For a company that boasted a headcount of 1.2 million, the boardroom was pathetic—a cramped, tiny box of a room that felt overcrowded with barely ten people in it. Etta, the woman at the top of the Mercenaries Corporation food chain, was currently trying to massage her brain back into place through her forehead, her eyes squeezed shut against a migraine of cosmic proportions.
"I don't believe it. Actually, I refuse to believe it," Etta snapped, making no effort to mask the venom in her voice as she exhaled a sharp, jagged breath. In a room so insulated from the outside world it felt like a vacuum, the sound of someone shifting in their seat echoed like a gunshot.
"We should probably rule out 'coincidence.' Statistically speaking, the odds are basically zero," the man said. Aside from Etta and her sister Yotta, he was the most powerful player in Mercenaries. He tried to slide a data terminal toward Etta to show her the proof, but she just jerked her head away, refusing to even look at it.
"I don't need a calculator to tell me that. It’s obvious."
She was referring to the Human Resource Acquisition Stations, codenamed G3. Even within the upper echelons of Mercenaries, only a handful of people knew they existed. There were twenty-eight of them currently in operation, all tucked away in utterly pointless corners of space. The inhabitants of these stations didn't have the means to colonize planets, nor did they need to. Because they didn't actually do anything, the corporation didn't have to worry about logistics or efficiency; they could dump the stations wherever they wanted. They only kept them near stars so the "harvesting" ships could find them without a map. That was the only reason they weren't hidden in the dead void of Interstellar Space, which would have been much safer.
"Those stations are in the middle of nowhere. We specifically excluded every conceivable flight path used by living humans. This wasn't a random encounter. Those people headed out there with the express, clear intent of finding us."
The source of Etta’s headache was a panicked report from the lower ranks: G3 had likely been compromised by a third party. She hadn't screamed or thrown a tantrum when she heard the news, but she did feel like someone had poured molten lead into her stomach. If the existence of G3 went public, it wouldn't just be a scandal—it would be an extinction-level event for the company. Etta knew that while a calm hand could usually fix any mess, there was always that one-in-a-million chance that the universe decided to ruin you.
"The real question," Etta said, her voice dropping an octave, "is how they found out G3 existed in the first place."
The man held up three fingers. "Three possibilities."
"One: we have a rat. Two: someone at the bottom leaked it. Three: they have a Sonarman who is actually good at his job. It’s one of the three. I’ve run the numbers on every other scenario, and they’re all nonsense."
The man crossed his arms with an air of finality. Etta glared at him. "A Sonarman?"
"Why not?" the man replied with a shrug. "If people have been living in the same spot for hundreds of years, the Electromagnetic Waves leaking from the station would have radiated across a radius of hundreds of light-years. If a Sonarman picked that up, he’d obviously wonder why there’s a signal coming from a supposedly empty void."
Etta snorted. "Those stations are moved on a schedule, and we’ve been slapping high-grade stealth coating on them for years. The EM leakage is a joke. I doubt anyone could tell it apart from background cosmic radiation... well, except for you, obviously."
Etta caught the gaze of her younger sister and offered a tight, artificial smile.
"Of course I could, Elder Sister," Yotta chirped. Then she turned a predatory look toward the man. "But why a Sonarman? Why not just a high-precision scanner?"
The man tilted his chin up, looking down his nose at Yotta. He flicked his terminal across the table like a playing card. "Read the report for once."
"I’ve already grilled every manufacturer of large-scale precision scanners. Not a single order for that kind of kit has been placed in years. Besides, no company in the Alpha Region Space is even capable of building one. Furthermore, at the end of the Enzio Project, twelve Boosted Men went AWOL from the facility. We caught eight, but the rest are still out there. It’s highly probable they’re all Sonarmen."
The man sounded like he was explaining basic math to a toddler. Yotta skimmed the data on the terminal with a look of pure boredom. "I guess," she sighed. "A Sonarman who can’t slip past a picket line is basically garbage anyway. Coleman wouldn't have let them live if they weren't useful."
Yotta shoved the terminal back at the man with enough force to make him fumble. He caught it, clicking his tongue in annoyance.
"Knock it off. Save the bickering for later," Etta said, rubbing her temples again. Yotta looked away with a pout, and the man let out a long-suffering sigh before continuing.
"Leaking this info wouldn't exactly make the traitor a hero—the fallout is too heavy. The 'rat' theory is weak. Personally, I'm betting on an information leak from below. Check this out."
The man waved a hand, and a monitor rose from the table. It showed grainy surveillance footage of two men huddled together, looking at a handheld device.
"This is from the Land Survey Institute Headquarters about twelve days ago. One is the head of G3 'Preparation,' and the other is a ship parts supplier. On the surface, it’s just two regulars doing their usual business. Routine prep for the next phase."
In the G3 Plan, "Preparation" was the euphemism for the part where they used Pirates and manufactured threats to scare people into the "safety" of the stations. Etta recognized both faces instantly.
"I’m not in the mood for a story," Etta growled. "Get to the point. What’s wrong with the video?"
The man pointed at the floor near the supplier’s feet. "The report says it 'warped too much.'"
He paused for dramatic effect. When Etta and Yotta just stared at him blankly, he elaborated. "The floor. By analyzing the micro-shifts in the light reflection on the floor’s finish, they could calculate exactly how much the floorboards flexed. Once they accounted for the material strength and the conditions of the room, they could determine the exact weight being applied. It’s the same principle as eavesdropping on a conversation by measuring the vibrations on a window pane."
He tapped a few keys and sent a file labeled From: Investigation and Tracking Research Institute to Etta's terminal.
"So by 'warped too much,' you mean the person was way heavier than they looked?" Etta asked. She sighed, feeling the weight of the situation. They were being hunted by someone far more thorough than she’d imagined. "A Cyborg... well, it’s gotta be Phantom. He’s a pain in the ass. Get detection systems into every G3 facility immediately. I refuse to get caught with my pants down."
Etta barked orders at a subordinate, then commanded the rest of the room to run a total system diagnostic. They scrambled out of their seats and bolted for the door to manage their respective departments.
"Even if they’ve caught the scent, so what?" the man said once the room had cleared out, leaving only him and the sisters. "There’s no hard evidence left."
"Of course there isn't," Etta snapped, her voice dripping with irritation. "Even so... I didn't expect the RS side to be this aggressive. It’s a total deviation from the formula."
She muttered the last part to herself. According to the Social Action Prediction Formula—the mathematical model Coleman left behind to predict how society would react to specific stimuli—the Rising Sun’s moves were completely off the charts.
"The formula says RS should be launching an offensive against EAP right now," Yotta noted, tilting her head. "Dingo too. EAP’s internal collapse should be exactly what they want."
"Exactly," Etta agreed, racking her brain for a reason. "The fall of EAP means more land and more power for RS and Dingo. They’re already shooting at each other in the streets, so it’s not like they’re shy about pulling the trigger. Then again... I think the heads of RS and EAP were actually friends. Teiro from RS is supposed to be an emotional wreck. Maybe that’s it?"
The man scoffed. "So what? No one runs a galaxy-spanning organization based on something as stupid as friendship."
Etta let out a dry, mocking laugh. "Fufu. I never thought I’d hear you say a word like that. But no, that’s not it. I’m wondering if there’s a secret pact between Rising Sun and Little Tokyo. Think about it—Takasaki, who is supposed to be Little Tokyo’s top enforcer, just moved a massive chunk of his operation to RS. What if the deal is: RS helps maintain the status quo for Little Tokyo, and in exchange, RS gets to hold Takasaki's leash? That’s a hell of a lot more valuable than a few extra planets."
The man grunted, considering it. "It’s possible. It would explain why Dingo is being so quiet if RS is keeping them in check. But wait—even if they had a pact, they couldn't have known we were the ones behind this. Once they realized they were picking a fight with a giant like us, why would they stick to the deal? And the moderates in EAP aren't doing anything. To me, it looks like RS is just flying solo."
"You have a point," Etta admitted, shrugging her shoulders in a rare moment of defeat. "I honestly don't get it. Sure, they probably see us as a future threat, but picking a fight now is suicidal. It just speeds up their own collapse. If they really knew what we were up to, they should be trying to get on our good side. They could just wait for EAP to rot and then swallow the remains. This should be their big break. There is absolutely no logical reason to be our enemy."
Etta clicked her tongue, fuming. To her, the only natural way to live was to pick the winning side and eat the losers.
"Maybe the emotional answer is the right one," the man said with a cynical, twisted grin. "Maybe they just feel sorry for all the 'poor little manipulated victims.'"
Etta and Yotta stared at him in stunned silence for a heartbeat. Then, they both burst into fits of hysterical laughter, doubled over until tears started streaming down their faces.