Chapter 4

Zachary Thorne finished his drink and prepared himself for an unpleasant afternoon. The tequila stung his throat as it went down and left him briefly nauseated, but the courage it would soon instill was worth his momentary discomfort. He surveyed the empty glass, a decorative frosted whiskey tumbler with engraved depictions of old world Football icons; a gift from his late mentor.

Returning the glass to its place in his desk drawer, Thorne sat in his luxurious leather chair and typed a message on to his terminal to ping his chief of security for an update. The sounds of the city were muted, but still present behind him from his office window. The room smelt musty, too, like the fabricated wood was getting too old.

Thorne closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. The tequila was starting to work. Eyes open now, he looked up at his imperiously decorated office with its militant themed statues and paintings of past Global Energy folks heroes before darkening the display on his terminal and watching the glossy reflection of the city behind him through the window.

The views from the upper towers of Valhalla are truly spectacular. Positioned above what the old world maps referenced as Iceland, the city levitates above ice capped peaks, beautiful sweeping glacial valleys, and breath-taking views of the old national parks. While the surface below Valhalla was just as toxic as the rest of the world, the nature seemed to have retained some of the charm that made the old inhabitants of the land enamored with its preservation; not so yellow a hue to everything down there. One could even see some green on the surface during a clear, crisp day.

The smog that cursed many of the world’s remaining cities was less palpable here, too. In fact, during the cooler months, it is not uncommon to catch a view all the way down to the surface. For that reason, Valhalla boasts a thriving tourism industry that allows the city a feeling of luxury - for the inflated prices one might have to pay, you damn well better get some luxury. The view and the elevated cost of living were precisely the reason that Zachary Thorne, the Chairman of Global Energy, had recently elected to move his company headquarters to the Prestige Leadership Business Park on the upper levels of the Valhalla Complex.

Thorne took his position at Global Energy the old fashioned way - by backstabbing his superiors. Newly appointed, Thorne’s compensation had risen to a level that allowed him to adorn his dress with expensive fabrics and accessories; he fancied himself a newly made member of the rich ultra-elite. Now, he was reaping the benefits of his new influence. In addition to consolidating his power within his company, Thorne had also made a play for the coveted “Chief Officer” of the Coalition, the governing body of Earth. Dr. Anya Petrova, the Chief Executive of TerraHarvest on Skyreach was on her way now to discuss the bold play that Thorne launched earlier that day. Thorne would be wrong to say that he wasn’t nervous.

Thorne inspected himself quickly in the sunny reflection of his office window. His short, black hair was parted neatly on the left and combed with precision atop his small head. He produced a steel folding comb from his jacket pocket and passed it through his hair to catch the stray he observed in his reflection. He stood his tallest at only five foot four, but wore custom ordered black boots that added a couple of inches to his stature. His arms and legs were too long - to the detriment of his torso, so that it looked like he had been squished in a hydraulic press and forever shortened the couple of inches he tried to regain through his vanity boots. Thorne grunted, satisfied with his appearance, pretty fucking handsome my man, and turned his thoughts to the most important matter of his day; maybe his career.

Thorne’s decision to sacrifice the ground crew under Cirrus was the only correct choice, he knew it, but things were messier, now, than he wanted. One of those ground crew fuckers had been able to place a call from the surface; not just a radio broadcast, but a full on fucking phone call with hand terminal and everything. How? No one could tell him, and that unsettled Thorne more than those bullshit reports that the damn convict crew had threatened to release. At least the crew were all dead - except for the one that they captured alive and would parade as the saboteur of the mission and then publicly execute. Just needed to get that damn sister. Then, he could wrap all of this up in a nice red bow, merry Christmas, charmen(and women, sigh) of the board.

Thorne closed his terminal and spun in his chair to observe the majestic view behind him. Framed from outside of his office window, he was an emperor surveying a city he had built with his own hands. Confident that the reports had never left the surface below Cirrus, Thorne relaxed his arms on the rests of his chair and gloated. World spinning on your fingers, Zachary. Despite the failure - an arguably accurate phrase for the outcome - Thorne considered things to have gone well. Chaos served his agenda perfectly, and the greatest illusion of all: Thorne knew exactly what he was doing.

Thorne had the best paid security employees looking for the girl and was confident that she would be detained within the hour. Even better (and to their detriment), the coalition gave Thorne unabated access to their own corporate security forces. Granted, he would only really need to make use of Terra Harvest’s resources to achieve his goal, but it was encouraging that the rest of the coalition backed him so easily.

Terra Harvest. They were the key, frustratingly. Thorne bit his lip at the sudden thought of his adversary, Anya Petrova, and tasted blood. Apt, he thought, swallowing the droplets that pooled on his tongue as he nursed the bite. Anya Petrova, the snake, haas such, she’d been allowed to carry a significantly more endowed corporate security force in the city. Global Energy, the provider of energy to more than 40 percent of the world, somehow paled in comparison to the corn that Terra Harvest grew.

Thorne had always resented Terra Harvest’s special status, even when he was just a Vice President of Global Marketing. Sure, they were an important agricultural firm, but what did they really provide to the economy other than drama over fabricated food shortages? Worse than any Terra Harvest propaganda commercial, though: in just a few moments, Anya Petrova would be here. Sitting in his chair and breathing his air.

A ping from his terminal alerted him to Anya Petrova’s arrival. Thorne sighed and performed a series of short breathing exercises. Satisfied with his cortisol saturation, he pinged back to allow the chairwoman in. Thorne’s door opened to reveal the CEO of TerraHarvest; the principal Ag-Tech Firm on Earth. The light reflected brightly off of her dress and Thorne couldn’t help but to feel awe at his foremost rival to the Chief Executive position on the coalition executive council. She was stunning. She spoke and the authority of her voice, its Siberian drawl with its high but commanding pitch, drew Thorne from his hate-admiration.

“This is bullshit,” Petrova said loudly from across the room. Spit misted from her mouth on the plosives and misted the air in front of her. Thorne cleared his throat to respond, but Petrova raised a single index finger to silence him. “You promised easy. Has this seemed like an easy start to your agenda, Mr. Thorne?” Petrova said as she crossed his office in 2 quick strides, suddenly in front of and hovering over Thorne.

Dr. Anya Petrova was tall - at least 6 feet in height, and wore a flowing white robe and a bright purple Sari around her head and neck. Petrova was older, but her eyes were startling and fierce, demanding respect and subordination from any she trained them on. Petrova didn’t just sit down, she claimed the chair with one hand and pulled it to her, the legs screeched against the linoleum floor. Thorne cringed. Fuck, that was new linoleum.

Her tall frame commanded the space as she lowered herself into the seat. Despite Petrova’s relaxed sitting posture, Thorne felt that any onlookers would see that she was leaning over the desk and looking down at him, like an adult sitting at a child’s desk. Thorne shriveled into himself, shrinking into the chair. You have the power here, Zachary. Now use it. He took a slow deep breath as he spread himself out again to hold his ground. He’d prepared himself for a difficult conversation, but Petrova was so much more fierce than he thought she could be. .He realized that he said nothing, just watched Petrova as she grabbed the chair and sat across from him.

“I’ll ask again, Zachary. How do you feel your tenure as our Executive Chairman has begun?” She dipped her chin at him and fluttered her eyelids. Well? I’m waiting.

He attempted a parry. “Anya, that’s hardly a fair -”

“That’s Doctor Petrova to you, Zachary,” Petrova sliced, cutting through his voice like a street-vendor slices a piece of hanging meat down for a customer. Her Siberian accent echoed through the room and chilled the air. everything in the room listened more intently. This was not a discussion. This was a dressing down.

“This situation has grown beyond containment. We didn’t catch the sister in Skyreach, and our security team didn’t find her at home, so she’s in the clouds. If we don’t find her soon, there’s no telling what that rot-shit brother sent her or what she’ll find out and start sharing.” Petrova clicked her teeth a single time, a bear pulling the bone from its last meal out of its teeth in preparation for another feeding.

“You need to know that the council is seriously questioning your judgment right now. You’ve only held your Executive position for a few weeks, yet already we are having to mitigate the fallout from your efforts. If we cannot get this under control in the next 24 hours, we may have no choice but to out you as the instigator of this effort and remove Global Energy from the Coalition.” Petrova stared at Thorne, reading his thoughts and observing him as he squirmed internally. The way that he responded would tell Petrova everything she needed to know about her new adversary.

“Anya — sorry, Dr. Petrova, my security forces are aware of the situation on Skyreach and are working as we speak to detain the threat,” Thorne said. He could sense that she wasn’t buying it, and he wasn’t convincing himself either. The truth was that things had escalated much faster than his team was prepared to manage. They had squelched the timing and raided the sister’s flat before she was home, and his security lead had somehow been too slow to apprehend her at her office. That little bug was out and about somewhere, probably oblivious to her status as fugitive. He had wanted to avoid raising any real alarms with any of the oversight jurisdictions, but his choices were growing limited.

“In addition to our efforts to detain her, we are beginning to circulate her image to oversight departments and are also activating facial recognition across the surveillance network - we’ll have her in detention by the end of the day, I know it,” Thorne added.

“Hmm. Let’s hope, for your sake, that this matter does not trouble the Coalition beyond today,” Petrova said. The threat was obvious. Thorne had twenty four hours to clean this up.

“Understood, Dr. Petrova,” Thorne said. He stood and began to make his way to the door, gesturing with his right hand that Petrova should take her leave. He needed to make some calls and get this under control, but more than anything he needed Petrova out of his office. He had plans for her, but now was not the time to execute them. He needed the rest of the Coalition to understand his thinking before he took radical action again.

“Zachary, I’ll be staying in Valhalla for a while as I oversee some TH negotiations. I’ll come see you in a while to check that you have fixed this for us,” Petrova said. Her stride carried a gust of air heavy with her scent over him, her robe fluttered behind her and brushed Thorne’s knees while she passed. The fabric felt heavy against his pant-leg. Abrasive, even. Petrova left an intoxicating scent of sandalwood behind, Thorne found himself basking in the smell until the sound of his closing office door brought him back. She’s a spider, that one. Stay out of the web, Zach.

Pulling his hand terminal from his jacket as he returned to the window of his office, Thorne phoned his chief security officer on Skyreach and resumed his intake of the city view. “Yeah, get me Adrian, right now please,” Thorne said, his tone more polite than he wanted it to sound. “Adrian? I need to know what’s going on with that girl, right now. Why didn’t you answer my message, earlier? What’s the status?”

Global Energy Chief of Skyreach Security, Adrian Morehouse, responded, his deep voice booming back at Thorne through the receiver of his hand terminal. Morehouse was somewhere loud and was having to yell over the ambient noise. Morehouse sounded frustrated, but his military concision remained intact . “Mr. Thorne, we’ve lost her for the time being. Got to her flat too early, got to the office too late, and got to the roof too slow. Sending a team back to the flat now, planning to apprehend the target’s residence.”

“That’s not good enough, officer. We need the target detained FUCKING NOW!” Thorne screamed into the terminal. He straightened his tie and lengthened his coat sleeves for no one in particular. He knew Morehouse couldn’t see his dress, but Petrova was under his skin; he needed to look good, even if his office was empty now.

“Understood, sir,” Morehouse said. “We have an operation in place that we believe will allow us to collect the target. We’re going to squeeze our asset we retained from the surface - we’ll smoke her out.”

“I want an update in sixty minutes, Morehouse.” Thorne killed the connection and sat back at his desk. That wasn’t the news he wanted. He needed Morehouse to tell him that they had the girl, not that they were anticipating imminent apprehension. He took a deep breath, the sound of his inhalation through his thin nostrils breaking the suffocating silence that now filled the room, the busy noise of the city now a forgotten annoyance.

Thorne opened the bottom drawer of his desk and poured himself another drink.