by CH Gideon
“I’m showing two rocket-powered launch platforms emerging from cover two hundred kilometers east of your position,” Styles replied. “They’re hugging the deck and moving fast. Estimate they’ll reach firing range in twenty-five seconds.”
“Paint it for Preacher,” Xi commanded before switching to Preacher’s direct line. “Preacher, Elvira. Engage inbound bogeys with Blue Boys. I say again: engage inbound bogeys with Blue Boys.”
“Roger, Elvira,” Preacher acknowledged, sparking a quartet of fresh icons to appear on the tactical overlay. “Interception in eighteen seconds.”
The Blue Boy missiles tore skyward, climbing aggressively for several kilometers before leveling off and aiming at their quarry. Precisely on Preacher’s eighteen-second mark, the sky was split by a fusion-powered burst of blue that, for an instant, surpassed the illumination of the system’s red dwarf primary.
Blue Boys were mobile laser platforms powered by single-use micro-fusion cores that funneled much of the released energy through a beam generator. While terribly inefficient and costly to produce, this beam generation system was one of the best anti-aircraft weapons in the Terran arsenal. The devices cost several times more than a tactical nuke, but their accuracy was unrivaled, and they were essentially impossible to counter on a terrestrial scale since the laser beams they generated were direct-fire speed-of-light systems.
The inbound bogeys disappeared from the board, but Xi held her breath as she awaited confirmation from the Bonhoeffer that none of their birds had cut loose before the platforms had been scrubbed.
“Bogeys down, Captain,” Styles reported professionally while her hunt teams continued scouring the field for the enemy’s surface drones. “No weapons fire detected. The skies are clear.”
“Copy that, Chief,” Xi acknowledged before switching to the battalion-wide as the last of the drones were scrubbed. “Thrasher, clear a path to the Gash. Second Company, escort Trapper’s forces as they secure the plateau. Third Company, establish Aegis Three missile shield formation. First Company, on me,” she commanded. “Let’s prep the LZ.” The flood of virtual acknowledgments streamed across her board as she switched to Blink Dog’s private channel. “Blinky, what’s your status?”
“I’m nursing a paw, but this dog can still hunt,” Blinky replied with his usual infectious energy.
“Good to hear,” she acknowledged. “Pull back to Third Company and make whatever repairs you can under their shield. Downtime’s going to be hard to come by, and I need Blink Dog able to sprint.”
“Wilco, Captain,” Blinky replied, clearly disappointed but just as interested as she was in putting his mech back in good order before they received the pending mission-critical delivery from Bonhoeffer.
“Bonhoeffer Control, this is Dragon Actual,” Xi called up to the orbiting assault carrier. “We are T-minus twenty minutes to a drop-ready LZ. Requesting status update on Project Red Rock, over.”
“Roger, Dragon Actual,” acknowledged Chief Rimmer aboard the Bonhoeffer. “Project Red Rock is green across the board, awaiting confirmation of drop-ready LZ.”
Xi bit her lip irritably, knowing that Rimmer was merely relaying Colonel Li’s by-the-numbers approach to deployment schedules. Xi had hoped to shorten the deployment window, thereby cutting their potential exposure to enemy SAM strikes on the package during transit, but it seemed that Li’s orders were clear: he would not authorize Operation Red Rock’s final prep until after she had cleared the LZ.
“Understood, Bonhoeffer Control,” she acknowledged measuredly. “We’ll make the bed nice and fluffy for you.”
After severing the line, she directed a particularly choice string of curses and epithets at her fellow Terra Han native, Colonel Li.
“What was that, Captain?” Chief Gordon asked.
“Nothing, Gordon.” She refocused on the task at hand. “Let’s go clear that LZ of any remaining IEDs. Can’t have our mail and chow getting blown up.”
As far as opening maneuvers went, it was hard to argue against any facet of Dragon Brigade’s first operation on the blasted, lifeless surface of the Brick.
2
Hat in Hand
Colonel Lee Jenkins’ aircar dropped below the puffy white clouds that wreathed Terra Han toward the sprawling megalopolis of Chengdou. In spite of having seen images of the Terran Republic’s most populous city, he was unable to disguise his awe at the sheer scope and modern beauty of it.
Home to three hundred million Terrans, the megacity was arranged in a series of concentric interlinked communities, which optimized logistics for the vast population by creating self-sufficient rings. Habitat high-rises filled the rings, with most of the living structures towering hundreds of meters above the ground. The gaps between the larger rings were filled with smaller communities or, less frequently, packed with industrial equipment and commercial spaces such as the mass-transit nexuses that facilitated travel throughout the beautifully arranged ring-shaped communities.
Some of the smaller rings housed tens of thousands of people and held everything they would need for self-sufficiency, including office buildings, industrial parks, recreational facilities, fusion plants, food factories, and educational centers. The larger rings held as many as two million humans apiece, with these more densely-packed spaces designated higher-value than the lower-rent smaller rings. The larger rings primarily housed information specialists or artists whose professions were best plied from the comfort of their private lodgings.
At the center of it all stood a collection of spires, which seemed to caress the clouds like the fingers of Terran humanity’s outstretched hand.
Among those towers was the Bronze Phoenix, from which Sarah Samuels had broadcast her special report during the inaugural Durgan Investigative Network upload. In stark contrast to its fellows, Bronze Phoenix Tower was wedge-shaped and did not taper to a point.
Much as he might like to thank Ms. Samuels for her work, Jenkins’ aircar was not bound for the Bronze Phoenix. As his aircar made its approach to the central collection of structures, Jenkins fixed his eyes on the tower that was his destination: Ivory Spire One.
Part of a symmetrical pair of curved tusk-like towers, the tips of which met to create a delicate-looking arch that was the shortest of the structures at Chengdou’s center, Ivory Spire One housed many of Terra Han’s most influential corporate headquarters.
“Showtime,” he muttered as the aircar slowed its approach, gently slewing onto a parking balcony affixed to the structure’s exterior. The door opened, and its blue-and-black-clad driver wordlessly gestured for Jenkins to disembark.
Stepping from the aircar, Jenkins was immediately met by a woman wearing a traditional Chinese cheongsam featuring a stellar-phenomenon-themed motif rather than the more usual floral designs.
“Colonel Jenkins,” she gestured to the entry, “Director Kong is expecting you.”
During the Terran-Solar disjunction that resulted from the Illumination League’s decision to remove humanity’s access to the Nexus and its interconnected jump gates, Terra Han had made the radical decision to adopt English as its primary language rather than Chinese. Their descendants had been rewarded for their foresight with a near-continuous series of technological innovations that easily overshadowed those made by the rest of the Terran Republic’s various colonies. What Terra Han had embraced had worked.
And Durgan Industrial Enterprises had been in the mix of many of those innovations, which suggested some of these forward steps might have come from the Vorr instead of from human ingenuity.
With that thought in his mind, Colonel Jenkins followed the woman into the building, where they soon came to a lift. He examined some of the patterns on her dress and noticed several identifiable structures, such as black holes, neutron stars, and famous nebulae from Earth’s perspective.
They even dress smartly here, Jenkins thought appreciatively as the lift came to a stop and the doors parted.
His guide led the way through a series of hallways, all of whi
ch proudly displayed the regalia of that particular floor’s sole occupying entity: Falcon Interworks.
Director Durgan had previously arranged two dozen meetings between Jenkins and various captains of industry located across the Terran Republic. Normally Jenkins would have pushed such meetings back, but Durgan’s urgency during their last meeting had spurred him to follow the business mogul’s lead.
For now.
“Here we are, sir,” the cleverly-dressed woman declared, gesturing to a silver-and-gold door at the end of a particularly long hall. “The Chairman is expecting you,” she said, opening the door with a wave of her hand.
“Thank you,” Jenkins said before stepping through the door to find a long, narrow table.
At the far end was seated a surprisingly youthful man, apparently no older than his mid-thirties. “Colonel Jenkins,” the Chairman of Falcon Interworks greeted him, gesturing to a chair pulled out suggestively beside his own. “Please, sit.”
“Thank you, Chairman Kong,” he replied as he moved down the table to the proffered chair.
“I trust your journey from orbit was uneventful?” Kong asked perfunctorily.
“I’ve never ridden a skyhook platform before,” Jenkins said truthfully. “Most of the time my planet-side trips are made via military shuttle, so doing it the civilian way was a breath of fresh air.”
“And eye-opening?”
“You could say that,” Jenkins agreed, knowing that this man was likely to be the most difficult of all those on Durgan’s potential donor list.
Kong nodded agreeably. “Good. Then let’s get down to business.”
Jenkins produced a polymer sheet and slid it across the table. “To start, I’m offering your organization a robust package of tax incentives and regulatory relaxations in exchange for the first tier of items previously identified as being of interest to my organization. If we can agree to that exchange, I’m authorized to offer, on behalf of Durgan Industrial Enterprises, a handful of contracts for which Falcon Interworks and DIE have competed but which your organization failed to secure.“ Jenkins slid a second polymer sheet beside the first one.
Kong looked down with scant interest at the first sheet, barely glancing at it before plucking the second from the table. His eyes scanned it faster than Jenkins could have done, even if he was already familiar with the document’s layout, and the FI Chairman snorted derisively. “I trust you realize that he won those contracts through bribery?”
“I don’t claim to know the intricacies of the high-level corporate game, Chairman Kong,” Jenkins said matter-of-factly, following Durgan’s limited advice about dealing with Kong, “although it seems likely to me that Falcon and Durgan play it with few peers, and that in every competition there is only one winner.”
Kong laughed, although it was hardly a jovial sound. “You have courage, Colonel. Yes, he is in fact better at that particular facet of our ‘game,’ as you call it. These contracts have significant value,” he said, placing the polymer sheet precisely beside its companion with machine-like symmetry. “Any one of them would revolutionize the economy of any Terran colony save New America or Terra Han.”
“I’m aware of their economic value and what it represents,” Jenkins said, although in truth he knew he didn’t understand these contracts’ broad impacts anywhere near as well as people like Durgan or Kong. “Which is why I would urge you to consider accepting them.”
“Slow down, Colonel Jenkins,” Kong said with a plastic smile that never reached his eyes. “Deals of this magnitude are rarely agreed to even in principle on the first date. There are details to be examined, alternatives to be presented, and counter-proposals to be fashioned.”
“To be blunt, Chairman Kong,” Jenkins said respectfully, “my people are presently deployed and under fire. I know that Falcon Interworks is the third-richest corporation in the Terran Republic and that your firm fulfills more military contracts than any organization outside of the Durgan umbrella.” He gestured to the second sheet. “Director Durgan was generous enough to share that inventory with me in hopes of expediting this meeting.”
“Yes, ‘generous’ is indeed the word I would use to describe Durgan’s conduct of late.” Kong rhythmically drummed his fingers on the table before waving those fingers toward the second itemized list. “The value of the items in this proposed exchange is nowhere near equal, Colonel Jenkins. In fact, it would not be inaccurate to say I have never seen such a ‘generous’ offer in my entire life. My surprise at the offer’s terms is surpassed only by its source. Which makes me ask a simple question, to which I expect the answer is anything but simple: why? Why would my chief rival and, although it pains me to admit it, the most successful businessman in the Terran Republic, hand over fifteen percent of his company’s wealth to me in exchange for a few showpieces and derelicts that aren’t worth a tenth that much?”
“Perhaps he thinks you’ll find some way to reciprocate the gesture in the future?” Jenkins asked.
Kong’s eyes flashed dangerously. “Careful, Colonel. My patience does not extend to those who fail to respect my intellect.”
“It was not my intention to insult you. I don’t move in your circles, and in mine, a handshake represents an acceptable agreement,” Jenkins allowed. “Yet, I apologize for my offense. A man of your station, privy to as many of the inner workings of the Terran Republic as you are, must know that whatever might spur him to extend such a generous offer would almost certainly involve the security of the Terran Republic.”
“Better,” Kong said coolly. “But you’re not done yet. Go on. Pique my interest, and you just might walk away from here with more than you thought possible.”
Jenkins set his jaw for a moment. Kong was playing with him, but the truth was, he had no choice about indulging the businessman. He grudgingly continued. “Director Durgan is more concerned with the stability of the Terran Republic than he is in his organization’s profit margins or quarterly reports at this point in time.”
“His conduct over the last sixty years would suggest otherwise,” Kong observed mildly. “Which means something has changed.”
“If something has changed,” Jenkins said, careful not to give away anything unnecessarily, “then the magnitude of this gesture should be sufficient to demonstrate how serious the repercussions of that change might be for all humanity.”
Kong quirked a brow in surprise. “Was that a slip of the tongue or did the colonel just subtly suggest that it is not merely Terran interests which Director Durgan ostensibly seeks to address with this exchange?”
“I can assure the Chairman,” Jenkins said, meeting the other man’s gaze steadily, “that every word I’ve spoken since sitting at this table has been carefully considered.”
“Interesting…” Kong mused, steepling his fingers and leaning back contemplatively in his chair for a long, silent moment. “I applaud you for your forthrightness,” Kong eventually said. “So, in an uncharacteristic turn, I will reciprocate.” He leaned forward, his forearms gently resting on the table as he fixed Jenkins with a piercing look. “I think that while you were on Shiva’s Wrath, you made contact with the Vorr and they told you something that they had only previously shared with Director Durgan, with whom they have enjoyed a clandestine line of communication for quite some time.
“I think they convinced you that Terran humanity, and perhaps all of humanity, is under severe threat from the Jemmin and its puppet the Illumination League. I think they scared you and Durgan so badly with their tale that he sent you here with this offer, at the same time your people are being shot at in Finjou space, to secure my support in whatever action the Vorr convinced you is worth taking.” Kong leaned back in his chair, a victorious smirk on his lips. “A commander abandons his men as readily as a businessman abandons his capital, and yet here you are, making both gestures in equal measure as far as their contributors are concerned. Which means you not only believe the Vorr, but also you have reason to believe them; reason that is worth abandon
ing your troops in the middle of a battle, and that said reason is based on evidence.”
The more the Chairman spoke, the more anxious Jenkins felt. How could Kong know so much about the situation and yet get some of the crucial details (like the absence of the Zeen from his theoretical version of events) so wrong?
“If there was such a motive, Chairman Kong, and if that motive was indeed based on evidence,” Jenkins said carefully, “you could hardly expect me to endanger the integrity of whatever operation I might or might not be a party to by sharing its details with someone who has yet to adequately demonstrate his support for that operation.”
“And therein lies the crux of the matter.” Kong nodded approvingly. “For you won’t get what you want until I get what I want.”
Jenkins nodded sharply. “I’m sorry to have wasted your time.”
“No time was wasted, Colonel,” Kong said with a light, hollow chuckle. “As I said, deals of this magnitude are rarely agreed to in principle on the first date. But let me reiterate something else,” he continued, his eyes hardening. “If you give me what I want, I will send you from here with more than you could have ever hoped to gain. You know my price, and as a gesture of good faith, I’ve arranged for you to make a personal inspection of the assets I’m willing to part with…should you agree to my price. I know you’ve already secured twenty-five vehicles in various states of disrepair during your recent tours of New America, New Australia, and New Britain. And I also know that what I’m offering exceeds that amount combined with everything you might be able to secure after leaving Terra Han. To facilitate your inspection, I’ve arranged for you to stay in Ivory Spire One. Please allow my people to see to your every need while you’re here.”
Jenkins stood from the table. “I appreciate your time, Chairman Kong.”
“It has been my pleasure, Colonel Jenkins.” Kong stood as well, offering a hand. Jenkins accepted it before leaving the offices with one question blazing at the fore of his mind.
