Page 50 of Pets in Space 10

The next morning, Gaerynx felt as though the smoky scent of the charred archives still clung to his skin even after his shower.

He’d awakened tired, but the prospect of getting out of the office for the day beckoned.

He had two customer meetings scheduled, both at their respective ranches, a few hours out of Primalum.

One of the producers kept a herd of heritage dairy goats, a fact that now struck him as ironic.

Project Yagimiruku. Goat Milk. The gods of chaos loved their little jokes.

Sleep hadn’t brought any new ideas on what he and Amalena could do.

It would be a welcome change to get his hands dirty, to talk about real-world animal management instead of abrupt corporate reorganizations and suspiciously timed property losses.

He was hoping the time away from the office would give him the mental space he needed to figure out their next move.

The planetary weather AI called for wind and rain for the whole region, so he pulled on a pair of sturdy, waterproof work boots and a thermal-lined canvas jacket.

He double-checked that his rain cloak was packed in his gear bag.

He’d reserved a company flitter two ten-days ago, but he still had to get to the campus to pick it up.

He ordered an autocab, wincing at the expense as the confirmation pinged on his wristcomp.

Last night’s ride home had cost double because the autocab had to be big enough for him and his bike.

His savings account was healthy, but not inexhaustible.

It certainly wouldn’t last long if he had to start over in a new city — or on a new planet.

The morning autocab ride was slow, congested with commuters and delayed by a glitching traffic control system.

By the time he arrived on campus, he was later than he’d planned.

He went straight to his office, intending to grab his field kit and head for the flitter stacker, but the message light on his desk terminal was blinking insistently.

Two messages, both from the clients he was supposed to meet. Both meetings were canceled.

The goat rancher was apologetic but honest. Rumors were flying about the reorganization, and she’d heard RyoGenomica was losing staff left and right.

Nothing personal, she said, but she wanted to wait and see if the company was even going to keep its Animal Support division before committing to any new projects.

He couldn’t blame her. The second cancellation was more vague, citing a sudden equipment malfunction that required their full attention.

A polite fiction, most likely. He didn’t blame them, either.

A quick check of his team’s schedule showed that two of his senior staff had taken the day off.

He didn’t need to be a high-level minder forecaster to predict they were job hunting.

He sighed and organized a staff meeting. It would probably be their last for a while, maybe ever.

The five available members of his team gathered in the small conference room, their faces a mixture of anxiety and resignation. They reported their own cancellations, a cascade of postponed meetings and withdrawn inquiries. The bad news was spreading even faster than he’d feared.

When they had finished, the room fell silent.

They all looked at him, waiting for answers, for reassurance, for hope.

He had nothing to give them. He couldn’t tell them what management had planned, what their “temporary” job duties in HuMed would entail, or even if they’d have to move to the HuMed area.

As the others left the room, Desriyan hung back.

He was a quiet wildlife conservation specialist who had started at RyoGenomica on the same day Gaerynx had six years ago, and had been happy when Gaerynx was promoted to manager.

His voice was gentle. “Do you know what they have in mind for you and Amalena?”

The genuine concern in the man’s eyes was a small, sharp hollow in Gaerynx’s chest. All he could do was shake his head. “No, I don’t. They haven’t told us anything. But thank you for asking.”

With uncertainty weighing him down, he holed himself up in his office.

The silence tasted like the ashes of burned records.

He was tempted to ping Amalena. The urge was a physical pull toward her steady competence and the unexpected comfort he’d found in their alliance.

It would be so easy to call her, to let her lead him out of dark thoughts.

But what would he even say? My day fell apart, my team is abandoning ship, and I feel like a failure.

He had nothing new to report, no brilliant ideas, no path forward.

Calling her now would just be dumping his angst onto her shoulders.

She deserved an equal partner, not a rescue project.

He stared out the narrow window at the wind-whipped trees, feeling more alone than he had in years.

Wallowing in his worries wasn’t helping anyone, least of all himself. Gaerynx pushed back from his desk. He needed to move, to do something other than stare at the rain and replay his team’s anxious faces in his mind. Coffee. He definitely needed coffee.

He grabbed his favorite mug, one he’d designed himself with an abstract pattern of swirling blues and greens that reminded him of Ivyar’s Eastern Ocean.

In the second-floor kitchen area, he lucked out.

The coffee carafe was still half-full and warm, and a single fresh breakfast bread sat alone in the catering basket.

He snagged it and put it on a small plate, savoring the tiny victory.

A cheerful voice behind him surprised him. “Hail friend, and well met!”

Gaerynx turned to see Rhys Ma’afe performing an embellished bow straight out of a historical drama.

Rhys’s dark, spiky hair and neatly trimmed goatee would fit right in.

His energy seemed to fill the space. He was dressed in casual style more suited to lounging than corporate business, but had a company tablet tucked under his arm.

“Well met, indeed.” Gaerynx smiled at his friend. “I thought you were off-planet for another few ten-days.”

“Ship needed some unscheduled maintenance. Lucky me,” Rhys said as he approached the counter.

“Just got back last night, and I’m staying put for the next four ten-days.

” He pulled one of the company’s ubiquitous branded mugs from the cabinet and headed for the kaffa dispenser.

“I heard about the big shake-up. And that Tikka Parnumaya walked.” He shook his head, his expression turning serious.

“With Sainik involved, it’s no wonder they’re making a mess of it. What’s their brilliant plan for you?”

Gaerynx held out the plate with the sweet breakfast bread. “It’s the last one. Want to split it?”

Rhys waved it away with a smile. “Thanks, but I’m still full. I overindulged in a massive home-cooked breakfast this morning. A rare and beautiful thing.” He leaned a hip against the counter, his gaze penetrating. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“I can’t,” Gaerynx said, taking a bite of the spiced nut bread.

“They haven’t announced any plans for Amalena or me.

The rest of our teams got ‘temporarily’ reassigned to HuMed projects yesterday.

As far as I know, Amalena and I are still covered by the five-day decision appeal period for the initial reorg. “

Rhys frowned. “That tanks.” He shook his head.

“When I sold Consuelo on my present job, I didn’t imagine I’d be spending more time in company starships and hotels than I do at home, but I’m glad it keeps me safe from the executive power games.

” He held his mug under the kaffa dispenser and watched the steaming liquid stream in.

Gaerynx still marveled at his friend. Rhys hadn’t just been promoted; he’d seen a need, invented a unique position as a traveling veterinary science liaison, and convinced Consuelo Margoth and the Governing Board to fund it.

He’d made more than the cost back in the first year.

He’d built his own secure dock at RyoGenomica.

Even though Gaerynx had won the department manager job, it now felt like he was once again just a ship passing by.

“How’s your kulak?” Rhys asked, his grin returning. “Pavrel hasn’t caused any inter-species diplomatic incidents lately, has he? Or snuck aboard the neighbor’s airsled for a free ride to the food market?”

Gaerynx chuckled in spite of himself. “He’s been a model citizen.” Lowering his voice to a mock whisper, he touched his finger to his lips. “Shhh, don’t give big-eared hellions any ideas.”

Rhys laughed, an amiable, easy sound. It was good to have friends.

Gaerynx took another sip of coffee. Executive power games.

Rhys’s phrase sparked a new thought. Gaerynx had been focused on an external conspiracy with the CPS.

But what if Sainik and Dequer were waging internal politics?

A bid for a bigger budget share? A race to win a secret prize?

A triangulated push to force the admittedly conservative Governing Board to navigate in a new direction?

If so, who were the players? If Tikka Parnumaya was a contender, she’d taken herself out of the race. The insulting escorted exit could have been a little victory dance by whoever knocked her out of the competition.

That kind of maneuvering had to show up somewhere.

Comms threads. Position memos. Meeting agendas.

Given enough time and a good quality analyst AI, he could probably sift through two years’ worth of executive-level records to find what he was looking for.

Unfortunately, he didn’t have either of those.

In hindsight, it was apparent that Dequer and crew had used last year’s security initiatives to exempt themselves from the company’s internal transparency policies.

That was part of why the reorganization had been such a surprise.