The Horizon Venture - Chapter Three

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Two attackers. Maybe four fighting styles and ten weapons between them. They lunged at Kane simultaneously, their samurai swords hypnotic as they caught the brilliant morning sun, sending a fantasia of shimmering lights dancing around the training room.
Memo to self: He thought. In future, train with swordsmen before sunrise. Kicking his right leg into the air, Kane put his foot at the end of his first attacker's lunge, the heel forced squarely into the woman's chest. The attacker gasped as her breastbone succumbed to the tremendous pressure. Kane relieved his assailant of her sword. He the spun round to parry the other attacker's sword stroke and, in the same manoeuvre, swung his right leg around to kick the second attacker below the waist, spinning him forward onto his own sword. The second attacker slid down his blade to the hilt, quivered momentarily, and then lay motionless.
Kane frowned. One of his sparring clones was still alive. On another day, that might have been a critical oversight. He reflected how in every plan there was a flaw, a fundamental moment in which everything could be undone. But he conceded, the skill was not in trying to prevent it, for that was impractical. Better to account for it, and minimise exposure to that moment. To mitigate misfortune. This had been the hallmark of all his successful ventures.
He had long since determined that the key to his continued expansion lay in the uncharted intergalactic trade routes, and he would avail himself of them as soon as prescient. But he also knew that, with precious few exceptions, the Terrans of Earth were currently prohibited from unsupervised interplanetary travel in the Horizon Galaxy. And here was his moment of weakness, the turning point in his venture; He had outstayed his 'welcome' on Horizon-3, and his brother Ken was getting unusually close to his trail .
His brother. Kane smiled. That relationship had long since lost any reference. He knew that Ken was now ready to kill him on sight, whereas he would keep Ken alive if he could. Because he had learned that Ken’s unswerving quest to unearth some common good in mankind made him predictable. And in business, predictability was a resource to be used like any other. As long as Ken strove to shine the light of humanity throughout this galaxy, he would inevitably cast light on darker aspects that could be manipulated. Kane smiled to himself. In that way, younger brother is still setting the example for him to follow.
Kane’s smile was interrupted by a beeping noise. He tapped the back of his left hand to activate his transponder. “Sir there’s been a PSC at metro state prison”, a security operative informed him. “ Please advise.” He turned away from the growing pool of blood at his feet, and clapped his hands twice. Two clone caretakers scurried into the room to dispose of the bodies and scrub down the floor in preparation for tomorrow morning’s sparring session.
Please advise . He was beginning to tire of the lack of initiative. in some of these older units. How had this issue come all the way through to him? Where was Cleyff? His thought permeated his words as he barked at the operative. “Get me a visual in my office in two minutes.” He headed toward the turbolift “And get me some clothes. NOW.”
A turbolift later and the half-dressed, self-made trillionaire was talking to one of his Clone Security Operatives via a very large holoscreen. The operative was twenty years old at most, dressed in an all-black uniform, and she wore a headset with a mouthpiece.
“Sit-rep.” ordered Kane as he fumbled with his tie.
“Sir, PSC at Metro State Prison. Operative codename: Black Knight, was scheduled for termination, is currently attempting escape. Please advise-”
“Wait! . NO, not that jacket, the navy one - Special Operatives were to be reassigned to the Arc Venture or decommissioned in the field; who ordered that termination?. .” Kane’s tailor, an older , portly clone shrugged and searched for Kane's navy suit.
“Why? Why can I not find any humans that do as they are told?” Kane pleaded through gritted teeth.
“You” he snapped, pointing his finger with a click. “Brief a DCU--”
“A what?”
“A Damage Control Unit, you stupid bitch . Get me a visual link, and get Bianco if he's around. And find out who gave the order to kill Black Knight. Until you do, I'm holding you personally responsible. And if it is you, I'm going to have you raped to death, and beyond. Do you understand?”
The blanched expression of the operative appeared for a moment longer before Kane switched off the holoscreen, and his windows returned to transparency.
The tailor returned with a blue pinstripe jacket and trousers and presented them to Kane. “FUCK!” Kane growled, kicking his tailor solidly in the ribs. The tailor collapsed in a heap on the floor, unable to breathe. “I didn't ask you to bring me any fucking pinstripes,” Kane explained as he retrieved the suit from his tailor’s inert form. “Now, where are my shoes?” he mumbled to no one in particular. His search was interrupted by the holoscreen flickering back into action. He had been linked to the surveillance ordinance in Metro State Prison.
The camera panned around a smoke filled corridor where two prison guards lay dead. Then the image flickered onto the execution rooms. All of the rooms, except for three, were vacant and orderly. In the gas chamber there was a large hole in the wall, and a military official lying amidst a pile of debris. In the electrocution chamber Kane saw eight dead people of various ranks, and in the viewing chamber there was a technician with an electric chair where his face used to be.
The scene switched to the courtyard where security guards were trying to contain an armed jailbreak with little success. Kane grimaced. Squeezing his face with his left hand he banged his desk repeatedly with his right fist in an effort to calm himself down. It failed. Spitting with rage, he cursed as, spotting his tailor move out of the corner of his eye, he lined up a running kick to the head .
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