biggest companies in the world!”

 

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