Page 64 of Pets in Space 10

Dequer, seated in an acting board member’s position, rose as soon as Sainik sat down.

“Thank you, Vice President Sainik. I call for a vote to approve the license to Nexalon NeuroTherapeutics.” She smiled thinly.

“Especially in light of their offer to include a significant bonus for a timely agreement.”

The acting board chair nodded and ordered someone out of view to activate the official voting system. Just as the built-in tablets on the table started to flash, the double doors to the boardroom slid open. Consuelo Margoth strode in, flanked by her assistant.

The effect was instantaneous. The board members sat straighter, their expressions shifting from acquisitive pleasure to surprise and deference. The virtual attendees rippled with confused reactions that probably would have been murmuring if the audience microphones had been enabled.

Even Rishi and Sypher, who had been ignoring the screen, were now riveted. Gaerynx felt a tiny thread of something that was not quite hope weave its way past his sense of impending doom. Amalena’s posture straightened, her gaze locked on the holodisplay.

Margoth smoothly assumed her position at the head of the table.

“My apologies for being late. I’m invoking Board Leader privilege to pause the vote.

” Her voice was calm but carried an authority that brooked no argument.

She looked at Dequer. “If you would, please indulge me by reading the official executive summary on the vote question.”

Dequer, flustered, read the item from the agenda materials. “We can have Mr. Sainik go through the presentation again.” Her implied a rebuke for Margoth’s tardiness.

“That won’t be necessary,” Margoth said. Her eyes found Sainik. “Tell us, Mr. Sainik, how did the HM-8544 project get started?”

Gaerynx saw Sainik’s polished confidence slip for a fraction of a second. “It emerged from the value of team creative synergies,” he began, recovering quickly. “I’ll have to get back to you on the specific origins, but Tikka Parnumaya’s HuMed team is well known for their innovations.”

“Indeed,” Margoth said with an air of mild interest. “Have you ever heard of a project called Yagimiruku?”

Sainik and the rest of the board looked utterly baffled.

As the realization of what she’d said hit Gaerynx, Margoth continued, her voice even. “Perhaps you know it as ‘Goat Milk,’ the standard English translation. It was twenty-six years ago, long before your time here.”

The board members still looked puzzled. Sainik’s face was the picture of confusion, but he tugged at the collar of his tunic as if it was suddenly too tight.

“Let me give you a brief summary, then.” Margoth’s expression was polite, but her words were razor-sharp.

Over the next few minutes, she laid out the history of Project Goat Milk.

How it had started based on a goat producer’s home remedy for an udder infection, hence the project name.

How the drug concept had been thoroughly investigated, but ultimately abandoned because of an inherent flaw that couldn’t be mitigated.

Gaerynx took in a deep breath and let out slowly. Their message, the project data, the records had gotten through. Gaerynx risked a glance at Amalena. She met his eyes, and a small, hopeful smile bloomed on her face before she quickly suppressed it, mindful of their audience.

Margoth went in for the kill. “I believe Mr. Sainik stumbled across this old, shelved project and decided to revive it because he knew of a company that would pay well for just this kind of drug concept. I can prove that he forced the project onto a fast track, overrode standard procedures, falsified official records, and was behind the removal of Line Managers Kirilov and Triplo because they were asking inconvenient questions.”

She gestured toward the holographic display. “Fortunately, both Ms. Kirilov and Mr. Triplo are with us today. Thank you both for your diligence and loyalty to the company, in spite of the recent turbulence and headwinds.”

Sainik shot to his feet, his face flushed with fury.

“You can’t believe anything they say! They’re disgruntled employees trying to ruin the company out of revenge!

They badmouthed us to our producer customers.

Hell, they’re so mad about losing their jobs that they convinced their own people to resign so the Customer Innovations department would fail! ”

A hot spike of anger flashed through Gaerynx.

He wasn’t just some disgruntled employee; he’d done well by the company.

Amalena had been trying to do the right thing.

They’d have to fight for their reputations, but he wouldn’t be fighting alone.

He’d bet on Amalena’s integrity over an executive’s every time.

“Are you finished, Mr. Sainik?” Margoth’s tone sounded like a disappointed teacher. She shook her head slowly. “While your accusations are certainly… innovative” — her tone dripped with sarcasm — “they are not accurate.”

Dequer threw up her hands in the classic “not me” gesture. “I didn’t know anything about how Sainik handled the project. All I know is that he had a hot concept from HuMed and a very interested licensee. The company’s balance sheet dipped last quar—”

Margoth interrupted. “Let’s pause that discussion, shall we?” She signaled, and two uniformed guards stepped into camera view. Their uniforms were a different color from the ordinary company security personnel. “Please escort Mr. Sainik to his office to gather his personal effects.”

For one tense moment, Gaerynx thought Sainik was going to take a swing at someone. Instead, he made an angry, sputtering noise as he turned and stalked out of view, trailed by the guards.

Margoth turned her cool gaze on Dequer. “In deference to your years of service, you may wait for me in the adjacent conference room, or you may go to your office and pack up your pictures. Your choice.”

Dequer, pale and tight-lipped, chose the conference room and exited without another word.

“We will now take a ten-minute break,” Margoth announced. The live feed froze on her impassive face, the audio lowering to just above total silence.

In the ship’s conference room, the tension broke as Rishi took charge.

“Pivada, make some coffee,” she ordered, gesturing to the room’s inferior but fast brewer.

She sent Toldt and Sypher to the kitchen.

“Bring up trays. Whatever food you can find. And bring enough for everyone,” she added, her wave encompassing Gaerynx and Amalena.

Gaerynx desperately wanted to talk to Amalena, to process what had just happened, but with Rishi and Sypher watching, he could only exchange a wide-eyed, “what the hell” look with her.

As the two men left, Toldt muttered, “Never seen a board meeting go like that.”

“Makes you want to be an exec, huh?” Sypher replied.

“Fuck, no,” Toldt said from the corridor.

Gaerynx deeply sympathized. He shoved his hands in his coat pockets and willed the clock display to move faster.

Just as Pivada set a tray of steaming mugs on the table, the sound and holodisplay came back to life.

Margoth didn’t waste any time. “I’m not sure the board is aware, but the executive summary that shelved Project Goat Milk twenty-six years ago,” she said, her voice grim, “concluded that the kinetic effects of the developed drug would have a high probability of being destructively addictive.”

A wave of angry murmurs swept through the board members. It was clear Sainik had omitted that detail.

“I don’t have to tell you,” Margoth continued, “that the liability exposure could destroy RyoGenomica.”

She called for the vote on the licensing agreement. Not a single hand was raised in favor.

Then she dropped another bombshell. “I came back early from my sabbatical because I learned the name of the company with which Mr. Sainik has been in negotiations.” A flicker of a frown crossed her features.

“This is partly my fault. I wasn’t paying enough attention, even though I was warned.

Nexalon NeuroTherapeutics has hidden financial ties to the Citizen Protection Service. ”

The board members visibly reeled. Gaerynx met Amalena’s shocked gaze for a moment before he returned to the three-dimensional image of Margoth.

“You all remember our agreement,” Margoth reminded them, her voice low and serious. “We do not, nor will we, engage with the CPS. Not ever again.”

Again? Gaerynx thought. What happened the first time?

The board members nodded their assent, and the meeting was quickly adjourned. Before the feed could cut out, however, Margoth looked directly into the camera. “Team Leader Rishi, on the Herikkusu Dansa.”

Rishi snapped to attention. “Yes, sir.” She’d apparently picked up the habit of using the military honorific for superior officers.

“Release Ms. Kirilov and Mr. Triplo,” Margoth commanded. “They are not to be detained or questioned further. Any and all previous orders from Mr. Sainik are rescinded. You will receive more detailed instructions from my office shortly.”

The feed ended, plunging the room back into silence, but Margoth’s image remained in the holodisplay, a floating ghost. “Ms. Kirilov, Mr. Triplo, please take your cats and go home. I will be in touch after you are back at work.” The image faded, and the holopresence system went dark.

Back at work? What the hell did that mean? Were they about to be formally terminated or given contract extensions? He needed time to think, away from all these watching eyes.

He gathered his few belongings from the table, including the reusable notepads and styluses he’d picked up from a vacant office. Since the starship-shaped memory cube was likely lost, they’d have to be his souvenirs.

When he opened the door to Pavrel’s carrier, the kulak ignored the opening and simply hopped onto the top, settling himself on the flat surface. Gaerynx shrugged and activated the gravcart controls. If his cat wanted to ride, who was he to tell him otherwise?

He and Amalena were the last to leave the conference room.

As they stepped into the corridor, he lowered his voice.

“I’d really like to talk with you, but not here.

” He subtly pointed back toward the abstract wall art and the dome-shaped audio surveillance device.

“Can we see each other after we get off the ship?”

She looked startled, then a wave of relief washed over her features. “Yes. I’d like that. Thank you—”

Her words were cut short by the ship-wide comms. Captain Lecuyer’s voice filled the corridor.

“We will be docking at the space station in eighty minutes. All passengers should be packed and ready to disembark. Team Leader Rishi, a liaison from your organization will meet your team at the airlock. Ms. Kirilov and Mr. Triplo, Ms. Margoth has authorized an expedited escort service to get you through the station and onto a shuttle to the planetary spaceport. Secure autocabs will be waiting to take you to your residences.”

***

Once Gaerynx got back in his luxe stateroom, the first thing he did was pry off the dome-shaped audio device adhered to room’s tech panel.

Without a second thought, he dropped it into the wet recycler, which accepted the offering with a quiet hum, followed by a metallic crunch.

The small act of vandalism felt disproportionately satisfying.

As he gathered his few scattered belongings, his mind replayed the moment with Amalena in the corridor and her expression when he’d asked to see her again.

He’d finally puzzled it out. After revealing a minder talent so powerful it could boost his own and cause a ship-wide power surge, she thought he wouldn’t want to talk to her. That he’d be afraid of her, or angry.

The idea was so absurd it was almost funny.

She was smart, formidable, and had an amazing talent for snark.

And yes, she apparently had an equally amazing minder talent.

But more than that, she saw him. Got him.

She’d complimented the paint on his helmet, remembered Pavrel from a year ago, and hadn’t flinched once at the public knowledge of his own meager talent.

No matter what else came out of this whole mess, he wanted to spend more time with her. A lot more.

He did a final check of the room, his thoughts drifting to the chaos still brewing at RyoGenomica. Margoth had beheaded the snake, but who else was involved?

Gaerynx absolutely wouldn’t want to be a RyoGenomica executive right now, not even in exchange for the winning number sequences for the Nove Planeten lottery.

He admitted he would like to see Staffing Chief Bikendi pay for enabling asshole behavior for once, but he suspected the universe wouldn’t grant his wish.

Staffing chiefs knew better than anyone how to protect themselves.

They always knew where the confidential records were kept.

He laughed at himself. He’d clearly been watching too many thriller vids where justice always prevailed and the corrupt were marched off in disgrace.

Meanwhile, back in real life, he had a job — maybe — that paid the bills, a kulak to entertain, and a relationship he wanted to spark.

Justice could look after itself for a while.

Now, he just had to convince Pavrel to get into the carrier so they could go home. The kulak, having enjoyed his perch on the gravcart, was now stubbornly refusing to enter the confinement of his travel crate. Inspired, Gaerynx went next door and knocked on Amalena’s open door.

She was just closing the clasps on her own bag. When she looked up, he asked, “Got any of those tuna treats left?”

“Maybe.” Her lips twitched with humor, clearly guessing the problem. “Trade you.”

“For what?”

She pointed to the carrier on her bed, where her cat’s furry, grumpy face looked out from behind the bars.

“Merix is tired of his boring brown carrier. If you agreed to brighten it up like you did for Pavrel’s, he might share his precious tuna.

He likes jungle scenes with birds. You and Pavrel could come to my place for dinner and bring him some sketches. ”

Amalena’s wide, winsome smile lit a fire in his heart that heated his whole chest like an atomic furnace.

“Pick the day and we’ll be there.”