Post by balegrim on Jan 7, 2014 3:33:20 GMT
Admiral Dennis Grahm relaxed into the plush dark cushions of his lavish office chair. Soft amber light bathed the room in an antique glow, a little like hearth fire. Antique paintings of New Magnitkan colonials fixed the walls, depicting various iconic moments of the colony's history. One depicted Royce Adams and Stephen Grayson shaking hands, two men who were prominently involved in leading New Magnitka during its most nascent years. Another far more heroic—no—triumphant piece, exquisitely rendered the brave men and women of the Second Colonial Battalion, engaging an extremely large xeno hive that had been encountered in the Gems Peak mine shaft. Soldiers fiercely clutched automatic coil weaponry and antique laser rifles, exterminating surrounding hoards of massive, lethal insect-like monstrosities with great prejudice.
Grahm spared himself a moment to look up from his desk work and admire the painting. It was one of his favorites. "Heh. . ." He exhaled a plume of rich dark smoke from his mouth and nostrils, the butt of a New Haven's Premium Cigar pinched between his teeth. He looked back down at his desk work, sifting through one of two piles of sealed envelopes his naval secretary had seen to his desk. The pile on the left could not be ignored, consisting of what were considered to be urgent messages and priority orders. The pile on the right was mostly miscellaneous details. Odds and ends that required his approval or examination, and could afford to wait. Needless to say, Grahm started with the pile on the left.
He picked up the first envelope, noted the seal of its sender immediately. Nano Tarsen. . . Grahm didn't need to open the letter to know exactly what it was they wanted. But he did so anyway, he had to. There was a temporary transfer request inside that would require his personal approval, and after he signed and stamped it, the form would need to pass through the hands of two other admirals.
Grahm used his letter opener to tear away the seal in one brusque, practiced motion. He pulled the form from the envelope, examining it to see which G.E.M. they wanted today. Of course. Mirabel. They hardly ever requested Vaega. The man was too much of a butcher. Kelly and Ross hardly ever saw action, either. Grahm could only speculate on their fixation with Mirabel, but the truth behind it eluded him. Not that it was any real concern of his his. Tanner's father, Victor, probably spent a lot more time poking around for their motives. But to Grahm, it seemed straightforward enough. After stepping in and helping the government put down the rebellion five years ago, they had accumulated the necessary leverage to browse their top secret data caches. They stumbled onto the G.E.M. Project's file, leaned on a government still freshly licking its wounds from the fiercest conflict it had ever seen, and demanded without outright demanding it the Genetically Enhanced Militants be leased to them for private use from time to time. And what was anyone really going to tell Nano Trasen? With a massive mercenary force comprised of twenty separate PMCs, and a recently defeated but easily revived rebellion, Nano Trasen was in a position to reverse the swing of the pendulum without much trouble. The New Magnitkan government just felt fortunate they were courteous enough to allow them conditions at all.
As for why Tanner, well, he had the most intense military record and the fewest red marks of any G.E.M. He was a natural selection for those money making, back stabbing bureaucrats and corporate lunatics. Grahm signed and stamped the paper without giving the matter any further thought. Then sealed it in another envelope, which he stamped twice more: once with his identification, and again with a delivery address. Perhaps after the paperwork he would call up Victor Mirabel, invite him out for a session of golf and refreshments. That sounded nice.
The buzzer into Grahm's office suddenly rang, forcing him to look up from his paperwork. With a grunt, Grahm exhaled another plume of smoke and pressed down on the button of an intercom unit. "I'm busy."
"It's me."
Grahm's mouth opened a little in surprise. He had to quickly clench his teeth to keep from losing his cigar. "What a coincidence. I was just giving you some thought." The admiral removed his cigar from his mouth, dabbed the hot ash into a tray, then pinched the butt back between his teeth. His other hand smoothly moved toward a button next to the one he had just pressed to activate the intercom, and a little L.E.D. flashed from red to green. The armored airlock to his office opened with smooth hiss of air, protective plates sliding into their nesting cavities. Grahm rose from his desk, lips curled into a smile with his cigar pinched between his teeth. He walked around its mahogany frame and extended his hand. The other man took it, shaking it firmly while looking him dead in the eye.
"Victor Mirabel. How are you ya old son of a bitch? I remember back when you were just a major."
Admiral Mirabel was a stark contrast to Grahm, he was all height and sinew, clean cut with a hard, muscular chest that kissed against the seams of his immaculate blue uniform. His salt and pepper hair was cut short, accentuating the unforgivably hard line of his jaw. His eyebrows were still jet black, which only seemed to intensify the steel blue of his eyes. His expression was as rigid as his demeanor.
Admiral Grahm glanced to the envelope he had just made up, with a guess as to why Victor was dropping in.
"I've been healthy, sir," Victor said firmly, then released Grahm's hand. He also eyed the envelope. Grahm couldn't help but tense a little. "They're taking my son again, aren't they?"
Grahm slowly nodded. He turned away from Victor to remove his cigar from his mouth, snubbing it out in the ashtray on his desk and leaving it there before turning to confront the other admiral. "'Fraid so. Nano Trasen really seems to have a love affair with your boy, Mirabel. I can't say I understand their obsession, but I guess it means you raised a good kid."
Victor's eyes narrowed. He must have known the other admiral meant well, but the compliment was not well received. "Right."
"Sorry."
"It's ok. I knew what you meant. I actually came here to ask if you would deny their request this time."
Victor's eyes drilled him, causing Grahm to shift a little uneasily. "You know I'd love to do that for you, Victor, but we both know what kind of leverage N.T. has around here. Especially so soon after helping us win the war. We'd be playing some very dangerous politics. They were genial, but you know they all but demanded access to the G.E.M.s. My hands are just as tied as yours. We're in a period of expected etiquette."
Victor sighed. "I know. But they always ask for him. I've only seen them ship Vaega once?"
"Vaega's a butcher," Grahm added.
"Right," Mirabel continued, "And Kelly twice."
Grahm shrugged his shoulders, but took care to keep himself standing up straight in the presence of the other admiral, despite his fattening midsection. "Look. I know you're not happy about this. I know you expected more balance. And I don't blame you. I know it's not fair that Mirabel's always gone. But we have to play the game, Victor. We all do. Nano Trasen has too much leverage right now. Do you think if there was anything you or I could do to stop this transfer, N.T. would be allowed their pick of billion dollar genetically enhanced commandos in the first place?"
Victor stared for a moment, pensive, then he glanced away. "He's my son, Grahm. I miss him. . ."
Grahm put a hand on Victor's shoulder, gave it a tight squeeze. "I know. Maybe we can arrange to get him some time off when he gets home again. Life's not always fair. And Tanner knew what he was getting himself into. But we'll have to put some leverage on the other eight admirals. Lord knows they always have ambitions for our precious G.E.M.s," Grahm said sarcastically.
Victor looked Grahm dead in the eyes. "Thanks."
He extended his hand again.
Grahm let his hand fall from Mirabel's shoulder and shook it firmly. "Anytime, Victor. Oh! Care to go golfing after?"
Victor shook his head. "Don't think I'll be in the mood today. I should probably spend a little time with the Missis. If you think I've been taking this hard, she's been taking it a lot worse."
Grahm nodded. "I can only imagine. Well regardless, take care of yourself Victor. Lord knows your son can."
Victor nodded, smiling back at Grahm again. "I will. You too, Grahm." He turned, leaving Grahm's office and sealing the armored airlock behind him. The thick plates snicked shut with a hiss of air.
Grahm fell back into his office chair once Mirabel left the room, sighing as he glared down over the envelope. They didn't care. None of them fucking cared. He picked it up, tore the seal again, and removed the form. he examined the document again, then shredded it to pieces and threw the tattered papers into the waste bin beneath his desk. Immediately, he began work on a lost file document, requesting N.T. resend their request, but to the desk of another admiral altogether.
Grahm spared himself a moment to look up from his desk work and admire the painting. It was one of his favorites. "Heh. . ." He exhaled a plume of rich dark smoke from his mouth and nostrils, the butt of a New Haven's Premium Cigar pinched between his teeth. He looked back down at his desk work, sifting through one of two piles of sealed envelopes his naval secretary had seen to his desk. The pile on the left could not be ignored, consisting of what were considered to be urgent messages and priority orders. The pile on the right was mostly miscellaneous details. Odds and ends that required his approval or examination, and could afford to wait. Needless to say, Grahm started with the pile on the left.
He picked up the first envelope, noted the seal of its sender immediately. Nano Tarsen. . . Grahm didn't need to open the letter to know exactly what it was they wanted. But he did so anyway, he had to. There was a temporary transfer request inside that would require his personal approval, and after he signed and stamped it, the form would need to pass through the hands of two other admirals.
Grahm used his letter opener to tear away the seal in one brusque, practiced motion. He pulled the form from the envelope, examining it to see which G.E.M. they wanted today. Of course. Mirabel. They hardly ever requested Vaega. The man was too much of a butcher. Kelly and Ross hardly ever saw action, either. Grahm could only speculate on their fixation with Mirabel, but the truth behind it eluded him. Not that it was any real concern of his his. Tanner's father, Victor, probably spent a lot more time poking around for their motives. But to Grahm, it seemed straightforward enough. After stepping in and helping the government put down the rebellion five years ago, they had accumulated the necessary leverage to browse their top secret data caches. They stumbled onto the G.E.M. Project's file, leaned on a government still freshly licking its wounds from the fiercest conflict it had ever seen, and demanded without outright demanding it the Genetically Enhanced Militants be leased to them for private use from time to time. And what was anyone really going to tell Nano Trasen? With a massive mercenary force comprised of twenty separate PMCs, and a recently defeated but easily revived rebellion, Nano Trasen was in a position to reverse the swing of the pendulum without much trouble. The New Magnitkan government just felt fortunate they were courteous enough to allow them conditions at all.
As for why Tanner, well, he had the most intense military record and the fewest red marks of any G.E.M. He was a natural selection for those money making, back stabbing bureaucrats and corporate lunatics. Grahm signed and stamped the paper without giving the matter any further thought. Then sealed it in another envelope, which he stamped twice more: once with his identification, and again with a delivery address. Perhaps after the paperwork he would call up Victor Mirabel, invite him out for a session of golf and refreshments. That sounded nice.
The buzzer into Grahm's office suddenly rang, forcing him to look up from his paperwork. With a grunt, Grahm exhaled another plume of smoke and pressed down on the button of an intercom unit. "I'm busy."
"It's me."
Grahm's mouth opened a little in surprise. He had to quickly clench his teeth to keep from losing his cigar. "What a coincidence. I was just giving you some thought." The admiral removed his cigar from his mouth, dabbed the hot ash into a tray, then pinched the butt back between his teeth. His other hand smoothly moved toward a button next to the one he had just pressed to activate the intercom, and a little L.E.D. flashed from red to green. The armored airlock to his office opened with smooth hiss of air, protective plates sliding into their nesting cavities. Grahm rose from his desk, lips curled into a smile with his cigar pinched between his teeth. He walked around its mahogany frame and extended his hand. The other man took it, shaking it firmly while looking him dead in the eye.
"Victor Mirabel. How are you ya old son of a bitch? I remember back when you were just a major."
Admiral Mirabel was a stark contrast to Grahm, he was all height and sinew, clean cut with a hard, muscular chest that kissed against the seams of his immaculate blue uniform. His salt and pepper hair was cut short, accentuating the unforgivably hard line of his jaw. His eyebrows were still jet black, which only seemed to intensify the steel blue of his eyes. His expression was as rigid as his demeanor.
Admiral Grahm glanced to the envelope he had just made up, with a guess as to why Victor was dropping in.
"I've been healthy, sir," Victor said firmly, then released Grahm's hand. He also eyed the envelope. Grahm couldn't help but tense a little. "They're taking my son again, aren't they?"
Grahm slowly nodded. He turned away from Victor to remove his cigar from his mouth, snubbing it out in the ashtray on his desk and leaving it there before turning to confront the other admiral. "'Fraid so. Nano Trasen really seems to have a love affair with your boy, Mirabel. I can't say I understand their obsession, but I guess it means you raised a good kid."
Victor's eyes narrowed. He must have known the other admiral meant well, but the compliment was not well received. "Right."
"Sorry."
"It's ok. I knew what you meant. I actually came here to ask if you would deny their request this time."
Victor's eyes drilled him, causing Grahm to shift a little uneasily. "You know I'd love to do that for you, Victor, but we both know what kind of leverage N.T. has around here. Especially so soon after helping us win the war. We'd be playing some very dangerous politics. They were genial, but you know they all but demanded access to the G.E.M.s. My hands are just as tied as yours. We're in a period of expected etiquette."
Victor sighed. "I know. But they always ask for him. I've only seen them ship Vaega once?"
"Vaega's a butcher," Grahm added.
"Right," Mirabel continued, "And Kelly twice."
Grahm shrugged his shoulders, but took care to keep himself standing up straight in the presence of the other admiral, despite his fattening midsection. "Look. I know you're not happy about this. I know you expected more balance. And I don't blame you. I know it's not fair that Mirabel's always gone. But we have to play the game, Victor. We all do. Nano Trasen has too much leverage right now. Do you think if there was anything you or I could do to stop this transfer, N.T. would be allowed their pick of billion dollar genetically enhanced commandos in the first place?"
Victor stared for a moment, pensive, then he glanced away. "He's my son, Grahm. I miss him. . ."
Grahm put a hand on Victor's shoulder, gave it a tight squeeze. "I know. Maybe we can arrange to get him some time off when he gets home again. Life's not always fair. And Tanner knew what he was getting himself into. But we'll have to put some leverage on the other eight admirals. Lord knows they always have ambitions for our precious G.E.M.s," Grahm said sarcastically.
Victor looked Grahm dead in the eyes. "Thanks."
He extended his hand again.
Grahm let his hand fall from Mirabel's shoulder and shook it firmly. "Anytime, Victor. Oh! Care to go golfing after?"
Victor shook his head. "Don't think I'll be in the mood today. I should probably spend a little time with the Missis. If you think I've been taking this hard, she's been taking it a lot worse."
Grahm nodded. "I can only imagine. Well regardless, take care of yourself Victor. Lord knows your son can."
Victor nodded, smiling back at Grahm again. "I will. You too, Grahm." He turned, leaving Grahm's office and sealing the armored airlock behind him. The thick plates snicked shut with a hiss of air.
Grahm fell back into his office chair once Mirabel left the room, sighing as he glared down over the envelope. They didn't care. None of them fucking cared. He picked it up, tore the seal again, and removed the form. he examined the document again, then shredded it to pieces and threw the tattered papers into the waste bin beneath his desk. Immediately, he began work on a lost file document, requesting N.T. resend their request, but to the desk of another admiral altogether.