Chastaine didn’t seem to notice McCallister’s awkward dismay. “Have the lab concentrate on minimizing the short-term problems, the ones that could cause us problems upfront and jeopardize the whole project.
“Yes, sir. I’ll send the memo now.”
Chastaine glanced back up to the newsfeed. “That damned McDougal Gang is at it again out along the frontier. They robbed a mineral depot last night. Hauled off millions in uranium and plutonium. Killed everyone there.”
“Crude savages, sir. Murderers, thieves, and rapists the whole lot of them.” McCallister shook his head in disgust. “I think the further these people stray from civilization, the more they revert back to a primitive state.”
“It’s no different from the American Old West or the darkest interiors of Africa in the nineteenth century,” Chastaine pondered. “The first settlers and explorers didn’t find country clubs and symphony orchestras waiting on them. They found murderous outlaws, heathen savages, and wild animals awaiting them.”
“Incestuous lot, too, these McDougal’s,” McCallister continued. “The old man, the son, both daughters. The whole bunch has turned its back on any social and moral decency. Nothing more than animals, if you ask me.”
“Yes, but consider it a moment,” Chastaine spread his arms wide as if inviting McCallister into his thought process. “Answering to no one. Living life with no rules, no laws, no moral restrictions. I mean on the surface, we’re conditioned to find that unthinkable, unacceptable … but deep down, is it truly revulsion we feel for them …” he relaxed his arms and picked up his coffee in a mock toast, “or envy?”
McCallister just stared. The man is a kook!He’s spent too much time locked away up here eating his organic twigs and shit and imagining himself some kind of enlightened New Age swami.
“But sir, are we not above the law?” he finally asked.
A funny look crossed the executive’s face as if McCallister had said something completely outlandish. He looked at his assistant like he’d just grown another head.
“Why, of course we are!” he snorted.
But his attention was quickly drawn back to the newsfeed, where the previous evening’s events in Huntsville were the main topic. He pointed to the hologram with his butter knife. “Care to elaborate on that?”
McCallister had known it wouldn’t take him long to get around to it. He’d been ready from the moment he stepped onto the patio. From here on out, he would be in treacherous waters.
“Our man’s on the job, sir. He gets results.”
Chastaine took another sip of the freshly-poured coffee, eyeing McCallister warily over the lip of his cup. “Results? I would definitely say there have been results. One man dead. Tragically, one of our finest employees …”
“Yes, so unfortunate. He has relatives also employed with us. I hear they are taking it quite hard.”
“Make sure to send a letter from me offering my sincerest sympathy.” He gave his assistant a curious look. “Are they an issue in need of being dealt with? Do we need to address their continued employment?”
“I don’t think so, sir.” McCallister shook his head. “I’ve already taken the liberty of transferring the one who pulled strings for his buffoon nephew to end up on such an important assignment. It involved not only a pay cut but also relocation to our research station in the Amazon rain forest. If the piranha and snakes don’t get him, the leeches and headhunters most likely will.”
“You’re a man after my own heart, James.” Chastaine smiled broadly. “I couldn’t have done better myself.”
“I sit at the feet of the Master, sir,” McCallister poured it on thick. He knew his boss better than anybody else did. The man loved being stroked like a lap cat.
“And you’re quite the student.” Broderick’s approval was a sly smile and a wink; then it was time to move to the next subject. He nodded toward the hologram, where the anchor was discussing last night’s shootout. “Now, what about this?”
“Well, nothing much has changed since I reported on the events of last night, sir.
“I’ve already gleaned that from watching the news, my dear James.” Broderick’s smile was still there, but it was a touch forced now. “As they say, I want to hear … the rest of the story.”
James took a sip of his coffee, a slight pause to gather himself. He wanted to make sure everything came out the way he wanted it to. The slightest miscalculation at this moment and he could be the next transfer to a remote, snake-infested locale.
“From what we can gather, this pilot our little girl took up with is a local with connections. He’s gone to ground.”
“And the Georgian … how is he?”
“I understand he is recovering with no permanent damage. It appears he was shot with some kind of new technology. Hits you with an electric charge that not only incapacitates you but leaves you feeling like every muscle in your body has been stretched beyond its capacity. Probably Authority tech … crowd control, if I’m guessing. Most side effects are gone within twenty-four hours.”
“How does a lowly spacer possess that kind of cutting-edge technology?” Chastaine’s face soured, as he spoke the common slang name for space pilots known officially as Spacefarers.
“As I said, he seems to have connections beyond that of a typical rocket pilot. He seems to have … well, let’s just say, a colorful past … and appears to have some powerful friends in the interplanetary underworld.”
“Hmmph! They’re all criminals … petty little extortionists and bandits!”
“Well, this Thomas … ‘Tiger,’ as he is called,” McCallister murmured, studying the dossier pic that came with the biofile, as if trying to glean some kind of understanding from the rugged, handsome face, “he certainly has become quite the challenge for our man, Frost.” He looked to his boss. “Should we activate our backup team?”
“No, not yet!” Chastaine held up a hand. “Let’s not panic … yet.”
“As far as Thomas, we had the Space Guard impound his ship. We do have him
