Free Rich Man's War by Elliott Kay Page A

CEO of NorthStar sat at the head of the table, his chair tilted somewhat to the side to present a relaxed, calm image. His salt-and-pepper hair and minimal signs of age belied his exceptional lifespan, courtesy of the best longevity treatments that untold wealth could buy. “This is a struggle for public opinion. Right now, it is merely a single system government making a shortsighted gamble at the expense of its people.”
    Like everyone else in the room, Sarah looked up at Brekhov’s face. No one missed the cold resolve in his eyes or in his voice. He expected his subordinates to hold to the company line as he stated it. “NorthStar and our friendly competitors are the glue that holds humanity together. The Union needs us. The people of Archangel need us. Regardless of what their leaders allege, we are looking out for them. It’s unfortunate that the people of Archangel are suffering the natural economic consequences of their leadership’s gamble, but that can’t be helped—until they come back into the fold.
    “When this is all over,” Brekhov continued, sweeping the room with an even gaze and a measured, firm tone that didn’t match the warmth of his chosen words, “we’ll need to help Archangel recover. We will implement programs to help them rebuild their economy, to pay their debts , and to become good citizens of the Union once more. Until then, we will take the high road in every venue, in every interview and through every public statement. We will keep our hand open and outstretched.
    “And we will not allow this matter to set a precedent for other systems. We will not allow this to spread further. This is not a revolution—and we will not be cast as oppressors.”
    Sarah had seen Brekhov’s talent for warmth and positive oratory. She’d seen him hold babies and cut the ribbon at new hospitals with a broad smile on his face. At every Christmas party, Brekhov asked about her family with a perfect memory for names. But after working for so many years at this level of the corporation, Sarah also knew the other side of Anton Brekhov. She knew how bad life could get for anyone who did not heed the implicit threats in his tone. So did the rest of the room, as the chill silence settling over the conference table demonstrated.
    “Now, Edwin,” said Brekhov, his gaze shifting and his demeanor softening somewhat, “did you have more to share? We are all listening.”
    To his credit, Garber took the interruption in stride. “The rest of the data I have to share is in my report, and I know the committee has more pressing business.”
    “Nothing is more important than the situation with Archangel, Edwin, and you are at the fore of one of our key points of concern. But in terms of timeliness, yes, we have other matters to attend.” Brekhov’s eyes flicked over to a couple of other executives—one of them Commodore Eldridge, the uniformed head of NorthStar’s Security Fleet. “We’ll pick up with those matters after lunch.”
    Scattered conversations began as Brekhov and a couple of other executives left. Other attendees, Sarah included, began gathering their things. Many would not be back after lunch. As exclusive and tightly-managed as attendance was for this meeting, the list of individuals involved in the security meeting would be smaller. Neither Sarah nor her boss had any business at that table.
    Greg would be there, though, as would the quiet, unobtrusive program Sarah had loaded onto his holocom during their chat.
    She wondered how anyone who did this sort of thing for a career could live in such a state of constant paranoia. It surely wasn’t what she’d have wanted to do with her life. By comparison, being one of NorthStar’s executives seemed like a relaxing job.
     
    * * *
     
    Six hours later, Sarah rode the elevator sixty-three floors to the suites at the top of the Fairhaven Hotel. She felt certain that everyone in a two mile radius could hear her hands vibrate and was simply too polite