The brilliant lights of Kanta city flickered across the window of the autocab that took a severely anxious Jack deeper into the familiar urban sprawl of his hometown. He passed by street corners he remembered as intimately as the back of his hand, and shut his eyes as closed off memories forced their way back into his mind.
There were the nights when nothing mattered, when the wealth had been never-ending, and the iron fist of his father protected them from the consequences of their own actions. There had been loves taken too easily from him by his watchful brother, whose cunning eyes scanned his every weakness. There had been the nights of terror, when things had gone too far, and they had raced through the shadows from police or rival gangs. Back then, life had been equally as exhilarating as it was heartbreaking. Now, Jack felt only coldness for the world he never wanted to be a part of, even as he was dragged back into it.
Kanta was a wealthy city of several million, of which a sizeable percentage worked with or for the cartels. The colony of Misian had begun as a libertarian haven from the League, and proved that it could keep that reputation. But with time, an army of wealthy and well-connected business magnates had descended on the fragile young townships. Bankrolled by League subsidies, they outbuilt the colonists, establishing vast industrial bases faster than the struggling entrepreneurs who had originally been tempted by the new world. Soon, the majority of the population was composed of Helvetic missionaries; the students, academics, bureaucratic functionaries and business owners that rushed to each new colony established by the slowly expanding human diaspora. They worked aggressively to transform the planet’s culture and society to fit the League’s model, ensuring the blanket of their control would never be disturbed.
The Misian libertarians, however, could not be so easily deterred from their stubborn, individualistic spirit. Over the generations that followed, they turned to the only form of true self-expression left to those who would not submit to stifling authoritarianism—crime. The more powerful of the families slowly abandoned their former principles as they struggled to find any crack in the armor that would keep their businesses breathing, and so were sown the seeds that had grown into the cartels.
Kanta had been a fun town to grow up in, Jack reflected. Sat on the coastline of the same continent that held Misian’s capital city, it provided the largest ports that industrialists needed to explore the planet’s oceans. With that human traffic came tourism and a vast service industry to support those businesses. The entire center of the city was occupied by bars, nightclubs, and restaurants - packed with financial elites, struggling artists and adventurous explorers. The owners of those establishments enjoyed significant power and influence, enabling the funding of some of the largest cartels on Misian. In Kanta, the most powerful of the criminal families were the Fenways—though few outside of a shadowy network would know that name.
Jack knew where his older brother would be on a Saturday night. The man was a passionate patron, visiting his network of venues as often as work allowed him. He was an aggressive businessman, and worked hard for the success of the family. Their workforce was loyal and talented, and Jack knew that though his absence would have earned him a cold reception, he would be recognized and well-treated.
The door man at the club stared at him carefully, unsure if he was being set up.
“Sir,” he said eventually. “It’s been some time.”
“It has Steve,” Jack replied. “I hope I am well remembered enough to at least seek an audience?”
The bouncer laughed. “I wouldn’t dare to presume otherwise.”
He led Jack past the long queue of well-dressed and hopeful partygoers, into the expansive basement complex of the hotel. Seductive but classy waitresses nodded respectively to the VIP guest being escorted by one of the owner’s top lieutenants. They passed through the main hall, and Jack sighed as more memories flooded back; nights spent with beautiful young women—out to spend their inherited millions—the drinking and gambling, the drugs, and the fighting. He felt the vibration of the bass in his skin, blinked as brilliant light bounced off the two-story chandelier above them. The old wave of anxiety settled into the background like the roar of a waterfall. He was home.
Jack waited by the door of the club’s balcony while the lieutenant went to inform his brother. As time stretched on, the painful knot in his gut grew tighter. He forced himself to remember that it was just his brother’s way—he liked to make people wait for him, to make them realize how little he valued them no matter who they were.
Eventually, the lieutenant returned, and Jack was ushered inside. He was greeted by the familiar form of the vast leather couch that looked out over the main hall—the throne from which the king observed his peasants. His brother was stood in front of it, a picture of cold rage on his face.
“Jack Fenway. My own flesh and blood. How dare you show yourself back here?”
Jack steeled himself and nodded calmly. “Theodore.”
“You come crawling back to me like a whipped mongrel, begging for mercy.” His brother stepped closer to him, pushing his ferocious expression close enough for Jack to smell the woman’s perfume that had rubbed onto his skin.
“I ought to kill you right here and now,” Theodore finished.
Jack returned the scowl, his own face a picture of calm. Theodore held the rictus until the silence itself became awkward. Then he blinked, and his expression melted into a wide grin as his intense eyes sparkled with mischief.
“I can’t catch you out, can I you dog? Welcome home—it’s so good to see you again!”
His laugh was just as Jack remembered; too loud and too intense to be genuine.
“It’s good to be back,” Jack said with practiced sincerity. He had always known how to lie well—a gift from their father.
They sat down, while bottles and glasses were brought to them. Jack selected one of the fine eighteen-year-old whiskeys he had missed so much over the years, and when Theodore snapped his fingers, a gorgeous young model draped herself around his shoulders. The heady scent of privilege lightened the burden Jack hid within. They talked gossip at first, revisiting old friends and adventures. Theodore told him who among his childhood friends had been lost to prison, or a shootout with a rival, who had come up through the ranks, and who had betrayed them, only to pay the ultimate price.
“To the family,” Jack toasted, and their glasses clinked.
“And the lost lamb returned.” Theodore’s eyes flashed as he smiled. “Because the snake wants to eat him.”
Of course he would know everything already, or almost everything. There was only one way to proceed.
“I was wrong, brother.” Jack nodded. “I should have listened to you. I came to beg forgiveness.”
Theodore quickly waved a hand. “Without question—old water under the bridge. And who can blame you, really? Rayker is a significant force in our world, not to mention terribly seductive. I don’t suppose…?” His expression grew lurid as his imagination supplied him with a graphic fantasy.
Jack laughed. “No chance. She doesn’t let anyone get that close to her as far as I can tell.”
“Oh, but she does,” Theodore corrected him. “Those whom she pays for and occasionally disposes of. Helpless little chickens to feed the cougar. So, explain—did you offend her? What happened?”
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“Well, that’s the interesting thing,” Jack said with a significant look. “I learned something that I was not supposed to.”
Theodore was silent behind the smile. He stared for some time as his mind ran through the computations. “Jack, Jack, Jack, my dear brother.” He sighed. “Are you about to make a business proposition?”
Jack waved his hand dismissively. “Don’t be silly—I know you have so many profitable irons in the fire. No need to waste your time with my problems.”
“Oh, come on, you can’t just tease me like that. Your long-term employer has kept you from the fold for so long. She didn’t turn on you over spilled milk. What are you hiding? Please, please tell me.”
Jack chuckled. “Well, if you really are that interested…”
“Tell me quickly, or I’ll have to beat it out of you.” The smile never wavered.
Jack sighed. “I suppose you are aware that VennZech is involved in illegal weapons development?”
“Oh, but so is everyone, behind the scenes. And people hardly bother to pretend otherwise these days. After all, what difference does a nuke make when ten million replacements are born every day?”
“They sent a team out to an unexplored comet—beyond the Delta limb.”
“Far from prying eyes—gosh, I’m getting tingles.”
“They set up a workshop and worked in secret.” Jack recited the details his brother would be able to corroborate. “And they solved the quantum tunneling problem.”
“They didn’t!” Theodore’s hand flew to his mouth.
“Absolutely they did—I have the lab data to prove it.” He produced a data stick; a useful gift from Urtiga containing doctored scientific reports. He had no idea if quantum tunneling actually was the key to more destructive weaponry, but it was the talk of the engineering community.
“And the yield?”
“A hundred teratons of TNT.”
“Well, good lord.”
His brother was momentarily at a loss for words—a genuine reaction, Jack realized. The man started to go pale as he processed the implications of the news, and Jack found himself sympathizing. Theodore’s reaction bespoke a man slowly coming to the realization that the world he had spent a lifetime building for himself might soon be destroyed.
The excitement of the last few weeks had kept Jack from really connecting with the human cost that was a stake. But it suddenly became clear, even in so distasteful an example as his brother, and the thousands of people that worked for him. He felt a wave of horror pass over him, quickly replaced with steely determination. His last doubts had begun to fade away.
“Christ, no wonder she wants you dead,” Theodore observed, as he emerged from the reverie. “How fortunate you managed to get away.” His brow furrowed. “But how did you get that kind of data?”
Jack shrugged. “It turns out that I am not the only person who has lost their respect for VennZech over the years.”
“An insider?”
“Someone high up in the research and development department. He helped me get away.” Jack cocked his head. “You heard about the terrorist attack on Ambrosia?”
“That was him?”
“Cover for him to steal what he needed.”
Theodore stared at him. “Needed… for what?”
Jack returned his stare. “Ted, you know what’s going to happen if any corporation monopolizes that kind of technology. And Rayker… well, she’s everything they say she is.”
Theodore nodded, his expression fraught with concern.
“I… we—have an opportunity.”
“I can’t believe what I’m hearing.”
“It’s all on this data stick.” Jack pressed it into Theodore’s limp hand. “Have a look.”
His brother stared at him wordlessly as he passed the device to a patiently waiting functionary. The man disappeared, while Theodore leaned back against his couch.
“My brother. My kid brother,” he said, shaking his head.
They spent the night deep in discussion, and Jack noticed that Theodore now avoided drinking. With reluctance, he decided to follow the example. His brother wanted to know everything about his experiences with Rayker and VennZech, laughing obnoxiously whenever Jack recounted a particularly gruesome event.
Eventually, the functionary returned, giving Theodore a significant look and a nod. That was enough for the boss. He made several calls, then led them out of the nightclub to a waiting limousine. They were driven to the warehouse on the edge of the city, where—Jack remembered—all the family’s most serious business was discussed.
Servants prepared a table with chairs and water to drink, and Jack remained fascinated with his brother’s strict discipline towards mixing work and alcohol. It was something new, and he wondered what else had changed in his character over the years. Eventually, they were joined by more of Theodore’s lieutenants, some of whom Jack recognized, some of whom he did not.
“Riley Thornton.” A man said calmly, as he shook Jack’s hand.
“Riley is one of my best men,” Theodore explained proudly.
Jack was shocked to hear this, since his brother almost never allowed praise to escape his lips. As he watched Riley out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the telltale signs of a professional; the cauliflower ears, the nasty looking scars on his hands, face and neck. Riley held himself with a calm and professional confidence that Jack had only seen in Rayker’s most dangerous enforcers—and more recently in Urtiga. When he spoke, he used measured words, and listened even more carefully. That he seemed to genuinely respect Theodore’s opinions terrified Jack.
“And so, baby brother,” Theodore said, as he finished explaining Jack’s story to the rest of the stunned cartel leaders, “Why don’t you explain to us exactly what you think we’re going to do about this?”
“I want to steal it,” Jack said, and was pleased to see several of them react with incredulous laughter. They knew they were out of their depth, and while they might mock the idea, they were on the edge of their seats waiting for the punchline.
Riley alone didn’t react, but studied him in the awkward silence. “Your contact—this was his idea?” he asked, eventually.
Jack nodded. “He believes he has the resources to help us pull this off.”
“The data stick?”
“Contains the full layout of the facility on Xīn lù, together with their security protocols. He has also written a virus that—once uploaded—will erase all of their research data.”
“Apart from their physical backups,” Riley objected.
“Well, I have some ideas for that.”
“Okay Jack,” Theodore said, “let’s start with the basics. Who is this guy that is dropping magic beans in our laps with no strings attached? What is his deal?”
“I only met him when I went on the run,” Jack explained. “And then only briefly. I know him to be a mid-level tech guy that’s gone a little too long without promotion.”
“Not a good enough reason to betray one of the galaxies great powers and throw in with the cartels.”
“Honestly, I think he is a grandiose narcissist.” Jack watched his brother’s eyes, but the man didn’t blink. “The unacknowledged genius is not being recognized as he should be, and he wants to hurt them. There were rumors, I recall, that he had an affair with a senior executive’s wife, and he’s anticipating the blowback. On the flip side of the coin, the corporation is stifling his ambition. He thinks he’s a tough guy, and he wants to find ways to hurt people. He even suggested you would want to hire him once this is over with.”
Theodore scoffed. “He’d be as much of a liability to us as he is to them.”
“I don’t like this,” Riley said. “Too much of this is resting on Jack’s opinion. They could be setting us up for a trap.”
“My brother’s loyalty is beyond question,” Theodore said in a tone that did not allow the possibility of dissent.
“I’m not questioning his loyalty, but they could be deceiving him. This story is frankly insane.”
“And why would VennZech have a problem with the Fenways? Our paths rarely cross.”
Riley shrugged, but didn’t respond. He was obviously more suspicious than he was thoughtful.
Jack frowned. “You know, I’m not saying that’s a total impossibility—my chief motivation, obviously, is the most dangerous woman in the galaxy currently trying to kill me.”
“The only reason you’re back here,” another man scoffed.
“Yes,” Jack said contritely, “I thought Rayker would take me further. I admit that I was wrong, and I will remind you all that I never accepted a job that went against the interests of the family. I was very strict about that.”
“Probably why she sidelined you,” Theodore said. “Okay, well, we know that’s true, and she wouldn’t be after him if the stakes weren’t high. We know that VennZech’s headquarters on Ambrosia were attacked, but with no obvious motive—clearly a diversion of some kind. We’ve been able to confirm through our own contacts that something was going on at the comet described in the data logs. An interstellar sleeper probe picked up traffic in that direction at some point.”
Jack’s blood ran cold. “What do you mean at some point?”
“Well, it’s gone quiet now, obviously. Why would they keep it running if they completed their research?”
“Right—yeah, obviously.”
Theodore gave him a strange look. “And our own people have checked the research data that Jack brought us, and concluded it looks plausible.” He stood up and surveyed the assembled faces. “Gentlemen, is it really so hard to believe that humanity is on the cusp of a technological leap forward, and that we have been fortunate enough that our wayward brother stumbled into the middle of it?”
“I remain skeptical. I want at least a phone call with this guy,” Riley said as he stared unblinkingly at Jack.
Jack calmly returned his gaze and nodded. “I’ll arrange it.”
“But what are we saying here?” someone else interjected. “The Fenway family is going to take responsibility for the superweapon that’s going to transform civilization as we know it?”
“I haven’t decided what it all means yet,” Theodore said and sighed. “Let’s just focus on the opportunity in front of us, okay? The Fenways know how to handle business, and I don’t think anyone considers a job on Xīn lù to be too far outside of our capabilities? Right?”
This was met with murmured assent and noncommittal shrugs.
“I know—it’s a VennZech site, and that poses some steep challenges. But if we really have an insider, then that’s a start.”
The men nodded their agreement, and they began the slow and laborious task of working out a plan.