The Great Game

by O. J. Lowe

  “You’d be right,” he replied. “I’ll be quick then. It’s about the Eagle’s Nest.” Given his position as the director of that project, one that in its own way was just as important as what she’d just seen down below in the labs, she was unsurprised to say the least.

  “You have updates?”

  He nodded. “I know we agreed on a set date for completion…”

  “Mr Coshi, you better not be about to tell me that there will be further delays. I do not wish to hear that.

  “No, nothing of the sort,” he said looking aghast. “Ma’am, I wanted to report we are ahead of schedule. Next week at the earliest for launch. I wanted to give you the news in person but unfortunately…”

  She cut him off. “That’s wonderful, Mr Coshi.” She felt the smile grow across her face. “You’ve made me very happy. But why the sudden upturn in fortune?”

  “Can’t explain it ma’am. Just luck, I guess. Everything went right; we didn’t have the setbacks we thought we might. And there was a good crew working on it.” Damn right there was a good crew working on it for what they’d cost to hire. Still, credits well spent. “Still needs to be field tested of course, but everything is ready to go.”

  “You’ll find a bonus in your next wage,” she said. “As will everyone on your staff.” She made a mental note to divert a million credits that way as means of reward. Finding the best people was sometimes so hard. You wanted to ensure they stayed yours when you did. “And inform them that there’s more of the same for every further Nest that they produce.”

  Coshi’s eyes widened. “You want more of them?”

  “Of course. What’s a queen without her castles?” she said. A sudden thought struck her and she smiled. “One more thing, Mr Coshi. I’m sending Rocastle to join you. To observe and report on the field tests. Perhaps even be on board when it takes to the air for the first time. Do you think you can accommodate that for me?”

  “For you, ma’am,” he said. “Anything. I’ll await him.”

  “Thank you again, Mr Coshi,” she smiled. “You’ve done well. Farewell.”

  “Goodbye, ma’am.”

  As the image of him faded away, she rubbed her hands together in glee. Things were starting to come together. She was glad she’d taken the call now. It made going into the imminent meeting ahead that little bit more enjoyable. If she could pull the next bit off, it’d be a very good day indeed.

  Outside the meeting room, she paused, considering the two men waiting outside in her head. What she knew of them and how they might react to the situation they found themselves in. It was perhaps ironic that they weren’t that dissimilar if she thought about it, yet they probably considered themselves complete opposites.

  Antony Montella was a man dominated entirely by credits and power, he got off on the thrills that it gave him, how he could use it to further himself. He kept a low profile, but cast a long shadow. Not unlike herself. He had a face like it was cut out of stone, rough and silent, ugly and dark haired. He was a short man, his dark hair slicked back hard against his scalp without a hint of grey even at his considerable age. His suit was exceptional, she approved there. He looked so much more professional than Cyris. Whatever he needed to achieve his goal, he bought or arranged to be bought. If someone stood in his way, he took whatever actions were needed to move them. He no doubt saw himself as an irresistible force of nature unable to be tamed by anyone else in the kingdoms. A man who was a risk. Going into partnership with him was not something she had taken lightly.

  She’d thought it through. He had the men, he had influence and it was always nice to have someone around her who could be labelled as a ring leader if need be. Despite that low profile, he was getting more and more known as the months went by. Law enforcement were slow but they weren’t stupid. All efforts told her that her organisation remained largely unknown and that suited her. He was a calm man, a supposedly reasonable man. Apparently. That was what she’d heard.

  John Cyris also liked the money and the power. Yet he didn’t seem like the type who was completely dominated by it. He would be the more easily persuaded of the two. He had designs on hitting the top, he didn’t want to be a king or a president but he did want to step down on a society while not being a part of it. Unlike Montella, he had an ego the size of a kingdom or two, a shaven headed man with a cheerfully pleasant face. He looked like your average friendly uncle, not that she’d ever had one. Not many friendly faces in her family. No wonder he’d charmed dozens of people around the years into giving him credits, working for him, joining his organisation as believer in his own brand of tripe.

  Yes. This project would suit him. He looked the more interested of the two. He was smiling, chatting animatedly in one sided conversation to Montella. The muscle in the shorter man’s jaw looked locked tight in a grimace.

  Another minute or two and she’d make her entrance. An entrance she’d considered for a while now. How to make her first impression? How to lull them into a false sense of security? How to ensure they took her seriously enough to listen and yet at the same time underestimated her to the point that she’d have room to manoeuvre around them should she’d need to. Domis was already in the room, stood politely to attention in his own imposing way. At least they were prompt. A shame her own good news had delayed her from doing the same.

  Finally, she entered, clearing her throat as she walked in, giving them both the Coppinger smile. Sweet but with a hint of concealed menace. Just in case they felt like interrupting her. Montella was from Serran, Cyris from Premesoir, they both might feel the urge to be a little mouthy about the wait. She wouldn’t have been impressed had she been in their shoes.

  “Gentlemen,” she said. “My apologies. I’m sure you’ve both had the same problem sometime. I trust my associate has kept you comfortable in my absence.” Domis chose that moment to crack his giant knuckles. A trifle unnecessary, she thought, but effective. It was a sound akin to the shattering of bone.

  Cyris spoke up first. “It’s of no matter to me.”

  “Nor I,” Montella agreed.

  Interesting, she mused. They didn’t look comfortable with each other. Even now they kept shooting furtive glances, almost sizing each other up. Neither of them looked like they wanted to back down and show weakness in front of the other. That served her. She’d chosen these two to meet at the same time for a reason. If neither of them wanted to show weakness, they wouldn’t be thinking quite as clearly. Neither of them would want to back down in fear of showing that weakness to the other. “Ey, business is business, am I right? That’s the problem being at the top. You might think you’re the boss but you’re still at the mercy of others. Someone screws you, sure, you can get rid of them, but it still don’t change that you’ve been screwed, ey?”

  “Interesting sentiments,” Cyris said. “Are you honestly telling us that is common practice in your line of business? Getting screwed?” He couldn’t hide the contempt in his voice for that last word.

  Montella shrugged. “Some things you can’t control. Sure, you can let some of it go, sometimes you need to make an example and whack a few heads. Sometimes it’s just out of your hands. You never had to do that?”

  Cyris didn’t reply. She replied for him. “Exactly what I was coming to! Sometimes it’s just out of your hands.”

  “Hey, some shit you just can’t control,” Montella said. “I mean, sometimes you’re playing by the will of the Divines, am I right?”

  “Potentially,” Cyris mused.

  “And it’s funny you should mention Divines, Mr Montella,” she said, sitting down across from the two of them and crossing her legs. “Very funny indeed.”

  “Yeah? What’s the joke?” He didn’t look amused. “You’re not building a church, are you?”

  “Maybe, eventually. For the time being? Nothing like that. I’m engaging in a little enterprise and well, as much as it pains me to admit it, I can’t do it alone.” She let a little note of desperation creep into her voice. That wasn�
�t entirely true. She COULD do it alone but it would severely financially cripple her. Of course, that was moot. If it came off, it wouldn’t be a problem for long for the rewards would be infinite. If it failed, she’d likely not live to regret it.

  Both men were criminals. Very large criminals, not physically but in their notoriety. What drove them to crime? Wealth? Greed? Ambition? Desire? It would be interesting to see if they went for it. Of course, if they didn’t, Domis wouldn’t be letting them leave the room alive. They’d be too much of a security risk. After all, crime was such a risky business. Sometimes you lost.

  In her own opinion, you’d have to be an idiot to turn down this arrangement. But of course, you could never accurately predict how other people would react when faced with the facts. However reasonable a case you might make, they would find some potential flaw and use it as an excuse to cite its failure.

  “I fail to see how we can help you in whatever you have in mind,” Cyris said. “If the reports are to be believed, you have more wealth than both of us put together.”

  “You said it, Johnny,” Montella agreed. “No offence, but I’m not seeing it either. What’s the game?”

  “There are some things that wealth cannot buy you,” she said. “This has always been the case. Some things strike down both rich and poor alike. There is no changing that. We cannot change the fundamental rules of the world. No matter how much we might strive to leave our mark on the world, it is beyond us.”

  Neither of them commented on that. She hadn’t expected them to.

  “I aim to change that.”

  Now that got a reaction. A cool disbelieving smirk played over Cyris’ thin lips. Montella let out a bark of laughter.

  “Okay, okay, I was expecting that,” she said. “But please, gentlemen, hear me out. Don’t make the mistake of assuming I’m insane. I assure you I’m quite sound of mind. And I know exactly how to do it.”

  The expression on John Cyris’ face didn’t change. He made a pyramid out of his fingers in front of him and waited. Montella didn’t.

  “Okay, so you got some insane grand plan,” he said. “What you need us for then? I mean, you got the means, you got the designs… Where do we figure into all of this?”

  “I told you I cannot do it alone,” she said. “I need allies. I have people I trust here, an inner circle. Loyal in their belief in me. Below them, there are people paid to be loyal and no more. I need more than that. Your people are yours. They’re tied to you for a reason beyond pure credits. Mr Montella, your people are like your extended family. Blood binds you. Mr Cyris, your people share an idea with you. A simple belief. You gave them your philosophy and they bought into it.”

  Cyris nodded. “Freedom Triumphant is more than just a philosophy. It’s an actuality. Through casting off the laws of society, we truly find who we are. When we are knocked down, stripped of everything we think we know, we find that we are free. That freedom always comes at a price though. People don’t like change.”

  “Save trying to convert us, Johnny,” Montella said. “What of it?”

  She leaned forward in her seat. “Mr Cyris, I’m a great believer in what you preach. I’m not wanting to throw off the shackles of society. I want to bastardise the entire laws of nature. I propose a partnership. Pool our resources. Between us, what could stop us?”

  It was Montella who spoke first and gave the answer she’d been half expecting one of them to come up with. “Unisco?”

  She scoffed at that. “I’ve already had several encounters with them over this. I had an agent… Him, actually…” She pointed at Domis. “Observed at a tournament by one of them when he was collecting something for me. I had a recovery team wiped out by two of them on Carcaradis Island. One of my lieutenants was recently arrested by one of them. I myself clashed with some of them, it was on the news, you might have seen it.”

  “Then you’re walking a tightrope there,” Cyris said. “They’ll catch up with you sooner or later. They’ve been harassing me for years. Ever since they first arrested me.”

  “Hey, wasn’t that the time you tried to escape in an aeroship and one of them came after you on a dragon?” Montella inquired. Cyris glowered at him. “Right in the grounds of your damn own home as well.”

  “They will be a problem,” she said. “They have been a problem. But what sort of numbers do you imagine them to have? More than what we can put together? Law is an illusion. It only exists if the people allow it to. Unisco agents die just the same as anyone else.”

  “If you can find them,” Montella said. “They keep their identities pretty secret. That’s the problem.”

  “And problems are meant to be overcome,” she said. “Can you picture it, gentlemen. Our resources together. Our people. Our intelligence. My grand plan. What can stop us? Join with me for together we can be legion. We will be many. Join with me and I can give you something nobody else can.”

  “And what’s that?” Cyris asked.

  “The future,” she replied. “A very long and very profitable future. Now, what do you say to that?”

  It had precisely the sort of effect she had expected from them. To say both looked interested would have been an understatement.

  Chapter Thirty-Three. Seeing It Coming.

  “Foresight of the future is a remarkably difficult skill to master. Any idiot with half a brain can see what’s coming. Making sense of it however, that’s harder. A lot harder. Some people have the knack for it. Many don’t. Some can cut through the bullshit with ease. A lot can’t. I’ve never managed to work out the correlation between those with and those without. As much as anything can be in this world, it does appear to be truly random. Breeding, heritage and family… They don’t come into it as much as you might think. One of the true mysteries that we have yet to unlock…”

  From the writings of Bedoul Ghi-Zal, on precognition and the arts of it.

  The eighth day of Summerpeak.

  He chose Palawi.

  It was a choice he would ultimately succeed or fail by, he knew that. He’d come to accept that. He also knew that should he fall, then he’d be universally derided for his choice. On the surface, it looked like there would be no contest. If Crush had been dwarfed by the cavern crusher, then Palawi was like an ant stood next to an elephant. Just for a brief horrible moment, he found regret slipping into him. Maybe he should have gone Snooze. At least they’d be on a par in the same weight class. Maybe… Too late now. Come regret or rejoice, he’d made his choice.

  It’s all up to you, Pal. If you can’t do it, then we’re out. Don’t let me down. Silently he pleaded with the hound and he could see Steven’s eyes narrowing as he studied the scene in front of him. If he were in his opponent’s shoes, he’d be overjoyed by this. Maybe, just maybe he could use that overconfidence against him.

  What people always neglected to mention with that cliché was that those who found themselves filled with overconfidence usually had a damn good reason for said overconfidence. Steven couldn’t see himself losing this bout, Scott could see that from here and it looked a tough ask to prove him otherwise.

  “Oh well,” he said. “We’ve all got to lose sometimes, right?” He grinned, seeing the look on his opponent’s face. Confusion flitted there for a moment, as if unsure what Scott was talking about. That suited him fine. A glance to the side, he could see the video referee winding up to announce the start of the final round of the bout. The decider. Mentally he tried to find his focus, he needed to be at his absolute best here, if there was to be any hope of victory. No distractions.

  “Irrow, let us deal with this rapidly,” Steven said slowly. Did he detect a note of uncertainty in his opponent’s voice? If he did, it was no matter. To win, his prerogative was not for his opponent to slacken but for him to shine.

  That was when Irrow rose up without warning, right foreleg ready to smash down on an unsuspecting Palawi, a smirk on Steven’s face and Scott let out an involuntary yelp and recoiled. What the fuck!

  He s
aid as much, blinking rapidly as he took in the scene ahead of him. Nothing. Irrow remained as it had a moment earlier, Palawi was looking at him like he was sick in the head. What the hells had just happened? The buzzer hadn’t even gone yet, he knew what he’d seen, that smirk Steven wore was the same…

  And then the buzzer did go and Irrow rose high, right foreleg ready to smash down on Palawi, a Palawi who still had his back turned to the action. Still reeling from the image, Scott found the coordination to give the mental command and the dog rolled out away from the crushing claw. Claws tore through the ground like it was water, covering Palawi in dust and dirt.

  Something was messed up here. Last thing he needed was his head going kerplooey in the middle of the most important bout he’d had since… Well, the last one. He tried to ignore it, gave Palawi a command to zap the thing. If it was metal, then maybe it conducted electricity. That’d make it a very short bout.

  He doubted he’d be that lucky, and as electricity arced up out of Palawi and crashed into Irrow, the static dancing along the metal skin illuminating it for a moment, he was right. It didn’t look like it had been ineffective. But at the same time, the cavern crusher remained standing, an amused look on its face. It ground its teeth together hard…

  …Came in hard and fast at Palawi, pushing off from the ground with a great roar of effort, ready to bite down. They’d snap the pooch in two pieces easier than breathing…

  … lingered for a moment, studied the dog and then lunged, pushing itself towards Palawi with a great roar of exertion and this time Scott was ready, Palawi hurled himself up off the ground with a yip of effort and sprang off one of the giant legs for extra height. Level with the gap between the eyes, Scott gave the mental command and Palawi spun, tail glimmering with a silvery sheen and he drove the appendage down hard towards one of the giant eyes.