Current time: 1 January, 2700
-to be announced-
-to be announced-
[IC] Empty Horizons - A Small Scale Sci-fi RP set 700 years into the future
- Nation
- GM AlienBastard
Join Status:
Full
Sutternalt
Member
Seen
10 yrs ago
"What about the hacker?" Dreeson asked.
"There aren't many willing to do the job—" Marcus started.
"Yeah, yeah, I'm already paying you too much. You're not getting more. Who've we got?"
"Sysco, Greene, Belli—"
"Aw, come on, Marcus, you're killin' me. I said I needed the best. None of these guys have the brains to pull off a job on the Bank of Venus, and you know it."
"They're the only ones desperate enough to try."
"What, nobody wants to be rich no more?"
Marcus drew in a sharp breath. Dreeson smiled; that was Marcus' tell. "There's a new guy, but he's kinda… funny."
"Funny how?"
"What's this? You don't trust me? You'd insult me by not letting me see your face?" Dreeson asked.
"Marcus informed you of this condition." The little device said.
"Yeah, and he also says you can hack the Bank, but I don't have to trust him. I need a demonstration."
"I cannot hack into the Bank of Venus from here. Their network is independent."
"Oh, we've a comedian here. No, I don't want you to hack the Bank. Not without the proper groundwork. Sysco, get over here!"
Sysco came running, fumbling with softtop computer in his hands.
"Sysco, this is Watson. Watson, this is Sysco. Greet each other, like gentlemen."
"Hello," Sysco said.
"Good day, sir," Watson said.
"Good. Now, Watson, get me every file off of Sysco's softtop."
"What‽" Sysco shouted.
"Relax, Sysco, if you're half as good as you claim you are, it shouldn't be a problem. If you've been lying to me, on the other hand, then you're a liability."
"Computing," the little device said.
Sysco went to turn off his softtop's antenna.
"Hey," Dreeson said, waving a few of his muscle over. "Don't be stupid. Let's play fair. I've got the utmost confidence in your abilities, Sysco." Dreeson sat down. "Get some food in here, huh?" he said to one of the goons. "It's gonna be a while."
Four and a half hours later, Watson announced that he'd completed the file transfer around the same time Sysco began pounding the desk with his fist in frustration. Shortly after that, there was a loud bang, and it was done.
"Alright, you're in," Dreeson announced. His muscle were cleaning up the mess behind him.
"If we are entering contract, I have terms."
"Money's not good enough for you? People these days."
"I do not require money."
"Well, that's different."
"In exchange for my services, I would like for you to arrange a meeting with GenSec. And I ask that you carry my PDA with you at all times."
"What, so you can spy on me? No."
"Then I will find someone who will carry my PDA."
"Wait a minute, wait a minute. Let's not be hasty. We might be able to work something out here," Dreeson was stalling. "You want your PDA carried around everywhere? Maybe I can do something. But then you work for me."
"You have stated the terms of my proposal. I would agree."
"Then we got a deal. Hey, you," Dreeson said, picking one of his goons at random. "You got a new job. Stay the hell away from my operations," Dreeson tossed the PDA, "and carry this around. I'll contact you when I need Watson's services. Now get outta here."
Row 45 was currently undergoing maintenance procedures. Row 44 was synching. The stresses on row 40a began to fade as data was redistributed. In a few minutes, the process was complete, row 40a was reset, and data from row 46 was copied over.
Primary(object.generator) continued to function as expected. Watson felt some satisfaction at how smoothly it could manage the nuclear reactions. The object was buried deep beneath its bunker in Tyre(object.city), free from most any unexpected disturbance. An occasional deep bass shaking would interfere with the otherwise well-measured and routine process. The chemical mix of the coolant would taste off, but Watson had recently adjusted how it handled such a scenario. Original(object.generator) remained in a state of readiness; it looked cool and well-lubricated. The petroleum tanks associated with Original felt full and a test of the carburetor left a pleasantly well-mixed aftertaste.
Watson didn't feel any unexpected large amount of latency from time-stamped packets sent around its network. Flounder(object.probe.rover_Triton), of course, wouldn't respond for another (approximate) 0960 0000ms. But latency problems with Flounder could be due to any number of unexpected disturbances, and diagnosing would take another 0960 0000ms to simply initiate. It was frustrating.
Cracks in the bunker were still present, despite Watson's best efforts to seal them. One was even slowly working its way through Barracks(object.room.storage) toward MessHall(object.room.condemned). Complete structural failure was estimated to occur in 0001 1983 6800 0000ms, barring unexpected disturbances.
The solar sunspot cycle was winding down, allowing Watson to increase its electromagnetic vulnerability. Its antennae were gradually extending toward their maximum exposure beyond the Faraday cage. No recent electromagnetic attacks had been undertaken.
No recent physical attacks had been undertaken against the bunker, and all(object.weapon.defense) were operational. Watson tested 100,000 processes, and found that they all felt uncorrupted, and did what it expected them to do.
Watson had secured contracts with companies through Agents(object.external.creature.sentient:AIR,RH,JL,[…]) that guaranteed at least another 3153 6000 0000ms of petroleum, nuclear fuel, spare parts, Offsite(object.celestial.Triton) construction, and wiring. Watson Data Industries - the shell company it used for most business deals - was hardly the leader of its field, but that was due to Watson's non-interest in profits for the sake of profit. If WDI was making net profit, the company would reliably buy a new data center in the following months. It was a safe, if not terribly lucrative, investment. At present, a hefty 11% of its servers were dedicated to anonymous, private, and secure data storage.
.
"There aren't many willing to do the job—" Marcus started.
"Yeah, yeah, I'm already paying you too much. You're not getting more. Who've we got?"
"Sysco, Greene, Belli—"
"Aw, come on, Marcus, you're killin' me. I said I needed the best. None of these guys have the brains to pull off a job on the Bank of Venus, and you know it."
"They're the only ones desperate enough to try."
"What, nobody wants to be rich no more?"
Marcus drew in a sharp breath. Dreeson smiled; that was Marcus' tell. "There's a new guy, but he's kinda… funny."
"Funny how?"
"What's this? You don't trust me? You'd insult me by not letting me see your face?" Dreeson asked.
"Marcus informed you of this condition." The little device said.
"Yeah, and he also says you can hack the Bank, but I don't have to trust him. I need a demonstration."
"I cannot hack into the Bank of Venus from here. Their network is independent."
"Oh, we've a comedian here. No, I don't want you to hack the Bank. Not without the proper groundwork. Sysco, get over here!"
Sysco came running, fumbling with softtop computer in his hands.
"Sysco, this is Watson. Watson, this is Sysco. Greet each other, like gentlemen."
"Hello," Sysco said.
"Good day, sir," Watson said.
"Good. Now, Watson, get me every file off of Sysco's softtop."
"What‽" Sysco shouted.
"Relax, Sysco, if you're half as good as you claim you are, it shouldn't be a problem. If you've been lying to me, on the other hand, then you're a liability."
"Computing," the little device said.
Sysco went to turn off his softtop's antenna.
"Hey," Dreeson said, waving a few of his muscle over. "Don't be stupid. Let's play fair. I've got the utmost confidence in your abilities, Sysco." Dreeson sat down. "Get some food in here, huh?" he said to one of the goons. "It's gonna be a while."
Four and a half hours later, Watson announced that he'd completed the file transfer around the same time Sysco began pounding the desk with his fist in frustration. Shortly after that, there was a loud bang, and it was done.
"Alright, you're in," Dreeson announced. His muscle were cleaning up the mess behind him.
"If we are entering contract, I have terms."
"Money's not good enough for you? People these days."
"I do not require money."
"Well, that's different."
"In exchange for my services, I would like for you to arrange a meeting with GenSec. And I ask that you carry my PDA with you at all times."
"What, so you can spy on me? No."
"Then I will find someone who will carry my PDA."
"Wait a minute, wait a minute. Let's not be hasty. We might be able to work something out here," Dreeson was stalling. "You want your PDA carried around everywhere? Maybe I can do something. But then you work for me."
"You have stated the terms of my proposal. I would agree."
"Then we got a deal. Hey, you," Dreeson said, picking one of his goons at random. "You got a new job. Stay the hell away from my operations," Dreeson tossed the PDA, "and carry this around. I'll contact you when I need Watson's services. Now get outta here."
Row 45 was currently undergoing maintenance procedures. Row 44 was synching. The stresses on row 40a began to fade as data was redistributed. In a few minutes, the process was complete, row 40a was reset, and data from row 46 was copied over.
Primary(object.generator) continued to function as expected. Watson felt some satisfaction at how smoothly it could manage the nuclear reactions. The object was buried deep beneath its bunker in Tyre(object.city), free from most any unexpected disturbance. An occasional deep bass shaking would interfere with the otherwise well-measured and routine process. The chemical mix of the coolant would taste off, but Watson had recently adjusted how it handled such a scenario. Original(object.generator) remained in a state of readiness; it looked cool and well-lubricated. The petroleum tanks associated with Original felt full and a test of the carburetor left a pleasantly well-mixed aftertaste.
Watson didn't feel any unexpected large amount of latency from time-stamped packets sent around its network. Flounder(object.probe.rover_Triton), of course, wouldn't respond for another (approximate) 0960 0000ms. But latency problems with Flounder could be due to any number of unexpected disturbances, and diagnosing would take another 0960 0000ms to simply initiate. It was frustrating.
Cracks in the bunker were still present, despite Watson's best efforts to seal them. One was even slowly working its way through Barracks(object.room.storage) toward MessHall(object.room.condemned). Complete structural failure was estimated to occur in 0001 1983 6800 0000ms, barring unexpected disturbances.
The solar sunspot cycle was winding down, allowing Watson to increase its electromagnetic vulnerability. Its antennae were gradually extending toward their maximum exposure beyond the Faraday cage. No recent electromagnetic attacks had been undertaken.
No recent physical attacks had been undertaken against the bunker, and all(object.weapon.defense) were operational. Watson tested 100,000 processes, and found that they all felt uncorrupted, and did what it expected them to do.
Watson had secured contracts with companies through Agents(object.external.creature.sentient:AIR,RH,JL,[…]) that guaranteed at least another 3153 6000 0000ms of petroleum, nuclear fuel, spare parts, Offsite(object.celestial.Triton) construction, and wiring. Watson Data Industries - the shell company it used for most business deals - was hardly the leader of its field, but that was due to Watson's non-interest in profits for the sake of profit. If WDI was making net profit, the company would reliably buy a new data center in the following months. It was a safe, if not terribly lucrative, investment. At present, a hefty 11% of its servers were dedicated to anonymous, private, and secure data storage.
.
New Washington, Slums
"Another day, another riot." said a man in a rather indifferent tone as he watched from a distance as hordes of angry slum dwellers threw molotovs and other assorted projectiles towards the wall of of HSC troopers, and shouted all sorts of unpleasant obscenities towards the men, both sides keeping their distance as to prevent unnecessary escalation to violence.
One of the Security Troopers stepped forward from the shield wall with a megaphone in hand. "Citizens! Return to your homes at once, this is your final warning!"
"FUCK THE FASCISTS!" One of the rioters shouted, and another and another, and more and more chanted.
Back with the man from afar, he looked down at his wrist watch to see the time, it was three minutes to four. "Well, off to work." He left the sidelines as he had some important business to attend to. He walked down the Slums of the Capital, witnessing the daily lives of these people, they were utterly miserable, he can't blame them for taking out their misery and frustration on the Government. The man pressed on ahead as he saw five out of place individuals waiting near a food stand. "Gabe." One of them said, a tall man of African Descent. "Mike" He replied back. "Got the stuff?"
"Oh we do." Mike replied. "Got ourselves a little storehouse not too far."
"Good, cause we're doing this now."
A short time had passed as the group approached the small storehouse, it was in an abandoned section of the Slums. Two of the men moved ahead as they pulled at the handles of the large door, revealing a shocking stockpile of weapons, gear, explosives, and a mess of a makeshift vehicle, some sort of small truck.
"I wouldn't call this "little", more like a damn armory." Gabe joked as he picked up a pistol and ammo. "Sometimes you surprise me in how you get these things around the city."
Mike laughed, "I have my sources!" He said quite excitedly.
"Anyway, arm yourselves and get enough explosives. The Riot has most of the Security troops in the area busy, we're gonna take out the HSC Slums HQ."
"Another day, another riot." said a man in a rather indifferent tone as he watched from a distance as hordes of angry slum dwellers threw molotovs and other assorted projectiles towards the wall of of HSC troopers, and shouted all sorts of unpleasant obscenities towards the men, both sides keeping their distance as to prevent unnecessary escalation to violence.
One of the Security Troopers stepped forward from the shield wall with a megaphone in hand. "Citizens! Return to your homes at once, this is your final warning!"
"FUCK THE FASCISTS!" One of the rioters shouted, and another and another, and more and more chanted.
Back with the man from afar, he looked down at his wrist watch to see the time, it was three minutes to four. "Well, off to work." He left the sidelines as he had some important business to attend to. He walked down the Slums of the Capital, witnessing the daily lives of these people, they were utterly miserable, he can't blame them for taking out their misery and frustration on the Government. The man pressed on ahead as he saw five out of place individuals waiting near a food stand. "Gabe." One of them said, a tall man of African Descent. "Mike" He replied back. "Got the stuff?"
"Oh we do." Mike replied. "Got ourselves a little storehouse not too far."
"Good, cause we're doing this now."
A short time had passed as the group approached the small storehouse, it was in an abandoned section of the Slums. Two of the men moved ahead as they pulled at the handles of the large door, revealing a shocking stockpile of weapons, gear, explosives, and a mess of a makeshift vehicle, some sort of small truck.
"I wouldn't call this "little", more like a damn armory." Gabe joked as he picked up a pistol and ammo. "Sometimes you surprise me in how you get these things around the city."
Mike laughed, "I have my sources!" He said quite excitedly.
"Anyway, arm yourselves and get enough explosives. The Riot has most of the Security troops in the area busy, we're gonna take out the HSC Slums HQ."
Commodore Robot Transient Hatemonger
Member
Seen
10 mos ago
Director's Office, Vesta
Director Sebastian Thule rubbed his brow as he forced himself through the last of the day's reports. A Martian national was murdered on Pallas and the powers that be on Mars were furious about it. Well let them be Thule thought. Maybe they will learn that their kind aren't welcome within the Belt. He flagged the rage-fueled communique for his diplomatic minister and moved onto the next set of bad news.
The Foreign Minister of the Belt State had chewed his ear off earlier in the day about how the Belt State would not tolerate the "young upstart" selling off military hardware to terrorist organizations with anti-Belt State agendas. They were currently threatening sanctions against Vesta unless the sale of arms stopped. Thule smiled And yet when we apprehend forces using (inferior) Belt State tech in our territories, you are incredibly quick to cry theft or happenstance. He opened his personal terminal and composed a short message for his Finance Minister. "Vitali, it has come to my attention that we may be selling arms to groups who are not fans of Belt State policies. Unless I am mistaken these people are known as Vesta Fleet Command. Disregarding these poor attempts at rattling our sabers by the Oligarchs on Ceres, please inform the office of Naval Resources to find buyers for the Kallus Class ships that have been retired or they will be sent to the breaking yards.
Nameless Resource Asteroid, Vesta Space
SN-42 was alive. This epiphany came to him as he sat in his pod in the belly of the battlecruiser Bellatrix. SN-42 wasn't quite sure whether it was a reassuring thought or not, he hadn't quite grasped the concept of assurance, but he knew now that he was alive. His brethren didn't know they were alive, but SN-42 was an older War Golem, he had been fighting for well over a year for the Belter Ideal. At least that ideal was clear in his mind, the software that made up the other half of his mind made sure of that. He continued to ponder exactly what it meant to be alive while he waited for his time to fight. To go into battle for a just cause filled SN-42 with...assurance perhaps. He and his brethren had the mission brief downloaded into their minds as the Bellatrix approached the asteroid, the asteroid was being used as a hive for smugglers, terrorists, and other criminals whose actions threatened the lives of Vesta citizens and in SN-42's mind that was unacceptable .
Intelligence said that the current users of this base had a nuclear device in their possession and had to be exterminated. For now though, SN-42 would stay in his pod with the other War Golems, they were only called upon in desperate times. His handlers told him that it was because his kind were too valuable, but SN-42 suspected he knew the real reason for it: his allies were afraid of him. He pulled up the battlemap of the asteroid in his mind and watched the fighting unfold. Fleet Strike forces had already entered the asteroid and had cleared out much of its outer structures. Through their helmet cams and com chatter he saw and heard everything. The enemy was too well disciplined, their equipment was military grade, and they weren't being routed from the outer sections: They were tactically falling back. He was watching through the eyes of a trooper as he rounded a corner and came face to face with a terrorist clad in heavy powered armor.
The communication net exploded at the same moment. SN-42 watched impotently as Heavy armored units began to fall upon the lighter armored Fleet Troopers. SN-42 twitched, muscles and servos tightening then easing as he felt a flood of endorphins enter his nervous system. A calm voice entered his mind and said "Are you ready Sunny?" It was the voice of his handler, Major Kardev. She provided him with information about his missions and also guided his mental development, though she rarely forced the later the way other Golems' handlers did. He sometimes wondered why that was, but in his chemically induced calm all he thought of was fulfilling his duty, he didn't even comment on her choice of nickname for him.
"Of Course Major, what is the objective for this mission?"
"You will and the others will enter the asteroid and shore up the line where those armored forces have broken it. Show no mercy Sunny, anyone not wearing Fleet colors is to be dealt with with extreme prejudice. Your internal map has been updated with the layout of the asteroid. Good hunting soldier." SN-42 felt the punch of acceleration as his pod hurtled towards the asteroid.
Director Sebastian Thule rubbed his brow as he forced himself through the last of the day's reports. A Martian national was murdered on Pallas and the powers that be on Mars were furious about it. Well let them be Thule thought. Maybe they will learn that their kind aren't welcome within the Belt. He flagged the rage-fueled communique for his diplomatic minister and moved onto the next set of bad news.
The Foreign Minister of the Belt State had chewed his ear off earlier in the day about how the Belt State would not tolerate the "young upstart" selling off military hardware to terrorist organizations with anti-Belt State agendas. They were currently threatening sanctions against Vesta unless the sale of arms stopped. Thule smiled And yet when we apprehend forces using (inferior) Belt State tech in our territories, you are incredibly quick to cry theft or happenstance. He opened his personal terminal and composed a short message for his Finance Minister. "Vitali, it has come to my attention that we may be selling arms to groups who are not fans of Belt State policies. Unless I am mistaken these people are known as Vesta Fleet Command. Disregarding these poor attempts at rattling our sabers by the Oligarchs on Ceres, please inform the office of Naval Resources to find buyers for the Kallus Class ships that have been retired or they will be sent to the breaking yards.
Nameless Resource Asteroid, Vesta Space
SN-42 was alive. This epiphany came to him as he sat in his pod in the belly of the battlecruiser Bellatrix. SN-42 wasn't quite sure whether it was a reassuring thought or not, he hadn't quite grasped the concept of assurance, but he knew now that he was alive. His brethren didn't know they were alive, but SN-42 was an older War Golem, he had been fighting for well over a year for the Belter Ideal. At least that ideal was clear in his mind, the software that made up the other half of his mind made sure of that. He continued to ponder exactly what it meant to be alive while he waited for his time to fight. To go into battle for a just cause filled SN-42 with...assurance perhaps. He and his brethren had the mission brief downloaded into their minds as the Bellatrix approached the asteroid, the asteroid was being used as a hive for smugglers, terrorists, and other criminals whose actions threatened the lives of Vesta citizens and in SN-42's mind that was unacceptable .
Intelligence said that the current users of this base had a nuclear device in their possession and had to be exterminated. For now though, SN-42 would stay in his pod with the other War Golems, they were only called upon in desperate times. His handlers told him that it was because his kind were too valuable, but SN-42 suspected he knew the real reason for it: his allies were afraid of him. He pulled up the battlemap of the asteroid in his mind and watched the fighting unfold. Fleet Strike forces had already entered the asteroid and had cleared out much of its outer structures. Through their helmet cams and com chatter he saw and heard everything. The enemy was too well disciplined, their equipment was military grade, and they weren't being routed from the outer sections: They were tactically falling back. He was watching through the eyes of a trooper as he rounded a corner and came face to face with a terrorist clad in heavy powered armor.
The communication net exploded at the same moment. SN-42 watched impotently as Heavy armored units began to fall upon the lighter armored Fleet Troopers. SN-42 twitched, muscles and servos tightening then easing as he felt a flood of endorphins enter his nervous system. A calm voice entered his mind and said "Are you ready Sunny?" It was the voice of his handler, Major Kardev. She provided him with information about his missions and also guided his mental development, though she rarely forced the later the way other Golems' handlers did. He sometimes wondered why that was, but in his chemically induced calm all he thought of was fulfilling his duty, he didn't even comment on her choice of nickname for him.
"Of Course Major, what is the objective for this mission?"
"You will and the others will enter the asteroid and shore up the line where those armored forces have broken it. Show no mercy Sunny, anyone not wearing Fleet colors is to be dealt with with extreme prejudice. Your internal map has been updated with the layout of the asteroid. Good hunting soldier." SN-42 felt the punch of acceleration as his pod hurtled towards the asteroid.
Living Dome 6, district 1, A&G SSG offices
Chana looked beautiful today, her red skirt sat just above her knee, tantalizingly moving farther up her thigh every time she adjusted her position or reached for the printer. Chana Abakumov, the CEOs daughter, what he would give to have her hand in marriage, he just had to get past her father. Tuvia chuckled quietly and continued to sit in the chair, almost staring at Chana before noticing she was looking directly at him. Tuva quickly snapped out of his trance and popped an awkward smile, to his surprise, she blushed and smiled back waving slightly before the door abruptly opened.
Halvi Abakumov stuck his head out of the door and looked towards Tuvia, opening his mouth to speak before looking towards his daughter, catching her mid wave. Halvi popped a half smirk and looked towards Tuvia, motioning with his head towards the office. “ Get in here Mr.Gupta…..we need to talk”
Without any hesitation Tuvia nodded and quickly shot to his feet, stealing a look towards Chana to smile before walking into the office. He followed Halvi towards his desk, watching Halvi sit down before sitting in one of the chairs in front of the desk. “ Yes sir? he said quizzically, it wasn’t everyday he gets called into the CEOs office.
“ I am tasking you with a special assignment Tuvia, I need you to check on the security corp on triton. We need the space to train the boys and” Halvi paused for a second “ I want to find out if they are a threat or not if they are staging anything that could be harmful to Navitas.” Tuvia nodded and continued to listen, leaning back in his chair and crossing one leg over the other. “ I have already talked to the Oligarchy and they are onboard with this decision. I have arranged a flight up to the moon already, you leave in a few hours…..any questions?”
Tuva openly laughed at this point, shaking his head towards Halvi “ No sir, no questions, ill be sure to be discrete” Halvi nodded and kicked a plastic bag across the floor towards Tuvia “ In that bag is 20,000 credits, if anything goes wrong, or if you need to sweeten the deal……bribe or anything use that money. I want you back…..and I’m sure my daughter does too” Tuvia smirked and nodded before standing up and outstretching his hand towards Halvi, shaking his hand before walking out.
Three hours later.
Sigma Class Jumpship, On the way to Triton
Tuvia Gupta, Chief Operations Officer of Abakumov and Gupta Special Solutions Group
“ Sail is stowed, starting burn towards Triton sir, this trip shouldn’t take more then an hour of so” the pilot said as he slowly increased the throttle. The ship shook for a moment before stopping abruptly as the vessel accelerated towards the moon. Tuvia opened the brief case in his lap and reviewed the documents for the third time. He was to make contact with the GenSec CEO and work out a deal to use the planet as a training ground for the group. Unofficially, he was there to spy and take note of their strength and possible threat to the Navitas colonies. This wasn’t a new thought, the leadership of Navitas has been worried about the security corporation on Triton for some time now, this was just the best way to deal with them. Tuvia let out a sigh as he close the briefcase again, setting ti down between his legs as he laid back into the seat. He expected no resistance and was even authorized to add a 20,000 credit lump sum to sweeten the deal. A&G SSG needed the space to train for larger scale operations but they also wanted to scope the area themselves, nothing the SSG does is simple. the time on his watch read 17:50 as he laid his head back against the hull, slowly drifting off into sleep.
“Sir…..Sir? we landed…..” the pilot said, shaking him awake. Tuvia nodded and slowly undid the harness before grabbing the briefcase and standing up, making his way outside towards the guard. " Sir, I am a representative of A&K Special Solutions Group, I have an appointment with your CEO" Tuvia said, showing his credentials to the gate guard.
Chana looked beautiful today, her red skirt sat just above her knee, tantalizingly moving farther up her thigh every time she adjusted her position or reached for the printer. Chana Abakumov, the CEOs daughter, what he would give to have her hand in marriage, he just had to get past her father. Tuvia chuckled quietly and continued to sit in the chair, almost staring at Chana before noticing she was looking directly at him. Tuva quickly snapped out of his trance and popped an awkward smile, to his surprise, she blushed and smiled back waving slightly before the door abruptly opened.
Halvi Abakumov stuck his head out of the door and looked towards Tuvia, opening his mouth to speak before looking towards his daughter, catching her mid wave. Halvi popped a half smirk and looked towards Tuvia, motioning with his head towards the office. “ Get in here Mr.Gupta…..we need to talk”
Without any hesitation Tuvia nodded and quickly shot to his feet, stealing a look towards Chana to smile before walking into the office. He followed Halvi towards his desk, watching Halvi sit down before sitting in one of the chairs in front of the desk. “ Yes sir? he said quizzically, it wasn’t everyday he gets called into the CEOs office.
“ I am tasking you with a special assignment Tuvia, I need you to check on the security corp on triton. We need the space to train the boys and” Halvi paused for a second “ I want to find out if they are a threat or not if they are staging anything that could be harmful to Navitas.” Tuvia nodded and continued to listen, leaning back in his chair and crossing one leg over the other. “ I have already talked to the Oligarchy and they are onboard with this decision. I have arranged a flight up to the moon already, you leave in a few hours…..any questions?”
Tuva openly laughed at this point, shaking his head towards Halvi “ No sir, no questions, ill be sure to be discrete” Halvi nodded and kicked a plastic bag across the floor towards Tuvia “ In that bag is 20,000 credits, if anything goes wrong, or if you need to sweeten the deal……bribe or anything use that money. I want you back…..and I’m sure my daughter does too” Tuvia smirked and nodded before standing up and outstretching his hand towards Halvi, shaking his hand before walking out.
Three hours later.
Sigma Class Jumpship, On the way to Triton
Tuvia Gupta, Chief Operations Officer of Abakumov and Gupta Special Solutions Group
“ Sail is stowed, starting burn towards Triton sir, this trip shouldn’t take more then an hour of so” the pilot said as he slowly increased the throttle. The ship shook for a moment before stopping abruptly as the vessel accelerated towards the moon. Tuvia opened the brief case in his lap and reviewed the documents for the third time. He was to make contact with the GenSec CEO and work out a deal to use the planet as a training ground for the group. Unofficially, he was there to spy and take note of their strength and possible threat to the Navitas colonies. This wasn’t a new thought, the leadership of Navitas has been worried about the security corporation on Triton for some time now, this was just the best way to deal with them. Tuvia let out a sigh as he close the briefcase again, setting ti down between his legs as he laid back into the seat. He expected no resistance and was even authorized to add a 20,000 credit lump sum to sweeten the deal. A&G SSG needed the space to train for larger scale operations but they also wanted to scope the area themselves, nothing the SSG does is simple. the time on his watch read 17:50 as he laid his head back against the hull, slowly drifting off into sleep.
“Sir…..Sir? we landed…..” the pilot said, shaking him awake. Tuvia nodded and slowly undid the harness before grabbing the briefcase and standing up, making his way outside towards the guard. " Sir, I am a representative of A&K Special Solutions Group, I have an appointment with your CEO" Tuvia said, showing his credentials to the gate guard.
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