“Easy now,” an engineer cautioned as Jack twitched the flight controller, shifting the distant drone laterally to the right by a few feet.

“Did you forget that I’m a pilot?” he asked, without looking around.

“No—I just don’t want to screw this up,” the man said, his voice fraught with tension.

“And you think I do?”

Hundreds of miles from the Junker, the remotely piloted logistical drone drifted closer to the target as Jack nudged the controls. He was aiming for a survey satellite, a large machine, built to drift through a system by endless, convoluted loops as it slingshotted around the planets and moons. The artful trajectory gave it a maximum search area to scan asteroids for the valuable minerals they contained. Such satellites were often discreetly operated by cartel contractors—given responsibility to protect them from pirates—and therefore fair game as far as the corporations were concerned.

Several days previously, as it travelled around the system’s star, the Junker had performed additional maneuvers to make their trajectory back out of the gravity well impossible to predict. Then, once happy they weren’t being tracked, they rendezvoused with an inner planetary mining station. The ship’s ident signature had been swapped for one registered within the system, leaving them free to travel as they pleased, and start putting the pieces of their plan into motion.

Jack had thrown himself into the work with a renewed vigor. He was nearly desperate to accomplish the only act that could assuage him of the anguish he felt, and wring some kind of humane contribution from his life. It also allowed him to avoid Theodore—for every second spent with his brother was becoming harder and harder to tolerate.

As he piloted their heavy drone into conjunction with the satellite, he felt a rush when he realized that he was actually the real driving force behind their plan. No matter what data Urtiga had provided him with, he had designed and laid out the absurd steps of the heist, often pushing his brother to take risks he would otherwise have shied away from. The sensation quickened his pulse, brushing aside the fog of placid acceptance. Though he appeared calm on the outside, the anger he had nurtured on the inside had grown stronger. Whenever a pause was called to set up part of the operation, he often sulked with impatience, frustrated by the idle pace of destiny. He felt a sensation he had never experienced before—anticipation that he might really pull it off. He hungered for the glory of that moment.

It would be followed by the final confrontation, and Jack had long since stopped caring what consequences that event would bring.

“Okay, your alignment is good, straight down the middle,” the engineer said.

“Yeah, I know. Ready on the throttle?”

“Sure.”

There was a tense silence, disturbed by the abrupt buzzing of the comm.

“Hey, Maharaba, your drone’s getting awfully close—watch your trajectory,” one of the satellite contractors complained, as he watched the events unfold from a distant tracking station.

“Hey man—whatever, it’s cool,” Jack complained loudly, adding a hint of inebriation to his drawl.

“I swear to Christ, operator, if you’re drunk, I’m going to have your ass!” the tinny voice yelled.

“Don’t tell me how to fly my drone, dude, and I won’t tell you what to do with your hunk of junk!”

Jack watched the conjunction radar carefully as he spoke and gestured to the nearby engineer, who jammed the throttle open. The drone lurched forward aggressively, accelerating until it was approaching the satellite as fast as a bullet. The small vessel impacted against one of the sturdier modules, smashing into pieces as the larger craft’s superstructure deformed under the impact.

“Oh, shit!” Jack signalled, while the contractor blew up on the comm. “Oh man! Look, I’m really sorry. I screwed that up I know.”

“You’re goddamned right you did! I’m writing you up for incompetence!”

“Okay, okay, I get that. You have to do your job. But I’m on parole and I need to write up the incident; report myself or I’m in violation of the terms. Can’t you let me do that?”

“Oh, an ex-con,” the contractor scoffed. “No reason I shouldn’t do you a favor.”

“Look man—it’s just the decent thing or I’m going back to a cell. Come on man, I’m taking responsibility. I just can’t get on the wrong side of the ass-crawling clerks out here.”

The contractor sighed. “Alright fine—whatever. But it better be sent out on time. And I don’t ever want to see you near another one of our rigs again.”

The comm clicked off.

“It looks good,” the engineer said as he studied the debris field, now falling through a much-decayed orbit that would take it drifting past Xīn lù.

“Excellent.”

Jack smiled—the first genuine smile he could remember in a long time. The thrill of success was a heady drug, and his imagination began to conjure more tricks he might try to get away with. He tried to push away the temptations, conscious that his ego was starting to get the better of him.

The incident report would be filed late, as so many often were, together with the bribery, intimidation and cajoling that accompanied all cartel business dealings. It bought them the time of bureaucratic incompetence and regulatory helplessness, while the debris field fell along its unstoppable trajectory, to pass through Xīn lù’s gravity well. The close-range tracking stations would pick it up too late to interdict, and so they would push satellites into safer orbits as needed to avoid the dangerous, but forgettable space trash.

Things moved quickly after that. The families’ senior lieutenants began setting up shop on the surface of Xīn lù, within its capital city of Fuyang. Fortuitously, it turned out that one of the older lieutenants, Sparky Mike, had an old connection in the gambling industry. With businesses across Xīn lù, the Gaming Circuit had developed a tense relationship with VennZech.

The Helvetic League condemned the industry, moralizing against the vice to its citizens—even taking aggressive steps to close down businesses. On Xīn lù, VennZech preached Helvetic philosophy, and banned its employees from gambling, inflicting harsh punishments on the inevitable fallen souls who strayed from the path of righteousness. Anxious not to anger the strongest corporate power on their world, other industries had also begun to distance themselves from the Gaming Circuit’s business.

Upon meeting the Circuit’s representatives, Sparky Mike played on these grievances, convincing them that they could profit from the humiliation a successful job against VennZech would bring. The Fenways could promise a substantial payment for services rendered, and once reassured they would be clear of the fallout, the Circuit agreed to a partnership.

With forged idents for the crew, the Junker docked with a backwater industrial station in low orbit, paying off the longshoremen as they moved sealed containers down to the planet. They worked through a group of shell companies, disguising the shipments as legitimate deliveries through several of the more well-trafficked and poorly secured logistical hubs. Then all that was left was to truck their equipment overland to a warehouse on Fuyang’s outskirts, where crates were unpacked, and weapons assembled.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

Even as Jack hated every minute spent back with the family, he found himself impressed by the skill with which they unfolded the artfully complex logistics of the plan. Seeing that so much relied on their ingenuity and dedication, he realized, shamefully, that he was hungry to repeat the experience. If Theodore were dead, he reflected as he lay awake at night trying to squeeze whatever hours of sleep he could from the oppressively tense atmosphere, he would be able to do this kind of thing under his own leadership.

An even stronger drive—one he was not sure he understood—forced him to erase the dark temptation from his mind. That was not him, and could never be, though the psychological conflict was painful. He took comfort in a fantasy of a distant future, in which a young colony settlement looked to him for leadership as they built the future of humanity in the stars. He saw honest workers who had left the corruption of Helvetic civilization far behind, though he wasn’t sure he would ever live to see such a life.

“Who do you like for the Sunan vs Rodriguez fight?” Theodore asked Jack as they drove through the night.

“I don’t know—maybe if you tell me who is going to win, I can decide,” Jack scoffed, as he kept his eyes focused on the road.

“No, it’s not like that,” Theodore said with a hurt expression. “Not this time. Sure, Mixed Martial Arts is a profitable business, but we really wanted a genuine fight between these two titans.”

“You don’t say?”

“Absolutely. Last month, I sat down with the other bosses and the Dojo leaders, and we agreed it was time to just let these guys test themselves; find out who was the real champion. No interference.”

“Theodore Fenway putting moral principle before profit,” Jack said, and shook his head.

“What? I’m a businessman, and I’ve done great things for the family. And I indulge in higher ideals when I can afford to.”

“Okay.”

“What? What are you saying?”

“Nothing.”

Theodore tugged on Jack’s arm, causing the truck to lurch on the road. “What?” he demanded.

“Hey, watch it!” Riley called from the back.

“Sorry,” Jack replied as he swallowed his pride. He only had to hold out a little longer. “I’m not saying anything, Theodore. I’m glad to hear it’ll be a real fight. You’ll have to let me know how the fighters are looking—I haven’t been keeping up with the tournaments lately.”

Theodore watched him carefully, then grinned. “Sure. I mean, personally I like Sunan—excellent ground game.”

They pulled up beneath a bridge. In the distance, across the river, Jack saw the buildings of VennZech’s prestigious research facility gleaming with the reflected lights of the city. The three of them grabbed backpacks and walked into the nearby park. A small hilltop dominated the cultivated forests and gardens—the favorite lunchtime spot of many of the VennZech executives. Until morning, the cluster of trees and shrubs at its summit would serve the Fenway brothers as a hide.

“Okay, right here,” Jack panted, dropping low as they crested the rise.

Damp but immaculate vegetation glinted in the darkness. From where he crouched, he could see all of the VennZech campus across the river, including the distant Advanced Sciences building.

“This is a better spot,” Theodore said quietly, pointing a few yards away.

“Okay,” Jack acknowledged, and they dropped their bags.

He pulled out a high-power hunting scope, setting it up on a tripod before focusing in on their target. Riley and Theodore scanned the campus with binoculars, but there would be nothing to see until dawn arrived.

“I still don’t see why we had to come out here,” Theodore continued in a low voice.

“You didn’t,” Jack protested. “Me and Riley could have handled it, and you’re just exposing yourself to unnecessary risk.”

“But you seem so passionate about it, and I want to help you with your passions, Jack.”

“You can rest assured that you are doing.”

“But why couldn’t our contact inside tell us where Rayker has set up?” his brother demanded, almost petulantly.

“We know where she has set up, we just need to make sure she’s actually in the building before I hand myself over.”

“With Riley.”

“Obviously.” Jack grinned. “You don’t mind the risk of being tortured to death, right Riley?”

The dark silhouette didn’t respond.

“Anyway,” Jack went on. “Once we’re in custody, they’ll take us to wherever she is.”

“The world must come to the woman,” Theodore said. “I respect that about her.”

“Right—and as long as she is in the Advanced Sciences building, they’ll take us to that security office.”

“But why can’t your insider just go there himself and find out?”

“He has no business being in that building, and he says they’re already getting suspicious of him.”

“Sounds lazy to me.”

“And then… well…” Jack paused as he searched for the words to express the depth of his motivation. He wanted to watch Rayker in her element before he tore it all away from her.

Theodore sighed. “Baby brother. Business should not get personal. I’ve told you so many times.”

Jack only shook his head.

“Can’t wait to see the look on her face,” Riley interjected. “We’ll snatch her as well—keep her around as a pet.”

“No, you won’t Riley,” Jack said. “That is way too ambitious.”

“I agree,” Theodore added. “That’s an insane idea. Stealing their toy will get us some retaliation, but kidnapping Allana Rayker will mean outright war with the corporations.”

“Don’t see why not if the opportunity presents itself,” Riley protested.

“It won’t,” Jack said firmly. “You have no idea what she is capable of.”

“She’s just a woman.”

“Maybe. I’ve heard some insane stories.”

Theodore grimaced. “We all have.”

Dawn brought with it the usual surge of traffic, and the occasional passage of early morning joggers through the parks. The trio would not be invisible to anyone motivated enough to find them, but the athletes were usually distracted by podcasts or music played through noise-cancelled earbuds. In any case they had no reason to engage with the same unchanging surroundings that their daily routines trained them to view as background noise.

“Okay, got some vehicles pulling into the underground now,” Riley announced.

Jack watched through his scope for the black SUV they were expecting. When it arrived, he carefully adjusted the angle, aligning it on a group of windows on the research building’s upper floor, where previous teams of the Fenway family had observed her at work.

They waited with bated breath as the sun climbed uncomfortably high above the golden horizon. Eventually, the blinds drew back, and Jack was greeted with the sight of his old boss—her cold glare flicking across the landscape below her, before she turned and walked back into the office’s interior.

“That’s it,” he said, feeling the rush of adrenaline and anxiety building within him. “We’re go.”

Theodore radioed a brief message to the eagerly waiting teams gathering around the industrial zone. Then, they waited until a gap in the foot traffic allowed them to pass unnoticed and return to their truck.

The next hour passed in a blur. After dropping Theodore off at a lonely street corner, Riley had driven them straight on to the VennZech compound. Jack sat in the back of the truck, his wrists locked behind his back. He was relieved that they didn’t talk, as Riley had taken a little too much enthusiasm in roughing him up. Through a black eye, Jack watched the buildings whip past, noting how they grew in size and sophistication as they drew closer to their goal. He tried not to think about what might happen once he was in Rayker’s hands. She was fully capable of killing them both on sight.

It seemed they arrived at the security gate almost instantly, and that the long drive had only been a dream. Jack fought back nausea as the guard stared at his face, then dragged him out of the vehicle and shoved him against a wall. They cuffed Riley as well, and he made a show of fighting back. The security gate became a truck entrance, became another security corridor, and finally, a prison cell. Both he and Riley sat with nothing to do but stare at the blank grey walls and hope the rest of the plan was smoothly in motion. Before long, they were rescued from their imaginations when the door unlocked, and Rayker stepped into the cell.

She stared at Jack, who did not return her gaze. Then she addressed herself to Riley.

“Riley Moore—longtime associate of clan Fenway, I believe?”

Jack fought back shock and tried to remain as motionless as possible. Of course she would know who he was. For his part, Riley nodded with a condescending chuckle, and Jack silently praised the heavens that his brother had had the luck and insight to gain the loyalty of a genuine psychopath. Rayker’s paranoia knew no limits, and any tell would have given the game away.

“You just decided to hand your employer’s brother over for a little bonus money?” she asked mockingly. “Your reputation speaks of better loyalty than that.”

“Thanks,” Riley countered. “But Theodore’s doesn’t.”

Rayker cocked an eyebrow.

“He got rid of this louse a long time ago,” Riley continued, “and he frankly doesn’t need the trouble he knows you can cause him. ‘Jack made his own bed,’ the man said to me, ‘and he can lie in it.’ Those were his very words.”

“Why didn’t he contact me himself?”

“Risk that kind of exposure?” Riley sneered. “How stupid do you think he is?”

Rayker nodded slowly, and turned back to Jack. She walked up to him, leaning in so close that Jack felt his mind go foggy as her scent wrapped around him. He did his best to glare hatefully into her eyes.

She sighed gently. “Did you have to damage him so? I thought I might enjoy him before I toss the body out with the trash.”

Riley laughed. “Yeah, that’s what they say about you, Madam. That you don’t like real men.”

Rayker turned to glare at him.

Any second now, Jack thought, and offered a silent prayer.