Executive: An Earth 340K Standalone Novel (Soldier X Book 1)

by D. P. Oberon

  Saradi dimmed her holo-displays and minimized them. She said, “Albert, thank you coming so quickly. I want to move my long term incentives into the iordite deal.”

  “Into your short term incentives? Are you so sure you’ll get the one million tons?”

  She just nodded. She hadn’t told Alyona Pavlenko about the new requirements. The woman balked at a hundred thousand tons. An idea began to ferment in Saradi’s mind.

  Albert Rene said, “I mean, we all know how capable you are. But the Greatest Scientist has put a huge demand on you.”

  Saradi took it on the chin. On me? She decided that one of the first things she would do when she was made CEO would be to completely cut Albert Rene’s pension. He’d shoved her into the battlefield moments ago without any sign of support.

  He waved his hand. “That will forego seven hundred million dollars, the iordite deal is yet to fall through. Are you sure you want to do that? If the deal doesn’t fall through you will not get any bonus this year.”

  Saradi nodded. “Yes, just this year I want to forego the LTIs.”

  “Very well, Sara. I’ll speak to finance.”

  She would do more than break Alyona’s neck if she didn’t come through with the iordite. Her bonus was now entirely riding on it.

  As Albert Rene walked out Saradi called out to him, “Oh Albert, you may also want to tell Odette that we’ll be needing to stretch that loan to Alrosa Mirny if we are to meet the one million tons.” She smiled.

  He stared at her for a moment and nodded. If they didn’t hand her the help she would take it.

  Maybe that’s what they were looking for in their next CEO? She was up for it.

  Chapter 5 – Trillions

  Saradi faced Odette Ninon across the table. They both sat in Odette’s office with all the lights dimmed. Even with temperature set at sixteen Saradi felt hot.

  “This is too risky,” Odette said.

  Saradi had once liked the French accent. Then she’d met Odette and decided the French had the most putrid accent in the entire Milky Way. She sipped on her vodka — at least the French didn’t mind drinking in the office, especially toward the end of the day. And it was most definitely that. Saradi wanted to get home only right then she couldn’t focus on the exact reason she needed to be home.

  Odette chewed her lower lip as she stared at the financial figures that hovered between them in a dim green glow. The rest of the room lay in the dark aside from the light that edged the table.

  “Our total shareholder equity is one trillion six hundred billion,” Odette said.

  “I understand that,” Saradi said, somewhat testily.

  “You’ve asked us to increase the already sizable half trillion to a new loan of one trillion nine hundred billion.” Odette brought up a debt to equity bar graph. One bar showed the shareholder equity portion going red and the other showed a lengthening green bar that was the loan.

  “I can’t allow us to get into a D/E ratio of one hundred and eighteen point seven five percent. We’re way over leveraged. If anything happens to this deal it will scuttle our company,” Odette said.

  “Well, you can increase the interest rate and—”

  “Sara, let me keep this simple as I know finance is not your strength. If you’re maintaining your own personal household you need to be earning more than what you’re spending,” interrupted Odette. “Otherwise you won’t be able to feed your children.”

  Saradi glared balefully at the woman. That was a bit too close to home for her liking. She didn’t miss a beat.

  Saradi continued, “—include maintaining a healthy debt to equity ratio. I’m also aware that you are in the running for the CEO role. Do you want to be known as the one who obstructed the deal that could’ve made Autobus-Mannschaft the most valuable company on Earth? CEOs are not chosen because they are financially risk averse, Odette.”

  Odette quirked an eyebrow at her. “Sara, this high school psychology is below you.”

  Why did the French sound like they were kissing even when they insulted you? Saradi wanted to swear in German; guttural languages enhanced swearing.

  Instead, Saradi took a deep breath. “Sanatani, the Greatest Scientist has just asked us for a million tons of iordite that we have promised to deliver.”

  “But surely Albert Rene wouldn’t agree to such a proposal?”

  “He did. Weren’t you in the meeting?” Saradi began to feel annoyed.

  “Yes, of course, Sara. We always say yes to the Greatest Scientist but we have to still run it through due diligence.”

  “I’ve already told Albert Rene,” she said.

  “And he agreed?”

  “Yes, his reputation is riding on this just as much as mine. And I would not get in his way,” said Saradi. She stared at her colleague. How about that for high school psychology, you tart?

  “We need to get Albert Rene in this meeting,” Odette said.

  Saradi opened her mouth to respond when an ultra-priority call popped up directly in front of her. Novalie’s head and shoulders floated over Odette’s table.

  Novalie’s first glance was of her mother sipping on a glass, which she instantly guessed wasn’t water. Her wide, hopeful face sagged as she realized her mother was still in the office.

  “Darling,” Saradi said, putting the glass down. “What is it?”

  “Ma, it’s the play. It’s going to start in ten minutes.”

  “Oh Nova, I’m so sorry. I’ll leave right away.”

  Novalie’s eyes flickered down. “Don’t worry about it. You’ll be too late anyway.”

  “Darling, I’ll be there. I promise.” She forced a smile on her face. “Nova, you show them your power. You’re a natural artist. You show them.”

  “Okay, Mama,” she replied.

  Saradi let out a long breath, stood, and said, “Well I’ll leave it to you then. Good night, Odette.”

  Odette tilted her neck slightly and shook her head. She gave Saradi the ‘bad mother’ look but Saradi only agreed with it.

  Saradi had begun to lose track of how many time she’d let Novalie’s dates slip. She’s a child, she told herself, she’ll get over it.

  But Novalie did not get over it.

  The theatre of La Terre Quavois draped itself in the finest red velvet and silks. Golden chandeliers lit the hall, revealing an ornate filigree of stars and galaxies stretching across the high ceiling.

  Rows and rows of seats descended to the front of the stage. It was easy to spot Novalie’s teacher who stood with a stiff back and glared at Saradi.

  Mrs. Okotie-Eboh gave Saradi a stern look as she met Novalie’s teacher in the school’s theater. Oh no, you too, Saradi thought. What was it with everybody giving her the bad mother look?

  Novalie’s teacher said, “Mrs. Anantadevi-Alfsson you are three hours late.”

  “Nini, I’m so sorry. I screwed up,” she said.

  “Mrs. Anantadevi-Alfsson, when we’re at school you’ll address me as Mrs Okotie-Eboh.” She sniffed. “Novalie didn’t want to leave until you arrived. Your husband is sick and your mother tending him. I routed calls to you but you didn’t answer. I could’ve sent her on the school aero-bus but she told me you said she’s not to go on the school’s aero-bus.”

  A dozen excuses came to Saradi’s lips. She’d known Niniola Okotie-Eboh since Novalie began her pre-kindergarten. Niniola’s daughter, Tulissa, was Novalie’s best friend. They had the Okotie-Ebohs over for Novalie’s tenth birthday. Niniola was probably the only friend Saradi had outside out of work, not that she needed friends as she was an up-and-coming CEO and didn’t waste time socializing. But right then all those thoughts turned to dust.

  “Sara, I’m not sure what you’re looking for. But the gem you should be seeking is right here.” Niniola turned to her left and pointed.

  Novalie slept across several seats that had their armrests turned up. A quilt covered her and she clutched at it with her hands.

  “She wants to watch the play with you,
I’ve just finished the post edits for schoolnet. If you sit here, wake her up, and then I’ll play it.”

  “Really? Thank you. Thank you so much.” Saradi went around to her daughter and knelt by her side. Gently she traced the cinnamon cheeks and the dark curly hair. She looked exactly like her mother but took completely after her father.

  “Nova?”

  Novalie’s eyes unfurled, and her dark brown, steadfast gaze crowned with full eyebrows made Saradi flinch. Bheemasena stared out at her from that face.

  “Ma, you look tired.” Novalie’s moon cheeks plasted itself with makeup that consisted of white whiskers and a large snout around her mouth.

  “Did you play the part of a monkey?” Saradi asked, but Novalie kept quiet.

  Saradi laughed and kissed her daughter’s long, angular nose and tasted salty tears. Saradi had that same nose. “Hey, I think we’re going to watch the play now. I know it’s a recorded version, but still, it’s better than nothing. You can give me the director’s commentary as the play goes on.”

  Novalie sat up and yawned. Her body flopped like she was tired, and her head tilted to one side as if she couldn’t support it. The quilt fell to her lap. Saradi took the seat beside her, draped the quilt across both of them, and took her shoes off. Novalie nuzzled against her mother’s side.

  “It’s a nice theatre,” Saradi said.

  “It was packed,” Novalie said. “I was very nervous.”

  Saradi held her daughter’s hand and brought it to her lips. “I’m sorry—”

  “You’re here now, ma. It’s okay.”

  Moments later the holo-display in front of the stage began to change and there she was, Novalie Anantadevi-Alfsson along with a large group of children, all dressed as monkeys.

  “You look very professional,” Saradi said. Novalie laughed, and then Mrs Okotie-Eboh came and gave them each a cup of hot cocoa. She left mother and daughter in private to watch the replay.

  Saradi sat there lost in the ‘The Adventures of the Great Queen Sita’. The sound of gurgling water introduced Saradi into the land of ancient India set amid a beautiful forest with tigers, flowing rivers, and a sages dressed in saffron clothing who wore lots of beads. The smell of sandalwood filled the theater.

  Novalie had the part of one of the monkey warriors and her best friend, Tulissa, played the part of Queen Sita.

  As the play continued Saradi frowned whenever Novalie started to speak. She could barely hear her daughter and her acting wasn’t that convincing.

  Saradi paused the play and turned to Novalie.

  “Honey, your performance in the play is abysmal.” She flipped her fingers and the play rewound itself. “See there — why are you stoop shouldered and looking down at the ground?” She flicked and the play moved forward and then she paused it. “And, see here, why are you crying? This is a play and you need to be focused.”

  Novalie turned away and buried her face in the quilt. Saradi ripped the quilt away, cupped her daughter’s cheeks, and turned Novalie’s face to hers. “What did I tell you before? You’ve got to confront your fears. Crying doesn’t help anything in this world.” Saradi held her daughter’s hand as she stood up.

  “Well I’m glad I was late to that pathetic performance. Nova, next time make me regret missing one of your plays.” She strolled out of the theatre with her daughter’s thin, scrappy paw itching her palm. Novalie’s head hung like a criminal being lead to the gallows.

  The executive aero-jet docked itself at the top level of Saradi’s house where the balcony also doubled as a terminal. Rain trumpeted against the glass shroud as Saradi and Novalie walked into their home.

  Wattana, Saradi’s mother, ran to them wringing her hands.

  “Papa is sick,” she said to them.

  “Papa? What’s happened to him?” Novalie shouted, running to her grandmother and embracing her. Wattana carried her granddaughter and eyed Saradi over her shoulder.

  “What did Claas do?” Saradi asked.

  “He hurt himself,” Wattana said.

  “He hurt himself?” Saradi asked. Her eyes widened as her mother cooed softly to Novalie. It was, as euphemisms went, quite understated.

  Her mother whispered into her ear, “Claas mixed several drugs and was taken to intensive care. He’s just come back and is sleeping in the lounge.”

  Of all thoughts Saradi could’ve had, she wondered why he’d chosen the lounge. That’s where she went to drink and be at peace.

  It didn’t feel like any peace would be coming to her tonight.

  Chapter 6 – Frozen Meat

  That morning Saradi commanded her office’s AI to darken the glass so that the stabbing lights of the High Paris skyline stopped making her eyes burn. She knuckled her spine and arched her back. What had Claas been thinking? She didn’t have time to deal with his emotional issues that morning but she did decide to take the next day off to spend with him. Her confidence at getting her bonus was high. Maybe she would just get Claas his implant tomorrow. Why couldn’t her family get their act together? Didn’t they know the stress work put her under?

  She growled in anger as she hunched over the windowsill. Her hand reached out to the decanter of Wyborowa Exquisite and she gulped it straight from the crystal. Instantly she felt a calm and sense of clarity as the alcohol coursed through her system.

  Aunis Reeves, her assistant, peered into the office. “Madam, you’ve got a recorded message from the CEO. I didn’t auto play it as you didn’t seem to be in the mood. Would you like to hear it now?”

  She turned, still holding the bottle in her hand. Aunis’s eyebrows rose imperceptibly. She’d always told him how unrefined it was to drink directly from the decanter. She put the bottle on the table.

  “Play it,” Saradi said.

  A holo-vid of Albert Rene appeared in the middle of Saradi’s office. He had sent the message at six a.m. this morning.

  “Sara, good news. Our processing plant received the first hundred thousand tons of iordite this morning. They will start processing it within the next few minutes. You have done very well, Sara. If this keeps going then it looks like we only need nine more shipments from Alrosa Mirny before we can start manufacturing the chassis components of the seed-ship before the six months. This is tremendous. It looks like your gamble foregoing your long term incentives and putting it to the short term will pay handsomely.” Albert appeared fatter on the holo-vid, his pale pink skin corpulent. He sported a scarf that snaked around his neck, and was emblazoned at the ends with his family crest.

  At times Saradi had fantasized about wrapping that scarf tight around his neck until his face purpled.

  “I’m glad to be of help,” Saradi said, diplomatically. She thought, you’re lucky to have me here you overgrown putain de merde.

  Saradi’s day got so busy negotiating with Autobus-Mannschaft’s supplier XTerraStials who wanted a later start date for the long distance telepathy arrays on the seed-ship. She firmly told them where they could shove that idea. She just finished a discussion with Horizon Biorobotics about modifications they wanted to make on the life support systems, as long as it meets the deadline, she told them.

  Six hours later she stood in her office with the windows made clear. Today had been a productive day, she congratulated herself. She’d even introduced the two teams from XTerraStials and Horizon Biorobotics to each other and decided that she would soon kick off a large supplier team-building event. They had to be together in this, she realized. They were building one seed-ship after all.

  Albert Rene strode into her office and stood next to the rotating hologram of the seed-ship, Rebirth.

  “What’s happened?” she asked, sensing immediately from his body language he hadn’t come to discuss pleasantries.

  “Why didn’t you run quality control on the iordite?” Albert said.

  “What do you mean? Aunis told me that Processing couldn’t run it through quality control if they were to meet deadlines. It wasn’t a decision I made. I’m in charg
e of strategy. Not manufacturing.” She wouldn’t back down.

  “You coordinated the deal, right?” he said.

  “Obviously, nobody else could,” she fired back.

  Albert Rene’s aloof and calm personality was nowhere to be seen today. He hissed. “Diluted. A hundred to one.”

  Oh, merde, she thought. “The iordite was diluted?”

  “Obviously, what else are we talking about?” he retorted. Sweat dripped down his forehead and a holo-display appeared next to him showing the manufacturing defect rate of the processed iordite at 99.99% with only 0.1% meeting the quality grade. His finger shook as he pointed at the lower percentage.

  “Processing used it didn’t they? They just took the raw iordite and used it.” Saradi put her hand over her head. The iordite had come in, hadn’t been checked because they couldn’t waste time to meet deadlines, and had been processed.

  Albert Rene said, “What happened to total quality management in this place? Are we building aero-cars or spaceships?”

  “I didn’t suggest we drop TQM,” Saradi said, protecting her back. Undoubtedly somebody from Processing would find a way to point this back to her.

  “What’s done is done. We’ll just have to scrap the current iordite batch. What was Alyona Pavlenko thinking? This is corporate sabotage,” Albert said.

  Saradi released a long held breath. “I’ll deal with Alyona. You’ll get your iordite and I’ll get the project back on track. I’m sorry this happened.”

  He apparently wasn’t finished. “You asked for your long term incentives to be scrapped and put into your short term incentives, which would’ve been realized with this iordite shipment. Consider your bonus scrapped. All year.”

  Saradi clench her teeth until her jaw muscles spasmed. She wanted to lift her table and hurl it at him. What had she done? This is unjust, she thought. Her lips felt dry and she desperately needed a drink.