Page 113 of The Sterling Acquisition
As Dante approached, he could feel a strange awareness of Orion’s heartbeat, his breathing, the exact state of his consciousness hovering between sleep and wakefulness. It was simultaneously the most unnerving and most natural thing he’d ever experienced.
The bond was real. Whatever Tallulah had called it, whatever explanation she offered, the physical reality was undeniable. They were connected in ways that corporate science had either never understood or deliberately concealed.
No amount of performance bonuses or promotion promises could compare to this.
The thought hit him with startling clarity. Twenty years of corporate conditioning, twenty years of believing that advancement and optimization were the highest goals a person could achieve, and all of it paled in comparison to the sight of Orion sleeping safely in a bed.
That certainty was what had driven him to formulate his current plan—a desperate, likely doomed attempt to fake their deaths and escape corporate pursuit permanently. The odds were catastrophically bad: successful execution probability approximately 3.2%, with multiple critical failure points and limited contingency options. It would require precise timing, improvised surgery, coordinated arson, and an unhealthy dose of luck.
But the alternative—returning Orion to Gensyn for experimentation or continuing to run until they were inevitably captured—was unacceptable. Statistical probability be damned.
“Orion,” he said, sitting on the edge of the mattress. “Time to wake up.”
Orion stirred, making a soft sound of protest that went straight to Dante’s groin. When his eyes opened, they were soft, taking a moment to register Dante’s presence.
“Morning,” Orion murmured.
“Morning. We need to go.”
That brought Orion fully awake, the peaceful expression replaced by sharp alertness. “How long do we have?”
“Long enough to get out of here before anyone comes looking, if we move now.”
Orion nodded, already pushing himself upright. “What’s the plan?”
“Working on it,” Dante said, which wasn’t entirely accurate.
As Orion moved around the room gathering their few possessions, Dante stepped back into the kitchen where Lilac was rummaging through cabinets.
“Lilac,” he said, pulling out his wallet. “I need a favor.”
“Name it.”
He handed her his corporate expense card and his personal account card—black plastic with the kind of credit limits that came with senior operative status. “Can you get to the Neutral Zone and start maxing out withdrawals on every ATM you can find? The funds will be shut off as soon as Gensyn realizes I’ve gone rogue, but until then...”
Lilac took the cards without hesitation, her eyes lighting up with understanding. “How much we talking?”
“Corporate expense account has no limits. Personal account has about thirty-five million iscs.” Dante met her eyes. “You can keep half of whatever you withdraw if we come back. One hundred percent if we don’t.”
“Hell yeah,” she said without missing a beat. “Consider it done. I know some mercs who will gladly help me pull this off.”
“You’re not even going to ask what the plan is?”
“Mijo, I’ve been living off corporate spite for fifteen years. Whatever you’re planning to do to fuck with Gensyn, I’m here for it.”
Dante grinned. “In that case, you’re going to love this.”
He handed her a small notepad where he’d sketched the basic outline of his plan—a combination of staged evidence and controlled destruction that would, if successful, convince Gensyn they had died in a tragic accident while fleeing SVI pursuers. The approach had multiple critical failure points and required perfect execution, but it also offered their best chance at permanent escape.
Lilac whistled low as she read through the notes. “Madre de Dios. You weren’t kidding about the stupid part.”
“Too stupid to work?”
“No,” she said, her expression becoming impressed. “Just stupid enough that it might.”
Chapter forty
Conference Call Complications
