Episode 206

"The Yo-La-Zand Branch is pulling out? Well, that whole sector is practically WIND territory now, so I guess it was inevitable. Still, look at this. Every single headline is WIND, WIND, WIND. Doesn't anything else happen in this galaxy?"

Ortega Niven, a mid-level manager at Gigantech Corp—the undisputed heavyweight champion of galactic megacorporations—was currently doing what he did best: absolutely nothing. He was sprawled across a plush, ergonomic chair in his main office, lazily scrolling through the company’s internal news feed on his terminal.

"If you’re willing to lower your security clearance, Mr. Ortega, I can find you plenty of disasters," his secretary chimed in from behind him, her voice laced with a hint of a tease. "Shall I pull up the highlights for you?"

Ortega waved her off with a theatrical groan. "Pass. Leave that to the assistant managers and the boots on the ground. Besides, if a problem is Level 3 or lower, it’s beneath our direct intervention. As a famously benevolent soul, I simply can't bring myself to steal work from the smaller firms. It would be uncharitable."

He returned to his feed. Gigantech’s internal regulations ensured that only Level 4 threats or higher reached his desk, and currently, that meant a nonstop barrage of "WIND is going to eat us all" articles.

"How very noble of you," the secretary replied. "And yet, if I recall correctly, the meeting you have scheduled for today is only a Level 3 matter. Is there a particular reason you’re actually working for once?"

"Hmm? Oh, that. The visitor is a daughter of the Takasaki Family. Sure, the company itself is some tiny outfit in the Alpha Region Space, but you can’t just ignore the nobility. I don't need some Imperial bigwig breathing down my neck. She’s a Count, for heaven’s sake. A Count!"

"I see... although, correct me if I’m wrong, but didn't you reject a loan for a high-born executive just last month? And that software developer the week before? They were both from 'distinguished' lineages."

Ortega squinted at her. "Do you ever forget anything? Seriously, didn't you say you had an eidetic memory or something?"

"Hardly a rare trait in this line of work. Would you prefer a secretary who forgets where you hide your midday snacks?"

"Haha! God, no. I’d be lost."

Ortega chuckled at the jab and tossed her a data chip. "Here, look at this." He waited a beat for her to scan the contents before his lazy smirk sharpened into a professional mask. "The management team includes the younger sister of an Imperial Navy Colonel, and she’s a shareholder herself. Toss in the Takasaki bloodline and tell me: do I really need another reason?"

"No... that is certainly enough. Still, this company has a fascinating trajectory. Their expansion has been almost suspiciously smooth."

"Exactly! Anyone who looks at those numbers and doesn't smell a rat should sign their resignation papers today. We don't need that kind of incompetence in this office. Now, what’s the protocol here? If she’s a Count’s daughter, she’s treated as a Viscount, right? And as a manager here, I’m effectively a Baron?"

"Correct, according to the corporate-nobility equivalency charts. I assume the Colonel isn't joining us?"

"Nope. In fact, I politely told him to stay away. I can’t handle a Colonel. Field officers are treated as Counts, and as for the sister... ugh, this is why I hate dealing with the gentry. It’s too much math."

Ortega grimaced, scratching his head before rubbing the Electromagnetic Sheet on the back of his hand. The skin-mounted display flickered to life, showing that his guests had arrived.

"Alright, showtime. Let’s see what these kids want."

Standing up, Ortega checked the live security feed via BISHOP as he made his way to the conference room.

"I see. Well, that certainly is a predicament," Ortega said, leaning forward after listening to the summary provided by the representative of Rising Sun, Teiro, and his companion, Sakura.

"That's why we’re hoping to leverage Gigantech’s influence," Teiro said, looking appropriately humbled. "To be honest, we’re so far out of our depth that we didn't even know if this was a conversation worth having."

Ortega waved his hand dismissively, a bright, salesman-like smile plastered on his face. He pointed to a stack of physical documents on the table—actual paper, a luxury so archaic it was basically a flex.

"If what you’re telling me is true, it gives Gigantech more than enough pretext to authorize a 'stabilization' effort."

Teiro’s face lit up for a split second before falling into a mask of worry. Ortega noted the reaction with approval. The kid’s sharp, he thought. He knows a pretext isn't the same thing as a reason.

"Look, I know there’s no point in trying to play games with a company like yours," Teiro said, sliding a chip across the table. "So I’ll be blunt. This is the card we’re playing. Will you take a look?"

Ortega’s secretary moved to intercept the chip for a security scan, but Ortega held up a hand. He took the chip himself. He didn't sense any threat from these two—they were too desperate for an assassination attempt.

"...Ho. Now this is interesting. An Anti-WIND Tactical Device?"

Ortega scanned the specs. It claimed to predict WIND behavior patterns. On the surface, he acted impressed, letting out a low whistle. In reality, he’d seen a thousand "WIND-killers" come across his desk, and 999 of them were junk. But that one-in-a-thousand chance? That was how you made a career.

"It’s been field-tested against current WIND units with a 100% success rate," Teiro stated firmly. "We have the raw data to back it up in every format you require."

Ortega nodded. "I see, I see." Inside, he bumped his interest level up a notch. If the kid was this confident, there was probably some meat on the bone. "The Alpha Region Space is a literal playground for WIND. It’s a quiet suburb compared to the war zone at Yo-La-Zand, but it’s a perfect testing ground. Tell me, though... why haven't you mass-produced this? You’d be the richest man in the Empire. You could have bought yourself a private fleet by now. Why hold back?"

"Because..." Teiro hesitated, then sighed. "It’s like the relationship between a virus and an antibiotic."

"Ah, I see. Evolutionary pressure. A classic analogy," Ortega replied.

He was still skeptical, but it was a lead worth following. If the Imperial Military’s Intelligence Department was actually suppressing this and running limited production runs as Teiro claimed, this was a massive opportunity.

This might actually be the one, Ortega thought.

The logic held up: if they used the device indiscriminately, WIND would just adapt and spawn a new, immune strain. The fact that they’d brought it to Gigantech suggested they wanted a decisive strike. If an enemy is going to evolve, you just have to kill them faster than they can change. Teiro hadn't said it out loud, but Ortega knew the subtext: only a corporation with Gigantech’s industrial might could produce enough of these things to end the threat in a single, overwhelming wave.

"Splendid. I’ll be running a verification check with the Military later. I assume that won't be an issue?" Ortega raised an eyebrow.

"Not at all," Teiro answered instantly. "Though, since it’s the Intelligence Department, the red tape might be thick. Would you like me to facilitate an introduction?"

Ortega gave a cool, practiced laugh. "No need. There isn't a department in the Empire that Gigantech can't talk to. We’re very... 'friendly' with the Military."

Internally, Ortega was vibrating. The kid didn't blink at the mention of a background check. It was real. He re-read the specs via BISHOP, trying to keep his legs from shaking with excitement. Even if the performance was only 80% of what was claimed, this thing made every other tactical computer on the market look like a calculator from the stone age.

He’d been a manager for ten years. He’d hit the ceiling. But this? This was his ticket out of the middle-management doldrums. He didn't give a damn about a border skirmish in some backwater star system, but he cared very much about a promotion.

The words General Manager danced before his eyes. He cleared his throat to regain his composure.

"Ahem. Right. Well, you can consider Gigantech very interested. I give you my word as a Niven. However—"

He paused, letting the excitement settle.

"We need proof of the link between these Inhuman Facilities and the Mercenaries. If I’m going to mobilize our Security Department—our private army—I need an ironclad justification. If what you say is true, the Mercenaries won't stop for a check, no matter how much money we throw at them. We’d either have to secure the facilities or evacuate the residents. We could handle the entire population of the RS Alliance, I suppose. What is it, a few hundred million?"

"Ehh?! Oh, uh, yes," Teiro stammered, caught off guard by the scale of Gigantech’s logistics. "The population is around that, but we don't know the full count of the facilities yet. And for various reasons, we have to keep control of that space... the residents wouldn't take well to a forced relocation anyway."

"I see. Then how about a tactical retreat and a re-invasion? Sure, the evidence would be scrubbed, but with the profits from this device, you could build your own army and take it back yourself."

"Ah, that... no, that won't work. Geographically, if we lose the Alpha Star System and the Zayed Corridor, we’re finished. If we had to lead a Stargate Pioneer Group to rebuild the route from scratch, it would take decades. The doctor would be dead of old age before we got back."

"Hmm... then we have to move the Security Department. Which brings us back to the evidence. I’m not being difficult, mind you—any major corp would tell you the same. If the enemy wasn't a major firm from the Imperial Core, this would be a lot easier."

Ortega looked at the ceiling, pretending to be deep in thought while actually calculating his commission.

"Here’s what we’ll do: take a loan from us, using the device’s patents as collateral. That should be enough to outfit a full fleet of module-standard ships. In the meantime, tell me what you need to find that evidence. Don't hold back. We’ll provide all the support we can."

Ortega stood up and offered his hand. Teiro grabbed it with both hands, bowing deeply.

"Thank you! Thank you so much!"