Donald Urkish sat in his liquid chair. The cool metal washing over his joints, soothing his aching bones. His HUD filled with the news reports, holovids, and stock tickers, catching him up on what he had missed during his sleep. He smiled as the chaos danced in front of him.
Four weeks had gone by since Merodek Baladan had stepped down as CEO of Aeon Chemical, and the board was still split on who should succeed him. What was initially a two-way race between Bor Kades and the vicious Anala Magha had since become a three-way competition, much to Donald’s delight.
The CEO Pro-tem Arma Nagini, having gotten a taste of the power and prestige that comes with the position, was now fighting tooth and nail to make the appointment a permanent one.
Donald’s contacts had been hard at work, ensuring the stalemate continued. As Merodek would shore up support with one board member, another would withdraw theirs, shifting their vote to another candidate, ensuring the three-way negotiations continued. As the days turned into weeks, the cost began to show. Their stocks bled, their valuation dropped.
The rippled effect of the conflict was felt even by their major subsidiaries. Parsec Yards had posted abysmal earnings after an accident at Southtech Shipyards had crippled their manufacturing capabilities. Even Wood Pharmaceuticals, a company nearly as old as the Mega-Corporations themselves, suffered, Their value assessments had dropping considerably over the past two weeks.
And with dropped earnings came angry shareholders. Demands for accountability had become louder, and there was even talk of a vote of no confidence in the Board of Directors.
Donald had, to this point, remained reserved, holding back his assets and playing the game from the shadows. But the opportunities were too enticing. No one would suspect his involvement now, if he were to pounce.
Omnicorp had already begun sniffing around Ultrabreak Products, feeling out their desperation to post profits this quarter. He suspected Advanced Logistics would jump at an opportunity to purchase intellectual property from Dayfarer Cybernetics.
“Apap?” he said.
“Yes, sir?”
“Put a message in to the board of directors of Ultrastellar Technologies, would you?”
“Of course, sir.”
“Let them know it is time to begin purchasing shares of Maeda-Zhukov Technologies.”
“How many shares exactly?”
“All of them. Or as many as they can.”
“What is the price limit?”
“None.”
“Sir, are you sure that’s wise?”
Donald grinned. “I’m sure. If they balk at the proposition, let them know Genematics will absorb any overages, and will purchase the majority shares once a controlling interest has been established.”
“Very good, sir.”
He returned his attention to the reports. Satisfied that he had a grasp of the market, he turned his attention to the wider news net.
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If he had learned anything from his long tenure as CEO of Genematics, it was that the seemingly unimportant news items could have the widest impacts on the markets. He had a team of analysts dedicated to watching the news at all hours of the day, whose sole responsibility was to flag any items that might be of interest to to the aging executive.
He swiped through the stories. The death of a beloved pornographic icon. The assassination of an Arch-Bishop. A mid-court justice caught accepting bribes from the Syndicate. He flagged that article for further analysis. There could be a way to get another Justice in his pocket; definitely worth the investment, should the opportunity present itself.
Finally, he began to read the analysis of the Azrael attack. He hated reading the war propaganda the news agencies churned out with regularity. It was difficult to parse through the jingoistic nonsense to get a true sense of how the war effort proceeded.
From what he had gathered, it was not going well.
Several of the Alliance forward operating bases in distant systems had been abandoned, their resources stretched too thin. The enemy seemed to be overwhelming the military, and though their situation was not entirely desperate, it was certainly not as flowery as the news media would have people believe.
The Azrael had struck in force this time, jumping huge fleets into the heart of the Alliance Systems. Three major attacks, coordinated into a single moment of unexpected terror had wreaked havoc across the Alliance military. The Alliance had defeated the incursion, but the cost had been severe; the fleets suffered heavy losses.
He skipped over several articles profiling various soldiers, telling fabricated stories of their honor and courage in the face of an overwhelming and horrifying foe. He smirked as he saw picture after picture of effulgent crowds celebrating their victory over the evil Azrael.
Buried in one of the headlines, he found something that piqued his interest. In addition to the assault on the systems, the Azrael had sent a force to attack Bavel. Somehow, they’d discovered the location of the secret military academy.
The tone of the article was dismissive of the threat, but Donald remembered the paranoia that surrounded the weeks and months after the Great Purge. Could have the Lebara have infiltrated the military this time? Targeted the soldiers instead of the wealth of the Alliance like they had during their previous invasion? How else to explain the discovery of one of the most closely guarded secrets in the Alliance, the location of the Academy?
He shuddered, remembering the brutal inquisition that followed the discovery of the first invasion. He had lost several friends and valuable contacts during that era. It was not something he cared to repeat.
He pulled up more details on the Bavel attack, sifting for snippets of information about the security breach. Instead, he found something that surprised him. The initial news reports made the attack sound small, contained, and easily defeated. But bit by bit he began to piece together the truth.
In reality, Bavel had nearly been destroyed. Had it not been for the singular efforts of a ten year old girl, they would have been utterly defeated. A ten year old girl had single handedly defeated a Xaphan.
His ancient hand absentmindedly went to his mouth as he read the story of how Aubrey Ryelle had defied orders from High Commander Nam Rood, and led the other first year students in the defense of Bavel. How she stood alone against the endless tide of enemies, and nearly died in the process.
Even if what he was reading was a half truth, it was worth investigating further.
“Apap?” he said.
“Yes, sir?”
“Do we have any trusted contacts at Bavel?”
“Sort of.”
“Sort of?”
“Mazle-Din is currently on our payroll.”
Donald Urkish winced. “I would not exactly call her trusted.”
“Which is why I said sort of.”
Donald laughed.
“Please let her know I’d like to meet with her face to face.”
“Certainly. When?”
“As soon as she can avail herself.”
“And what matter of business shall I tell her you’d like to discuss?”
“This girl, Aubrey Ryelle.” Donald’s eye flashed as he smiled. “And of course, a sizable raise for Mazle-Din.”
“I’ll inform her right away.”
“Thank you, Apap.”
Donald continued to read. A first year student in a Jugger, facing a Xaphan in single combat, and walking away victorious. There was no need to have Mazle-Din interfere, but he wanted to make sure she kept tabs on the girl, and kept him abreast of her temperament and situation.
She could prove interesting.