Legend by Nick Webb

Author:Nick Webb [Webb, Nick]
Format: epub
Published: 2021-09-04T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

Irigoyen Sector

Bolivar

Shovik-Orion City

“Right this way, Senator.”

The woman sent to meet them on the landing pad was a no-nonsense, let’s-get-down-to-business businesswoman. No small talk. No surmising about the next day’s weather. Danny understood her to be the vice president of something or other—he really wasn’t following the long list of credentials that she rattled off as if she were verbally flashing her resume. The two heavily armed security guards flanking her fell into step behind the group as they made their way toward the entrance.

“I thought you should know, Senator. A system-wide alert has gone out on all security channels to be on the lookout for you and any potential kidnappers.” She eyed Danny and Fiona with a neutral expression, raising a single eyebrow.

“Oh, them? My own personal security that I’ve recently hired, given the failures of the so-called professionals.”

“I see. I suppose they have credentials? Not that I don’t believe you, Senator. It’s just that, if there were a group that were actually taking you hostage, I’d fear that you were made to say things under duress.”

“Stop.” Senator Cooper turned and pointed at Danny and Fiona. “You two. Head back there towards the ship. Twenty steps. That’s right. Right past those guards.”

Danny and Fiona looked at each other.

She’s serious, Danny thought at her.

Yeah. What’s the harm though?

They walked back past the guards, counting the steps, stopped, and then turned back around to face the Senator, the Shovik-Orion vice president, and the two guards.

“There. You see? No duress. Now get me the fuck to the CEO.”

“Yes, ma’am.” The vice president looked sheepish, and indicated the way through the door and down the corridor.

The main headquarters of the huge multi-planetary, multi-national defense contractor was shockingly spartan. Standard-size hallways and tastefully yet simply appointed offices. Not something Danny had expected of a corporation through which flowed nearly a quarter of IDF’s budget.

“Here we are—just through here, ma’am.” She waved them into an office, somewhat larger than the standard Shovik-Orion office space, where Danny could see several people sitting, waiting for them. “Just so you know, the CEO has recently stepped down and the board has yet to name a successor.”

“Who am I meeting with, then?”

“The chief operations officer, the vice president of governmental relations, and the newly elected chairman of the board.”

They walked into the office and nodded their greetings to the two men and one woman seated at the table. Danny didn’t know which one was which yet, but when his eyes landed on the man seated farthest from the door, he stopped.

And his jaw nearly hit the floor.

“You’re . . .”

The man stood up. Slowly. He seemed to be in some pain, and winced as he straightened his back. “I am. Secretary General Sebastian Curiel. A little the worse for wear, given my ordeal at Britannia. But here in the flesh, as weak as it is.”

Senator Cooper looked just as shocked as Danny felt. “You’re dead.”

“Apparently not!” he replied.

“I went to your funeral.”

“A tad premature, don’t you think?”

“I—I don’t know what to say.

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