Randolph Lalonde - Frontline

“Sir, I have an update from our spinward operations,” announced the Vice President of Regent Galactic Operations as he pounded up the steps to the President's communications center. The office overlooked the city of New Versailles. The Skylink Building dominated the vista, its pointed half circle shape and smooth white and blue surface reflecting the lights of the city surrounding it.

The Regent Galactic complex was the only structure that out did it for size in the expansive forest of skyscrapers. Even through the rain the billions of lighted windows glimmered and sparkled like gems set in a forest of black quartz. Above the city a network of speeding personal air vehicles criss-crossed and wound around the larger structures like a luminescent nest of shifting wire.

The closest moon was partially eclipsed by the Kraken, stamping a reflective half octagonal shape atop the circular red moon as it hovered above offloading and taking on millions of passengers. Workers from freshly taken territories and business people who were returning home after arranging the utilization and resale of land and resources. All in all, it was an average evening in New Versailles, a city that pretended at being a club and art mecca but actually served as the secondary headquarters of the mighty Regent Galactic Corporation.

With his hands crossed behind his back, clad in a relaxed fit, straight cut business suit, President Paolo Weir looked into the bustling sky. “It's one in the morning Lowrey.”

Lowrey Cartwright ignored the objection, running his hand over his perfectly cut blond coif. It was cut in the square, pure unisex style that was popular just a week before. His suit fit loose in the elbows, tight at the wrists and baggy in the knees, a design straight off the fashion runway the month before. “We have no contact from Collins and our intelligence tells us that the Holocaust Virus is just now reaching the core worlds.”

“It's not like Collins to go dark without an explanation. We can assume he's dead or on the run. Put a warrant out for him.”

“Gabriel Meunez closed our remote connections to all our assets in his area before disappearing. Our intelligence says he's on his way to activating a Vindyne asset that was never entered into record.”

“I'm ignoring you Lowrey.”

“Jacob Valance has taken possession of the Triton and our ears there reported that Wheeler was killed by his destruct device.”

“Is that all our ears aboard the Triton have to say? What about the Earth Security Codes?” asked President Weir in a quiet, tightly controlled tone.

“Our ears aboard Triton have gone quiet.”

“Does Citadel know?”

“They do.”

“What did they say?”

“I tried to speak to them personally, to get a read on what their intentions were now that we've completely lost control of the Triton.”

“And?”

“They're pulling back from the bargaining table. Our proposal for an alliance with the Sol system and Citadel has been denied, they sent us the documentation a few minutes ago.”

“What are they going to do about Triton?”

“I don't know.”

“So you're telling me that a two trillion dollar ship is just out there with no one from our company aboard and she's being captained by someone with several billion dollars worth of research and development in his body. How did Wheeler lose the Triton? ”

“We don't know.”

“Well, it won't happen a second time. I get the sense that mister Meunez and Hampon won't let it go. They may not have time to go after Valance themselves but if the hidden asset they're retrieving is what I think it is then they might not have to.”

“Do you know what they're bringing out of storage?”

“Their framework copy of Wheeler.”

“How would that help? The original didn't do the job.”

“The original was a twisted sociopath. Collins went to great pains to correct personality flaws when he crafted the personality imprinted on the copy. I wouldn't be surprised if Wheeler the second became very important in that sector. Still, I'll be happier when they've taken Triton back and have Valance in custody. The scans we have of him are good but there are still some questions we can only answer with a series of biopsies.”

“We're close to developing similar technologies independently. I'm starting to think all the Vindyne assets are too much trouble. We're way over budget on the whole endeavour.”

“I know, I hear about it at every board meeting. Meunez isn't making things easier by blocking our access to our military forces out there. He's left Hampon in direct control, now we have to channel our orders through him and he's not responding to our requests for direct communications.”

“Our most recent intelligence confirms that they're forming their own army. I don't think we can keep that from the board of directors for much longer.”

President Weir pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes tightly. “I know. Even a private militia is trouble.”

“The latest numbers put the Order of Eden forces at seven million, all armed with Regent Galactic gear,” Lowrey corrected quietly.

“What?” Weir snapped.

Tonight it was all bad news, and Lowrey knew it was just a matter of time before he presented the item that would set the normally level headed company President off. “You should see the recruitment materials, they're convincing. The Holocaust Virus makes the whole thing worse. It's not what mister Meunez told us it would be.”

“How bad is it?”

“The infected artificial intelligences are operating under a kill order, killing any human not listed with the West Watch or its parent organization, the Order of Eden.”

“How many?”

“Forty three solar systems have been infected so far, the number of dead are beyond anything we've seen.”

“How many people has this thing killed Lowrey?” urged the President, fear plain on his face.

“Early numbers put the fatalities past the nine billion mark.”

“Nine billion?” he burst wide eyed, taking a step back. “That's half! Half of all the people in forty five solar systems! Collins said everyone would have a chance to surrender! That only some artificial intelligences would kill!”

Lowrey's hands were shaking, he was sweating. When he heard the news he hoped the numbers were wrong, that the President would have some corrective data that would reduce them, that he knew something no one else did. From the older, more wizened and educated man's reaction he could tell that there was no corrective data, the horror was real, the holocaust was happening. Their customers were being slaughtered and Regent Galactic had enabled the people responsible. “I have family in that sector,” he whispered, blinking back tears and trying to keep his jaw from chattering.

“Then I suggest you pull yourself together, pay the one hundred thousand dollars per person the Order of Eden demands to protect them and hope they survived the initial wave of attacks. Do we have any intelligence on what the Eden Fleet is doing?”

“They're headed coreward sir, striking major defence installations and disabling major passenger vessels. We can't discern a pattern to their attack, it's like they're striking on their own.”

“So Collins is really gone then. He'd never let them off the leash.” President Weir snapped his fingers and a thickly padded chair rose out of the floor. He sat down slowly and stared out over the city silently.

Lowrey tried to be quiet, to read the other man's expression. He'd never seen him like that, just sitting there, pondering. There was more coming. More answers, more solutions, there had to be. Something had to be done to stop the wave of destruction, to save lives, to save his career. The city outside was like an entirely different world, one oblivious to the terrible truths they were facing.