An Eighty Percent Solution (CorpGov)

by Thomas Gondolfi

  Jamie sat looking deeply into his eyes, all hints of the siren gone from hers. Her eyes now only held hard, cold business.

  “Tony, remind me never to play poker with you,” she remarked after a moment.

  “As you say, miss.”

  * * *

  Tolly died late Tuesday night, bleeding out through every orifice. Fortunately, he had suffered a major stroke first thing in the morning, so the mental release came long before his body’s gruesome death. Fear and anticipation warred with one another Wednesday morning when Tony brought the team together in Sonya’s apartment.

  “Why are they here?” Andrea pointed at the knot of four Greenie members who normally didn’t sit with the action committee. “Mark only does supplies and Susan is in fundraising…not that we need much of that anymore.”

  “Wait,” Linc noticed. “They’re the rest of the members that are sick. Let’s see what Tony has to say.”

  “Good morning,” Tony said as cheerfully as possible. “I won’t beat around the bush. You’ve all come here to hear the plan I have—a plan that could end this war. It isn’t the perfect solution, but then I don’t believe there is such an animal.”

  All eyes focused on him. His words held magic. They would listen to their witch doctor.

  “Our objective is the council of CEOs.” The eyes of his audience offered no clue to what they thought. “They meet two days hence, Friday, at fifteen hundred right here in Portland’s own Powell’s Tower. This council doesn’t even give themselves a name, so I certainly can’t think of one, unless you want to borrow ‘Axis of Evil.’”

  A smattering of chuckles proffered themselves. Andrea’s hand went up.

  “Yes, Andrea?”

  “We can’t get to them. We’ve examined such a plan long before you pointed us to fiscal targets rather than executives.”

  “Minor correction to that, Andrea. If I recall, in the past the plans were nixed because the cost would be too high. I read your own write-up on that proposal. You said, ‘While possible from a theoretical sense, the cost would devastate the ranks of the GAM action committee. This makes it infeasible.’”

  “That sounds about right.”

  “Well, I’m here to tell you that the cost hasn’t dropped. The plan will require every operative we have and then some. Worse, I anticipate there will be two teams of three and a lone individual who’ll be in this on a suicide mission basis.”

  “Seven lives lost? Are you insane?”

  “Yes, seven lives plus incidentals. I anticipate the total cost at considerably higher myself. I’d say more like nearly twelve. And to answer your question, yes, I might be insane, but please listen to my plan. I’ll accept your judgment.”

  “One other question. Why are we going after executives again? Won’t others just fill their place?”

  “That is a recognized feature of the plan. The security on these men is fierce. They’re guarded by a phalanx of army droids posing as innocuous security bots and by a squad of fast-attack dragoons always on standby during one of the council’s meetings—not to mention the Metros themselves.

  “All the security and alarms for this meeting place are run off an isolated system, not touching the net in any way. It’s an isolated system, so it can’t be hacked. In addition to this, we have the physical security. The only access is through a one-person grav portal. To use the portal you must give a visual, DNA, and electrical characteristic scan. The grav portal won’t function for anyone but the head executives. If you do somehow succeed, at the top are both automated weapons and live guards all programmed to shoot anyone who doesn’t belong. In addition, there are two private security firms, rotated among seven on a random basis, who are on speed alert to any incursion in this area. They’re authorized to use deadly force.

  “Now, through the help of Augustine’s capabilities, I’ve learned which security firms are on protection detail Friday. I’ve dealt with each of them individually. Neither knows what our target is. One will have a mysterious power outage Friday at fifteen-twelve. The other will have their receiver sabotaged. I’ve also found a way to deal with the Metro response.

  “There’s only one way we can take out the on-site security teams, both live and robotic. They must be ambushed just as they deploy from their bivouacs. The robotics can only be stopped with an EMP. We have a pinch that’ll do the job. It can’t be done remotely, so the problem is whoever sets that pinch off will likely die in the ensuing conflagration. With the right equipment and explosives, the live group should be killed easily—however, their location is such that it’s doubtful the team could escape before backup can arrive.

  “That leaves the grav lifts. We can rig it with the right combination of hack and illusion so that we can get past it, but there’s no way we can take down the guards or the robotics going up individually, unless one of us is a suicide bomb.

  “Once on the grav platform, we’re effectively at the meeting room. Just a couple of locked doors. Did I mention that all of this has to happen within seconds of one another or the guard teams will seal the top of the building and jettison it into orbit where the leaders will be removed by another fast response orbital craft?”

  “It is an expensive plan,” agreed Andrea after a moment’s consideration. “As you said, it’s suicidal in many phases. You still didn’t explain how this will end the war, though.”

  Tony smiled and explained for two short minutes. Before he even asked, the eyes of every person, sick or not, volunteered for the suicide missions.

  * * *

  “Ma’am, this package was delivered addressed personally to you,” the security guard said, holding out a nondescript cube-shaped box, 40 centimeters on a side.

  “So? It can’t wait?” Taste Dynamics snapped.

  “Ma’am, per standard protocol we scanned the box. It contains no explosives, no active electronics nor any molecular technology. It does, however, contain a human head.”

  “Really? I’m intrigued,” Taste Dynamics purred. “It isn’t every morning someone delivers such a unique item. Is there a return address?”

  “No, ma’am. It was mailed from a branch office of the actual US Post Office that doesn’t even have surveillance cameras.”

  “Curiouser and curiouser. Who belongs to this head? Did I know him or her?”

  “We couldn’t make that determination without opening the package, ma’am. It’s addressed to you.”

  “Well then, open it up.”

  The guards snapped the imperv loktite strips and popped the lid off. The box held Adonis’s face, captured in mid-scream.

  * * *

  Tony kneeled next to the grav chute as Augustine wired into the local computer. He reached over and shook Linc’s hand. Linc, wearing a suit of molecular explosives, nodded and smiled. He gave Tony a thumbs-up sign and smiled even wider. Tony had picked carefully for the three suicide missions, not taking anyone who didn’t show frank symptoms of the two virus. Even knowing this, he regretted sending any of them to die.

  Augustine gave an OK with her fingers and pointed to the grav tube. She then gave two innocuous clicks over the mission frequency. Linc closed his eyes for a moment. He took a deep breath, pulled out his automatic and walked into the entrance. Tony watched as he disappeared up the tube at blindingly high speed. Tony spared enough time to hope that Linc would shoot that quickly up to heaven, or whatever eternal reward he deserved.

  * * *

  “Which brings us to the excellent news of our actions against the GAM,” Taste Dynamics said, her face twisted into a sardonic grin. “For another week we’ve had zero actions against our facilities or people.”

  “Our projections tell us why this is happening, but do we have any intel?”

  “The operatives we do have in the field report hearing rumors of key GAM members dying, including their leader. Even better, the rumor on the street is there’s a power struggle among those left.”

  “This is excellent news.”

  “This means
that the number of actions from the GAM in the future will be reduced?”

  “Perhaps even eliminated," she said, sparing a cold look at Nanogate. Nanogate didn’t even flinch. Hers was not the first assassin to fail against him.

  “I suggest we keep this on the agenda…”

  “Advisory,” came a pleasant computer-generated voice. “Stocks of all major corporations experiencing significant drop in value based on broad sell and put activity.” That program would only activate in the case of a ten percent or more drop in all major stocks.

  “What?”

  The room echoed with a resounding boom. Dust filtered down from the ceiling and one window cracked afterward with a loud report.

  “This facility is under attack,” said the same soft, but obviously artificial, female voice. “Please remain calm.”

  * * *

  Tony counted on his fingers. Before he reached eight, the building shuddered and flame licked briefly down the tube. Ignoring the incendiaries, Tony jumped into the grav tube just in time to hear two almost simultaneous tremors. One would be Andrea setting off the pinch. The other would be the opening blast against the response team.

  His guts sank to the floor as the grav tube flung him upward. They then slammed into his mouth as his ascent slowed. Even before he arrived, a sweet stench of burnt flesh mixed with the acrid odor of smoldering plastic filled his nose. Tony scrambled for a perch as a black gaping maw, partially obscured by smoke, replaced the customary landing ledge.

  Several small fires that had been computers, notepads, or even a table burned fitfully. Nothing else remained of the room except heaps of smoldering biologic. One of the mounds moved slowly, crawling in a seemingly random direction. Tony walked up, put his gauss carbine to the indistinguishable mound and pulled the trigger. The lump stopped moving in a sickening splash of something between liquid and solid.

  Christine landed from the grav chute one second behind him and Augustine just seconds after that. Arthur brought up the rear a few seconds later. Tony had already moved toward what had been the doorway. The door itself lay askew halfway down the hall. Tony wouldn’t need the explosives he brought to gain entry.

  The four of them marched in an open diamond formation, with Tony leading, into the meeting room. Seven of the ten most powerful people in the solar system already stood, looking for something to do, or some way to escape. The other three just gaped.

  “What are you—” one of them sputtered.

  Tony interrupted with a blast from his gauss gun into the ceiling. Christine and Augustine stood beside him covering the council.

  “I beg your attention, ladies and gentlemen. Sorry for the theatrics, but I needed your attention. It’s time to change your little cabal here into a positive force.”

  “Welcome, Tony,” Nanogate said. “You were very effective.”

  Christine shot the man in the fleshy part of the arm. His scream and subsequent whimpering stifled anyone else from making comment.

  “Oh, quit whining. She only nicked you. Trust me when I say she could easily have chosen to remove a single testicle had she taken it in her mind.”

  Completely out of character, Christine smiled.

  “Now that we’ve settled that, I want you all against the window, facing out at our fair city. And before you think you’re only buying time until the cavalry arrives, we’ve neutralized everything, including the Metro response. If you look out, you might just see the police involved in a riot at the Main Metro complex itself.

  “Now that I’ve taken hope from you, I will give it back. Behave and your families will live.”

  One woman half turned toward Tony, but froze as Christine’s weapon swung about to point at her head.

  “That’s right,” Tony went on. “We have each of your families ready to be vaped. We have trigger teams shadowing all of them, including yours, sir, on their holiday on Io. Now, I want you each to announce which corporation you head.”

  Each went in turn from one end to the other. Wisely, none of them hesitated or protested.

  “Good. Now I’ll answer the question put to me earlier by Nanogate. Yes, I was a very effective weapon for this council. Your plan worked, after a fashion. You’ve decimated the ranks of the GAM.”

  “So this is revenge?” Percomm Systems spat back.

  “No. If this were revenge, I’d have tracked down how to hurt each of you the worst,” Tony said as he paced up and down the line. “Torture your daughter, maybe?” he asked one executive. “Or maybe make your grandson a vegetable?” he said walking by another. “How about removing the genitalia of your lover and giving it to your wife? Bottom line, this is the start of something new…perhaps tainted by just a smidge of justice.”

  “So you want to kill us and take over?”

  “Hell, no,” Augustine laughed as she answered.

  “I have to agree with my colleague. First off, we don’t have the experience to run your companies. Your successors would soon oust us. Even if we could, we don’t want this kind of power. We do, however, want those who exercise supreme power to be answerable to the people.”

  “How are you going to do that?” Wintel asked. “You can’t post a guard on each of us twenty-four/seven to make sure we behave.”

  “True. We can’t. But then our actions against your corporations have made each of us very wealthy. So wealthy, in fact, that we’ll be funding multiple independent watchdog organizations, each with enough capital to start a small army. Remember how easily our small organization got to you. Think of how easily someone could do it with military hardware.”

  “So you’re going to let us live?” CNI asked.

  “Well, that depends. We obviously can’t kill you all, or we lose our object lesson here. But then letting you all go would lose its impact. You’d eventually think it was a fluke and try to do something stupid.”

  “So what does it depend on?”

  “This pretty young lady here is going to draw lots. Those drawn will be killed outright. It isn’t a perfect plan, but then none is. I honestly don’t know how to restore full public responsibility. I leave that for you to decide, knowing that we, and many like us, will be watching. Note that some of them won’t quite have our patience.”

  “Why would we just stand still and wait to be killed?”

  “First of all, do you think even the ten of you, unarmed, could overcome four trained, armed guerilla fighters? But, more importantly, if even one of you resists, we will kill each and every one of your families. That includes any wife, parent, child, lover, friend, pet, or bastard within two generations.”

  The executives fidgeted but said nothing.

  “Christine, if you please. Oh, and did I mention, we’ll be drawing eight names…exactly eighty percent.”

  Author’s Note:

  I want to thank you for reading An Eighty Percent Solution. I truly hope you’ve enjoyed it! Because of the curse or blessing of my creative side, I not only write, I also game master roleplaying games and undertake many other activities where I invent to entertain. It’s unlikely that in my lifetime my creativity will wane. Because I write to entertain, I must also take this occasion to drag out my podium:

  /soapbox begin

  It’s been my sad fate to have been in one too many classes, through my high school and college years, where some teacher of literature attempts to draw out some secret, hidden meaning to novels I’ve loved or tales that were just that.

  I’m perverse enough to want to make it clear to my readers and fans that I write stories to entertain—full stop. My books, short stories, and other creative pieces are not being used to pass on some hidden message. I’m not obscuring political parallels in the background. I’m not offering a secreted religious message. Yes, I have many opinions—political, religious, and sexual—but I won’t use my novels as a medium for expressing them.

  I conceive of an idea and try to flesh it out so it’s logical, believable, and most of all, entertaining to you, my public. You’re the one
s who determine my success or failure, and I won’t make you work harder by veiling something critical. While I may have reduced my potential sales by not allowing some gung-ho teacher to force scads of students to use my work to illustrate parallelism or some other concept, I will be true to you, the readers.

  /soapbox end

  Now, I’ll give you some insight as to where the kernel of an idea for this first of the CorpGov Chronicles came from. It started, as many of these things do, with someone else’s work—to wit, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and his well-known detective, Sherlock Holmes. I watched an episode of their story just as I took a corporate training class on management practices. Sherlock’s addiction to a seven percent solution came on the screen just as I was dealing with the concept of “eighty percent of a problem can be solved with twenty percent of the effort.”

  It took all of about seven seconds for my twisted mind to come up with the rough outline of this book from the title I envisioned from merging the two…and An Eighty Percent Solution was born.

  As a shameless plug, I hope I’ve entertained you enough to interest you in the next installment of the CorpGov Chronicles. I’ve envisioned and mapped out several sequels to An Eighty Percent Solution. I won’t ruin either your anticipation or my ability to make adjustments to the stories’ flow by going too far into the future. Instead, I’ll whet your appetite with a brief blurb describing the next CorpGov novel, Thinking Outside the Box:

  After replacing the evil business cabal with a responsible government, the terrorist organization known as the Green Action Militia thought their job was finally done. Instead, the newly formed CorpGov calls upon them to help prevent another coup, this time by the Metro police bureaucracy. The Metros want nothing more than to keep their lives of privilege and power in a world that drowns in the blood of injustice.

  To this explosive situation, a previously unknown power block begins to forward their own agenda. Tony and his decimated crew of guerillas must dig deep to avert the chaos of a three-sided civil war.