2006, 6th February

Dublin, Ireland

Jack Sterling finished his drink, then fixed his son, seated across the table, with a searching gaze.

“You have never expressed an interest in the family business before.”

Aaron did not reply, his own gaze hard and unrelenting.

Something had changed within him, and Jack was only too pleased if this meant he would harness his talents in service of the familial bottom line.

Jack had known for a while that something about Aaron was strange, and the people that took him with them, stranger still.

And immensely powerful, if Jack’s gut instinct was to be believed; They were not the kind of people one opposed lightly.

Perhaps they were a government, or a multinational corporation, or even some sort of religious cult, its roots embedded deep within the flesh of the world, but all Jack needed to know was that Aaron now had a particular set of skills that could prove very profitable indeed.

Nolan was too shortsighted; his need for control of his son, who had been taken by the same people, had eroded their relationship entirely.

Jack did not plan on repeating that mistake.

“It’s good that you’ve finally taken initiative then. I’ll have to show you the ropes. When do you want to begin?”

“Are you busy?”

“No more than any other day, no.”

“Then starting right now would be fine with me.”

“With you, sure. But I have to have you meet with my… associates. In this business, one cannot survive without connections. And as you well know, this is a critical time for us. The people I want you to meet cannot simply see you at your convenience.”

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Aaron knew his father was referring to the war in Iraq.

For weapons traffickers, it was a critical time indeed, to make as much of a profit as they possibly could.

“So… I’m guessing a fair few of our… associates are based in the US?” He ventured.

Jack did not reply, pouring himself another drink instead.

“Well,” Aaron rose to leave, “You know where to find me.”

“Did Pierre visit with you, or are you here alone?”

Aaron froze, breath caught in his throat, before he composed himself and replied.

“He’s not here. I haven’t seen him for a while.”

“Shame. Nolan wants to see his son. Ah, well.”

Jack returned to finishing his drink as Aaron returned to his vehicle parked outside.

“Productive meeting?” Ciara asked him, as he pulled himself in the driver's seat.

“Sure. I’m not really getting a good feel for our game plan here, though.”

“What do you mean?”

“My father says we’ll have to see some of our, ah, business associates soon enough. Thing is, you and I both know who these associates are going to be.”

“Politicians?”

“Yes. For the war lobbying. Now, Apotheosis has one rule; no interference. We’re skirting pretty close to it.”

“I won’t have that problem on my end at least.”

“Oh?”

“The… sex trade is just a gateway to her more profitable venture. Blackmail. I bet a lot of these same… associates would give anything to see her gone.”

“Then we’ll have to coordinate our efforts to get these people out of the picture before we finally bring this whole thing crashing down.”

Ciara did not reply.

Neither of them had made any plans for local residence, choosing instead to rely on the portal network, and stay within the relative safety of the space station.

Once through, Aaron retreated to his studies once more, and he assumed Ciara would do the same.

This was their most dangerous assignment yet, not because of the strength of the opposition they would face, which was laughable compared to Hans, but how close to home it was, and how restrained they were in their own movements to prevent their actions from influencing the hollow politics on any great scale.

Aaron admitted this was the sort of thing he could really use Michael’s advice with, but Michael had laid the task squarely on his shoulders, feeding him a line about how he should trust himself as much as Michael trusted him.

Aaron sighed heavily, and got back to work.