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The EMFC Reclaimer returns home to the Sol System, its people still fresh from combat. The crew are in for some much needed R&R as they take on fresh reinforcements. But leave is cut short when an encoded message arrives.
The EMF at Masoul are facing something that no one saw; they need the best; they need the crew and Troopers EMFC Reclaimer.
When the Reclaimer engages on Masoul, one thing becomes immediately clear . . . Masoul might just be the beginning.
Earth, Sol system
Nivad Selvra looked over the reports from the carrier Reclaimer. His lips twisted in annoyance, as the people around the table waited in pure silence while he went through the report at his own leisure.
He had olive skin, with what might have been called sharp Asian features in another time. But in this day and age, it was called Eastern features. His hair was styled in an appealing way, but without the eccentricities that most CEO’s did to show their wealth. His suit was simple. Unless someone knew fabrics and tailoring, they would have thought it inexpensive.
He tapped his lips in thought, before he flicked through another page.
He swiped through a few more pages on the holographic table, before he pinched his fingers together and removed them from his view.
The people around the table were Nivad’s agents that kept an eye on the various colonies and other interests. The Commander of the EMF and his aides, and the first minister’s aides, all watched.
All of them waited on Nivad’s word.
“Give the carrier and the personnel a bonus for their efforts, and take it from the wages of those that won’t be collecting them. I want to show the rest of the EMF that this is the kind of thing I want to see. Approve all transfers they request from other units, as well as promotions they desire. We will see if they are capable of making a combat unit trained enough for use on even the worst planets. Upgrade their combat package from Charlie to Alpha loadout. Make sure that our agents are within their ranks. While this might be a new venture possibility, I do not want it coming back in our faces.”
His eyes found the EMF commander and the intelligence department heads as his finger tapped on the arm of his chair. He calculated their age with his own for measure.
He tilted his chair, looking to the wall which was changed to resemble a window that looked out onto a green lush planet – not one covered in dust. As he thought, others made notes on their slates..
He received his current position because he was there for the right people, and knew just where to bury the bodies of their issues. Of course, he never revealed that he remembered where they were buried afterwards.
His biggest strength was being a negotiator that could play both sides perfectly, creating a binding agreement through him and always gaining something from the experience. It was why he controlled the spy network that ran through Earth and Her Colonies, and the EMF at the same time.
He was the ultimate judge – the one who could tell corporations how things were going to go, with the might of the EMF and several uses of blackmail backing him.
“Now I want to know how these colonists got these abilities, making nerve toxin, bombs and weapon systems that took down Combat Shuttles. Someone had to be backing them. I want to know how we got to this point.” Nivad’s voice cooled, as people made sure to not look in his direction.
“Are there any other reports of interest?” Nerva asked.
“A new silent group have started up a transport business within Sol,” one of Nivad’s intelligence heads said, hastening to go on as Nivad’s eyebrow seemed to twitch. “The reason I bring it up is that it is nearly untraceable. There are no known owners, they’re running it through drop-box, and orders are going through the westerly-three-complex gang.”
“So a gang is looking to move goods around Sol. As long as they are paying the proper fees for whatever they’re transporting, we will leave them be,” Nivad said.
“Yes, sir,” his aid answered, quickly glancing down.
Nivad looked around the table.
No one raised their hand or indicated that they had anything to say.
“Very well, it looks like Sacremon has recovered in the twenty-six years since their uprising. I still want to have a Carrier on position in the area for the next twenty years.” That amount of time was trivial for him. He was a hundred and fifty years old, with science saying he was going to live for another five hundred years with current practices.
“Tell the president to cut down on the taxes on the traders. I want a plan to stimulate transport production. We’re moving more materials than ever, and we’re low on ships to move them. I want that to change,” Nivad said, as his eyes swept through the people at the table. He didn’t act to demonstrate his power. He was power. Making others wait for him was only the natural order of things.
Nivad pressed a button, and a white noise filled the room.
“Dalia,” Nivad said, as the woman pulled out file folders with papers.
“This is the latest information from Masoul. It looks like this group called Harmony isn’t going away,” he started, as people read through the folders being passed out.
Alarm was clear in their body language. More than one went pale with their new reading material.