When Richard learned he wouldn’t be leaving the company, but would instead oversee a new venture to support sustainability research, he was both puzzled and relieved. It had nothing to do with his expertise, but the title of Managing Director represented a considerable promotion. Once Kamaras revealed the true nature of the Center’s mission, he understood why he had been chosen. Providing for Akindele’s needs required someone who could speak his language. The role of Managing Director also meant he would be Dr. Akindele’s boss, and he reveled in the idea of regaining control over his former subordinate.
The org chart, however, turned out to be a poor reflection of the power dynamic between the two, and they continued to prod and jab back and forth in their efforts to assert dominance. On the day the cargo ship carrying the two massive capacitor networks arrived off the shore of Pai’Olu’Olu Point on the southeast side of O’ahu, Dr. Akindele had the upper hand.
“How did you imagine your monstrosities would get from the ship to the Beta site?” he asked.
“I haven’t worked that out yet.”
“Perhaps you should have worked that out during the design phase—as I did with Fusion B.”
“We’re a little past that now, Jimi.”
“If only you could subdivide a structure into manageable pieces,” he continued, ignoring the use of his hated nickname. “Like a modular approach of some kind.”
“Yeah, I get it. This isn’t a problem.”
“Tick-tock, Richard,” said Dr. Akindele, tapping his wrist. “Fusion B is ready and waiting for your capacitors, and, by my calculations, we have just twelve days to the Beta window.”
“I said it wouldn’t be a problem, and it won’t.”
Richard left the temporary office structure at the Beta site and boarded a waiting helicopter. This one, owned by Hitz-It.com, was smaller than the one that had placed the modular components of Fusion B into place. Even the Super Stallion couldn’t help him with the capacitor networks. They were at least two tons over the maximum capacity of the Navy’s most capable heavy-lift helicopter. When he got back to his office, he’d need to find a construction company ready to make an obscene amount of money in a very short time.
Back at the Center, he rushed from the helicopter to his office in the main building and started making calls, knowing it would be a serious challenge to get the capacitor networks into place in time. Was that even possible in less than two weeks? It had to be. Beta would not fail because of him. He couldn’t bear the idea of meeting Anton Kamaras, alongside the smug freak, having to explain what went wrong.
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After reaching out to several construction companies, he learned the largest of their cranes were already committed. Few were interested in breaking existing agreements to secure such a short contract, even at double or triple the standard rates. Sensing his desperation, a mid-sized, family-owned company finally agreed to the job if Richard would pay for a six-month contract and cover the delay penalties on any affected projects. He agreed, adding his own condition that they send an engineer and project manager to meet him on site later the same day.
Satisfied he had at least the start of a plan, Richard breathed a sigh of relief and pulled out his phone to hit Cal.
Need you to handle Aiden
What’s wrong?
Nothing
Going to Beta
Ok
No problem
Richard grabbed his laptop and rushed for the door.
***
Aiden shot to his feet, stifling the urge to salute as Richard burst from his office. Though neither currently served, he found it a tough reflex to suppress.
“Sorry, I have to go,” said Richard. “Cal’s on his way up.”
Aiden rolled his eyes and slumped back in the chair, glancing at his watch. Just what he needed—a briefing with a civvie. A minute later, Cal arrived out of breath.
“What’s up?” asked Aiden.
“Just need a few updates. How’s Reilly doing?”
“Fine. Looks like he knows what he’s doing as far as the agriculture stuff goes.”
“So nobody’s going to starve to death?”
Aiden snorted and shook his head.
“No.”
Nobody would starve. A dozen Navy SEALs didn’t need help from some geek to see to that.
“What about our mercenary? How’s the Beta prep?”
“Independent security contractor,” said Aiden, holding up a finger. “Really doesn’t like being called a merc.”
“Nobody’s going to call him anything where he’s going.”
Aiden didn’t laugh. Foreign or not, he shared a sense of camaraderie with his Special Forces brethren, and he wasn’t going to sit around bad-mouthing one with a civvie.
“Guess not.”
“And the prep?”
Aiden didn’t answer.
“Listen, I know I’m not one of you Navy guys, but I’ve got skin in the game, same as you.”
“Van Zijl is ready,” said Aiden. “Total pro.”
“You mean total psycho?”
“Gotta be a bit of a psycho to do this job.”
Aiden broke out in a thin smile as Cal shifted in his chair and cleared his throat.
“Any closer to finalizing the gear?”
“Yeah. Almost there. The one-eighty kilo limit makes things tricky, and he’s a pretty beefy guy, too.”
“Bring him down a few pounds?”
“For sure. But there’s only so much we can do. He should be down to ninety kilos by next week.”
“Not bad. Another ninety for gear.”
“That gets eaten up fast,” said Aiden, shaking his head. “We’ve reconstructed as much of the gear as we can with lighter components, but I still wish we could give him another twenty kilos of ammo.”
“Ron Van Zeal, the famous survivalist? He should be asking for less, not more. Just give him a penknife and a shoelace.”
“I wouldn’t bet against him either way. He might have faked a few things on the show, but he is definitely the real deal. Those Recces don’t fuck around.”
“I guess not. I heard he threatened to kill Richard.”
“Can’t blame him. We fucked him pretty bad.”
“That’s for sure. Compared to him, you’re going on a vacation.”
Aiden shook his head. Gamma would be anything but a vacation. What did this prick know about it, anyway?
“Actually,” said Cal, “what we have in mind for you is more like a honeymoon.”
Aiden’s face dropped. He didn’t like the sound of that.