Stability can be a fragile thing.

  And the residents of Los Angeles know that only too well. This second most populous city of the United States is a vast conurbation. Spread over a five hundred and fifteen square mile area of the Californian coastal region, it ranges from the Santa Anna Mountains in the south, to the Santa Monica Mountains in the north-west, and on toward the San Gabriel Mountain Range in the east.

  Prime real-estate in all its many guises.

  Or it would be, was it not for the fact Los Angeles is situated on an area of geological instability, known around the world as the Pacific Ring of Fire.

  The dense granite of the North American continent forms a convergent boundary with the lighter, basalt laden mantle of the Pacific Ocean. Moving at a rate of one and a half inches every year, the two plates grind past each other in a north/south direction, generating frictional energy spawning over ten thousand earthquakes annually.

  While most of these tremors are minor in nature, the potential for a disaster of major proportions is very real and ever-present. Indeed, talk has abounded for decades regarding an event labeled, “The Big One,” where it is believed Los Angeles will suffer catastrophe at the hands of Mother Nature and at last be pulled down into the sea along with vast stretches of her coastline, thereby changing the world atlas forever.

  An unstable future, if ever there was one.

  The 2042 census of the year before assessed the population of the Greater Metropolitan area in excess of twenty-eight million souls. No wonder then, that the Council had set their sights on the inherent vulnerabilities of this area: all that land; all those homes and commercial properties; so many people and the resources they provided. Each statistic a juicy bull’s-eye for the Council to target and exploit.

  As day dawned on the bright and sunny morning that was May 1st, 2043—not one of those residents would ever suspect the work being undertaken just a few miles beneath their feet. Work that sought to manipulate the fragile stasis that struggled to coexist in this, one of the most seismically active, yet heavily urbanized regions of the world.

  And little could anyone guess that, by the end of this day, that task would be completed. . .

  . . .And pressure would begin to rise.

  Jade Heung sat across the desk from her friend of the last one hundred and thirty years and waited patiently for him to come to a decision.

  His superbly analytical mind was one of the finest she’d ever come across. Always cautious, he would absorb the details of everything happening about or presented to him, assess its value, and—based on the pertinent factors involved—choose the wisest course to follow. When he’d been recommended for the post of Lord Marshal by Andrew and Victoria only five years ago, everyone knew they would be in safe hands. His duties required a great deal of forethought and prudence. And Anil Suresh was exactly the right man for the job.

  Jade had no doubt he’d arrive at the right conclusion on this occasion.

  As Lord Evaluator, Jade was the de-facto operational head of the Guardians. Although she reported directly to Anil, it was she who made the day to day decisions that affected the lives and deployment of the people under her command. The only time she had to specifically seek Anil’s guidance or blessing was at times such as this, when outside dynamics might impact the integrity of their procedures.

  Finishing the paper report, Anil placed the document on the desk before him and frowned, apparently still deep in thought.

  Eventually, he murmured, “And you say he made the request personally?”

  Jade was gratified to see the Lord Marshal seemed to share her reservations. “Yes! I was quite surprised myself.”

  “Directly to your office? As opposed to going through Vladimir’s department?”

  “You can see why I wanted your thoughts. The offer is . . . commendable, if a little provocative, in a tongue-in-cheek kind of way.”

  “Indeed!” Anil’s eyes narrowed even further. “Do you suspect an ulterior motive?”

  It wasn’t really a question. Jade knew she was on the right track.

  “I always suspect an ulterior motive, Anil. You know me. And in Lei Yeung’s case? He’s the world’s greatest industrialist. His companies are so diverse they lead the field in just about every branch of advanced robotic and technological research there is. And there isn’t an experimental or fringe project in existence he doesn’t either know about or have some degree of influence over.

  “Baring in mind the past he left behind not so long ago, it was inevitable he’d have his feelers out and somehow discover the existence of Kalliste. I mean . . . wasn’t his one of the few conglomerates we asked to compile a directory of suitable botanists and zoologists and the like, for possible joint endeavors in the future?”

  “Yes, that’s right,” Anil admitted. “And I don’t suppose it requires a brain surgeon to work out that a list of experts in such disciplines wouldn’t be needed by us unless we were considering the exploration of someplace exotic. Of course, the very public blow-out of the hyper-gate’s generators would draw attention to the fact that—someplace—is most likely a theatre very different than here on Earth.”

  “Precisely!” Jade added in support. “To someone like Yeung, it would stand out like the searchlight on top of the Eiffel Tower. He’s not stupid! He knows were preparing something behind the scenes. It’s a wonder he didn’t offer his services before he left GOS-2.”

  Tapping the file before him, Anil said, “So! From the way you word your report, I take it you would prefer we didn’t take him up on his kind offer?”

  “Yes, that’s right. As innovative as his researchers are, I think we’d be putting ourselves on shaky ground incorporating their technology into our own. Don’t get me wrong, it’s a course we may look on more favorably in the future. But for now? I think it wise to . . . delay such a relationship.”

  “Well, you’ll get no objections from me. Though I can’t promise you’ll get the same reaction from Yeung himself.”

  “Ah, it’s nothing I can’t handle,” Jade replied. “At any rate, you’re bound to come out of it smelling of roses when he counters with a fresh list of candidates for the mission itself. You do know he’ll try to sneak a few of his spies in? He never passes up an opportunity to get in first on new ventures so he can see what tech there is to retrograde.”

  The Lord Marshal didn’t appear at all surprised. Reclining back into his chair, his demeanor took on the look of a cobra, waiting to strike. “Oh yes, Jade. I’m well aware of that. In fact, I’m counting on it.”

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

  When it came to putting on the pressure, Angelika Papadakos was an expert.

  Not just the overt—in your face—shouting and screaming kind of pressure that so many couples endured all too often nowadays. No! She was adept at the other, sometimes much more powerful influence that can be exerted by just keeping quiet and letting your actions and expressions do the talking for you . . . known the world over as sulking.

  Angelika had been sulking for over a week now. It had taken that long to provoke Jose Calderon into any form of meaningful reaction.

  “For goodness sake, Angie! Are you going to tell me what’s wrong or not? I can’t stand this . . . such a heavy atmosphere all the time. It feels like I’m trying to walk uphill in lead boots. I’ve got my new assignment to prepare for at Gateway Station, and I can’t concentrate while you’re moping around the house like this, all day every day.”

  Throwing herself down on the couch in a somewhat overdramatic fashion, Angelika drew her legs up to her breast and crossed her arms tightly across her knees. Then, after ensuring Jose was watching, she made a point of acting as if the weight of the world was on her shoulders, complaining, “It’s alright for you. At least you’ve got an assignment to prepare for. I’m on the verge of getting fired!”

  She let her statement hang, and made haste to add a barely audible sob.

  Jose’s hand was on the bedroom door handle. He checked his stride and turned toward her. “What? You’re going to lose your job?”

  Rushing back to her side, he protested, “Why? How? What have you done?”

  “I haven’t done anything!” Angelika whined reluctantly. “Don’t forget, my position doesn’t have the perks yours does when it comes to everyone looking out for each other. Yeung Industries may present a benevolent face to the public, but it’s a dog-eat-dog shit pit on the inside, let me tell you. How else do you think the boss man has managed to avoid the sharks circling him in recent years? You come up with the goods . . . or you’re out!”

  Putting his arm around her, Jose cooed, “So what happened, baby?”

  His concern provided the all-important psychological key Angelika needed to exploit his feelings. Uttering a prolonged sigh, she launched into her well-rehearsed spiel. “It was my own fault really. I’ve always managed to stay one step ahead of the others. And I thought I’d hit on a great idea by suggesting we approach your lot after the terrorist attack on the gate installation. It would have. . .”

  “My lot?” Jose interrupted. “You mean the Guardians?”

  “Of course!” Angelika mumbled, snuggling into his embrace. “That complex must be very important for you to have focused your repair efforts on it so vigorously. But look at the consequences. Instead of being together as we planned, you’ve been reassigned there to beef up security. Now I’m going to be stuck here in Brazil all alone. And what’s worse, we won’t even be able to keep in touch if I’m dismissed, because I’ll lose all my company executive travel privileges.”

  She made brief eye contact and exerted her womanly charms. It helped disarm his natural defenses a little. Skimming his mind, she then searched for those inclinations ripe for exploitation.

  Jose was still clearly baffled by her veiled reference to the jump gate station. “Hang on a second, Angelika. What exactly on you going on about?”

  Meeting his gaze directly, she sniffled, “You know how Yeung Industries leads the world when it comes to groundbreaking technologies, yes?”

  “Yes . . . go on.”

  “Well, all I did was suggest that it might be worthwhile making overtures to your Lord Evaluator and offering the assistance of some of our best scientists to help rebuild your facility. Obviously, we’re way behind your technical achievements, but such collaboration would build a rapport and pave the way for closer cooperation in the future.”

  Jose shrugged. “I take it Yeung didn’t like you using your initiative in that way?”

  “That’s just it, Jose,” Angelika cried. “He loved the idea, and put in a call directly to your Lord Heung, along with a written proposal containing a list of those specialists he wanted to include in the off world phase of the program.”

  “So why are you at risk of getting the chop?”

  “Because they turned him down!” she wailed.

  “What?”

  “The thing is, he’s Chinese—and a public figure to boot—so honor plays a crucial role in his life. He feels I made a fool of him by tarnishing his pristine professional profile. End result? My head’s on the block!”

  “You can’t be serious?” Jose gasped, his face a jumble of mixed emotions. “So you propose a great idea. He gives it credence. Acts on it. But because we turn him down, you get the blame?”

  Angelika didn’t answer. Instead, she strengthened her shields and allowed him to see the beginnings of a trembling bottom lip, before burying her head against his chest.

  “But that’s so unfair!” Jose growled, a burning knot of outrage darkening the hue of his aura. “Surely there must be something you can do?”

  Again, she made no reply, being content to allow the strained silence do all the work.

  Throughout it all, Jose stroked her hair. The physical intimacy of that act allowed her to better sense his resolve as it stiffened.

  Quietly, he probed, “Angelika? Are you sure there isn’t anything you can do to regain his favor? Anything at all?”

  Fighting back her tears—and the sudden image of a crocodile, quickly suppressed—Angelika produced a hankie from her sleeve and blew her nose loudly. She went through the charade of appearing thoughtful for a few seconds, before replying, “Jose. I can’t think of a single thing that would help right now. I really can’t. I mean, it’s not like I can influence which of his scientists gets preferential consideration or anything like that . . . so I’m screwed! He’s going to nail me to the wall, and not lose a moment’s sleep over it.”

  Jose responded by sitting bolt upright. “Why would it matter to him who got picked? Won’t it be enough that so many of his staff are going anyway?”

  “Ah, that’s just it, love! To a man of Yeung’s culture, the appearance of control is everything. He needs to be seen exercising influence.” She lowered her voice. “And to tell the truth, not all of them are any good at retrograding tech. That’s how Yeung has managed to stay ahead all these years. His scavengers—as he calls them—are not only brilliant, but some of them are absolute geniuses at taking stuff they’ve never seen before and retrofitting them for new applications.”

  She smiled up at her man, grateful for the support he was so willing to give, and continued, “I know some might think his tactics a little underhanded. But look at the good he’s done with his achievements to date. The whole of mankind has benefitted. I suppose that’s why he’s so furious. He’s fully committed himself to helping society catch up to the Guardians, and will look on their rebuttal as an unnecessary stumbling block.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes, really! Don’t you see? His public image is paramount. He’s grown quite accustomed to being seen as the champion of the people, and this off world project would have helped cement his standing for years to come. By turning him down and excluding many of those he’s recommended for next month’s induction phase . . . well, he’ll consider it as a deliberate insult and might withdraw his backing from some of the other schemes he’s involved in. Not that it will matter to me. I won’t have a job.”

  Jose froze and went unusually quiet. Once again, Angelika had to work hard to maintain an outwardly passive demeanor.

  Tentatively, she whispered, “What’s wrong, baby? Have I upset you?”

  His fingers began stroking her hair again. After a moment or two, he said, “What would happen if you managed to get those names added back to the list?”

  Angelika started. “What!”

  “I said, what would happen if you were able to get Yeung’s first draft picks back on the Kalliste Project?”

  Raising her head so she could look him directly in the eye, she spluttered, “Jose, if . . . you . . . if you could do that, it would save my ass! Even better, it would mean we could still see each other without a crapload of hassle. Why? What are you actually saying?”

  “Leave it to me, babe. I’m walking on shaky ground even contemplating something like this, but I won’t let them stab you in the back.” In answer to her unspoken question, he explained, “Let’s just say, part of my new job involves the vetting of those candidates who’ll make the final string. I can’t make any promises, but I’ll do my damndest to make sure any problems are ironed out. For you and them. Okay?”

  “Oh, Jose!” Angelika crooned. “I knew you would know what to do.”

  Brightening considerably, Angelika played her ace card. Jumping up, she took him by the hand and pulled him toward the bedroom. “C’mon, handsome. I want to say ‘thank you’ properly.”

  Two hours later found Angelika alone in the apartment, Jose having departed for his new posting only thirty minutes previously. She had plenty of time to kill before completing her chores for the day and decided that now would be an ideal opportunity to share the news.

  Retrieving her encrypted Yeung Tec laptop from under the bed, she placed a secure call and waited for the sat-link to connect.

  A few seconds later, and the stoic image of her leader filled the screen.

  “Well?” he asked, his expression remaining guardedly neutral.

  “Everything went perfectly. Just like you said it would,” she replied. “You’d better tell our pin-ups to pack their bags. I’m sure they’ll be going on an unexpected journey in the very near future . . . a journey to someplace called, Kalliste!”