The three-dimensional map of Cyprus Colony politics was awash with the filth of corruption. A nifty little program plotted the factions, interests, sects, companies, and various other groups that make up a society. Green forms showed thriving communities, made up of hard working folks who strove for the ever-elusive human ideals. Gray indicated self-serving sections. Black indicated those interests that worked against the health and welfare of Cyprus Colony.
The map was mostly gray. Most of the official government’s portion was either black or gray. Most of the locally owned businesses were green or yellow, as opposed to the mostly black Coalition corporations.
I sent a copy to President Mirk Brandholdt, the elected leader of Cyprus Colony. He responded within the hour, visibly shaken. I made my pitch, the first part of my master plan to save Cyprus Colony. Mirk agreed.
The government map was backed by hard evidence, with many revealing morsels of information provided by Fleet Intelligence. It was all provable. It was all factual. I purposely cut out the small bits of speculation that Fleet Intel put in the report. Even the most biased thinkers would have a hard time arguing with my report.
The plan started early in the morning with a little R&R. I parked the Grinder just a few meters from the emerald ocean, where the bluish sand was moist but not wet. It was a beautiful day on the beach with clear skies and a cool, gentle breeze washing over the sands. Aardwolf and I crashed into the surf, diving into the waves, and whooping like a couple of kids. Marie was more restrained, coming into the surf wearing the under layer of her Catalian armor. Her hood was pulled up, her faceplate on, and small rebreather was strapped to her hip. While Tom and I splashed about, the Sergeant went diving.
When out of earshot, Tom couldn’t help but comment on Marie’s armor. See, that final layer of armor was made of a very high-tech material that was water- and airproof yet allowed the skin to breath. It also could cool a person down by 10 degrees or warm by 25 by using the small battery packs on the shoulders. And the armor also protected from physical damage by hardening in the area of impact, then spreading the blow across a wide section of armor. Most of all, it was skintight. It looked like Marie had painted a glossy white finish on her skin; there was little of her body that was left to the imagination.
I warned Aardwolf against entertaining romantic thoughts about my second-in-command. He replied that romance had nothing to do with it- it was all lust. I suggested he satiate that lust on one of his drones, because the Sergeant was off-limits.
After a pleasant afternoon of sunbathing and swimming, we had to get to work. President Brandholdt was the first to arrive, because we had to go over some plans that would soon be launched.
The VP of Manibraus and official dictate for the Coalition, Resshire, arrived about the same time as the High Archangel of the Holy People of whatever. Resshire and the Higharch both read the report I had created from the government map, with the Coalition man unable to deny its implication. However, the technocrat declared the report as bullshit. He was denying the fact the Coalition had promised him Cyprus Colony after the legal government was overthrown. Then the Coals could come in, enslave the population (by converting everyone to a salary position and spiking up the price of living), and make a nice profit.
I then informed the High Archangel that he was under arrest. A transport from the EDF was now on its way, and would take him to a nice safe place for trial. He exploded with righteous anger, and threats spilled from him as Aardwolf crept behind him. I didn’t wait to see if the technocrat was going to use the weapons built into the plastic and metal parts of his body. I gave Tom the signal, and there was an explosion of electricity.
Blue fingers crackled and whipped around the Higharch’s body, coming from the 49er grenade that Tom had set off under the technocrat’s chair. The grenade was meant to take down military robots, so it did a nice job of stopping the plastic heart of the technocrat.
Things fell into place nicely after that. The Cyprus Colony president ordered all citizens away from the Coalition assembly plants, and the police were rounding up the terrorists (hired and volunteers alike). Work was already underway to get farming and mining interests back on tract, giving jobs to the displaced workers.
Resshire took everything in stride. I knew he would. There was little profit in a free Cyprus Colony. No doubt Manibraus and the other Coalition corporations would make a nice profit in selling back parts of Cyprus Colony to the inhabitants.
And so by nightfall, the Grinder was plying the starlanes on the way to HB 442 to meet up with the Fleet Commander of 4th Fleet, Shepherd Moody.
Next Chapter >> 17-I: An Interlude into Toasty Warren's Life
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