T-T-T-T-Tap

T-T-T-T-Tap

An oppressive and rhythmically imposing series of taps echoed within the coldly lit room.

Each collision of Horatio Schwartz's fingers on the desk drove another kilogram worth of force onto Michael Schwartz's near-crumbling psyche.

Even with the threatening metronome resonating in the background, to Michael it felt like a deafening quietness had pervaded his soul. Not the kind that evoked serenity, but the kind of silence that followed a devastating collapse of a star.

With bated breath, Michael awaited the inevitable, bracing himself for possible physical and/or emotional damage.

All of a sudden, the tapping ceased. The atmosphere descended into negative deciBels. Even though the room was properly ventilated, Michael was struggling to breathe.

He then heard a long sigh filled with rage of unimaginable proportions.

"MOTHERFUCK!"

Michael subconsciously flinched, nearly missing a zooming object grazing past his ears.

Michael collapsed onto his knees and shrunk his head into his neck.

"What the fuck are you doing on the floor? Get the fuck up!" A curse-laden series of instructions assaulted him. His father was entering one curse word-per-sentence. Michael prayed that the rate would remain constant.

"I should've fucking known better than to trust you with such an important task - a goddamn disgrace!"

Michael crossed his fingers, hoping that was a sentence-ending punctuation and not a dash!

With a fear-filled stutter, Michael spoke up, "I-I don't know how word got out. I was extremely cautious in setting up the offsite research facility."

"Don't give me that bullshit, I don't fucking care how cautious you were! Do you have any idea how much I sank into this hair-brained scheme of yours? Do you realise how much I conceded to get those fuckfaces on the board to agree to your idea? You're telling me that not only did you lose the Meka prototype, but also years worth of research and development data? How in God's fucking name are you going to explain that?"

Horatio slammed his fist on his desk causing it to visibly vibrate. As he stood up, a towering shadow enveloped Michael.

The reason Michael feared Horatio was not primarily because of his foul mouth or his short fuse. The fellow was a gargantuan 7-foot giant, with his muscles threatening to burst through his attire. It was so precarious that an unintentional flex could very well collapse the entire fabric.

However, Michael wasn't overly afraid of his father's brutish appearance. What scared him the most were his father's hereditarily ferocious canines and predatory eyes that flared up every time he got angry. What brought the whole ensemble together was the brutal scar that originated from below his nose and ran down to his navel - a result of a botched assassination attempt.

Even with the advent of indiscernible plastic surgery technology, his father refused to undergo such procedures to de-fang himself or cover up the scar.

'It's to send a message,' his father would always say. 'Those fuckers need to know that it will take more than a battalion of Mekas, a pitcher of poison, a squad of genetically enhanced assassins, and two whores with saw-blades up their hoo-haas to take me down!'

While Michael disagreed in the beginning, history had proven him wrong one too many times.

His old man not only survived that harrowing and over-the-top assassination attempt, but he overcame it and managed to place his own people as CEO, CFO and COO of Halcyon Inc. through intimidation alone. Even the Chairman of the Board, who Michael suspected was the one behind the attempt, cowers when his father enters the room.

Another sigh escaped from his father's mouth. In an uncharacteristically calm voice, he continued, "I need an explanation, Michael. Mistakes are tolerable as long as they are corrected. And to correct them, they need to be identified."

By the time his father finished the sentence, Michael was drenched in sweat. An animated Horatio was ironically much safer than a calm Horatio. The last time Michael heard his father speak in that tone of voice was when he confronted the manager of a rare-earth metal mining company who double-dealt with a competitor. To be more precise it was the voice Horatio spoke in as he confronted the manager while crushing the man's skull using his bare hands.

His father, while quick to anger, had almost endless patience. It was an uncharacteristic combination, but the frequent eruptions were how his father released his pent up frustration. As long as you were getting screamed at, you were safe. It meant that he still cared and hoped that you learned from it.

Michael quickly spoke as if he were answering to a commander, "Reporting! We were unable to determine the agents, or their alignment, that attacked our facility and appropriated the Meka prototype. However, our people concluded that whoever they were, they had technology that exceeded the limits of a Rank 3 or Rank 4 scope."

Michael glanced at his father to observe his reaction. Noticing a cold and indifferent gaze, Michael quickly continued, "We did, however, find a witness to the entire event!"

Michael saw his father's brows furrowing as frustration seeped in, "You should have fucking started with that!"

Michael sighed in relief and added, "We only found the witness a week back. He's a survivor from the security team assigned to the convoy, set to drive the Meka transportation vehicle. Our people were scouring the transit points and found his emaciated and nearly desiccated body a little off the convoy's programmed path. We weren't sure if he was going to make it, but luckily he showed hints of recovery a few days ago."

As he finished, Michael tapped a sequence of instructions on his communicator causing the holographic projector in the office to light up.

Once the projection gained clarity, it displayed a figure wearing a surgical mask.

"Mr. Schwartz!" the figure greeted with respect.

"Dr. Lieberman" Michael responded, "What's the condition of the witness?"

You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

The doctor scratched his forehead while responding, "The man gained consciousness, but he seems to be severely traumatised. He keeps muttering things like 'Bruja' and 'Araña' and a lot of other gibberish."

The projection suddenly snapped his fingers while adding on, "That's right! We found that the individual had a backup module in his neural cortex. We were able to retrieve its contents. I will transfer it through this encrypted channel now."

On queue, a notification popped up in Michael's communicator. Michael quickly disconnected the call and connected his device to the office's massive viewing screen.

As the video played, Michael's expression grew increasingly excited. The backup module was a commonly used cyber implant that could hold a sufficiently large quantity of information. It was like a USB drive but one that was a constant part of you.

The video started right when an unidentified car approached the convoy and the team captain's first command was issued. It showed a recording from the armoured transport's security systems. It appeared as though the witness had the presence of mind to quickly back up the information during the attack, which was commendable. Michael noted down the man's contributions for a reward later.

Michael also noted down to make the more advanced Moment Back-Up Cyber implant as a staple for all deployed security personnel. Compared to the generic backup module the Moment Back-Up Cyber implant is a type of module that could store a fixed duration of data directly obtained from a human's natural sensors. Only a moment though. This is because the biological sensors naturally obtain a vast quantity of both related and unrelated information. Adding additional filters and running additional smoothening and enhancing algorithms naturally takes a lot of processing power, which in turn raises its costs. But Michael figured having a version that could hold a short duration would suffice. People within the same squad could split up their moments and sequence them so that it would add up to a longer scene.

Michael shook his head of such tangential thoughts and brought his attention back to the recording running before him.

Michael and Horatio watched attentively as the recording presented the events that transpired. Right as the video ended, Horatio harrumphed audibly, "Shit! Thing's aren't as simple as they seem. They are too clean. That shot that blew up the first truck was unwaveringly accurate. They either need a customised cyber implant, or they need superhuman training to be able to achieve it. And to hijack the armoured transport, they need to infiltrate it. They must have done it from within the facility itself. Seeing as they weren't captured by any of the security systems, AND were able to effortlessly wipe out all the backups in the facility, we're probably talking about specialised forces here."

Michael quickly added, "I just can't figure out who's behind this. I even exaggerated the rumours to make it sound blown up and completely fictional. Who would even believe that a high-tech research facility would be hidden in a frontier star system? Who would bother deploying assets based on such incredible rumours?"

That's right! Michael was the one who spread the rumours that a clandestine research facility was hidden in a frontier planet. It was his way of muddying up the waters. He built the rumour in such a way that no self-respecting individual would take it seriously. It was fabricated with the assistance of various creative minds such as scriptwriters and novelists. While those steps may sound overkill, Michael was a strong believer in delegating tasks to those that are proficient in them.

And to an extent, Michael would have succeeded, if not for the cloud-headed and impressionable Raymond Obiekwe. If Michael knew of the specifics behind the heist, he would personally shoot his own brains out. He had overlooked one of the core teachings of his business management course: 'Every plan must account for the lowest common denominator. Even if a structure is foolproof, you'd be surprised how easily an actual fool can collapse it.'

Horatio growled at Michael, "You were being too presumptuous. The world doesn't always run according to logic. You thought you were being smart by playing your cards that way. Now, look what happened? You lost everything, and have nothing as consolation. You failed so magnificently, that you don't even have a lead to follow to find out the culprit!"

Michael refused to believe it. Maybe it was his ego talking, he muttered, "That's not possible! What if it was all a coincidence?"

With an enraged roar, Horatio flung another item from his desk. This one perfectly struck Michael in his guts, winding him.

"Idiot! Think logically, will you? Do you know how many events have to fall perfectly into place for it to be classified as a coincidence?"

Horatio slumped into his seat and massaged his forehead, "Harvey and Shonda are never going to let this down, do you know that? They were waiting for a fuck up and you just handed it in a silver platter. The setback isn't minor either! Your half-assed attempt essentially doubled the typical development time and cost four times more because we had to divert resources through God-only-knows how many channels! And we have nothing to show for it because whoever dug us out basically stole all our clothes and stranded us in the middle of a city buck-naked!"

"Is there anything I can do?" Michael asked timidly.

Horatio guffawed sarcastically and retorted, "I swear to God- Haven't you done enough? I'm going to handle this. You need to get out of this fucking star system- NO- this entire fucking cluster! If I so much as smell your presence, and trust me I will, I am going to break your legs and ship you off - personally!" As he said that, Horatio grabbed a metal coffee cup on his desk, crumpled it like it was made of paper, and tossed it into a floating disposal bin behind Michael.

With a bitter expression, Michael quickly rushed out of the office.

He had run the numbers, and he knew just how much he had disadvantaged his father with this screw-up. The old man had made way too many concessions with the board to let Michael lead this team. It should have been his ticket to gain a stronger foothold in Halcyon Inc. but it turned out to be the shovel that dug his own grave.

In actuality, Michael was just struggling to accept his first failure. His whole life he'd been working tirelessly to succeed his father. It seemed as though his repeated successes had gotten to his head. And while Michael truly wanted to write this off as unfortunate series of events, he would be lying to himself if he did.

But what he couldn't figure out was the cleanliness of the whole thing. The amount of planning and rigour that it would take to covertly move chess pieces and undertake this operation would be massive. There had to have been some indications, a rustling bush, that would have raised red flags.

And what's more? He just couldn't fathom that any self-respecting competitor would bother to follow up on a fantastical rumour to such a degree. There had to have been a mole from inside the company.

That made more sense to Michael. 'This must've been a gambit by Harvey! I knew we shouldn't have disclosed the location to the board.'

Michael didn't make this conjecture based on preconceived biases. Sure, Harvey had always been opposing Horatio Schwartz in every turn, trying to squeeze his father out. But that should not have been sufficient reason to make this accusation. What truly nudged Michael towards that conclusion was the fact that whoever infiltrated the research facility had tapped into Halcyon Inc.'s internal communication channels.

This should not have been a trivial process in any way! The number of redundancies that were present in the channels meant that only competitors from a Rank 1 corporations would have been able to override and hijack it.

Besides, why would a Rank 1 corporation play ball in a lower court?

This could only mean that the intruders had internal information. Access codes to these channels. That was the only possible explanation that made any sense.

He was being sabotaged from within the company!

'I let my guard down. It was my mistake to think that I would be given a fair opportunity.'

But Michael had forgotten the golden rule that reigned in the Age of Corporations: Profits and benefits are all that matter.

'Those fucks from the board sure like to play fast and loose with the company's assets!'

The old monsters that still survived to date lived by squeezing maximum benefits at any cost. Lost appendages could be regrown. If cutting off the arms and legs could provide a massive benefit in the long run, the momentary excruciating pain would be worth it.

Well, that analogy was incorrect. They weren't cutting off their own arms and legs, they were cutting off the appendages of a nonsentient entity - the corporation. So they wouldn't feel the pain after all.

Even though Halcyon Inc. had made a loss due to Michael's failure, it wasn't catastrophic. The company would survive and thrive as it always had. However, his father would be the one to take the brunt of the damage.

'I can't let this pass! I need to build a case and present it in front of the shareholders!'

Michael firmed his resolve to follow up on that suspicion at a later date. Right now, he had to get his ass out of this star cluster just like his father "instructed" him to do.