December 14th, 2169
15:15 SET
Reach, Olympus-System
R'n'D Facility Vinci
James and I walked side by side as we left the landing platform. The two soldiers guarding the platform straightened up when James walked by and saluted, which James returned.
I couldn't help the slight smile when I noticed that the two soldiers carried AR-Wright IIs. It wouldn't surprise me if James still got a kick out of a rifle named after him.
The Alliance signed an exclusivity contract with my weapons sub-company for the AR-Wright II, and from the reviews that went over my desk, they were happy with it.
Better cooling than before, slightly better penetration power that could take down a kinetic barrier in three to four shots, and adaptable to different mods. Furthermore, several kinks that could make the weapon misfunction in the heat of battle were now nonexistent.
All in all, it was a reliable rifle, and its successor was already in development.
I let my eye wander around the area until James hit me softly with his elbow to get my attention. He pointed to the right toward a warehouse whose doors slowly opened.
"Look over there," said James "they're going to take Betsy out for a walk."
"Betsy?" I asked, confused about the name, but he just shrugged.
"I don't know what the guys thought when they named it, but they seem to like it, so the Commander in Charge of the facility doesn't say anything about it. And I think the engineers and mechanics should have fun naming their babies. Probably helps their motivation too."
"So, what is Betsy?" Yet my question wasn't answered by James but by the thing coming out of the warehouse. I didn't see anything at first, but I could hear its thumping steps. They were powerful enough to let the ground and even my body vibrate.
Moments later, it came through the open warehouse door.
A three-meter-tall machine appeared in the opening. It resembled a human only in broad strokes. Its torso was in the form of a sphere with a dent at the top. The orange glowing cameras in the bulge resembled eyes and gave the whole the impression of a head. Even from my position, I could recognize that the materials used for the torso were the same as those used for tanks. Strong enough to shrug off one or two tank shells without losing its structural integrity.
The machine's limbs didn't have a metal sheathing, and one could see their inner workings. Every time it took a step, the servomechanism would move up and down, transferring the needed energy to get the giant machine moving.
My eyes moved to the machine's hands, and they were the part that resembled a human the most. While they were large, the fingers looked flexible enough for different tasks.
I turned toward James and asked while pointing at the machine: "So, that's Betsy?"
Disbelief sneaked into my voice. It was hard to connect the name Betsy with a mech that looked like it would be able to break me like a dry twig.
James, that ass, just looked at me with a big shit-eating grin.
"Yup, that's Betsy. Isn't she a beauty?"
My head moved toward the mech and back to James more than once, trying to comprehend what I saw before seemingly giving up.
"Alright," I said with a sigh. Trying to understand the minds of soldiers was sometimes like trying to understand little children. At one point, you stop and start to accept it without any further questions. And that was my strategy from now on.
As far as I knew, James would introduce me to such situations more than once in the time until the meeting.
"So, what is Betsy exactly? She looks somehow familiar, but I can't remember where I saw her before," I asked, changing my address from it to her.
"She looks familiar because she is the newest model of the Heavy-Troopers," replied James with pride.
"Weren't they just exoskeletons?"
"At first, yes. We modified the Force-Multiplier-Exoskeletons used for cargo hauling so that they could be used on the battlefield. After Shanxi," his shoulders dropped the slightest bit as he recalled the memory, but he shook it off fast, "the reports showed that they were very effective in combat. So, a team of engineers got together to think about how they could transform the modified exoskeleton into something worthy of our military. They had two different ideas, and Betsy is, as I said, the newest model of one of them."
"If that's one idea," I asked, "then what's the other?"
James suddenly started laughing, and I could only look on, confused, until he calmed down enough to explain what was so funny about it.
"Sorry, sorry," he apologized, "it's just that every time I think back to the moment Darius, the lead engineer behind the project, gave me an answer to that exact question, I can't help but laugh at how simple the answer is."
With a smile, James stared into my eyes and said: "The two ideas were this: Making it bigger and making it smaller."
I waited for a moment for the rest of the answer but then realized that this was it. My hand hit my forehead with a satisfying smack, and I groaned.
"That really is simple," I said, chuckling.
"It is, isn't it?" agreed James, smiling brightly.
"So if that is the big one," I pointed toward Betsy, "where's the small one?"
"For that, you will have to wait a bit longer. I'm sure we'll see some of the smaller ones. There's a group of them training close by, and the guys that know how to take care of the suits are here at this facility. Just let me say this: the suits are still in development. The engineers had more trouble with making them smaller than bigger. It costs a lot more too. I should know. I had to sign the budget for every single suit. So many zeros..." James drifted off, and his eyes seemed to stare far into the distance.
The temptation to clap my hands in front of his face was there. Yet, before I could follow through with my plan, James returned to the here and now.
He started walking again, away from the warehouse, and I followed him.
"What else can you tell me about Betsy?" I asked, eager to know more about the heavy combat suit.
"If we want to be precise, Betsy is a HES, Heavy-Exoskeleton-Suit, Model 6C. The Model 6C is supposed to be able to function in all terrains and climates. It has some problems with extreme cold and heat, but the lead engineer assured me they are working on it. Furthermore, if the terrain is too rough, it gets unstable on its feet. A work in progress, too. But there aren't just problems.
The HES runs 40 mph in a straight line and up to 30 mph if the ground is uneven with obstacles. It can shrug off small arms fire like it's nothing and can even survive a tank shell at almost point blank range. Yet, their greatest achievement is the hands. While they're not suited for fiddly work, they can do most tasks just like a human hand. I've seen two pilots competing for the fastest time reloading their rifles, and let me tell you: they are fast."
All in all, everything James told me painted a picture of a worthy addition to the Alliance military.
"You said this is Model 6C?" I asked, and James nodded. "What does the C stand for?"
"Combat," he answered. "ReArts, the company producing them for the Alliance, has two different versions. The C-Model is for Alliance use only, and the G-Model is for the public. The G-Model is designed to be a multipurpose tool, from hauling cargo to disaster relief work. If I had to take a guess, I would probably say that you should look into buying some of them, too."
"I'll think about it." And I would think about it. If they were as good as James said, then they would become a great help in many of my company's divisions. Working in mines and helping with the construction of starships, the possibilities for their use were there.
I made a mental note to have someone look into buying a dozen or so for a first field test, and if they proved themselves, then I would place another order.
We continued our tour of the facility, and James pointed toward one thing or another from time to time and explained what we were seeing. Sometimes, I would be just a new addition to an existing vehicle, and at other times it was a prototype of a new version.
Yet, nothing had been so novel as the HES.
The arrival of a troop transporter changed that.
When the truck appeared in the distance, James stopped and signaled me with a raised hand to do the same.
I watched as it came closer, and I could see it was the new ATP with reinforced sides. At the back, it could open to three sides separately so that the soldiers inside could leave the vehicle without coming under fire and had cover available to them immediately.
The ATP slowly stopped a few meters away from us, and its back ramp lowered to the ground. A group of soldiers left the truck single-file, and I was working hard, not letting my jaw drop.
All of them were at least two meters tall, but I couldn't tell if that was because of the people themselves or because of the armored suits they wore.
The suits were deep black, and even I, someone that didn't have much expertise in engineering, could tell they were masterpieces.
"And that's the small version," James said, noticing my gobsmacked expression.
I tried to school my expression, and I would like to think I did a good job with it since James didn't make any comments about it.
One of the soldiers left the group and came towards us, but a raised hand and a shake of the head from James were enough to stop him in his place. With another gesture, he signaled him to go back to his group, which the soldier did.
I took another moment to observe the group of soldiers before I hurried to catch up with James, who had already started walking again.
"So, who are they?" I asked, unable to hold my curiosity back any longer.
"The first batch of Project Orion," answered James.
"I didn't know that the project was already in progress." And I didn't. I had seen plans for this project due to my friendship with James and Andrew, but from what I knew, the project had still been on the drawing board when I left the Alliance, and nothing had indicated that that would change in the next few years.
"I could convince the rest of the board that with the research into making the exoskeleton small enough to act as personal armor, we should at least train a small group of soldiers for the project. That way, we could start to observe which points of the suits, the soldier's training, or anything else has to be adapted."
"So those guys are basically lab rats?" I jokingly asked.
"If you want to call them that. You're not wrong on that account. Besides, if you want to get technical, they're your lab rats, too."
"My lab rats?"
"Well, Dr. Shayle's, to be precise."
That made a lot more sense.
Constantin had finished his first batch of stable genetic modifications for the Alliance military, and it had been green-lighted for distribution among the forces. Every single soldier, no matter if Army, Navy, Marines, veteran, or new recruit, would get an injection that would infect them with a virus that would alter their DNA over the course of three months.
As far as we knew, the only observed side effects had been that the infected had a higher body temperature of 0.2 degrees and a cough. Even Dr. Shayle couldn't say anything about long-time effects but was already looking into it as a side project.
The reason why it had been green-lighted so fast was that thanks to the gen-modification, the overall performance of the average Alliance soldier rose by 11%. And that was just the first success.
Constantin was already working on improving it even more, and his first estimation of the percentage of the new virus was 16 to 17%.
Yet, that wouldn't explain why James called those soldiers his lab rats. Unless...
"So, they got the new enhancements before anyone else?" I asked, and my guess hit the nail on the head if I read Jame's expression correctly.
"We told them everything, of course," said James, not looking at me. "They knew that it was an experimental genetic modification virus and that there was no study of potential side effects, short or long term. Yet, they all agreed voluntarily. And the results speak for themselves. 15% better performance across the board."
"An interesting fact, James. Yet, there is one thing I would like to know," I said slowly through clenched teeth while staring at James, who still didn't turn to face me. "How did you get your hands on the newest, still experimental, virus out of Dr. Shayle's lab without me knowing anything about it?"
Even if he didn't turn towards me, I could still see the grimace on James' face that spoke of a deep-seated unease.
"Since the laboratory, Dr. Shayle is working in is partly under the jurisdiction of the Alliance, part of the brass believed that the results of Dr. Shayle's research belonged to them as much as you. On their orders, an agent recovered an example of the virus for testing."
"Belonged to them?" I growled, and James' grimace got even more pronounced.
"Do you know how much money it cost me to put up that lab? To staff it, to pay for every bill, to get everything they need for their research?" I was slowly starting to scream, and I could feel how my face started to heat up. "Millions, James! Millions upon millions. The only thing the Alliance does is provide additional security besides the extensive security system that I paid for too! And what will happen if that version of the virus mutates due to instability? It's not a finished and stable product but an experimental one. There could appear dozens of complications in the near future. And who do you think will have to answer for them? Not the Alliance, that much I can tell you. After all, my company is currently the only one that's researching in that direction with enough success that something could appear outside of the lab! Please tell me that those idiots got what they deserve and that every sample of the virus has been used up."
"Of the latter, I can assure you. I made sure that after the volunteers for the Orion Project received the treatment, the rest of the virus got destroyed. Officially, it was because of my concerns that the remaining samples could be stolen by our enemies."
"And what about the people who ordered this?"
"That's a slightly more difficult situation. The man behind it is Rear Admiral Balboa, and he had more than enough backing that my hands are tied in this situation since he didn't violate any regulations that I know of. I'm sure that something happened, but without any knowledge about what happened, I can't do anything. The best I could do was to reassign him to another position, so he won't be able to repeat this. Furthermore, Rear Admiral Linghue, who I assigned to take over his previous position, has my full trust, and I can assure you that it won't happen again."
I closed my eyes for a moment and concentrated on my breathing. Breathing in deeply through my mouth and slowly exhaling through my nose, I tried to force myself to calm down. It took a few seconds, but I felt myself calm down, so I wouldn't say anything I didn't mean when I opened my mouth again.
When I opened my eyes again, I could see that James had finally turned to face me, and the apologetic expression on his face helped me to calm down too. It wasn't his fault that some people under his command thought they could do whatever they wanted without fearing any reprisal. If I had been in their position, I could see myself deciding to do the same thing. The only reason I was angry was that I was the aggrieved party.
"What's done is done," I said after a while, and James visibly relaxed at my words. "But don't think that this won't have any repercussions. You said that with the new Rear Admiral this situation won't repeat itself? Well, I will make sure that it can't be repeated. Furthermore, since I lost a lot of money thanks to this, you can expect the new batch of gen-treatments to be more expensive than expected."
"That's only fair," agreed James.
"And you will ring me up if your exploratory fleet finds any planets with high amounts of mineral resources. I lost a lot of money this year thanks to incompetency or bad decisions on the side of the Alliance, so it's only fair if they help me recuperate from those losses."
"That won't be a problem, but I have to say you know how to get the best results out of a bad situation," chuckled James, and relaxed even more than before.
"If the people around you try to put you down, then the best thing you can do is to stand up again. Again and again, until they understand that you won't stay down, or you're able to crush them all under your foot."
"Harsh," James commented, "harsh, but true. I'll see what I can do."
"I hope so, after all, I'm still the guy who builds your pretty little ships. So, everything you find will come back to you anyway. Just in a different form."
That elicited a quiet laugh from James, and a small smile appeared on my face.
"Come," said James, nodding towards a building to the side, "Barbara should have finished her experiment by now. At least, she should be soon at the conference room when we get there."
I replied with a nod, still smiling softly, and followed James towards the building. I was just a step behind him, and when I was sure he couldn't see my expression, I dropped my smile, and a frown replaced it.
While I didn't lie that I didn't blame James for the theft, and that was it, no ifs or buts, the same couldn't be said about Rear Admiral Balboa.
There was no way I could let this slide. What would happen if others learned about this incident and thought they could get away with this?
Besides, it would set a bad precedent for the Alliance. Every officer or politician with ambition would think they could do whatever they wanted without fear of retribution since they were part of the Alliance, and I wouldn't touch them thanks to that.
I couldn't allow that! Never! It would make me look weak, and if I wanted to become the ambassador, I couldn't be perceived as weak.
Yet, I decided to shelve my thoughts on the subject for now. Without any means of secure communication, I couldn't give any orders pertaining to my revenge without an information leak.
If, no, when I did this, I wanted everything to be airtight. Everyone should be able to know that this was my doing, but there should be nothing that could be used against me.
This wasn't like my revenge against those pirates at the border of the Skyllian Verge. There I could probably kill them myself, put up a video of it on the extranet, and nothing would happen. Nobody would like to go against one of the most influential and wealthy humans for some pirate scum. Power, as I had, was like a carte blanche. I could do things that others would sit behind bars for life.
Still, there was one problem with my carte blanche. I couldn't do the same to anyone in the government as the pirates, and Rear Admiral Balboa was definitely included in that group.
Perhaps, I should amend my previous statement. There should be suspicions of my involvement in the upcoming disaster for Rear Admiral Balboa, but nothing concrete. Suspicions alone could do the job of deterring any fools trying to do the same as the good Rear Admiral.
With a deep breath, I shoved all thoughts of revenge aside. The assurance that I would do something to repay the Alliance was enough for the moment.
The coming meeting would probably require my full attention, and revenge plans were a distraction I couldn't afford right now.
My steps sped up a bit to catch up with James, and we walked side by side until we arrived at the building where the meeting would be.
James saluted the officer guarding the front door, and the officer opened the door without asking for any ID. I guessed that James was known well enough around the base that he didn't need his ID anymore, and as his guest, I got the same treatment. Inwardly, I scoffed at the lax attitude towards security but winced moments later when I realized I encountered similar situations in my own facilities.
Speaking to my head of security to revamp the security protocols in all my holdings was added to my mental to-do list.
Identity theft was still a thing, and with our growing knowledge and technology, I wouldn't be surprised if sometime in the future I met someone trying to steal my identity, down to the face and DNA.
Perhaps I should ask Constantin if he couldn't create something that would at least make it impossible to clone me. I didn't want Cerberus to make a clone of me and use him to get access to all my resources. That would be a disaster in the making.
James and I walked through some nondescript halls until we arrived at a door with a sign that read "Secure Conference Room 4."
James held a card he fished out of one of his pockets to a small black box next to the door, and a beep and a small green light signaled that the lock disengaged. He put the card back into his pocket, and without much fanfare, James opened the door and stepped in.
I followed shortly behind and looked around.
There were no windows, and the whole room reminded me of the innards of a gray box. Most of the room was filled by a large round metal table with a dozen chairs around it that looked halfway comfortable. There was a small hole in the middle of the table where a holoprojector was placed on the ground.
All in all, the conference room was unremarkable, nothing I hadn't seen before.
The same couldn't be said for the people already sitting at the table.
Andrew Clark was already standing when I entered the room and shaking hands with James. A small smile was on his face as he said:" It's good to see you two. You're right on time. I got a message that Barbara already is on her way. She should get here in a few minutes."
"That sounds good. I think we delayed the meeting for long enough," responded James for the both of us. "Do you have the forms?"
"I have, they're on the table and only need your signatures. He didn't want to sign it until you did, too, Oscar." Andrew nodded toward the other person in the room when he addressed me.
The smile on my face became more genuine when I saw Dr. Hoshiyume Takahasi put down a form back onto the table. He stood up from his chair and began walking toward me with a small spring in his step.
"It's good to see you again, Mr. Denebren, sir," Takahashi said, a big smile plastered on his face, and held his hand out.
I grabbed his hand firmly and shook it eagerly.
"It's good to see you too, my friend. And how often do I have to tell you to call me Oscar? We have known each other long enough that you deserve the right to call me by my first name."
"At least one more time, sir," chuckled Takahashi.
I took a moment to look my best employee and good friend over. He looked good for his 52 years. A bit more grey in his hair, but he looked healthy enough that most wouldn't peg him to be a man in his fifties. If I compared how he looked now to the time when we first met, I could say with certainty that he looked far better now than back then. And his mind was just as sharp as back then, perhaps even more so.
"I heard you didn't sign the form yet?" I asked, interested in his response.
"I wanted to wait for you. I just don't like it when I have to keep secrets from you, and this one seems pretty big. After all, you're my employer and not the Alliance. It would smell too much like going behind your back for me to be comfortable with this arrangement."
My smile turned even brighter at this. Takahashi was truly one of the most loyal people I knew, and I was glad I earned it.
"Then let's get to it. Hames and Andrew wouldn't ask us to sign the forms if it wasn't important. The fact that only those two and Barbara are coming to this meeting means that whatever they want to show us will be world-changing."
Takahashi grinned and pulled a pen from one of his labcoats pockets, holding it out for me to take.
I went to where the forms were placed on the table and picked one up to read over it. After reading it, to see if there were any new additions to the form that I should know about and not finding any changes to the ones I previously signed, I put my signature under it with a flourish and handed the pen back to Takahashi, who put his own signature to the second form lying on the table.
"So," I said to Andrew, who came closer to collect the forms for safe keeping, "what's this all about?"
"You're about to find out, Oscar," said a new voice.
"Finally," grunted James, "took you long enough."
"I took as long as I needed. Not that a ruffian like you would understand the delicacy of my experiments," countered Dr. Barbara Helkin, who entered the room quickly.
"Now that we are all here, should we start the meeting?" Andrew asked, stopping the argument between Barbara and James before it could gain traction.
"Yes, please," I said, giving the two squabblers a pointed look as I sat down on one of the chairs with Takahashi taking the one to my left.
When everyone was sitting, Andrew started the holoprojector and began to read Takahashi and me into the situation.
"Three months ago, a survey team to Janus, the next planet in the Olympus System discovered an anomaly on their scanners. They went to check it out, and among the ice and snow, they found a sealed door of unknown make. They called the discovery in, and a team of Alliance scientists arrived at the location not much later. Together, they were able to open the door. What they found was a corridor leading them deeper into the ground, and at the end, they found a large chamber. Essentially they found alien ruins."
"The planet right next to us?" I asked, and it was James instead of Andrew who nodded in response to my question. "And from how you all are acting, I guess that those ruins aren't Prothean?"
Next to me, Takahashi straitened in his seat. Perhaps he had already an idea where this was going and why they asked for his presence especially. After all, he was still the leading expert in the Alliance territory regarding all matters of spaceship construction.
"You would be right, Oscar," said Barbara, fiddling with the datapad in her hands, "those ruins are much older."
"How much older are we talking about?" asked Takahashi, unable to hold his curiosity any longer.
"First analyzes suggest that the ruins are around 250000 years old," said Andrew with a glint in his eyes, and I could feel the shock of the revelation with every pore of my body.
250.000 years?