42. Subject E-01

Shamballa, Asteroid 2679 WLX

The Singularity
November 2, 2847

Being seated at his father’s left hand never failed to remind Ogden Autenrieth-Fujita of precisely where he stood.

The long table from which the elder Autenrieth-Fujita commanded the vast machinery of the mega-corporation was striking, in and of itself: two long slices of genuine, terran black walnut had been carefully fitted into a rectangular slab of black marble, so that the two trunks of some once-living trees seemed to have been flayed open. The rings and whorls of the polished wood reminded Ogden of a human body opened for surgery, and then put on display. There was something unnaturally naked about the table, something disturbing and repulsive.

Buried within the frame that supported the structure, Ogden knew that there lurked a panoply of cutting edge technology, updated at regular intervals by both Autenrieth-Fujita Corporation’s security forces, and by their research and development division. Artfully concealed holo-projectors waited only for the connection of an executive’s neural lace and assistant AI to spring into life, filling the air above the table with profit projections, blueprints, or video clips of some new weapons test. A panic button beneath the head of the table, keyed to his father’s genetic signature, could seal the room at a touch, and drop it down through a shaft into the depths of the asteroid, far beneath Shamballa, where half a dozen layers of warship-grade armor would close above them.

It was the holo-projectors which were currently in use, under the control of Andrietta Steytler, the regional director in charge of the corporation’s operations within the Imperium Stellarum. Steytler looked to be a woman no older than her middle thirties, with ash-blonde hair that was very nearly gray, and cybernetic eyes which faded from a ring of black at the outside of the iris, through a metallic silver, finally settling on an inner ring of brilliant white. Her fingernails were perfectly manicured to match, and Ogden knew that while she appeared to be youthful, Steytler was, in actuality, nearly two-hundred years old. He’d always wondered whether she was sleeping with his father, and found the mere idea of it nauseating.

“We know that the Na’xir swarm hit LHS 1140, named Hav’eth by the LeShaii, sometime around the middle of September,” Steytler explained, as a star map focused in on a world that had only recently been shaded in imperial colors. “By the end of the month, the imperial fifth fleet sent a carrier group, under Admiral Wai, to take the planet back. We know that they reached the gate at Shai’veth on the ninth of October, after resupplying at the Le’shaii homeworld there.”

“And the results?” Ogden’s father asked, tapping two withered fingers in rhythm against the surface of the table, which had been polished to almost a mirror sheen. Ogden did not miss the moment when the CEO of Autenrieth-Fujita shot another look to the empty chair at his right, where his vice president should have been sitting.

“Three imperial automated communications buoys have come back through the gate, transmitted an encrypted message, and been collected by the LeShaii,” Steytler continued. The holo-projector flickered, presumably at her mental command, to display the corporation’s current files on the latest model of imperial ACBs; Ogden didn’t bother to read it.

“The first arrived less than a day after Wai’s carrier group departed. We can assume that it was sent as soon as he arrived at Ha’veth, and contained a snapshot of the situation in system at the time of his arrival,” Steytler said. “The second came through three days after that, and the timing is consistent with what we might expect from Wai making a hard burn for Ha’veth, then sending an ACB back to the gate at L2 after an initial engagement.”

“Which implies that the admiral was still alive, or at least that his command structure was to some extent intact,” Lobar Shioya said. The director of Autenrieth-Fujita’s security forces steepled his fingers beneath his chin. “At least, as of the time that buoy was sent. They either won the initial engagement, or at least were not utterly destroyed.”

“The third and final buoy arrived at Shai’veth on October twenty-ninth,” Steytler concluded. “We don’t know what it contained, but I can confirm that elements of the Imperial Second Fleet, under Vice Admiral Farragut Madine, are now moving.”

“Not a complete victory, then,” Shioya said. “Wai wants reinforcements.”

“What does it mean?” Ogden’s father asked. “Are they getting chased out of the system?” The old man had difficulty hiding the twinkle in his eye at the prospect of imperial forces being handed a defeat.

“He may have established orbital superiority, and realized that he didn’t have the ground troops to finish taking back the planet,” Shioya speculated. “Or he might have won an initial victory, only to detect additional swarm forces coming into the system. Without breaking the encryption on those transmissions, it’s difficult to say. I believe that we can act under the assumption, however, that the Imperium has found itself bogged down in an operation which they expected to be quick and clean.”

“You think this isn’t just a border skirmish against the Na’xir,” the old man said. “You think it’s going to turn into a drawn out war.”

Shioya grimaced, and shifted in his seat. “I don’t have enough information to say for certain,” he prevaricated. “But they wouldn’t be sending in more ships for no reason.”

“Good.” Ogden’s father leaned back in his chair. “Excellent. It appears that my son’s recent acquisition was somewhat prescient. Where there is war, there is money to be made. How soon can you have the Livingston-Baylies factories turning out replacement parts and ammunition for imperial mechs, boy?”

Ogden connected to the table’s holoprojectors, using the moment it took him to bring up a summary of their new manufacturing capabilities as an excuse to delay answering his father’s question, or even looking at the man. The last thing he wanted to use those factories for was supplying the Imperium Stellarum with replacement parts. Not when he needed the entire production capacity for his own plans.

He cleared his throat, and took a drink from the glass of distilled water on the table in front of him. Thankfully, a distraction was due at any moment, and he only needed to stall the meeting for a short while – just long enough to put his father off.

“There are a number of proprietary technologies and components used in third-generation imperial line mechs that we won’t be able to produce at all,” Ogden explained, sorting two tables of text for the projector. One he shaded in blue, and the other in red. “The easiest to produce are the solid state batteries, of course; those are standardized between the imperials and our own production facilities. Shells and missiles are simple enough, though I’m not certain it’s either cost effective or wise to be shipping them nuclear warheads. When it comes to things like their proprietary adaptive armor designs, of course –”

The door to the suite opened, and a uniformed member of the corporation’s security forces ducked into the room, made her way around the table to Director Shioya, and leaned in to whisper in his ear. The systems which secured the board-room’s privacy had also prevented her, of course, from simply sending a message between their AIs.

Lobar Shioya was not a man who often showed surprise on his face; but in this instance, Ogden was looking for it. Waiting for it. A flicker at the eyes, a stiffening of the spine. Once his subordinate was finished speaking, Shioya stood up from his chair.

“I’m afraid that I am going to have to interrupt this meeting,” Shioya said. “I have just received word that there has been a terrible accident. A grav-truck carrying several tons of food for the casino kitchens hit Vice President Rensburg’s car while he was on his way to join us. I am told that he was dead by the time emergency services arrived.”

If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

Ogden had the sudden thought that the performance he gave then could have won him every major acting award in either the Singularity, or the Imperium. There wasn’t a leading lady on a single holo-drama who had ever more perfectly concealed a smile of satisfaction at a job well done, or painted her face in utter astonishment.

“Marten?” his father gasped, rising up from his chair instinctively. The old man’s face drained of color, and for just a moment Ogden wondered whether the shock of the news would render any further actions on his part unnecessary. But no, even if his father’s body had rejected the genetic virus which would have lengthened his telomeres and kept him young, the artificial heart which kept his blood pumping bore none of the weaknesses of the flesh.

“It can’t be,” the CEO of Autenrieth-Fujita nearly stumbled away from the table. For the first time that Ogden could remember, his father looked directionless.

“This is a horrible blow to all of us,” Ogden said, rising from his own seat and stepping into the vacuum left by his father’s momentary incapacitation. “The meeting is, of course, adjourned. Director Shioya, I want a report on how this happened on my desk within forty-eight hours. Uncle Marten was not just a member of this board, he was family.”

He turned to the director of marketing, Fredrica Theron. “We need a statement prepared and released immediately. Autenrieth-Fujita is shocked and saddened by this sudden, senseless loss. A retrospective on Uncle Marten’s career here…”

“I’ll get our best people on it right away,” Fredrica promised. “It will be released within the hour.”

“Thank you.” Ogden looked around the table at each of the directors in turn, meeting their eyes one by one as they stood. “My father and I would like the room, please.”

“Of course.” Shioya ushered everyone out until, with the closing of the door, Ogden and his father were utterly alone. He forced himself over to where his father leaned heavily, supporting his weight on both arms, hands resting on the back of his chair. Solicitously, like a proper son, Ogden placed one hand on the old man’s shoulder.