Page 10 of The Sterling Acquisition (Manufactured Mates #1)

Chapter seven

Lines Crossed

Dante

The centrifuge that processed SVI’s influenza cultures was a temperamental beast from before the Adjustment—the kind of equipment that Gensyn would have replaced with something efficient and reliable decades ago.

Here, it wheezed and groaned through its cycles like an asthmatic chain smoker, held together by duct tape, prayer, and what Dante suspected was sheer bloody-mindedness.

It was also, conveniently, the exact piece of equipment Leo would need to run tonight’s culture processing. And if something were to go wrong with it around, say, 6 PM—just as Leo was planning to leave for his evening routine with Orion—well, that would be terribly unfortunate timing.

All that Gensyn training and you’re reduced to playing with wrenches like a common vandal. How the mighty have fallen.

“Mr. Ashford?” Duckie Chang’s voice made Dante look up from his very professional assessment of the centrifuge’s structural integrity. “Something wrong with the old girl?”

“Just observing the maintenance protocols,” Dante said, tapping the wrench thoughtfully against his palm. “In Gensyn, we’ve found that predictive maintenance prevents costly downtime.”

“Predictive maintenance,” Duckie repeated with obvious amusement. “Sure. Here we call it ‘hitting it with things until it works again.’”

Dante smiled. Chang was proving to be the kind of asset every good operative needed—observant, cynical, and possessed of flexible morals that could be leveraged for mutual benefit. “Your approach has a certain... rustic charm.”

“Rustic.” Duckie snorted. “That’s one way to put it. You want to know the truth about this place? Half our equipment is held together by spite and caffeine. The other half runs on hope and delusion.”

“And yet you maintain impressive production metrics.”

“We do what we have to do. Speaking of which...” Duckie glanced around the lab, ensuring they were alone. “That conversation yesterday, about bonding enhancement research. You seemed interested.”

Dante set down the wrench and gave Duckie his full attention. “Professionally curious. Gensyn is always interested in innovative approaches to human resource optimization.”

Duckie’s smile was thin. “Well, if you’re professionally curious about SVI’s innovative approaches, you might be interested to know that Dr. Morrison’s department has been working overtime lately.

Lots of late-night sessions, restricted access protocols, the kind of security that suggests something big is happening. ”

“How big?”

“Big enough that they’ve requisitioned specialized pharmaceutical equipment from three different suppliers. Big enough that Leo’s been talking to Morrison about ‘timeline acceleration’ and ‘subject preparation’.” Duckie paused. “Big enough that whatever they’re planning, it’s happening soon.”

“Interesting,” Dante said the word slowly, making sure not to betray the inexplicable urgency he felt about the situation. “And this equipment—where would it be housed?”

“Sublevel three, behind more security than the board of directors’ personal vault.

Biometric scanners, keycard access, the works.

” Duckie leaned closer. “But here’s the thing about security systems—they’re only as good as the people who maintain them.

And maintenance staff and techs, well, we tend to know things. Useful things.”

“Such as?”

“Such as weekend access codes that rotate monthly, guard shift changes that create fifteen-minute windows, and the fact that certain pieces of equipment require... specialized knowledge... to operate safely.” Duckie’s smile was sharp.

“The kind of knowledge that might be valuable to someone with professional curiosity.”

Dante felt the familiar thrill of pieces clicking into place. Duckie wasn’t just offering information—he was positioning himself as an asset, someone with access and motivation to help. The question was what he wanted in return.

“That kind of knowledge could indeed be valuable,” Dante said. “To the right kind of professional relationship.”

“Exactly. And I think you and I could have a very productive professional relationship, Mr. Ashford. Assuming, of course, that your curiosity extends to compensating consultants for specialized information. ”

“Naturally. Proper consultation requires proper compensation,” Dante replied. “I imagine certain financial pressures might make information sharing more appealing. Especially when those pressures involve the kind of collectors who prefer physical reminders of outstanding balances.”

Duckie’s smile faltered. “You’re observant. Let’s just say my poker skills don’t match my love for the game. And SVI’s medical insurance doesn’t cover ‘accidental’ injuries from recreational activities.”

“I find that immediate financial transfers can significantly reduce such recreational hazards.”

They shook hands, and Dante made a mental note to arrange a funds transfer that would ensure Duckie Chang’s continued cooperation. Having an inside man with access to sublevel three would be essential for the eventual theft.

Step one: Acquire a willing accomplice. Check.

Duckie left him alone with the centrifuge, and Dante returned his attention to the delicate art of equipment failure.

He studied the centrifuge’s exposed mechanism, loosening the main balance rotor and adjusting the safety sensors.

The machine would spin up normally, wobble dangerously at peak velocity, then grind to a halt with impressive mechanical protests.

To the untrained eye, catastrophic failure rather than Gensyn-trained sabotage.

Leo would spend hours trying to diagnose the problem.

Step two: Create a plausible distraction for Leo. In progress.

Dante finished his sabotage and cleaned up, leaving no trace of his presence beyond a centrifuge that would almost certainly require emergency maintenance within the next few hours.

He checked his watch—5:43 PM. Leo would discover the problem in approximately fifteen minutes, right as he was planning to leave for the evening .

Perfect timing, really. Sometimes Dante impressed even himself with his strategic thinking.

Of course, if anyone at Gensyn knew you were sabotaging equipment to create opportunities for more access to a colleague’s Omega, they’d have you recalled before lunch.

Dante was reviewing production reports on his way back to his car when Leo came sprinting out of the building, key in hand.

“The psychological preparations,” he huffed, his hands on his knees as he attempted to catch his breath. “That work needs to still happen. Just take my key.”

Leo looked as Dante expected—stressed, disheveled, and radiating the particular desperation of someone whose carefully planned evening had just been dynamited by malfunctioning equipment.

“Of course. What’s the problem?”

“The fucking centrifuge died right as I was processing tonight’s cultures. Complete mechanical failure. I’m looking at minimum four hours to get it running again, probably six.” Leo ran his hands through his hair. “This couldn’t have happened at a worse time.”

“That’s... unfortunate timing,” Dante said, projecting the exact amount of sympathy appropriate for a colleague’s minor workplace emergency.

Leo handed over the key and practically sprinted back toward the facility, muttering about ancient equipment and impossible deadlines. Dante waited until he was out of sight before he allowed himself to smile.

Back in 4B, Dante dug through his luggage for his Gensyn issue supplements. He needed scent blockers. His body’s response to Orion’s intensifying pre-heat was becoming impossible to ignore, and the last thing he needed was to walk into that room in a state of barely controlled arousal.

Because nothing says ‘professional’ like showing up chemically armored against your own hormones.

Dante located his emergency supply of industrial-strength suppressants—military-grade blockers designed for deep cover operations in hostile pheromonal environments. He dry-swallowed two pills and waited for the familiar dual action to take effect.

Slowly, the sensory suppression began, a gradual numbing of his olfactory receptors that made the world feel distant and muted. Colors seemed less vibrant, sounds dulled, and the ever-present awareness of others’ emotional states through their scent signatures faded to background static.

It was like suddenly operating through thick glass—protected, but also isolated from essential sensory input. Gensyn operatives jokingly called it “going corporate zombie”.

The blockers would help him maintain professional distance, but they’d also handicap his ability to read Orion’s biological responses—a significant tactical disadvantage when dealing with someone as skilled at hiding his intentions as Orion was.

Of course, you’re about to spend several hours alone with someone whose scent has been systematically destroying your professional objectivity. But sure, a couple of pills will solve that problem.

Time to find out how much of his Gensyn training would survive extended exposure to whatever the hell was going on with Orion’s pheromones.

The locks on Orion’s room disengaged with their familiar series of clicks, and Dante opened the door, knowing they were both done pretending this was about corporate consultation.

The scent hit him immediately—storm winds and marshmallows, but now laced with something sweeter that made his mouth water despite the blockers. The pre-heat had intensified, and even through his chemical armor, it was making his hands shake.