“How dare you barge into my office like this! Who do you think you are?” The Overseer roared, foam and spit flying from his mouth as soon as Donovan stepped into the decadently luxurious quarters.
Sitting behind a massive oak desk, Oliver Tharks was the very image of a corrupt former noble turned politician. Carefully trimmed beard with a slightly twirled moustache and a braided topknot dyed in a tacky dirty silver colour decorated his face and head, giving the illusion that he was a man in his sixties. However, neither it nor the expensive ash-grey and pink striped suit could fool Donovan. The Chief knew for a fact that the Overseer would be celebrating his hundred and fourteenth birthday at the end of the year. High-class genetic treatments were something else. Extending a person’s lifespan well above two centuries was possible, for the right price. It was a luxury Donovan knew he could never afford unless he could miraculously add a few extra zeros to his savings. But as good as the procedures were, they weren’t perfect, and he needed only look at the dark purple spots forming on Oliver’s skin around the joints of his wrists, fingers and neck for confirmation.
“Pardon the intrusion, Mr Tharks,” Donovan began before being cut off by another angry outburst.
“That’s Lord Tharks to you!”
“Right,” the Chief could feel his blood pressure spiking.
Dealing with Oliver was always a pain. He simply refused to accept the abolishment of the nobility. The Council had done away with that absurd practice of the Third Empire from the moment the UR was established. Still, Donovan knew his place and played along with the Overseer’s delusions, but not now when there was so much at stake. Briefly, he contemplated that coming here before the Commodore wasn’t a good idea. But the Chief erased that traitorous thought almost as quickly as it had formed. Despite their apparent joint interest, Neverok was going to use this to twist Donovan’s hand. With the Knight Protector on her way, there was no way he would give his enemies ammunition to use against him. And trusting the political officer with assisting with detaining Overseer Tharks was the same as trusting a hungry rat to guard his lunch ration.
“We’ve got bigger problems than how I address you!” Donovan snapped, putting an end to the pointless lecture Oliver had begun. “I’ve been ordered to arrest you.”
“What? I know I must’ve misheard you because you can’t be this stupid Chief Rex.”
“I’m not joking, Mr Tharks. The Council have dispatched Knight Protector von Eisstahl.” Donovan shook his head. “She’ll be here in less than forty-eight hours….”
“And you tell me now!” Oliver grabbed a crystal ashtray from his desk and threw it at him. Although the object missed him by a significant margin, shattering harmlessly against the door behind Donovan, he had to remind his team to stay calm with a snap of his fingers.
“Long-range scanners are offline. The entire sensor suit needs a hardware change, and the replacement will be here in three months. Until then, we’re blind to who’s entering and leaving the system.” The Chief recited verbatim the same explanation he had used in more than fifty reports in the past month.
By this point, it had become an automated response whenever the issue was mentioned. It was one of the few things for which neither he nor Oliver could get black-market replacement parts. The Academy was very strict and pedantic when it came to United Republics’ scanning equipment. That’s why he had gone through the official channels to order a replacement. But if Donovan had to be honest, the delay suited him fine. The lack of long-ranged scanners meant no entry logs, which meant that anyone could dock on Last Hope without the Chief forcing the techs to alter the records. It also benefited Neverok’s shady operation and Tharks’ off-the-books dealings.
“Anyway, my hands are tied on this matter. If I refuse to carry out the order, I’ll be executed for treason the moment that bitch von Eisstahl steps foot on the station. She’s not the type you can put in your pocket, Mr Tharks.”
“Are you insane, Rex!” The Overseer yelled, his entire body shaking with rage from behind the desk. “You can’t arrest me! I own this station! I own every one of you! And I bloody own you!”
“That you do,” Donovan whispered before barking an order to his team. “Everyone out! I want to speak with the Overseer alone.”
He couldn’t risk his people getting unhealthy ideas. Although they were his most loyal men within Security, the Chief knew that said loyalty would likely shift the moment a few extra credits were mentioned. It might have been best to have brought Gad and her goons along for this. That sadistic whore’s eyes would glisten like diamonds at whatever payment Oliver would offer, but at the end of it, she would honour her contract with Donovan. However, he couldn’t have Neverok know that a Mo-Saa liquidation squad was present onboard the station. The excuse that they were syndicate thugs he had hired wouldn’t fly with the Commodore.
“Finally come to your senses, Donovan?”
Oliver smirked as he sat back on the cushioned smart chair and retrieved a cigar from one of the many hidden compartments of the desk. He clearly misunderstood Donovan’s reasoning for the order. The Chief took a deep breath before speaking in a voice as frigid as the space outside the complex’s walls.
“I’m sure you’ll make whatever reason the Council has for ordering your arrest go away. That, however, will take time, and I’ll be damned if it’s at the cost of my life. Saving your wrinkled ass ain’t my top priority right now. Let alone caring if your pride and ego get hurt.” By the time he finished talking, Donovan was standing by the desk, his right hand resting on the handle of the stun baton secured to his waist.
“Be careful, Rex. You’re walking a very thin line,” Oliver grumbled, his eyes narrowing to slits as he issued yet another threat. “Whom do you think the idiots you hired are going to listen to? Me or you?”
“Chief! This is Control…” Donovan closed the channel and disconnected himself from the Security feed. He didn’t have time for distractions. Whatever the idiots at HQ had done would have to wait. Although, if he had to guess, the urgent attempt to contact him had most likely something to do with the fuming Overseer sitting a meter away from him.
“The way I see it, there are a few options available. One, I place you under house arrest, and I mean in your quarters here on Last Hope and not on your yacht at dock 02-01. I can’t exactly drag you to the brig without any proof. Regulations are quite clear on that part.”
He put up a second finger as he continued. “Option two. I make you the Commodore’s problem. His agents are on their way as we speak. It’s a formality to make sure I do as I’m told, but I’ll be within my rights to let them handle the situation since there’s quite the glaring conflict of interest.” A third finger went up, and with it, a tired smile formed on Donovan’s face.
“But if you try or rather want to be difficult about this, I’ll have no problem following my orders to the letter. I assure you, Mr Tharks, you’re not going to like the cells we have on the lower levels. They are far from what you might consider… comfortable.”
The Chief placed his Gauss pistol on the desk, finger hovering over the trigger, to ensure that what he wished to say next was understood.
“Or, to answer your question, we do a re-enactment of the Pandora incident. This last one, I guarantee that neither of us wants. But Void Fever is a nasty thing. You never know when it might strike or how fast it might spread. So, why don’t you stop acting like a crazy old ass and choose the first option?”
“Well, well, well. I don’t know what to say, Chief Rex.” Oliver drummed his fingers on the wooden surface of the desk, examining him with unhidden scrutiny. “You’re not a stupid man, but you’re not that smart to have come up with all that on your own in such a short time. And you’re not bold enough to take this tone with me, not without someone backing you. The question is, who might that be?”
The Overseer picked one of the wide monogrammed glasses and poured himself a generous serving of what had to be an extravagantly expensive pinkish concoction. Even from a distance, Donovan could pick up the dizzying aroma of sweet fruits and alcohol as the man swirled the content of the glass before taking a large sip.
“It’s not the Council, that’s for sure. And I can rule out the Academy’s High Command since they aren’t the subtle sort. Might as well scratch that annoying von Eisstahl woman. If she knew you half as well as I, she’d rather string you up.” One hand holding the glass firmly and the index finger of the other scratching at the surface of the wooden desk, Oliver gave him a displeased smile. “Tell me, Donovan, what’s Alexei plotting?”
Sensing that the worst part was over, the Chief relaxed his posture a fraction. The tension was doing a number on his neck and shoulders, and he was sure he had developed an ulcer or three in his stomach. As much as the head of security tried, he couldn’t imagine Monic offering to relieve his pain with a nice long massage, let alone listen to him vent. Donovan cursed himself; he had to focus, not daydream. His current issue was how much he could reveal to the Overseer. Or rather, how much he dared. Oliver Tharks had a temper and a bad habit of speaking before thinking, one born of the privilege of his position. However, while few could act against Oliver, where Alexandra von Eisstahl was concerned, a misplaced word could also spell doom for Donovan.
“As I said, Mr Tharks, whatever grudge the Council has with you, you’ll make it go away. Politicians aren’t that different from gangs. Sure, they work on a different scale, but at the end of the day, they probably wish to squeeze a few extra credits out of your wallet.”
“Get to the point, Chief Rex.”
“What I’m trying to say is that the Council won’t allow that bitch von Eisstahl to be your judge and executioner. This means she’ll be forced to spend some time here on Last Hope. And a mining complex as large as this one is a dangerous place. We’re understaffed, overworked, and accidents are bound to happen.” Donovan smiled as his imagination formed a handful of pleasant scenarios.
“An accident?” Oliver rubbed his temple with one hand after consuming another dose of the pinkish concoction. “A bloody accident! That’s the best you and Alexei can come up with!?”
“Like it or not, yes,” the Chief grunted. “She’s not your average Knight Protector. She’s the Knight Protector—the Academy’s poster girl. You can’t walk a block on any UR world without coming across a propaganda still with her face on it.”
“You’re wasting my time with needless explanations-”
“No!” Donovan snapped, slamming his fist against the desk. “You need to get this into your head. Alexandra von Eisstahl ain’t somebody you can pay someone to shoot. Nor can you poison her without getting on the wrong side of the Academy or whatever other convoluted plan is forming in your brain. She’s the type of person who has a squadron of soldiers following her around like a trained hound. I’m not talking about grunts fresh out of the Academy. It’s fucking elite Innari shock troopers. So, yes. An accident is our best option.”
The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.
Donovan rubbed his eyes. “I’m not delusional, Mr Tharks. If you go down, I go down. You’ll choose house arrest because that’s the sensible option. That’s why I took liberty interpreting my orders and came to speak to you.”
“How very considerate of you.” The old ass snarled mockingly. “And what it is that you’ll want for your benevolence?”
“Nothing. All I ask is that you purge your personal data-stores. Have your secretaries cook the books. Just hide your tracks as best as you can.” Turning around, Donovan continued as he walked towards the door. “I’ll leave a few people outside to make sure you stay inside your quarters. Commodore Neverok’s agents will guard your yacht—nothing I can do about that. In about four hours, some of my techs will come to disconnect your office from the mainframe. It’s all the time I can give you.”
With that, the Chief stepped out of the Overseer’s office, refusing to hear what Oliver Tharks had to say. He felt a decade older despite only a handful of minutes having passed. At the very least, that was one less problem to worry about for now. The chances that Overseer Tharks would do something to make Donovan’s life difficult in the coming days were high to the point where he actually considered putting a slug through the ancient asshole’s head to be a preferable option.
“Chief!” One of his men tried to get his attention.
“You lot stand guard here. Overseer Tharks isn’t allowed to leave his quarters. No exceptions. I don’t care if you’re bored or need to take a piss. You stay here where the camera can see you. Step out of view without my permission, and you’ll be shitting boot parts for a week. Am I clear?”
“Yes, sir!” The man nodded enthusiastically. “But Chief…”
“What!” Donovan snapped. He wasn’t in the mood to have his orders questioned, not when there was the matter with the madman with the shooter that required his attention.
“That is… Control has been trying to contact you.” The man stuttered, visibly shaken. “There’s been a development.”
“What did they say? Don’t tell me Kodiak managed to screw something! I swear, I’m going to shoot him myself!” Although he saw red, Donovan hadn’t lost his mind, so he motioned for the portable comms console.
“Don’t know. You told us to stay off the feed without using the device. But we don’t have the access code….”
“I’m surrounded by idiots!” The Chief growled as he retrieved the connection cable and jammed it into the port behind his ear. “Control, report!”
“Chief! Finally! I’ve been trying to contact you for the last five minutes!” The operator on the other end of the feed was one of King’s techs which was somewhat unusual considering the situation. However, even a blind man could see that the communications specialist had a crush on Kurtz, which bordered on obsession. This would explain his absence from his post but in no way excused it, and Donovan would have to remind the hulking man what his priorities should be during a lockdown situation.
“Report, damn you!”
“Fifteen minutes ago, we lost contact with Team 9. We thought it was a system glitch because the mainframe’s been bugging out, but halfway through the checks, we hailed Medical. There was no response from Dr Saiko or the nurses.” The operator’s voice was shaking as he outlined the current situation. “Professor Kruger and his assistant managed to patch it up, and we got a lock on Team 9… Chief… They’re flatlined… The blackout lasted for two, maybe three minutes at most!”
Donovan could feel the blood drain from his face at the last. He had lost control. Medical was a five-minute walk from HQ, and somehow the shooter had made his way there without anyone noticing. That was impossible. The only people he could think of who could do something like that in such a short period were the members of Task Force 36. But no one in their right mind would dispatch a special ops unit to take over a derelict mining complex.
“You can cry like a little girl later!” Donovan shouted as he sprinted through the food stalls of Rust Town. He had no clue when he had entered the civilian section and didn’t care. Right now, his single priority was to prevent the operator from having a panic meltdown.
“What the hell’s going on, Chief? Someone’s dropping our guys like flies! Wiping out an entire team in two minutes. Two fucking minutes!”
“Get a hold of yourself. You’re not a civi. You’re an Academy soldier!” Donovan stopped long enough to yank the cable connecting him to the portable console before smashing the device against a support pillar, turning it into a pile of scrap. “Listen to me and do exactly as I say. Lock HQ. Barricade the door if you have to, but make sure no one can get in. Do you copy?”
“Yeh... Yes, Chief.”
“Good. Inform all teams that I want them at the armoury in an hour. I don’t care if they’re off duty, sleeping or whatever. I want them there within the hour! The closest one is to secure it no matter the cost. Full use of combat gear is authorised under regulation 22D.”
“Roger that, Chief. Hey!” The operator’s voice became distorted as he addressed someone inside the Control room while still connected to the feed. “You can’t come in. HQ is under lock… Oh, fuck!”
“Control.” Silence answered his call. “Control, come in.”
Static took hold of the feed, and Donovan felt as if someone had punched him in the gut. This had to be a nightmare. To call his predicament a disaster was putting it lightly. He had to do something. Anything.
“Gad!” He switched to Renata’s private channel. “Your prey has made it inside Security Command Centre. There’s only one way in or out of there. Can you get rid of him and be gone within the hour?”
“Sure thing, boss.” The Mo-Saa leader sounded almost pleased over the feed. “We’re close by anyway since I wanted to use your cute young officer as bait. Just one question. Do we care about collateral casualties?”
“No. Anyone inside is as good as dead,” Donovan licked his dry lips as he gave voice to the unthinkable. “Actually, scratch that. No witnesses. I’ll deal with the aftermath.”
“You sure about that?” Renata’s laughter made him sick.
“Yes, damn it! In exactly ninety minutes, Security’s coming guns blazing. I’m cleaning house. I swear, Gad, if you’re there when I arrive, I’m turning your insides into paste!”
“You’re such a tease, Don. Drinks at my place after this is over. And you better be as hard as you sound right now ‘cause I’m going to screw your brains out.” The woman giggled and terminated the link before he could curse her to hell and back.
This was a terrible idea born out of desperation. There was no hiding Renata’s involvement from Neverok. Donovan had no idea how he was supposed to deal with the aftermath, not without selling what was left of his soul to the Commodore. However, Donovan couldn’t afford the luxury of secrecy. Once HQ was back under his control, he would think of something. He always did.
Like a drunkard, Donovan made his way into the cargo lift leading back to section 01. Slumping against the control panel, he struggled to stay on his feet. It didn’t make sense. In a little less than seven hours, he had lost control of Last Hope. No matter how much he examined his actions and choices, the head of security couldn’t find a single fault. So, how had it come to this? The answer was simple, as it was infuriating. All this time, Donovan had been reacting to the changes as the situation spiralled out of control. The years spent sitting on his ass doing nothing while dealing with the soul-crushing boredom of the mining complex had made him lazy and complacent. He hated to admit it, but he was a pale shadow compared to the young Donovan Rex, who escaped the oppressive structure of the Academy and slipped through the fingers of the criminal syndicate, which had a chain around his neck.
The minutes rolled while he played nightmarish scenarios inside his head. Each more horrible than the previous one. Until finally, the Chief screamed and slammed the panel in an attempt to fight against the sense of hopelessness which had taken control of him. He cursed himself for a fool as it dawned on him that he wasn’t dealing with a single madman with a gun. If only he had stopped and thought about it rationally, Donovan would’ve realised sooner that he was up against a team of professionals. That single errant thought regarding Task Force 36 was the key. It should have been obvious from the start. There was no one on the station with that serious hardware. Not even Security. Whomever the assailants were, they came with top-shelf military gear. Their goal was to take control of Last Hope as fast and quietly as possible. And the speed with which they moved meant that they had been hiding under Donovan’s nose for months. But who had sent them? It was possible they worked for Tharks, but that didn’t make sense. The Overseer could take control of half of the Chief’s people with the snap of his fingers. As for the Council or the Academy, they’d simply issue relocation orders and not bother with wasting this much time and effort.
“A third party. But who?” Donovan murmured to himself.
Perhaps he should share his conclusions with Gad to give her a heads-up, just in case. But the Mo-Saa were far too disciplined. They would disconnect from the feed until their mission was finished. After all, they were the closest thing the Khanate had to a special operations military unit. Still, putting the loose amalgamation of pirates in the same category as an organised army was laughable. Each pirate lord or king, or however they called themselves these days, had their own interpretation of what the Mo-Saa were supposed to do and how they were supposed to act and look. However, they produced results, and Donovan couldn’t argue that point. A troublesome thought made its way to the forefront of his mind. Renata was far too relaxed and unusually slow in delivering the results he expected. It was almost as if she knew who she was hunting. But if that were the case, it would mean a Khanate pirate ship was hidden within the system. That would also explain how the assailants had gained access to the station, as well as the timing. They must have detected the arrival of the Knight Protector and wanted to have Last Hope in their hands before von Eisstahl arrived. Make Donovan look like an incompetent fool and have him replaced with one of their agents. Yes, that had to be it. All the pieces fit perfectly.
“Try to play me for a fool! Fuck you, Gad!” He slammed his fist into the control panel, indignation replacing the despondency creeping within him. “Neverok’s been looking for someone to pin this mess on, and you just volunteered.”
Donovan’s lips twisted in a feral grin while he let his imagination loose. He would have that sadistic whore crucified before gift-wrapping her for Alexei. Let her run her mouth raw; the old bastard wouldn’t believe a single word coming from her viperous tongue. Yes, that was perfect. With this, the Chief might actually come on top. Get a commendation or even a medal, and the best part was that he could blame the Academy’s High Command for not sending him a replacement long-ranged scanner sooner. But he had to be careful. This time, there couldn’t be mistakes. Taking a deep breath, Donovan opened a channel to Neverok’s feed.
“Commodore.”
“Chief, how unusual for you to be the one contacting me.” Alexei’s wheezing voice carried a note of annoyance as he answered. “All things considered, I’m surprised you have the time to chat with an old fool like myself.
“I have the situation under control.” Donovan bit his tongue, refusing to be baited so easily.
“Is that so? In that case, I’ll wait for your report first thing tomorrow. And Chief, unlike you, I’m a busy man.” Busy hiding his own dirty secrets, the head of security thought to himself but kept the comment to himself.
“Of course.” Chief Rex tried his best to keep his voice level. It was rare that he had the opportunity to gloat. “It pains me to say this, but your theory of an internal conflict within Security is completely unfounded, Commodore.”
“That again,” Alexei’s sigh sounded like a slap. “Don’t bother, Donovan. I have the paperwork ready; only waiting for names. But if you can’t supply them, I will…”
“We’re dealing with Mo-Saa infiltrators.”
The wheezing was gone from Neverok’s voice, replaced by steel. “I am not in the mood for jokes, Officer Rex.”
“I have them cornered inside the SCC. My people are preparing for the eradication of hostile elements as we speak. I’m heading there myself.”
“You will delay that mission, Chief, until I arrive. ETA hundred and twenty-eight minutes.”
“Can’t comply with that order, Commodore. There’s no telling what damage they’ll cause to the mainframe if we leave them unchecked any longer.” Donovan was ready to burst into a joyous dance. “This will all be over within the hour. I’ll try to keep one or two alive for you to interrogate at your leisure.”
“For your sake, you better deliver on that promise, Chief.” Alexei hissed with displeasure. “The presence of Mo-Saa is a complication I want permanently resolved before I arrive at section 01.”
Donovan closed the link with a satisfaction he didn’t think possible. Having the old bastard dance at the palm of his hand was an intoxicating feeling. After the shitty day he was having, it was borderline cathartic to see his plan come to fruition. His jubilation was short-lived as a message flashed in the corner of his cornea implant, informing him of an incoming video recording from Control. Accompanying the file was a single line of text.
< CONTROL: THE DEMON REQUESTS AN AUDIENCE >
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