"I'll get it," Lawrence told his wife and checked the feed from the door's external sensor. The Galaxis family, right on time as usual. He crossed the large living room and signaled the home system to open the door just as he reached the entrance hall. "Ah. The Galaxises! So nice to have you all here. Dirk, good to see you. Xia, you look exquisite as always." Lawrence shook Dirk Galaxis's hand warmly and gave his wife Xia a light hug and a peck on the cheek.
Dirk wore an elegant LumeTex white shirt, the light fabric barely touching his body. He handed Lawrence a wine bottle that Lawrence took without looking at, knowing it would be something good. "Thank you, you shouldn't have," he said automatically. Xia Galaxis wore a scarlet dress that matched her hair. Elegant but not formal, just tight enough to hint at her exquisite body. The couple's golden-haired daughter wriggled her way between the adults and ran toward the living room. "Hello, Gliese," he shouted, but the five-year-old had vanished already.
"I trust your journey wasn't too arduous at this hour?" Lawrence said facetiously. "Oh, it was quite dreadful. The elevator took forever to get here." Smiling, Xia feigned exhaustion. "I've been looking forward to tonight. It's been a while since we got together like this," she said. "Oh, yes. This is all Vesta's doing, of course - she organized everything." Lawrence replied as they moved into the living room.
A serving drone smoothly rolled over to greet the incoming guests. Its flat top balanced an assortment of alcoholic drinks. "Speaking of your lovely wife, where is she?" Xia asked. "She must be entertaining our other guests over at the dining room," Lawrence answered and handed Xia a tall glass of champagne and Dirk a tumbler of planet-side whiskey.
As they made their way to the dining room, Vesta appeared in the large arched passageway and beckoned them to join. Xia hugged her friend warmly. The two women had a lot in common - married to high-ranking executives, both had a child roughly the same age, and both filled important positions in their fields. Their looks, however, couldn't be more disparate. Xia had a fiery appearance, short and supple with a light-tan toned skin. She was the epitome of charisma and sex-appeal. His wife, Vesta, was only modestly pretty - tall and lanky, bright-haired with a fair, almost translucent, skin.
In the dining room, two other couples were already seated at the big table. It was beautifully set in an earthy theme, the plates and candelabras were made of wood, generated of course, but its look and feel practically indistinguishable from the real thing. Wreaths of verdant leaves and white flowers completed the decoration. Lawrence noted annoyingly to himself that the only one still missing was his brother Schafer.
His younger brother was often unwieldy and unpredictable. His eccentricity only eclipsed by his brilliance. Unfortunately, he took very few things seriously. Timekeeping was not one of them. Being co-CEO did nothing to dampen his unruliness. It wasn't like his brother had much of an excuse not to show up; he lived just one floor above, in the penthouse.
The guests tonight were his top executives at BRAIN and their partners. At one side of the table were Ed Simpson and his wife Wallis. Ed was the head of the Infrastructure division. Opposite them sat Cynthia Marioni and her wife Christine. Cynthia was Lawrence's head of Consumer division. Dirk Galaxis completed the top echelon as the SI division head.
Lawrence signaled Schafer's home system to query whether his brother was present. The response was negative. That didn't mean much as it could have been programmed to respond that way. Lawrence left a curt message for his brother to get his ass down. He also tried pinging him for a chat, but there was no response. "Not very surprising, Schafer is late and not answering my calls. I think we should begin." His guests murmured their agreement. They were all familiar with Schafer's antics.
Setting thoughts of his brother aside, Lawrence's attention came back to the room. Vesta outdid herself - having invited Chef Flax in-person to cook for them. It was quite a sight seeing him earlier in their kitchen, sitting on the floor with his eyes closed. His machines spread around him like a small fort. He was renowned for his mastery of the kitchen and the ability to oversee the making of dozens of dishes at once. The scents coming out of the kitchen were truly heavenly. Several serving drones rolled into the dining room and brought steaming plates filled with delicacies.
His wife eyed him sternly from across the table. Understanding the cue, Lawrence raised his wine glass and cleared his throat. "Thank you all for joining us tonight. It's wonderful seeing you in a setting outside of the office. May we have more evenings like this and continue to collaborate as we do." They clinked their glasses together. Tonight's purpose was mainly about improving the personal relationships of his leadership team.
The atmosphere was light and enjoyable. The conversation flowed and revolved around non-work related matters, which was no small fit. Having their partners with them certainly helped to stir the conversation to different subjects. Xia and Vesta reported on their successes and frustrations with their social causes.
"...We've been working on introducing human involvement and real-life experiences in the education system. Children these days only learn by Xploring and high-velocity info projections. Not one real experience!" Xia said with contempt. "Research done over the last century shows it's leading to a lot less creativity and boldness of thought by younger generations." Vesta continued. Lawrence could relate, being responsible for what was supposed to be the most innovative company in existence. They could certainly use a boost of creativity. "But it's very frustrating. We're not getting any traction with the educational boards," she added.
"Speaking of frustrating. Galaxis, you must have been furious when Schafer voted against the automatic SI regulation renewal at the committee yesterday." Ed segued and stirred the conversation away from lighter matters. Dirk, who sat across the table from Ed just nodded with a frozen face. It was quite a surprise yesterday when Schafer threw a bomb into what was supposed to be a simple bureaucratic procedure. "I mean, just think of the optics when one of the CEOs votes against it. It could be dangerous," Ed continued. "I'm not going to pretend I know Schafer's motive in this," Dirk said, eyeing Lawrence. "But you can be sure AI development will not change anytime soon."
Vesta gave Lawrence another of her stern: do something looks. "Now, now, let's not bore everyone with such matters. Tonight isn't about work. Xia? What do you suggest should be done about our children's education system?" Vesta nodded in approval, and the conversation returned to its natural flow. Desserts and aperitifs began to flow in on the backs of the bustling drones.
After dinner, Cynthia, Dirk, and Lawrence stood inside his home office. They were admiring his liquor cabinet, which was in a sealed depression in the wall running from floor to ceiling. The clear shelves were laden with different bottles and special glasses. The centerpieces were whiskey and bourbon bottles Lawrence had acquired over the years. Distilled on Earth, they were worth a fortune. Both Dirk and Cynthia, whiskey enthusiasts themselves, eyed the small treasure eagerly. Most of the bottles were never opened, but the two he did try, were wonderful. He could still feel their rich and smooth taste flowing down his throat, warming his insides. It was difficult to ignore the number of credits each sip cost, though.
Lawrence considered pulling a bottle out to share with his guests when his son Armin and Dirk's daughter, Gliese, came running into the room, laughing and shouting. Their eyes were covered by visors, completely oblivious to the adults standing there.
Dirk eyed the cabinet with its expensive content as well as the other rich decorations Lawrence kept in the room. "Aren't you worried they might break something? Something expensive?" Dirk asked with a worried voice. "This cabinet's door is made from layered polymer nanocomposites. Pretty much nothing can break it. But you're right, of course. The room is locked at all times, and I'm the only one who can open it when there's no one inside. Now, come, let's go back, I'm sure our partners will soon wonder where we disappeared to."
******
Dall was still in the same storage room or whatever it was before it became his prison cell. Thankfully one of his capturers agreed to take off that horrible band that held his legs and caused him to lose feeling below his ankles. He was getting worried it might cause permanent damage. The pain from the kick he received was receding, but it still left a large dark bruise on his side. He ate some stale bars that were so bland it felt like eating silicon wafers, chewing slowly to give himself something to do. His only other possession was a plasses water bottle he'd been given. He had to ration his drinking as it could take a long time before someone would come in and give him another one.
His PL showed him two days had passed since he was brought there. That's all it could do without an external communication capability. He didn't know how but these people who took him were able to shut him out completely. As far as his PL was concerned, there were no networks visible, not even the Fabric. That had never happened to him since he was old enough to understand how to use his Link. This made him feel more alone than he had ever felt.
He was hungry, tired, and extremely bored. It never occurred to him to retain any content on his PL's storage. It couldn't contain much, but if only he had something to read to pass the time, it would have been much better. For the first time in his life, he was all alone with just his thoughts.
Dall finished his bar and got up to stretch his arms and legs. Raising his hands sent a jolt of pain in his side, and he hissed in misery. His mother had warned him that people would be after him. Told him that he had to flee. Yet, all hid did was fail her - getting caught almost immediately. Since he was captured, the frustration and sorrow over his mother brought tears to his eyes more than once.
The door slammed open all suddenly. He was used to the ruffians trying to scare him every chance they had. Well, he almost got used to it. Three of them were at the door now. Two came at him, and he stepped back as they approached. One of them, he already recognized by name as Savim, grabbed his hands while the other wrapped them with a band like the one he initially had on his legs. It immediately constricted and held his hands together tightly. Savim pushed him from behind, indicating he wanted him to move.
"What's going on? Where are you taking me?" He asked frantically. He couldn't see the faces of the men behind him, so he looked at the third man still standing by the door. The man didn't answer. "Tell me!" Dall shouted at him and started waving his hands in large circles, hitting one of the men behind him on the chest and clearing both away from him. Unable to think clearly, his mind went into a frenzy, he couldn't bear being left in a dark hole like this again. His mother was dead, he was alone, and his side hurt. Dall couldn't take it anymore. His face was a mess of tears and snot, but he didn't care. His hands still flailed, keeping his capturers at bay.
"What do you want from me? Tell me! Why did you kill my mom, you assholes? Why did you have to kill her?" The crying and jolting took all the energy from him, so he stood there panting and sobbing.
"Hey, hey! Look at me," the man by the door came closer and peered at him as if he were a strange and possibly dangerous animal. Dall tried to rub some snot away with the back of his tied-up hands. The man stood in front of him, in blue jeans and a short black jacket. His light hair cut short, showing a round head. By looks alone, Dall could tell he was the leader of whatever this group was supposed to be. "Wendall, right?" the man asked, and Dall nodded. "Ok, good. My name is Mike. We didn't kill your mother, Wendall. I don't know anything about that. We got orders to move you, so that's what we're doing. Can't tell you more than that, coz I don't know." Mike gave him a soothing smile, but Dall figured it was mainly so they could get on with it.
"Now that I have been honest with you, I'd like you to tell me who kicked the shit out of one of the men that grabbed you from the restaurant. My man had to get medical treatment from a blow to the head, would you happen to know something about that, Wendall?" Mike was staring at him intently with those big green eyes of his. Dall shook his head "N-no, no. I don't know anything about that or anything else". Mike kept staring into his eyes for a few more seconds and then nodded. "Good. You better hope I don't find out you lied to me, Wendall. Now, let's go." Dall had no more energy to object.
They started to walk, Mike in front, Dall in the middle and the other two men behind. They passed through the dim corridor and across several closed doors. He could hear voices behind some of them, but the corridor was empty. It ended with an open area that had a door on the other side. To the left, there were chairs and a low table. None of the furniture matched, not two of a kind to be found. To the right, there was a small kitchen, its floor covered with thrown food packages and wrappers.
Mike almost reached the door when it opened abruptly, and a man breathing heavily rushed in. Once inside, Dall recognized him as Jarret, the owner of the weirdly shaped head who kicked him two days ago. Jarret had his hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath. "Mike. Mike, they got another one! They got Joanna and her team. They gotten arrested soon as they reached the port. My guy there just told me and I done ran here straightaway." Jarret finished breathlessly. "Shit! Shiiit!" Mike yelled and kicked a metallic chair that was close by. The unlucky object flew in the air to land on several other chairs.
"Third time in the 5 weeks! For Nova's sake! We're out of pilots, with hardly any teams left. Shit! We have another shipment in two days. What am I supposed to do now? I need a pilot. Fuck!" Mike was pacing back and forth, cursing and yelling. "I can, I can pilot a ship," Dall said quietly, unsure Mike would hear his trembling voice. "Shut up!" Savim yelled from behind and slapped him on the head. "What did you say?" Mike stopped pacing and looked at him intently again.
"I can pilot, technically. I'm a fourth-year cadet. First in my class. I-I can help you. If-if you promise not to kill me." Dall stammered, trying to look Mike in the eye. Mike was eyeing him again as if it was the first time. "First in your class, huh? Well, Wendall, I can't promise I won't kill you because if the order comes well - " Mike clicked his tongue. "However, I will take you up on your offer because I don't have many options right now. No way I can find a pilot this late. You better be able to fly a freight shuttle, or we'll all be in deep shit. That would mean your life getting very unpleasant. Got it?"
Dall nodded at the threat, not wanting to imagine how more unpleasant his life could get beyond what he had endured the last couple of days. "We'll have to do something about your identity chip. You're not a licensed pilot, so we need to override it with a fake one. First, I need to call this up and request you remain our... guest for a little bit longer. If they approve, we'll have to stop by Roland's and get your chip sorted. Oh, and you should know the override insert is going to be painful. Nah... it's gonna hurt like shit!"