Authors: Tony Gonzales
“This is our stop,” Jonas said, stepping out.
“Mack likes to spend a lot of time here.
He’s, uh … a little eccentric.
So be careful what you say to him.”
“Can you be a little more specific?”
Korvin asked, just as some commotion started a short distance away.
A man of Achurian descent was moving from table to table, asking patrons if they believed in the reclamation of wayward souls and in the divinity of Empress Jamyl.
He was filthy; his build and clothing suggested he worked on a mining barge.
Korvin took in the scene as people shooed the odd man away, amused by his rambling warnings about the dangers of passing up on the faith when it finds you.
It was annoying, Korvin thought, but harmless.
“Keep moving,” Jonas warned.
“And don’t stare.”
The Drake captain had barely finished speaking when two Legion security guards approached the Achurian from behind and incapacitated him with a z-stick; the man collapsed as the neurotoxin left him temporarily paralyzed.
The guards dragged the drooling, wide-eyed victim to a waiting police car and unceremoniously tossed him inside.
Korvin was horrified.
“Probably not used to that where you’re from,” Jonas said over his shoulder.
He was walking through the tables now, directly toward one where a lone man sat facing a ledge.
Beyond its railing was a vast drop to the intercity tube transports below.
Huge transparent plating almost a hundred stories high provided a stunning view of the space beyond.
Despite the magnificent scenery, no one else was seated anywhere near him.
“What are they going to do with that Achurian?”
Korvin asked.
“I hope they space him,” Jonas answered.
“The less of that crap there is around here, the better.”
“I thought the Legion was about leaving your politics behind,” Korvin said, drawing closer.
“That includes religion as well?”
“Well they’re both dinner-table taboos, right?”
Jonas asked.
Reaching the ledge, he placed a gentle hand on the seated man’s shoulder.
“Hey, Mack.
New hire for you to meet.”
Korvin got close enough to see what he was doing and froze.
Spread out on the table were dozens of toys—action figures, to be exact.
Each was several centimeters high and arranged in a mock battle scene.
Some were standing; others were sprawled about as apparent casualties.
Mack appeared completely immersed in this fantastical scene, oblivious to the two men standing around him.
Jonas pulled up a chair and sat down, propping his feet up on the railing.
He didn’t seem concerned that his terra-ops commander was doing anything unusual.
A moment of uncomfortable silence passed.
“He’s waiting for you to introduce yourself,” Jonas said finally.
“Right,” Korvin muttered, folding his arms and shifting his weight.
He considered making a comment on the rudeness of “meeting” someone who didn’t have the courtesy to at least face him.
“My name is Korvin Lears, former Federation Navy—”
“Capsuleer,” Mack snorted, rearranging the arms and miniature weapon of one of his toys.
“Hate the smell.”
“Don’t take that personally,” Jonas said, smiling.
“Mack has an olfactory mod that lets him smell nearly as well as a slaver hound.
He probably got a whiff of pod gunk left on you.
It’s a handy trick in his line of work.”
“I’m sure it is,” Korvin said.
“Nice to meet you as well, Mack.”
“Spoiled,” Mack muttered, still fidgeting with his toys.
“Pampered like old money.
Empyrean trash.
Don’t belong here.”
“You’re probably right—”
“Way you’re standing,” Mack said, advancing a few soldiers on his make-believe battlefield.
“Like little girl.
Pouty.
Brat.”
Jonas whispered loudly, pointing at Mack’s ears.
“His hearing is really good, too.”
Korvin was equal parts furious and intimidated.
In addition, he couldn’t definitely rule out that Mack wasn’t suffering a perfectly curable form of retardation.
“Well, I guess I don’t know where I belong then,” Korvin said.
“Was there a point to coming down here?”
“Prison where you belong,” Mack answered, fidgeting with toys.
“Make man of you.
Or of inmate.”
Without turning around, Mack held up two toy soldiers that were stuck together.
One was gripping the backside of the other in a dominating rear position.
“Oh, fuck this,” Korvin said, turning to walk away.
“Jonas, I’ll wait by the car.
Thanks for the introduction.
Really.”
“Not so fast,” Jonas said.
“You haven’t told Mack the news yet.”
“
What
news?”
Korvin nearly yelled.
“Don’t like him,” Mack muttered.
“Whiny.”
“Gentlemen,” Jonas said, taking his feet down and leaning forward.
“The old man is sending us to Amamake to evaluate a possible contract.
He’s letting us run it; we can outsource the work and keep a healthy margin for ourselves.
It’s a big opportunity, but you’re both going to have to work together to make it happen.”
Mack finally turned to face Korvin, who was immediately shocked.
Half of the man’s face was horribly disfigured, with folds in the skin that pulled tight around his eyes and forehead, but especially around the left side of his jaw, contorting his mouth into a permanent smile.
Some of his skull was metallic; the lighting caught bits of metal that emerged from scalp normally covered by hair.
Korvin suspected the left side of his body at least was almost entirely cybernetic, judging from the sharp angles beneath his clothes and the tighter fit on his right side.
Suddenly, his sitting alone in such a crowded place invoked some compassion in Korvin.
Clearly, Mack was someone who had endured a different and much more personal journey to hell and back.
Yet for reasons he couldn’t understand—perhaps it was the toys—Korvin sensed that there was a happiness about him that hovered dangerously between genuine goodness and maniacal insanity.
“When I need boots on the ground, Mack is my guy,” Jonas continued.
“As for Korvin here, let’s just say he knows what he’s doing in a starship.
I’m sure that after getting the chance to work with each other, you’ll both get along fine.”
Mack, despite the macabre smile etched onto his face, managed to look displeased.
“Immortal,” he said, shaking his head.
“You risk nothing.”
“My clones are in Federation custody,” Korvin answered.
“They’ll arrest or kill me if I wake up in one.
I’m no more immortal than you are, mate.”
“Don’t call me that,” Mack said, standing abruptly.
He crashed his shoulder into Korvin’s as he passed by.
The capsuleer shook off the bump and watched as people steered clear of his path through the food court.
Korvin drifted back to the table and the toys arranged on them.
He suspected that no one was going to touch them.
Jonas was nodding his head.
“Yep,” he said, standing up.
“You two are going to get along just fine.”
17
THE FORGE REGION—ETSALA CONSTELLATION
THE VASALA SYSTEM—PLANET V, MOON 15
ISHUKONE CORPORATE FACTORY—TEMPORARY HQ
SOVEREIGNTY OF THE CALDARI STATE
Ralirashi sat beside Mens in a darkened room manipulating a volumetric construct, moving its controls through the air until a spectrogram appeared.
A starmap was hovering behind it, tracing its source through a series of points ending on the planet Matias.
The communications channel opened and began broadcasting.
“Mens Reppola,” Haatakan Oiritsuu said.
“You haven’t aged well at all.”
The voice of the former Kaalakiota CEO reminded him of a coiled viper.
She couldn’t even
see
his face, as this was a voice-only transmission that was encrypted, dissected, and bounced through several dozen star systems to hide its origins from the eavesdropping reach of governments and mega-corporations.
There was no subtlety with her at all, and she opened the conversation with a vicious jab at his public setbacks.
With no bargaining position, he was already on the defensive, and she knew it.
“You’re very much the same as I remember,” he said.
“Mila and I have so much in common, you would think she could hold a conversation longer,” she said.
“Then again, maybe we both just prefer solitude.”
Mens shot a glance at Rali, who shook his head in disgust.
He didn’t expect anything less from their former rival.
“You’re a bright fellow,” she continued.
“You know the risk I took by speaking with her and the risk I’m taking right now.
That implies that you’re rather unconcerned for my well-being.”
“Mila assured me you’ve taken the necessary precautions to protect yourself and this conversation,” Mens said.
Haatakan was actually within plain view of several Provist guards, who after two years of uneventful vigil knew her personal habits intimately.
An avid horticulturalist, she spent all her spare time looking after an overwhelming collection of exotic plants, housed in several open and enclosed greenhouses throughout the grounds of her former estate.
Even before Heth sought her counsel, she would spend long hours moving between them, happily getting her hands dirty—and, very often,
talking
to the plants as she worked.
The guards considered it a peculiar habit for someone of her stature.
With Heth regularly drilling her during exhaustive planning sessions along with members of his cabinet, her garden visits had become even more of an outlet, a place to vent her frustrations to a leafy and debatably attentive audience.
It was harmless behavior, the Provists reasoned, provided it kept her sane.
In general, a hobby was beneficial to mental acuity and thus necessary to keep her productive.
The grounds were regularly swept for electronic devices; the only comm terminal capable of reaching the outside world was inside her lodge, and it was controlled by the Provists.
With so much exotic flora to marvel at, the large species of creeping carnivorous plants distinguished by large, thick petals growing throughout the grounds were almost unremarkable.
Occasionally one would clamp shut as insects flew toward its stigma, the sound of their flapping wings registered by the millions of microscopic trigger hairs lining the petals inside.
Once trapped, the victim would be slowly digested and its constituent nutrients transported through a complex root network that could extend for many kilometers.
With the right biotechnical engineering, these plants could be converted into surprisingly effective listening devices—which is exactly what Haatakan Oiritsuu had done, long before she was imprisoned on her own property.
She had a reputation for always being prepared for the unexpected.
“Of course I’ve taken precautions,” she scowled.
“You wouldn’t have contacted me unless you had something juicy to offer.
So what the hell do you want?”
“Information,” he answered.
“Mila believes you have knowledge of a certain prototype Amarr technology.
I need to know where I can find it.”
“She was right,” Haatakan answered.
“What do I get in return?”
Despite all the wealth stripped away from her after Heth took power, Haatakan Oiritsuu still had all the money she would ever need—investments hidden away even from the Provists.
Rali and Mens guessed correctly that she coveted freedom above all else.
That she still managed to stay relevant in Caldari mega-politics was remarkable.
Armed with intimidating intelligence and the hardened experience of mega-corporate boardroom warfare, she was sought for counsel on matters ranging from national security to economic vitality.
She was just too valuable an asset to ignore.
Private access to her talents justified the risk Heth took by relying on her judgment—even while manically screening and reexamining her proposals for any evidence of sabotage.
Those who knew her best knew it was just a matter of time before she either broke free of Heth’s leash or died trying.
Thus all Mens could offer was conditional support to help her accomplish just that.
“We have a mutual friend,” Mens said, careful to avoid saying anything that could directly imply treason against the State.
He still didn’t trust her.
“So I’m prepared to offer my assistance in mediating your current relationship.”
“What kind of assistance?”
The plan that he and Rali discussed rolled past his augmented vision.
“We’ve analyzed the circumstances and determined that a compromise is possible,” he said cryptically.
“In addition, we believe there are others willing to lend their support.”
“You expect me to hand over the most coveted technological advance in New Eden in exchange for speculation?”
she hissed.
“Here’s something you should know: Heth has been meeting with his generals for the past six weeks to discuss Ishukone.
Is that not the reason you’re asking me for help?
If you’re serious about protecting your responsibilities, then you’d better get serious about an offer.”
Mens and Rali stared at one another.
This outburst wasn’t entirely unexpected.
The plan now was to let her reveal what she was really after.
“Fine,” Mens said.
“What do you want?”
“I want Heth’s reliance on me to be absolute,” she snarled.
“I want him to have no allies left, no one left to trust
except
me.
You’re going to make that happen.”
“I’m not sure I understand you—” Mens started.
“The cabinet members of the Providence Directorate conduct strategy reviews each week,” she said, sounding impatient.
“These are Heth’s closest people.
All handpicked by him personally.
Without their loyalty, he has nothing—”
Rali shook his head.
“—except for you,” Mens finished.
“We’re not in that kind of business, Haatakan.”
“You are now,” she growled back.
“Ishukone has become a Caldari public enemy.
I know it.
You know it.
So what are you prepared to do about it?
Watch it wither away and die?
What would Otro Gariushi have to say about that?”
A flash of anger rushed through Mens.
“What exactly are you asking for?”
“Ishukone is supplying materials and personnel for a new research outpost on the planet Myoklar, which is where the next Directorate meeting is to be held.
You will replace some of that personnel with the team I provide.
See to it they are delivered to the site ahead of this meeting.”
“And how will they get out?”
“Not your concern.
All I want is for your dropships to take them in.”
Mens took a moment to consider this.
This was highly unusual: She was making it too easy.
All the exposure was on her, not Ishukone.
Just like that, he had regained all the power in negotiating.
The dropship could be remotely piloted in, for instance.
Whatever cargo and personnel she planned on stowing aboard could be screened.
There was any number of different ways to insulate Ishukone from whatever she was planning.
And in the end, he desperately needed the technology she possessed.
“I accept this term,” he said, to the widening eyes of Rali.
“Now, you have information for me.”
“The New Eden system, very close to Point Genesis,” she answered.
“A research vessel called the
Significance
is near there, with a scientist on board named Marcus Jror.
You won’t be able to scan down this ship: He’ll see you long before you see him.”
“What does he have that I need?”
“He invented immortal soldier technology.
No one outside of Sarum’s circle knows this.
Only us.
And Heth.”
“Why Point Genesis?”
“I don’t know,” she answered mockingly.
“But let’s just say I recognize exile when I see it.
That’s what makes this such an opportunity for you.
It seems this Marcus fellow overstayed his welcome with the Empire.
You might have something he needs.”
“Then we have a deal.”
“Yes, we do,” she hissed.
“Don’t screw this up, Mens.
That wouldn’t be good for you at all.
And speak up next time, Rali.
It’s not your style to keep your mouth shut.”
The transmission dropped.
Mens looked at his close friend.
“What did I just get us into?”
he asked.
Rali exhaled forcefully, leaning forward and clasping his hands together.
“Nothing that we wouldn’t have to deal with sooner or later,” he said.
“Despite my opinion of the woman, Haatakan is right.
We don’t have many options here.”
“No, we don’t,” Mens answered.
“That’s become a regular theme in my life.”
Rali narrowed his eyes.
“Your visit with Mila…” he said.
“I … hope you haven’t done anything to add to your burdens.”
Mens avoided eye contact.
He was ashamed of himself enough as it was.
“We all miss her,” Rali said, getting up.
“I’ll start thinking about Haatakan’s offer and how we can find this Marcus Jror.”
“Thank you,” Mens said.
“Don’t thank me yet,” Rali said, as the door slid open.
“Not until we see how all this plays out.”
>>CONCORD/DED Datastack 141E: Meeting Notes—Mordu’s Legion Briefing
>>Owner: AI Construct Argos-1
>>Inner Circle
>>EYES ONLY
The THANATOS program has revealed disturbing developments with Mordu’s Legion.
Remote neural scanning of Muryia Mordu during an agent encounter detected trace evidence of degenerative encephalopathy.
Although a deeper scan is necessary to confirm, the founder’s outward personality is consistent with patients suffering from the onset of psychosis.
This revelation, combined with a history characterized by remorseless bloodshed in the mercenary trade, supports DED consensus that Mordu’s Legion is currently among the most dangerous and influential factions of New Eden.
In the interest of upholding the mandate, THANATOS has been granted permission to interfere with any Legion activity that could potentially destabilize the nations under CONCORD jurisdiction.
To that end, the agent also reported several actionable intelligence items:
• AWOL Federation Navy Captain Korvin Lears has joined Mordu’s Legion.
He has been assigned to the Drake-class starship MLW
Morse,
which has logged several hundred hours of terra-ops missions.
Mordu himself has ordered its captain, Jonas Varitec, to evaluate the military preparedness of the Core Freedom Colony on Pike’s Landing in the Amamake system for a possible mercenary contract.
Because Lears is qualified to execute orbital bombardments, he is classified a Tier-1 threat to our mandate.
THANATOS has been ordered to track this vessel and report.
• THANATOS has also learned that Mordu has been in contact with Haatakan Oiritsuu, deposed Kaalakiota CEO.
Since then, he has been preparing a mixed squad of soldiers, assassins, and technicians in mock raids on a fake research outpost consistent with Ishukone contractor designs, suggesting that a raid somewhere in the Caldari State is imminent.
THANATOS has been ordered to learn the target of this raid, determine the extent of Haatakan’s involvement with Mordu’s Legion, find any connection to Ishukone, and assess any danger to Tibus Heth and the Caldari Providence Directorate.