‘Skopos smiled as he replaced his com unit. The encrypted channel closed out, and a small readout appeared on his computer monitor listing what line noise had been detected, and the probability that the transmission had been tapped. .5% was the highest number on the ultra thin display.

His grim smile staying, ‘Skopos began to pack up a few papers, and open some drawers. His plan was going to go into action to the tee; in fact, the plan was going off even better than planned for. After pulling out a few heavy reefs of flimsy from two drawers, ‘Skopos turned his attention to his computer.

He spent a few minutes digging though menus, and sub menus – entering authorization codes and having his finger and retina scanned to get to the program he had been searching for. Opening it, ‘Skopos initiated a custom made two million credit program. Timed to start sub programs at certain times, this parent program would run undetected, gradually counting down.

Gathering the bundles of papers, ‘Skopos stood to exit his office. Passing his secretary by on his way out he mumbled something about going to see a doctor in response to her query to where he was headed.

Why, to Orron III of course, where else would I be going... ‘Skopos let an outright grin form on his face. He loved having the upper hand. It was more than worth the years of waiting to see a plan take action, and come to head so perfectly.

Bonadan

South-East two Down-port docks - District Five


Kaneda and the other Section agents, watched the set-up convoy arrive, and unload its cargo without any interruption or incident...

...It seemed that the slicers had not gone for it....

As he watched the shuttle, now empty , take off and accelerate upwards through Bonadan's sky, Kaneda couldn't help but feel somewhat annoyed at the waste of time.... had someone tipped them off?
Sighing a little as he turned his long overcoat's collar up to the slight breeze, Kaneda reminded himself , that it had been a long-shot anyway...

The trouble was, he had a certain ....feeling... call it a hunch...either way his instinct was telling him there was something more to all of this than what met the eye. His years of experience as a spy had taught him to trust his instincts.

Turning away from the landing bay, he gripped his cane tightly, and was about to walk away when his comms alert sounded...

"...yes?.."

"..what now sir?..."

Pausing for a moment , as if to quandry the question further, Kaneda responded...

"..back to the drawing board....all we can do is keep monitoring the systems, and wait for them to make a mistake..."

"rodger that...shall I issue the de-briefing for 20:00 hours?..."

"...yes that would be fine..."

As the voice signed off , Kaneda put his small grey comms unit away into his coat pocket and continued to walk through the busy space-port...

He was confident the slicer would make a mistake... they always did eventually, it was always the point where they thought they were unbeatable....thats when they would slip up.... and thats when Kaneda would be waiting....

It was really just a matter of time, until then, they would have to do their best to try to track whoever was behind all of this...

Comforting himself with this thought, the Section operative made his way through the throng of people that populated Bonadan's biggest space-port, and smiled faintly to himself...

After all he was a very patient person...

Aron nodded his head as each second went by all the way down to.....

"FINALLY! 1800 and I'm done."

Aron practically dishevelled his whole desk getting his things packed up. He could finally go home and read over this treaty, and what the devil it was doing in Vinda's Treaty Archive.

"Disturbing this puzzle is," Aron thought to himself in a Yoda-ish voice.

His walk home was short. VC had offered him a large suite in a building close to Embassy Schloaf. He sprinted up the steps, slammed the entry cylinder into its recepticle and raced inside as soon as the door opened.

"Now, we find out what this thing was doing there."

He inserted the disc into his own CD Drive and watched intently as the treaty came up on his screen.



This is to certify that AMCRON CORPORATION has undergone inspection and has been found with all the qualities of a corporation fit to be protected commercially and militarily under the banner of the CORPORATE SECTOR AUTHORITY. As such, any defense that AMCRON CORPORATION chooses to build should consider itself at the disposal of the CORPORATE SECTOR AUTHORITY, only for the purposes of defending sister corporations, of course. As such, AMCRON CORPORATION may consider herself in full free trade alliance with all corporations in the jurisdiction of the CORPORATE SECTOR AUTHORITY. Also, AMCRON CORPORATION is liable for aide to the CORPORATE SECTOR AUTHORITY in paying tarrifs for trade routes to the GALACTIC EMPIRE, which is an entirely separate institution from the CORPORATE SECTOR AUTHORITY. In closing, any breach of this treaty makes it null and void.

It was signed by the two ambassadors which negotiated the treaty. Aron was about to turn off the computer, after seeing that there was nothing of interest. But there was a microdot below the signature of the AC ambassador. He kept tapping on it until the text was readable. Aron's mouth fell.

Amcron Corporation is in no way bound by this treaty. However, the Corporate Sector Authority is fully bound, if one of its diplomats or leaders affixes his name to this document.

The cell is cold, even though you are on the surface of the planet now. A thin shaft of light pierces through the ceiling, penetrating to the floor where it warms an inch wide spot of concrete. Other than that small ray of light, this solid building is dark, completely empty of luminescence.

“’Ere’ ye go Bunny, stay warm.”

Right, stay warm. You pull the one blanket given to you closer, wishing that it was thicker. It’s clean though, and it is new. A small blessing, something you haven’t been given for a while. With a shiver you pull your body tighter, and attempt to huddle under the ray of light in a better position.

“Em serry Bunny, but y’ve been sentenced”

Sentenced? Haven’t you already been sentenced? Isn’t that what you’re doing, serving out your sentence?

“T’mrrow y’ll catch teh tail end o’ the hypertrain Bunny m’boy”

Tail end of the hypertr . a .. i … n. Execution. You’re going to be executed.

“M sorry Bunny, but teh ordr comes from the top.”

From the top then. That meant someone has it in for you, in for you good. Perhaps that black eyed humanoid you saw while on your way over here? The memory surfaces, and you relive it, your photographic memory giving clear details. You had turned the corner, followed by the guard, and had begun to go down yet another corridor. Halfway down, a party of people emerged from a hallway to your right, and had turned to the right, walking away from you. Then they turned right again, going down another corridor. One man had looked back, and for a moment your eyes had connected.

You shivered; black eyes made the man look like he was dead. Perhaps they were not truly black, but from that distance…

Perhaps it was him. Or, another in his party. The man dressed in that dark purple suit perhaps. Dark purple suit. Something was jogged in your memory, a memory of someone else that had worn a dark purple suit.

The name escaped you, it had been so long. But the face, and the memory of what had been done was as clear as the Tatooine suns. Amcron, Amcron corp. had been a brainchild of yours. With your friends you gathered some money, and started a company. “We’ll make millions!” was your enthusiastic cry.

And indeed you did. You made so much that a rift grew between the five friends. You, Mr. Hevlar, and Mrs. Hevlar had split, leaving the now hugely successful corporation in the hands of Mr. Rundenbaucher, Mr. Vinda, and Mr. Hutchel. Vinda! That was the man. A young, brilliant entrepreneur who had a hand for dealing with other people, and companies. He had been in charge of publicity, and made most of the deals with other corporations for supplies. He had worn a dark purple suit often.

The chill from the floor pulled you from your reverie. That shaft of light had moved quite a bit, a good two feet at least. Whiling away my last minutes thinking of a defunct business. Perhaps not quite so defunct, actually. Amcron corp. had never been on the complete up and up. You had been lucky to get out when you did; the same was for Mr. Vinda. He had left just before the whole thing exploded in the face of Rundenbaucher and Hutchel. Rundenbaucher had gone underground, and Hutchel had taken the entire thing on his shoulders. What had happened to him, you did not know.

The last few months had given you time to thing though. You had visited this memory of Amcron corp. several times. Vinda had moved on to start the successful Vinda Co, for whom you had, ironically, worked for. Rundenbaucher had resurfaced several months ago, and was starting a new company. Produced a new cigarra, which was quite successful. The Hevlar’s were dead; they were on a pleasure cruise when the entire ship combusted.

Then, it all seemed to click. Here, in your cell, awaiting your termination from this miserable existence, it clicked. With your death only two more men were known to be alive who had been involved in the old Amcron Corporation. Vinda, and Rundenbaucher. When Hutchel had gone down, he had gotten off light with two years of medium labor, and ten of standard prison confinement. Only two more alive from the old company; only one more person who would be able to hold a threat of blackmail over another’s head.

The CSA had crushed Amcron, and Hutchel had gone down in flames. And now both Vinda and Rundenbaucher were rising to power again. Their history could condemn them, if it was discovered.

It was funny, this struggle for power, and domination. A giggle crept up your throat. Everyone always striving to be the best. You had found the perfect place, as a minion. A wife, kids… who would never see you again…

***********************************

“He wants to see Mr. Vinda.”

“He, what?”

“He wants to see Mr. Vinda.”

“I see.”

“It’s his right.”

“I know…”

“Will you call Michelson?”

“Yeah, sure.”

The prison was perfect. This was the tail end of the tour, and they were coming up to the last prisoner quarters. Kas had been impressed overall with the condition of this prison; it appeared to run like clockwork. None of the prisoners had open force-whip marks, apparently the people who received the punishment were made to tour every mess hall, and show the marks while giving a little speech on what they had done.

It appeared to be working quite well for Warden Michelson.

“I must compliment you on your well kept prison Mr. Michelson.”

“Why, thank you Secretary Katta. I do my best.”

Vinda asked Michelson a few questions about how often discipline such as confinement, or reduced rations was needed, and Michelson replied without hesitation that, “Such measures are taken swiftly when needed, and we have an above average record in this regard. The complete stats are in your datapad.”

“This is the last elevator gentlemen, straight to the surface. Any last questions?”

The Warden was relaxed now, much more so than when he had started the tour. When no one requested to see any additional areas of the prison, Michelson showed everyone into the elevator, and pressed the button for the ground floor. A slight lurch, and they were off.

They were no more than five seconds into their upward travel, than the wardens com went off. He answered it, turning the volume up slightly so all could hear.

“… Sorry to disturbed you Sir, but that execution job wishes to see Mr. Vinda himself”

“He does? Is this a direct request?”

“Yes sir.”

“Hold on.”

Michelson looked up to Mr. Vinda. “Are you willing to see this man? He was imprisoned for the murder of his wife, quite bloody. His children were missing; it was supposed that he disposed of their bodies at a processing plant somewhere. That was never proven though. I received orders to have him executed today from the Corrections office, direct feed from VC HQ actually. We try to grant people on death row a last request, unless it’s unreasonable. Once we had a man ask to be executed by free fall, without a parachute or repulsorlift of any kind.”

Aron was in semi-shock.

"Not bound?"

Aron thought that, if there were to be shady dealings, then they would be a little more subtle. It wouldn't have shocked Aron that much except for the date; it was so long ago. Laws weren't there that were here now. It was common sense to Aron, but a loophole to someone else. Back then there was no law that said that all provisions of the memorandum had to be above the signatures. Just that the provisions had to be there and two factionary diplomats had to sign. Another thing was the fact that now, microdots are illegal on interfactionary galactic treaties, unless they show the family seal of a signer. This was the family seal of nobody that was for sure. He looked at the signatures, neither of which he recognized. But the one from Amcron was Alexander Hutchel. Aron minimized the treaty, and initiated a search for Alexander Hutchel. The information began to scroll down one line at a time.

NAME: ALEXANDER NICOLAEVICH HUTCHEL
STATUS: IMPRISONED
AFFILLIATION WITH VC: CO-FOU....

Aron looked closer at the screen as the text began to delete itself.

CPU: "THERE ARE NO RESULTS FOR ALEXANDER HUTCHEL."

"You're kidding me."

Aron had most certainly not helped design this part of Vinda's Network, which seemed to block any information he truly needed. It looked as though, if he wanted any information, he'd have to go to...myes. A vacation was just what he needed. He picked up his phone, happy that his secretary always stayed at work for about an hour after he was gone.

"Yes....Miss Rivers....Ambassador Antilles....Fine, fine listen; would you leave a message in the main office that Ambassador Antilles will be taking a short vacation, with full acceptance of suspension of pay.... Splendid I'll be there in twenty minutes. Just have to pack a few things....yes, pack. Orron III's not next door you know."

A slight look of concern seemed to darken Vinda's face, as he heard the Warden speak...

"... I was not aware that Brentaal utilised the death penalty?.."

The CEO couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at the Warden's description of one particular inmate's choice of ..."sentence"..

Pausing to chew on the end of his cigarra as he mulled the prospect over, Vinda's ego got the best of him..

"...sure... why not, if he wants to meet me, lets not disappoint him..."

Inwardly curious, Vinda glanced up at the others and caught sight of the frown that had appeared across Achinta's face...

"...what?..." He asked, knowing full well what the bodyguard was going to say...

"...I do not believe this is a good idea...in fact I advise against it..." The HRD stated clearly , in a measured tone..

Vinda pointed his cigarra in Achinta's general direction as he talked, as if using it to further emphasise his point...

"...I can't very well refuse a dying man's last request now, can I?.."

Grinning broadly, Vinda gestured for the warden to lead the way, and the entourage soon found themselves heading for where the prisoner was being held...

He arrived on Brentaal under the alias Solo Carde, a name he often runs under when avoiding attention. The real identity behind the alias was much harder to establish.

His method of arrival has not be yet firmly established, the likelihood is that he arrived on unmarked transport.

He seems to be traveling without escort but, we will assume nothing as of yet.

His manner of dress is rather mild, though respectable and, he appears unarmed. Human, 1.85 meters at 83 kilos... he appears to be middle-aged, perhaps 40 cycles. From the motion of his walk it would be safe to assume he is packing concealed weapons or possibly contraband items.

After departing the Starport he headed towards the cities west district via hover-cab. The cab made two stops, first at a private residence then at a local tapcaf. He exited the hover-cab and moved directly into the establishment after sparing a credit to a beggar on the curb. Once inside he ordered a drink and, moved to a dimly lit booth at the back of the business. All indications are that he has not moved from that location yet but, the nature of the tapcaf's set-up makes confirmation difficult.

They had granted your request, strange that it was. “Mr. Vinda will see you, he doesn’t want to refuse a dying man’s last request. His exact words Bunny, feel grateful.”

Ah yes, grateful. You would feel grateful, of course. Mr. Vinda was going to get the shocker of his life when he saw you. Your memory drifts back, thinking of Vinda, the brilliant Vinda.


After a few months, it was clear that Vinda was the true brains involved in Amcron Corp. He came up with all the good ideas, and made suggestions that worked well. He was good with people, a highly skilled barterer. Amcron Corp. could have prospered greatly under his control if it hadn’t been for the greed of Rundenbaucher, and Hutchel. Spice, Glitterstim. They saw a market, and saw the income coming from Amcron Corp., and imagined how it could increase. Un-taxable too. You really did not want the empire knowing that you were running spice, therefore the money was never reported for taxes.

Ha, that was a good one. Un-taxable.

Then the CSA found out about it. Somehow, they got wind. Vinda must have heard, and he jumped out just in time. Rundenbaucher too, though he was singed somewhat from the collapse of Amcron. That must be why he hadn’t resurfaced for such a long time.

Hutchel, however, Hutchel had been toasted. Totally. He was blacklisted, the CSA posted his DNA at every planet they had a presence on. He would never get a job in the corporate sector, if he ever got out of prison. Eventually word of Amcron got to the empire, and they too blacklisted Hutchel’s DNA, work record, retina scan, anything that could be used to identify the man was put on the blacklist.

Last you heard, he was serving hard time at Mytus. With his ingenuity, he would probably end up owning Mytus before his term was up.


“Hey, Bunny, get up off the floor. Mr. Vinda will see you now.”

You stood smoothly, a small, wry smile spread across your face. If it was truly Vinda who had it in for you, at least you would get to spit upon his face before you died. If not, well then, Vinda controlled the Brentaal prisons, did he not?

It was a win-win situation for a condemned man.

The walk to the visitor center was long; people on death row did not get visitors that often. The last door opened, and your eyes adjusted to the light. Stepping out, into a small room with some sort of transparent deflector screen for a wall, you look about. It took a few seconds to realize, you were on one side of the wall, and Vinda was on the other.

Moving forward, you grabbed the only chair available, a stool.


“Hello Vinda, been a long time, hasn’t it.”

He doesn’t seem to recognize you, the grime, and torn clothing preventing him from seeing. Sitting up, you shift into your old business position. Back ramrod straight, head at a slight angle. One hand smoothes your hair, the other pulls the bottom of your shirt down, in a feeble attempt to make it flatten out.

“George Richi, President, Amcron Corp. It is a pleasure to meet you Sir.”

“Hello Vinda, been a long time, hasn’t it.”

Glancing up to see the man speak, Vinda's brow furrowed as he narrowed his eyes, and although he did not recognise the man before him, there was something familiar about his presence..

“George Richi, President, Amcron Corp. It is a pleasure to meet you Sir.”

As the condemned man introduced himself Vinda's jaw almost dropped as who the man was hit him...

...he had aged greatly...

Realising he was still with company Vinda turned to the others...

"....could you please wait outside for a while?..."

As the rest of the entourage nodded and left the small room, one figure remained ....

"...you too Achinta..."

Raising an eyebrow , the HRD glanced over to where the prisoner was sitting in the holding cell then turned back to face Vinda...

"...I advise against this..."

The CEO responded without removing his gaze from the inmate...

"...your feelings are noted ..."

Knowing by the tone of his voice that he was not going to change his mind, Achinta nodded and replied as he walked away...

"...I shall be right outside..."

..and the door slid shut after him...

Retrieving a Cigarra from inside his suit pocket, Vinda shook his head as he lit it...

"...Mr Richi...indeed ,it has been a long time....I wondered what had happened to you.."