December 2071. Valorus Security Group HQ. McLean, Virginia. United Nations of America.

Amal’s face contorted into a deep scowl as he watched the news on the TV in his office. The report revealed that Puerto Rico had struck a deal with the UNA government to remove their limited active military personnel from the island, placing responsibility for its defense in the hands of the Puerto Rican National Guard.

The move was publicly hailed by the Nationalist Party as a symbol of national pride and self-sufficiency. After all, the island had made itself largely self-sufficient and would provide the self-defense forces. Prominent Party members had encouraged other parts of their sprawling contiguous empire to do the same.

Amal couldn’t believe their stupidity and suspected that the island territory or Apex Industries had passed credits to party members to smooth the transition. Instead of investigating and bringing to light the corruption, his political fellows were twisting it into a facsimile of victory.

If he was being honest with himself, it was a smart move. The UNA government had maintained only a token force on the island to maintain their claim. In truth, they continued to do very little for the island. Instead, they used their vast military might and deep pool of civilian contractors to suppress or control adversaries within and on the edges of their contiguous borders.

However, his jealousy and frustration for Apex Industries and its CEO, Liam Ward, blinded him to those truths. He saw it as a personal insult the company was doing so well after the botched capture he had attempted more than a year ago.

Amal choked on the irony because that relationship, however remote, with Liam, was the sole reason he was still in business while Redwater had been absorbed by a more prominent firm—those that survived, anyway. Rumors were circulating among the contractor class that whatever Redwater had touched was toxic. People were disappearing or announcing surprise retirements long before reaching the appropriate age. The crackdown was so apparent that it had become a joke to industry insiders.

Many whispered that Valorus would be next on the chopping block, and Amal was doing everything he could to keep their baleful gaze on Apex Industries and not his own company. Though he needn’t have bothered, the UNA government was well aware of the transformative technology pouring from Amal’s adversary.

They allowed Amal his company because of the genuine possibility he might be the most knowledgeable asset they had to take Liam down. Their relationship with Apex Industries hadn’t degraded to such a point, but it might in the future, and Amal was being kept in reserve.

However, being kept in reserve didn’t mean Valorus wasn’t busy. His company had practically become an unofficial tool of the Party. He was frequently called on to make problems disappear. The work was distasteful and unfulfilling, and for that reason, many of his former employees had left for greener pastures–some to Apex Industries.

Amal had been forced to replace his losses with Party loyalists and sycophants–a process that had tied Valorus more firmly to the Party’s will. Amal had become a victim of his loyalty–a prisoner in his own company. The irony was palpable, and it made him bitter and angry. Instead of blaming himself, he pointed it at Liam–the current bane of his existence.

Amal's scowl turned thoughtful as the Puerto Rican governor appeared on the screen and loudly praised their partnership with a local company, Apex Industries. The news revealed a piece of Liam’s future plans. He was clearly trying to escape government oversight and coopted the territorial government to that end. Likely, whatever he planned needed a hefty measure of secrecy, and Amal wanted to deny him that freedom of movement.

He switched off the TV and picked up the phone. He dialed a number he knew by memory, and it was quickly picked up.

“Amal, to what do I owe the pleasure?” A silky masculine voice answered the phone.

“Chairman Yousef, have you seen the news coming from Puerto Rico?” Amal asked.

“I have,” he hummed. “Quite the surprise from our unincorporated territory.” the chairman commented. “Is there something you think I should know?”

The politician's tone carried a subtle sense of danger. Chairman Safar Yousef was one of the most cunning members of the Party. The fact that he had escalated into such a position of power, despite the wave of Islamaphobia that gripped the nation after the MERS-44 pandemic, was a testament to his political skill and insight. Amal only called him when he needed significant political backing, and this was one of those times.

“I think it’s pretty convenient that Apex now has free run of the island,” Amal noted dryly. “There’s little to no government influence, and conspiracy breeds in the shadows where the light no longer reaches.”

“A fact I had considered,” the Chairman said testily. “But they’ve done little more than give food to starving people.”

“From distribution centers located by strategic airports in every part of the country,” Amal countered.

“Are you implying something, Amal?”

“No, chairman, I’m not implying anything,” Amal said quietly. “I’m merely pointing out that Apex Industries has a relatively secure base of operations, lacking government oversight, and hundreds of bases scattered around the country. These seem like all the hallmarks of an insurgency in its infancy.”

“Are you sure your biases aren’t affecting your logic?” the chairman's tone was acidic. “How are your injuries recovering, by the way?”

“They’re as recovered as they’ll ever be,” Amal gritted his teeth at the poignant reminder of his failure. “I’ll walk with a cane for the rest of my life, but that’s better than most with similar injuries.”

“Do be careful, my friend.” Yousef's voice was thick with false sincerity. “I was informed recently that you requested an increase of dosage in your pain medication. I would hate to think you were going down a dark road.”

Amal’s anger froze over and then shattered. The Chairman was subtly reminding him of the information and influence he wielded. He needed to correct his tone and make the chairman believe he was acting in the interest of the Party.

“It’s temporary as I go through rehab,” Amal assured him. “As for Apex, I figured you would want to keep tabs on the company, and I called to offer you Valorus’ services. We can have a presence on the island within days. We’ll be subtle as usual.”

The line was quiet as the chairman weighed the benefits and drawbacks of Amal’s suggestion. Finally, he let Amal off the hook. “I think that’s a good idea, Amal. Thank you for showing the initiative. Although, I have one concern…” he trailed off.

“Yes, Chairman?”

“Didn’t you tell me earlier that you had embedded members of Valorus in Apex’s Security Forces?”

Amal winced. “Yes, Chairman. They fed me information until the company was uprooted and moved to Puerto Rico. I haven’t heard from them since.”

“Are they dead?” Yousef asked as if he were talking about his favorite flavor of tea.

“No, Chairman. I’ve confirmed that they live. It seems they may have simply defected.” Amal was ashamed to admit the fact and resented Liam for making him look like a fool.

“Then what makes you think you could get a force on Puerto Rico and keep them from going native?”

“I’ll be going with them,” Amal said firmly. “I’ll also take the men most loyal to me and the Party.”

“I’m not sure that will be enough,” Yousef mused. “The Wards have proven to be quite difficult to neutralize.”

Amal frowned. It sounded like the chairman and his shadowy backers had already attempted what he was suggesting. “Any detail, no matter how significant, might help me in this mission.”

This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

“They’ve been able to wriggle away from other contractor groups, financial manipulation, electronic warfare, and industrial sabotage.” The chairman’s tone was venomous. “Now they slip further away while my less enlightened peers call it a victory. I want Apex Industries brought to heel.”

“You sound as if they have something you want,” Amal was hanging on every word, alert in his seat, no matter how painful the posture.

Yousef chuckled. “You don’t have to keep dancing around, Amal. I have reason to believe they’ve developed life-extension technology. It’s not immortality, but it’s precious nonetheless. Everything else they’re working on: greenhouses, artificial intelligence, soil. It's nothing compared to their genetic technology, and I want it for Project Augustine.”

Amal inhaled sharply, and Yousef noted the reaction. “Yes, let that be your reward. I’ll read you into the project if you can deliver Apex Industries. You’ll finally rub shoulders with the nation's most powerful men and women—just as you’ve dreamed.”

Now that the Valorus CEO knew how crucial this was to the politician, it was time to negotiate. “What you want will be expensive, Chairman.”

“Then I will ensure the funds are available to support this venture—our resources are limitless. We'll allow you to operate from several intelligence assets on the island. However…” the chairman’s voice darkened. “...don’t fuck this up, Amal. You’re only authorized to observe and undermine, no direct action. If we want you to do anything, we’ll give you the instructions then.”

“I understand, Chairman.”

“Good,” Yousef replied before ending the call.

Amal put the phone down and leaned back in his seat, wincing at the pain the movement caused in his knee and shoulder. It was just another reminder of how Liam had wronged him.

He considered how many assets he would need to bring to the island. The trouble was that Amal didn’t have a clear idea of how many assets Liam could bring to bear. It was a chess game where neither side could see the other’s pieces. If Project Augustine was writing a blank check, Amal needed to plan for as many eventualities as possible.

No matter the eventual number, Amal would need to start small. Liam would notice if he brought too many people too quickly because it was hard to disguise a group of operators in a native population suffering from poverty and malnutrition. They would stand out like lions in a herd of gazelles.

Amal drummed his fingers against the desk as he considered what to do. First, he would need to launch a front organization that could operate in the open on the island. Ideally, it would have the potential to infiltrate Apex Industries' facilities for mundane reasons. A security force would fail since Apex did their own training for that. Plus, he didn’t have a good track record inserting operators that way.

It also couldn’t be something like transportation. Amal knew Liam’s father was a cold-blooded snake. The Valorus leader had researched extensively into his adversary’s executives. Initially, he had thought Michael Ward was hired because he was the dad to Liam and his sister. That assumption was farcical after looking through the man’s background.

Michael had orchestrated the downfall of multiple regimes when he was at the CIA. He didn’t use soldiers or spies. Michael didn’t need to. He used logistics chains like weapons. He choked off his adversary’s supplies and turned their rivals into CIA puppets—without a paper trail to lead back to the Agency. The only proof was the updates Michael submitted to the ODNI, like clockwork, as predictable as the rise and fall of the sun. No, the company would tightly control its logistics.

After some thought, the solution occurred to him. He could launch a courier service. Such services likely didn’t exist on the island. Those were occupations usually reserved for when a society was wealthy enough to trade credits for their time. The pandemic devastated Puerto Rico, and most people were still struggling to ensure they had enough food or credits to feed their families.

With all the wealth Apex was bringing to the island, a courier service would soon be a desirable convenience, and it was unlikely that Apex would provide those services themselves. Michael Ward would subvert those services to his ends rather than create them himself. It was a poison pill—a Trojan horse.

Liking the idea, he drafted an email and sent it to his lawyer. The man would prepare all the business formation documents and ensure the business looked legitimate despite intense scrutiny.

Next, he selected his team. He could only use the nationalist hardliners, but that wasn’t a problem now that his company was full of them. He chose just under three hundred people, prioritizing those of Hispanic or Latin descent. It was a large number, but it had to include command and control and support staff for an operation this big. Fortunately, he could plan for almost any eventuality–even a full-scale assault on Apex operations.

Once he firmed up his choices, he sent another email informing them of their selection and a rough timeline on when he expected them to begin operations. After that, he sent a message to his logistics department and ordered them to make the travel arrangements. He wanted them to come in set intervals from different countries aboard different modes of travel. That would help reduce the chance of exposure.

When he was done with personnel, he moved on to equipment. He drafted a requisition order that would take time to work through the government bureaucracy. He decided to ask for as much as possible, knowing that his request would likely be slimmed down by Partry bureaucrats—no matter what Project Augustine promised.

He needed weapons and ammunition, including shoulder-mounted rockets, grenades, and mines. He wanted inflatable boats, fast-moving, lightweight tactical vehicles, and even a few choppers for transport. That would give him options on the land, in the air, or at sea.

Unfortunately, Amal also knew that these vehicles were the most likely requests to get shut down. Even one helicopter would be a force multiplier if he needed to take Apex down—an order he hoped to receive.

Finally, he needed to think about tech. Apex likely held an advantage over his forces in this department. So, he required technology to mitigate or deny them that advantage entirely. He wanted signal jammers, signal interceptors, cyber warfare bugs that he could lose in their systems, decryption tech, and small observation drones.

Unlike his last request, this one seemed more likely to be fulfilled. The Party understood that Apex was primarily a tech company and that these methods would be necessary for any operation to succeed. Even Yousef had admitted their prowess in this arena.

Orders drafted and messages sent, Amal leaned back in his chair, wracking his brain for anything he might need in his personal war on Apex.

March 2072. Loiza, Puerto Rico. Unincorporated Territory of the United Nations of America.

Four months had passed since the fateful call with Chairman Youssef. A month later, Amal’s first covert operator had set foot on Puerto Rican soil. As the shrewd and calculating leader of Valous, Amal’s operations had remained hidden from the prying eyes of Apex Industries–as far as he knew.

Despite his reservations over their ideological purity, his operators executed their tasks precisely and secretly. The well-trained warriors, disguised as employees of a seemingly mundane courier company, had integrated themselves into the local community. They lived among the people, blending in seamlessly with the now bustling Puerto Rican lifestyle.

Under the guise of small-scale courier assignments, Amal’s operatives discreetly collected information and intelligence on their target’s activities. Through a network of informants and carefully placed electronic assets, they meticulously monitored and logged Apex’s movements, looking for vulnerabilities they could exploit.

As Amal had predicted, his electronic warfare equipment, including signal and radar jammers, provided his operations with a significant advantage. They limited their usage, deploying them alongside operatives infiltrating the Apex perimeter near Las Croabas. This allowed them to plant bugs, sensors, and other monitoring technology inside their adversary’s control zone.

They had less success extracting information from the target’s networks. No matter what cyber attack methods they tried to employ, Amal’s limited number of cybersecurity experts found themselves stymied at every turn. The Apex Industries’ networks were locked up far tighter than their physical security.

The fact frustrated Amal because he knew that eventually when Apex’s number of physical assets caught up to their expansion, that gap in their defenses would also shrink. He had redoubled his efforts to employ crude listening devices and other surveillance methods instead. The holy grail of the operation, Apex Industries HQ, research facilities, and training compound remained hidden from his eyes.

Meanwhile, Amal’s shadow infiltration in the population had proven far more successful as his operatives earned the trust of the Puerto Rican people. They built intelligence files and recruited locals to work for the company. Soon, the fake company he had set up began making a name for itself as a reliable, trustworthy partner.

Valorus didn’t even need to innovate in this mission. The groundwork had been laid long ago by the United States. The playbook had already been written—Amal just needed to read it and implement its lessons. Soon, even the Governor’s staff had been supplanted by Valorus agents.

As for equipment, Amal had set up caches of weaponry and supplies all across the island. The UNA had even provided them the coordinates and access to a secretive base on the coast that concealed the light tactical vehicles and inflatable boats he had requested. Unfortunately, they had denied his request for air power.

Despite the lack of airpower, he quickly gained illusory control over the overlooked parts of the island where Apex didn’t maintain a presence. His men became insurgent leaders, tapping into the discontent and dispossessed on the island who didn’t like the changes that were being wrought by the foreign company.

Amal provided them arms and training. The number of fighters he could deploy had almost doubled in number. Over time, he would grow this insurgent force to the degree necessary to take down all of Las Croabas. The best part is that it would look like a countermovement from the Puerto Rican locals rather than an orchestrated event by the UNA government.

Now he lay in wait, like a spider in the center of an ever-widening web, having skillfully penetrated the island’s meager defense, operating in the shadows, and biding his time for the perfect moment to strike at Apex. Like the insect he was, Liam wouldn’t know what was coming.