Ashkelon Station: In Orbit of GL382

07/21/2183

Ducks Bar was a favorite drinking establishment of roughnecks, techs, space-truckers and working tradesmen on Ashkelon Station. Located at the terminus of an outer corridor on the space port level, the bar was repurposed from a rundown, decommissioned E.M.V service hanger. Regulars here were typically blue-collar with rough, calloused hands and an uncouth attitude. Not the sort of place that appealed to everyone, locals or not. No matter where you came from, hard attitudes often came with hard lives on the frontier.

Joe 'Duck' Dechellis was born on Earth but spent his entire adult life on Ashkelon Station. Formally a senior station technician, Joe opened this bar twelve years ago with savings after retirement. It had a rowdy reputation, but Joe demanded a certain standard of law-abiding behavior. That standard established zero tolerance for the Triad and kept station security outside, most of the time. Still, as far as bars went, Ducks was as about as unruly as it got on the space port level.

Reese led the way in, followed by Wade, Ze'ev and Storen. The lead Engineer was still in a lot of pain. His steps were stiff and uncoordinated after being tasered so harshly. Wade supported him with a shoulder to lean on. As they passed through the pressure door, the loud, raucous singing of at least a dozen raised voices washed over them.

Well I'm on the Downeaster Alexa

And I'm cruisin through Block Island Sound

I have a charted a course to the vineyard

But tonight I am Nantucket bound

Coming here was Wade's idea. They needed another public place to sit and talk. Tables here were steel-topped work benches left over from when this was still an operational repair hanger. Some had fittings for vices, bench-grinders and drill-presses attached, though the tools had long since been removed.

Each table had individual work lights on articulate arms for additional illumination. There were bar stools on either side, enough to seat six at each table. At present the bar was filled near-to-capacity, with a higher ratio of visitors than locals.

We took on diesel back in Mantauk yesterday

And left this morning from the bell in Gardiner's Bay

Like all the locals here I've had to sell my home

Too proud to leave, I work my fingers to the bone

Yellow-painted I-Beams fitted with trolley cranes, pulleys, cables and hooks ran the length of the high ceiling overhead between rows of of bright fluorescent lights. Still fully functional, these electric winches were designed to lift heavy components from an E.M.V. overhead and drop them on a work bench or a service frame elsewhere in the hanger. Joe had a penchant for collecting rare tools and complex machines. His bar was something of a private museum in that regard.

So I could own my Downeaster Alexa

And I go where the ocean is deep

There are giants out there in the canyons

And a good captain can't fall asleep

Reese selected a nearby table close to the door. The big man was dressed in an old gray leather captains jacket with the LOCKMART logo stenciled across the back. On his collar was a silver spacecraft engineer pin, bordered in gold. Well-polished black work boots were laced up on his feet with an over sized, knitted, long sleeve shirt made of cotton hugging his large chest.

Wade helped Storen get himself seated as a young Arab man came over to take their order. He seemed friendly enough with golden-tan skin, bushy, curly hair and a smiling clean-shaven face. He recognized Storen immediately, and a look of concern came over him.

“It's nothing Fawzi,” Storen stated with a wave of his hand. “How's your father?”

I got bills to pay and children who need cothes

I know there's fish out there but where, God only knows

They say these waters aren't want they used to be

But I've got people back on land who count on me

“He is stubborn, as usual,” Fawzi stated in answer with a frown. “The doctors say his eyes are failing. Everyone knows this, but still he refuses to take a leave. There is surgery, or implants, but perhaps he is too old for that. Better I think that he retire. Mother says so. There is no shame in it.”

So if you see my Downeaster Alexa

And if you work with the rod and the reel

Tell my wife I am trawling Atlantis

And I still have my hands on the wheel

Storen nodded, “I'll talk to him. The Saudi's have strong numbers in the welders guild, but that won't protect him as much as it would in the old days. This station is getting an overhaul. They'll be ramping up demand for fresh blood, which means new contracts, probably with outside companies.”

“Not if I have anything to say about it!” Ze'ev muttered, interjecting himself into the conversation.

Yay-o

Yay-o

Yay-o

Yay-yay-o

Storen smirked, “Say hello to Ze'ev, Fawzi.” He is also old and stubborn.

Fawzi looked over to him, his dark eyes squinting a bit, as if trying to convince himself he wasn't seeing things, “Administrator Darkon?”

“At your service!” Ze'ev replied sardonically, “But please, keep that to yourself. Trying to keep a low-profile here.”

“Of course!” Fawzi grinned, pleased to be in the company of such an important man.

Now I drive my Downeaster Alexa

More and more miles from shore every year

Since they told me I can't sell no stripers

And there's no luck in swordfishing here

“Tell your father to come to me,” Ze'ev stated. “I want experienced welders who know this station in important oversight positions. He can consult with me about any new contracts and ensure their work is done properly. In exchange I'll pay him a handsome consulting fee and make sure the local welders guild gets its pick on future jobs. How's that sound?”

“Thank you, that's sure to please everyone! What can I get you for drinks?” Fawzi asked.

I was a Bayman like my father was before

Can't make a living as a Bayman anymore

There ain't much future for a man who works the sea

But there ain't no island left for Islanders like me

“Vodka,” Ze'ev answered.

“Whiskey,” Storen stated.

“Beer, Souta Dry.” Wade and Reese said in unison.

“I know we have Aspen?” Fawzi stated as an alternative.

“No, fucking, Aspen!” Wade and Reese cursed in unison again inspiring a chuckle from Storen and raised brows on Fawzi.

Yay-yay-yay-o

Yay-yay-yay-o

Yay-yay-yay-yay-o

Yay-yay-yay-o-o

“Aspen Beer is owned by Weyland Yutani,” Storen explained to Fawzi. “These guys don't have a high opinion of The Company, to say the least. I suggest you bring something else.”

“Ok, got it.” Fawzi acknowledged and hurried off towards the bar.

“Seems like a good kid,” Ze'ev commented.

Storen nodded, “Joe takes promising youth under his wing. Those with potential to pick up a trade. Working here is more than a chance to earn some extra money. It's an opportunity to make connections for a long term career.”

Wade pulled out a pack of cigarettes while Storen removed a pair of cigars from his jacket. “I said we would smoke one of these when you got out of the hospital,” Storen stated to Reese, handing one over with a smile.

Reese accepted it, but he wasn't smiling. The big man was hard to read as he slowly and calmly took a puff off the cigar, clasped his large hands together on the table and looked to Ze'ev. Time for business, “So I take it I have you to thank for getting my ribs fixed?” Reese stated.

Ze'ev nodded once, “Storen explained what I expect in return yes?”

“Storen explained it to me, and I explained it to Reese,” Wade answered taking a drag off his smoke. He was dressed in his usual baggy jeans and boots with a Pantera t-shirt underneath a black denim coat with a white faux-fur lined collar.

“Who is Keren to you?” Reese asked Ze'ev bluntly in a deep, confident voice. Reese was quiet by nature, but when spoke he was straight to the point. His personality was reserved, similar to Storen, but unlike Storen he did not appear withdrawn or disinterested. Reese always payed attention to what was going on with a suspicious attitude towards other people.

Ze'ev answered honestly, “Keren was my granddaughter Eva's best friend. They spent several years together here on the station and grew very close. As close as sisters. Eva's disappearance on LV-426, four years ago, was very hard on her. Keren is a dear friend of my family. It isn't right for a man like Victor to be going after her. We need to find her first. Not just for her sake, but to undermine whatever agenda Victor has with her.”

Wade shared a glance with Reese. They both sensed there was more to this story.

“That doesn't explain why your man here broke into my quarters and rifled through my private things?” Reese pointed out jerking his chin towards Storen, “I usually take that sort of thing personally.”

Ze'ev met Reese's gaze, “I didn't ask for that directly Mr. Castle, but I had my reasons to check you out and investigate your past,” other than the illegal contraband you were stashing, he didn't add, “Reasons related to your former ship, the Casimir.”

“What the hell does the Casimir have to do with it?!” Wade and Reese wondered in unison.

At that moment, Fawzi returned with their drinks. Reese and Wade paused to pop cold cans of Souta Dry. Once the young Arab moved away again Storen and Ze'ev lifted their shots together in a toast, downing them fast. Then Ze'ev leaned forward and continued to speak in a lowered voice.

“The Casimir is currently on route to Ashkelon Station with an unregistered passenger on board. Someone who claims to be an eye-witness to the tragedy on LV-426. Someone with evidence to explain what happened to Eva. I very much need the chance to meet with them.”

Wade and Reese exchanged another look. This was getting stranger by the minute, “So what's the problem?” Wade inquired, “Will the Casimir not be allowed to dock when it arrives?”

“Victor Li Shing and his three destroyers are the problem. He's ordered the station put on lock down. No one leaves. Given what's happened, I don't know if the current crew of the Casimir will still want to dock when they arrive. Lots of crews are getting skittish about doing business here under current circumstances.”

Reese spoke up, “I see where this is going. That's where my Remote Pilot Uplink Terminal comes in handy. I can override the controls and force the Casimir to dock if they get cold feet.”

“Exactly!” Ze'ev agreed, “And if we already have Keren safely out of Victors grasp when that happens, so much the better!” Ze'ev gestured to the packed house of the bar. “Many of these crews are stuck here, indefinitely, until Victor has Keren and her sister in custody. That mandate is bad for business and general law and order.

So long as my chief of security is in charge I have some control over the manhunt. Yet if Keren isn't located in less than forty eight hours, Victor will take direct command over it as a military operation. At that point it's out of my hands!”

Wade and Reese shared another look before Wade asked, “Storen said Victor isn't going after Keren for anything she did, it's for who, or what she knows?”

At this moment Storen and Ze'ev shared a look of their own. Clearly they weren't too eager to share everything.

“Look!” Reese stated loudly, biting down on his cigar, flashing his pair of faux-gold capped teeth in the process, “Favors or no favors, I'm no ones lackey or fall-guy! Be real with us or we'll walk out right now!”

Ze'ev sighed and held up his hands, “Ok fair enough! Keren's father Guo also went missing shortly after Eva did. I sent him searching after her when the Colony on LV-426 went black.”

“As some sort of private investigator?” Wade asked.

“Yes, something like that. Guo's a man of particular talents as a smuggler, similar to your own expertise. Meaning no offense.”

“None taken!” Reese grunted.

“Does Keren know you used her father to look for Eva?” Wade asked.

Ze'ev tensed, flinching in a grimace.

Wade and Reese looked at each other in disbelief, Wow! He never told her!

“It was for her own good!” Ze'ev stammered, “If I made it known to her what he was doing she'd never have kept quiet about it for this long. Questions about him would have caused a lot of trouble!”

Reese crossed his arms as he shifted the cigar in his teeth. His eyes had a distant, pensive look to them. Not staring at Ze'ev directly, but rather, seeming to look through him. Wade meanwhile subtly shook his head and took a deep drought of his beer.

“I've tried every way I can to get answers about the loss of the Hadley's Hope colony,” Ze'ev muttered, “I'm not proud of the dangers Guo and others undertook on my behalf, but if my efforts finally prove wrongdoing and a cover-up by The Company, it's worth it!”

“What happened at Dizzy's Club wasn't worth it!” Reese stated harshly, “You lied about Guo to protect yourself and you never warned Keren. Now dozens of innocent people are dead or wounded.”

Ze'ev froze, his facial expression stunned. A tense moment hung over the table.

“Speaking of secrets, do you have any idea who tasered you and why?” Wade pondered out loud, changing the subject by asking Storen.

Ze'ev and Storen shared another look.

“I know who did it, but I don't know why,” Ze'ev admitted.

“Who was it?”

“Dasha Zukhova, my Chief Commerce Officer, heavily disguised of course,” Ze'ev answered.

“She was attempting to eavesdrop on our meeting back at the diner,” Storen explained.

“I've already called for station security to take her into custody,” Ze've promised, “We'll get answers from her before long.”

Wade exhaled a cloud of smoke with a bitter tone, “With all due respect Ze'ev, I've seen the look on your face right now a hundred times before in an interrogation cell. It's the look of someone too stubborn to admit they've already lost control over their own situation.”

Ze'ev frowned, anger flashing over his frustrated, wrinkled face. “I never intended for any harm to come to anyone! It's too late to turn back now! Besides, I figured both of you would understand my feelings towards The Company more than most. Was I wrong about that?!”

“No you aren't wrong about that,” Reese answered, “but there's a big difference in risk between what we do and what you're trying to do. I just want my ship back so my crew and I can be left alone to do business as we please. You're going after The Company to admit blame for the death of your granddaughter and the loss of an entire colony!”

Ze'ev sighed, as tired as he was stubbornly insistent, “I won't give up! Even if it's the last thing I do! What's it gonna take to get you on board with this?”

Wade and Reese exchanged a look. Now the real bargaining begins.

_ _ _

Special Executive Victor Li Shing paced around a solid Ji Chi mu-and-Ebony hardwood table within the conference room of the Jĭngtì Lóng executive suite. Beautifully carved in the style of the Qing Dynasty, the table featured a reproduction of the red-over-white orchid flower logo inlaid at its center in mother-of-pearl and red jade.

Other fine replica art objects decorated the room lit by warm yellow light from glass lamps. A kesi-tapestry, a statue, a porcelain vase; all styled with the same look and feel of an ancient antique with designs of the Jĭngtì Lóng Corporation.

These pieces were made in homage to the roots of Chinese history inherent in their corporate credo, The Art of War. They spoke to an ideal of cultural tradition, glory and conquest, as if the Jĭngtì Lóng Corporation was destined to exemplify these things. None of it impressed him in the least. Victor hated fakes of any kind. In his opinion, such tasteless reproductions represented only frauds, fools and pretenders.

The only genuine antique in the room was the remnants of a fire-lance dating from the mid thirteenth century. A metal tube tied to a spear designed to fire projectiles with gunpowder. Only about a yards worth of wood still remained from the polearm. Its iron point and barrel so highly weathered they resembled misshapen lumps more than anything fearsome. Nevertheless, Victor considered this genuine item to be the only thing of real value in the room.

Seated around the tabled were six executives who ran research projects for Jĭngtì Lóng on Ashkelon Station. Five men and one woman ranging in ages from early thirties to mid fifties, all summoned on short notice. Some of them were woken from sleep, others still wearing scrubs straight from the labs escorted by Jĭngtì Lóng commandos from his ship.

None of them were told what the purpose of this meeting was or given any time to prepare for it. Victor preferred it this way. Best to keep them off balance and worried, all the better to get a sense of their true character. Victor never passed up the opportunity to meet new people, if only to assess their value as pawns. For this reason alone, face-to-face meetings always had their place.

Various tablets, binders and briefings littered the table. Hasty offerings, hoping to impress him with measures of success, achievement and progress. They needn't have bothered. Now that he was on the station, Victor made good use of Executors data banks scrutinizing every relevant progress report from the last few years.

At this point of course, the past was nowhere near as important as the future. Whoever sat at his table had to convince him of their absolute competence, commitment and loyalty towards what came next. Else wise they were about to have a very bad day.

After a slow circuit around the table Victor took a stance before his chair, hands clasped at ease behind his back. In moments like this Victor preferred to stand looking down at others. His expression neutral, yet far from friendly. A look of self-assured confidence, willpower and determination went a long way to reinforce an image of authority, energy and dominance.

Behind him the dead stare of one of Victor's synthetic bodyguards watched them all with exact composure. He, like the others, was named after a famed general from Chinese history. This one was Qi Jiguang, credited for courage and brilliance against the Japanese Wokou pirates along the southeast coast of China in the fifteenth century. Qi Jiguang fought for more than a decade in over eighty wars, while also working to reinforce The Great Wall.

Few other than Victor were aware of their names, or the fact they communicated to each other with thoughts alone. Victor could also communicate to them the same way, seeming to give orders telepathically. This was most often observed with their eerie readiness to anticipate all his movement and needs.

For a few moments there was only silence as Victor leveled his gaze at each executive in turn, noting their defining characteristics and moods. Each was nervous to varying degrees, though they did their best to conceal it. Stoic professionalism was expected from anyone employed by Jĭngtì Lóng.

Each of the six avoided looking him in the eye and sat with their hands clasped humbly on their laps. Mid-level executives, so far below his rank in the corporate hierarchy, should never speak out-of-turn or even turn their heads in his direction until spoken too. None would even dare to reach for the tray of coffee set on a side table unless it was actually offered to them first.

Victor noted one non-Chinese face in the group. An anomaly not without precedent. Jĭngtì Lóng and Technion Interstellar had a long history of cooperation even before the CSC was founded in the twenty-eighties. At the time Israel and Hong Kong were both small nations with powerful enemies. Joint advances in robotics, various bio-technology, advanced weaponry and aerospace secured a promising future for both.

Later, after the CSC was formed and GL-382 was colonized, Jĭngtì Lóng and Technion Interstellar partnered together for the lions share of construction costs for Ashkelon Station. This ensured exclusive rights to the the resources of the planet below and emerging opportunities for trade and commerce that the station provided. After so many decades doing business together, employees of either nationality would sometimes defect to the other side.

Such a move was not easy. Cultural and professional differences between the two mega corporations were substantial. Yet sometimes, those differences suited particular individuals. Victor wasn't one to chastise anyone for simply going against the norm. Fresh thinking and new ideas were valuable. But he wasn't going to cut this Israeli any slack either.

Reuven Beloff was a small thin man, about forty, with brooding blue eyes, dark wiry hair, pursed lips and a stern rigid posture. According to his file, Reuven had been with Jĭngtì Lóng for twelve years. Like the others he was a mid-level senior research executive.

At present Victor didn't concentrate on any one person longer than the others. The first priority was evaluating the group as a whole. Most mid-level executive meetings would start with introductions, formal bows and some sort of pep talk or speech to boost morale and give everyone the sense they were all on the same team. Instead of that, Victor gestured to the projector device affixed to the ceiling.

As if by magic, the wave of his hand, or a thought, the device began to play a promotional video against either wall. The flag of the Independent Core Systems Colonies appeared, with the usual statements and legal warnings about unauthorized reproduction or distribution of private intellectual property.

After that the starburst logo of Technion Interstellar faded to reveal the face of an attractive woman in her fifties with bright blue eyes, a broad smile and wavy, thick blonde hair. She was dressed in a plain lab coat, similar to others in this room, leaning against an office desk.

“Hello!” she began with exuberant enthusiasm, “My name is Eve Einat-Darkon, chief executive of research for Technion Interstellar. I want to talk to you today about the future of exploration! In the past distant colonization was attempted with huge, expensive colony vessels. We're all familiar with those ill-fated voyages of the Prometheus, the Covenant and the Ivan-Petlin, all of which vanished without a trace!”

Eve's expression hardened with sadness, “Those costly ventures leave us all with bitter questions, worries and doubts. Such tragic risks of human life and resources should not be repeated. Fortunately there is hope!” Eve's expression warmed as she moved away from the desk, stepping over to a large view port overlooking the familiar world of GL-382.

“Here below me is GL-382, the world I grew up on, also known as 'Temple Colony'. Technion Interstellar and our partners, the Jĭngtì Lóng Corporation, have poured tremendous investment in its growth and development. Here aboard Ashkelon Station we have more than a great view. We each maintain state of the art laboratories working on parallel experiments involving one of the most powerful forms of energy in the universe. Antimatter!”

The camera's view shifted to another perspective to catch her bemused expression of shock, “Yes I know what you're thinking. Antimatter is dangerous! Rest assured we take every conceivable precaution, and we are only working with very small amounts, nanograms, which are produced as anti-protons on the surface of GL-382 with our massive particle accelerator.”

The screen flashed to an orbital view of the facility, kept far from populated areas, buried within a massive crater nearly fifty miles across.

“The price of our research is staggering,” she continued, heard now only as a voice over while the aerial views of the facility persisted, “Each particle of antimatter requires thousands of megawatts of energy to produce. Even at the extremely high efficiency levels we've achieved, every nanogram of antimatter costs millions.

Every one of those particles must then be transferred into the equally huge particle decelerator where they are gradually slowed down, super-cooled, and eventually stored into this...”

The view switched to an internal shot of an underground bunker complex where stacks of gleaming metal donuts were submerged in tanks of sub-zero coolant hooked up to power cables.

“These toroid's, manufactured by us, are specially designed to hold charged antimatter particles. So long as necessary containment conditions are maintained they can be stored indefinitely and transported safely anywhere.”

Robotic arms removed five toroid's from a tank and lowered them into a storage cylinder roughly resembling a fifty-five gallon barrel. A cargo-loader lifted it up on the back of a specially equipped cargo truck. Power cables and cooling hoses were hastily connected to the barrel by figures in bulky environmental suits who gave the camera a reassuring thumbs up.

“So how does antimatter help us safely explore the universe? That's easy. It gives us incredible energy. Enough energy to travel further, and faster, than ever before!”

The camera flashed back to the aerial view of the facility, then panned upwards towards Ashkelon Station and the stars beyond. Eve's voice-over continued.

“For example, just one milligram of antimatter used as a rocket-propellant could send a probe from Earth to Pluto and back in a year. Yet as impressive as that is, faster-than-light travel with modern hyperdrives can cover an entire parsec in mere days. Traditionally the more powerful the reactor, and thus the larger the ship, the faster it can go. Antimatter changes all that.”

The view up towards the stars zoomed in on a secret orbital shipyard where a destroyer of some sort was currently undergoing significant retrofit.

“This is the CSCS Kowloon. It's the first spacecraft of any design equipped with an antimatter-drive propulsion unit. Brave naval officers of the CSC have volunteered to test it. By the time you view this it will have already completed its maiden voyage and begun real-world trials. Our friends at Jĭngtì Lóng tell me this new rapid-response destroyer will put the fastest Colonial Marine Frigate to shame!”

The camera shifted back to Eve looking out her view port towards the stars, “I'll certainly sleep better knowing our defense fleet is more ready and capable than ever,” she smiled, “Current international laws and treaties outlaw antimatter weapons. Rest assured we have no plans for an antimatter weapon now, or in the future, unless that changes.”

Her smile faded to a hopeful, contemplative look as she moved towards a small conference table with an elaborate spacecraft model resembling a very unusual rocket, “This is the future of exploration. We call it the Chayot Ha Kodesh interstellar probe.”

The camera panned around the rocket, which was vaguely diamond-shaped, beautifully streamlined and elegant in its design.

“It will be the most powerful and advanced spacecraft ever conceived, completely automated, with the worlds first antimatter-powered-reactor. It won't even need to slow down for a solar-recharge cycle until all its antimatter fuel is expended. In terms of range and speed, just one gram of antimatter burned in its propulsion unit will be enough to span our entire galaxy in about a week!” her smile returned, “Imagine how far we could go with ten!

Probes like this omit the risk of human lives exploring distant regions of space. At least in the initial stages. We are ready to begin construction of the Chayot Ha Kodesh and ramp up antimatter production as soon as we receive the required funding. This is a very exciting time!” she grinned.

“Myself and all my colleagues are very proud to bring this project into its final phase. The planning and preparations for this stretch back almost a hundred years! Ashkelon Station and Temple Colony were chosen specifically for this purpose. Their position at the edge of the Outer Rim makes it the perfect place to launch a new future into a new frontier. Representatives are standing by. Don't wait, invest now!”

The video ended on the starburst logo of Technion Interstellar. Victor paused it there as he asked a plain and simple question, speaking Chinese of course.

“Does this please you?”

The faces around the tabled exchanged baffled, nervous glances. A heavy silence hung in the air. Finally, Reuven was the first to answer in sharp, clipped syllables. His Chinese was perfect, “Sir, everyone on the project is aware of the plans for an interstellar probe. It's been the goal for Technion Interstellar since the beginning.”

“I know that!” Victor spat back harshly, “My question was, does that please you?”

Reuven nodded once, “It does sir. It's a fantastic idea.”

Victor pursed his lips and repeated Reuven's statement, slowly with deliberate emphasis, “...a fantastic idea... So why then, Mr. Beloff, are you sitting here in this room, with us? Why did you switch sides and join the Jĭngtì Lóng Corporation if their idea for a probe pleases you so much?”

Reuven swallowed, “It's not the only thing that pleases me. My work here is very challenging, and rewarding. I appreciate what they've done, but my focus is on my work for J.L.”

“Tell me about what you do here for us?” Victor asked as a rhetorical question. He already knew the answer.

“I work in guidance. Hyperspace navigation primarily.”

“Oh I see. And why is that work so important?”

“It's critical for the safety and performance of an antimatter-drive propulsion unit. Increased speed and thrust means greater risks for navigational errors.” Reuven answered.

“Would you say those risks for navigational errors are equally important to the guidance team working for Technion Interstellar?” Victor asked.

“Of course.”

“So again I have to ask you Mr. Beloff. Why do you work for us, and not them?”

“I suppose I feel my talents are better valued here,” Reuven answered.

“So its a point that your talents hold value?” Victor stated.

“Yes. I believe they do.”

“Do we pay you more than Technion Interstellar ever did?”

“You do, yes, but my role with you is not the same as it was with them. I've grown much more experienced in my field since...”

Victor interrupted him with a wave of his hand, “...Naturally! You've been with us along time. We've nurtured your 'talents' and rewarded your efforts as well as you deserve.”

Reuven smiled thinly and sat up even straighter, pleased to receive any praise from someone like Victor, “I think I've earned my place here yes. With my help the guidance department has achieved its goals and deadlines. Our simulations are favorable for real-world testing of the antimatter-drive propulsion unit as soon as can be arranged.”

“Yes I look forward to that!” Victor stated with a rare smile of his own, “Such thrilling technology!”

The mood in the room seemed to lighten at that. Some visibly relaxed and exhaled. Victor's expression turned thoughtful, “But you know I can't help but think that the idea for an antimatter-powered interstellar probe isn't so great. I think we can do better.”

Reuven looked puzzled, but optimistic, "What do you suggest sir?” he asked Victor with a hasty, polite bow.

“You tell me? Your the one with such wonderful talents. I wouldn't know the first thing about hyperspace navigation or an antimatter-drive propulsion unit. I'm not even sure I fully comprehend the power of antimatter at all? What else should we do with it, now that that power is within our grasp?”

Reuven shifted slightly in his seat. The others were all looking at him. The mood in the room grew tense again.

“I... err... I suppose we could consider further possibilities. There is the wormhole theory? Perhaps we can...”

“Take a look around Reuven,” Victor stated icily, “What do you see?”

Reuven swallowed again, harder this time, staring at the faces of his colleagues. He looked pale and far less cocky than just a few moments ago, “I see this gathering. I see you Mr. Li Shing. I see art...”

“Oh certainly!” Victor agreed, stepping around the table towards the remnants of the antique fire-lance on its lacquered wood display stand, “Would you consider this art?”

“That? Yes. It's beautiful!” Reuven stammered, his breathing fast and his palms sweaty.

“I couldn't agree more!” Victor agreed, reaching for it and lifting it up in his hands delicately. It had more heft to it than one would guess at first glance.

The others looked away, or down at the table. No one looked at Reuven.

“Do you know why this is here?” Victor asked Reuven, stepping up close beside him so he could see it up close.

“It's a relic. A reminder of the past and the importance of history.”

“Yes it is that, but more to the point, its a weapon!” Victor stated, clubbing Reuven across the side of his skull with the metal tube. A sickening thud was heard as old iron fractured bone. A painful moan of shock and surprise came from Reuven as he lurched forward, eyes bulging.

Gasps of horror and disbelief erupted around the table. One of the other executives reacted as if he was going to leap to Reuven's aid, until a quick step from Victor's bodyguard made him think twice.

Savoring the moment, Victor lifted the relic up again, plunging the blunted tip of the spear down into the side of Reuvens neck. It did not cut a clean wound, instead ripping open a jagged gash through skin, muscle and tendons. Blood gushed across the table in fountains and spurts. Reuven at first attempted to scream, yet only managed an awful wheeze and gurgle as he simultaneously choked and drowned in his own vitae.

“Let this serve to remind you, the Jĭngtì Lóng Corporation is in the arms busines!” Victor hissed, wiping blood from his hands on the back of Reuvens lab coat while the man still twitched and shuddered in his death throws, “Does anyone else want to tell me how pleased they are that Technion Interstellar is ready to construct an interstellar probe?”

Around the table were only gaping faces, paralyzed with fear. Reuven's last moments were spent clutching at the sleeve of the woman seated next to him. She was red faced with tears in her eyes, choking back sobs.

“Stop your whimpering!” Victor stated derisively, returning to the head of the table, leaning down to press his knuckles against the wood, “It's time we focused on what we do. It makes no difference if you're a soldier, an executive or a scientist. The goal is the same. Anyone working for Jĭngtì Lóng Corporation supports our plans against all rivals, by whatever means are necessary! Up until now, partnering with Technion Interstellar was advantageous for us. That time has passed."

Those around the table exchanged looks. Qian Xuesen, the oldest man in the room made an effort to speak for the group. Sweat beaded on his bald skull as he nervously wiped at his forehead with a sleeve, “Sir, what should we do?”

“I want you all to prepare for what's coming. As of now, research for an antimatter weapon is our top priority. You must use every resource at our disposal to support that initiative. We can't afford to be left behind in a new arms race. Get us on par with Technion Interstellar. Somehow. Someway. Anyway you can. Sabotage. Lie, cheat, steal. Get your hands bloody. Do whatever is required towards that end.”

Qian balked and shook his head, “Sir, what your asking is...” he swallowed, composing himself by biting his own tongue.

“Go ahead, speak your mind,” Victor coached.

“...this is mercenary! We've worked alongside T.I. for decades! Yes they create the antimatter, but they share it with us because we share in the costs. We help them test it and develop our own technology from it. A parallel study. In many ways this was always to our advantage since we spared ourselves the price of our own particle accelerator. Why now do we betray that relationship? Their probe is no threat to us?”

“WRONG!” Victor shouted, slamming his fists against the table causing everyone to jump, “What do you think happens when they get that extra funding? They won't need us anymore. They'll dissolve our partnership, shut us out and keep all their antimatter for themselves. At that point how do we compete, let alone maintain our own research?

We'd need to build our own particle accelerator to have any hope to catch up, as you rightly pointed out. That would put us years behind. Maybe decades?! Worse still, we'd have to cut our current budget for arms manufacturing in half, at the very least, just to cover those expenses.

Such losses in profits would essentially put all our assets and operations at risk. By that point, it may already be too late?! Who's going to keep investing in our weapon systems if someone else has an antimatter weapon on the market before we do?”

“That will never happen!” Qian argued, “Any rogue corporation who attempts it will be an easy target for economic sanctions and criminal charges, perhaps even military action by the United Americas or the Three World Empire. That road is a dead-end!”

Victor snorted, “That's very naïve. They say the same thing about certain chemical and biological weapons, which I assure you are still being made. Would you like to know how much we stockpile, and who's buying on the black market?”

Qian shook his head in disgust while the others looked like they were going to be sick.

Victor repeated himself, “Technion Interstellar must not fulfill their agenda at our expense! We need an alternative technology, preferably a weapon, to tip the favor of potential investors towards us. Instead of an interstellar probe, I want an interstellar ballistic missile!” Victor ordered.

“Even if we manage to design such a weapon in secret, we don't have the supply of antimatter necessary, or even the correct type, to make an effective prototype!” Qian argued, “If Technion Interstellar is indeed ready to create an antimatter reactor, that means they have solved the problem of collecting and storing antimatter particles that have a neutral charge. Those particles won't repel each other the way positrons do, which is all we've been given to study!

Though it is true that antimatter reactions are at least two orders of magnitude greater than the most efficient nuclear weapons; it takes at least half a gram of antimatter reacting with ordinary matter to result in an explosion forty percent more powerful than the atomic bomb dropped on Hiroshima by the Americans. We can't build a reactor, or a warhead, of any significant energy without sufficient density of antimatter.

The only way to do that, is with neutral antiparticles such as antihydrogen, or antimatter-helium-four. Technion Interstellar hasn't given us any neutral antiparticles to study or shared specifics about how they manage to collect and store such particles. Obviously this was done on purpose. If they suspect we are attempting espionage of their technology or developing anything illegal, we'll never get anywhere. They'll cut us off completely, even from the comparatively safe positively-charged antimatter particles we have studied thus far.”

Victor nodded, “That will only be a temporary setback. Did the Mongols cease their efforts to conquer China when they lacked the might of gunpowder weapons? NO! They seized the technology for themselves, adopted it into their own arsenal and went on to conquer the largest empire in history! We should act by their example.

Our estimates suggest Technion Interstellar has been collecting neutral-charged antimatter for quite a while. When the time is right, what we need should already be there for the taking. If not, we can always capture the particle accelerator for ourselves and confiscate their technology by force. A hostile-takeover, in the literal sense, may be the most sensible option in the end.”

Qian and the others stared at him with disbelief.

Victor smirked, “You think we weren't already prepared for this? There are two destroyers in orbit on the far side of GL-382 as we speak. It was always our plan to let our partners create the antimatter we needed. Cheaper for us that way...”

- - -

A muffled blast suddenly sent heavy vibrations through the hull of the station causing everyone to loose balance as the table lurched. Glass lamps, the vase, the statue and the tray of coffee all went toppling to shatter on the floor. Reuven's corpse, still bleeding, slid off the table into a heap just as a massive burst of air pressure went rushing out of the room.

The door to the conference room was sound-proofed and reinforced, but it was not a pressure door designed to hold against the vacuum of space. It was not even air tight. Everyone reached up to cover their ears instinctively as the pain of explosive decompression ruptured their ear drums, sucking all the air out of the room the instant the door buckled and pulled free of its hinges.

Screams followed, though without air, there were no molecules available to carry sound. Everything not bolted down in the room, flew towards the open door. Shards of shattered glass and porcelain. Chairs. Reuven's corpse and flailing executives fighting for their lives.

Victor felt his bodyguard pull him backwards into a hug before he was sucked out with everything and everyone else. The synthetic android had the strength of ten men, anchoring them both as the storm passed by clamping its hand around a swivel fixture bolted to the wall that supported a display monitor.

Not all of the executives were sucked out into space. The wooden table was too large and sturdy to be forced through the door. Qian Xuesen and the woman, Jiang Ying, both managed to grab a hold of a table leg and hold their breath.

Why weren't they floating? Victor thought. Then he remembered the stations artificial gravity was still working. They could stand, and walk, as normal, even in the vacuum of space. There was no danger of being sucked out once all the air was gone.

At the same time, Victor heard his bodyguard's voice in his head explaining that he had to release the air out of his lungs or they would rupture. His body of course would not obey. In a state of pure panic, exhaling into a vacuum went against every instinct it had. The android thus, squeezed harder, forcing the air out of his lungs against his will.

Qian Xuesen did likewise, breathing out as he crawled towards Jiang Ying. She was not so clear-headed. Victor watched her convulse and vomit up blood and bits of lung tissue as the internal air pressure in her own chest burst up through her mouth and out of her ruptured ear drums through the Eustachian tubes in the back of her throat. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head shortly after Qian Xuesen managed to grab her into a hug.

Victor was certain that he was going to die as the dreaded ache of oxygen asphyxiation sent his body into spasms. Meanwhile within his veins and soft tissue, reduced pressure reduced the effective boiling temperature of body fluids. Water in his bloodstream began to vaporize creating gas bubbles. These were visible under the skin as rapid bruising, swelling, and a strange puffiness in his face. Surface blood vessels in his ears, nose and eyes burst sending trickles of blood streaming outwards that quickly cooled and froze into crystals when they detached from his skin.

Victor knew he would eventually bleed to death, but first he would loose consciousness from oxygen deprivation in less than a minute. Rational parts of his brain, especially those enhanced with synthetic A.I., were aware of all these facts.

Air! I need Air! Victor screamed with every thought of his mind. The bodyguard released his hug and pulled out a flat plastic package from the small of his back. It unfolded into a clear plastic body bag of sorts which it unzipped as the other two body guards were already rushing inside the conference room pushing aside the table.

Together, they forced Victor into the bag and zipped it up attaching a small cylinder with an emergency air supply. The bag inflated with a rush of breathable air under positive pressure. Victor gasped, tasting blood. His lungs were damaged. He feared blood clots and a potential embolism to come, but in the short term he would survive.

How much air? Victor asked via mental query. The human body required half a liter of oxygen per minute. Though highly compressed, such a tiny portable air supply canister would not be enough to last long.

Twenty minutes, the android responded. Total air supply will be one hour, assuming each of us has to use our emergency decompression kits to keep you alive.

Through the plastic he saw Qian Xuesen lurching towards him. He looked horrible, the picture of a soon and certain death. Victor considered sharing one of the kits with him before he remembered who else he should be worrying about.

Catherine! Where's Catherine! You have to save Catherine! He thought with a dreadful sickening realization that she was probably already gone. It's not fair! He realized. She almost died once this way already. All that work, and expense, to bring her back to life with a new body wasted!

Catherine is safe! She left the suite to go for a run shortly before the bombs went off, The bodyguards answered.

Victor breathed deeply with relief, wiping blood from his eyes that were still bleeding. I understand now what it was like for you Catherine. Dying this way is an especially traumatizing way to go.

Qian clawed at his bubble, staring at him pleadingly as he was pushed back by the bodyguards. Victor stared back at him. Odds were they would be rescued very soon. He could spare one kit and twenty minutes of air for Qian. Or maybe not?

The bodyguards explained there were bombs. That implies an attack, perhaps even a betrayal? Was Technion Interstellar preemptively moving against him before he could move against them? He thought about Ze'ev Darkon. Was the station administrator behind this? What about his daughter, Eve Einat-Darkon? Was she double-crossing him?

Qian fell to his knees, his eyes bloodshot, his face a ruin of bruising and burst blood vessels. Victor admired the man. He faced his death with stoic pride worthy of all expectations in the Jĭngtì Lóng Corporation. Victor thought it appropriate that he should be reassured that his death would not be in vain.

Victor tried to speak. The effort pained him so badly that he could only cough up bloody spittle. This was going to be harder than he thought. After a struggle, he managed to mutter five words, “Thank you for your service!”

Qian couldn't hear him of course, but maybe he could read his lips? It was the least he could do.

The very least he could do.