Quarterly Review
A solid, crescent-shaped mahogany table gleamed under lights, fantastically ostentatious. Wood, real wood, was among the rarest and costliest materials in the solar system. Lanning took no comfort from the notion that his career’s funeral would be conducted in a room with fittings that cost more than an average person made in a lifetime.
The table’s polished surface reflected the murky faces of the seven executives across from Lanning, holding court, judging, weighing. Lanning's future a trifling thing in their soft, manicured hands.
"Mr. Lanning," Dubner's voice resonated with the even tone of a seasoned C-suite exec, betraying nothing save competent control. "Let this hearing begin with your understanding of the Prosperity operation's objectives." Benjamin Dubner, VisalCorp’s chief of operations, led the inquest. A plump, stately older man, Lanning respected his leadership and prayed he would be the sympathetic ear on the committee.
Lanning straightened in his chair, smoothed his jacket. The overhead light was too bright, and a recording drone hovered just outside his peripheral vision, a bit too close for comfort. Calculated, subtle moves to be sure. He softly cleared his throat. "Our objective was two-part. Securing the mining facility assets in their entirety and safeguarding any commodities on site. Also regaining total compliance from Dairo Mining Group personnel. Failing the latter, decommissioning of any hostile parties."
Prasac, chief of efficiency, and Lanning’s most hated foe in the corporate jungle, leaned forward. "A vague assessment, one that surely influenced your practical approach to the problem. Troubling considering the botched mission cost the company more than two dozen employees and one very expensive lander. That is just the tangible assets-"
"That is a summary, only, Mr. Prasac. Our planning went-"
"Don’t interrupt me, Lanning." Prasac smiled in delight at Lanning’s predicament. “You led the security operation, and the employees under your care and supervision, into disaster with wholly inadequate planning, preparation and due diligence.”
---
Almost two months earlier, the doomed VisalCorp mission to Prosperity indeed began with exacting care. Lanning listened intently as the tactical team leader, Endou, rotated holographic displays on the planning table, long blocks of text scrolling steadily alongside a detailed topographic model.
"In the end, just ticked-off miners with heavy industrial equipment." Endou had said, closing the 3D terrain model. "Maybe – maybe – a few mercs if they can pay.” He shook his head and looked coolly at Lanning. “Either way, we’ll cut them down if they resist. Standard pacification protocols first, but if they go loud we can handle it. Minimal collateral."
Lanning had nodded. Few real fighters, obsolete mining HE-Vs, likely low morale. WegMaCo’s provided intel painted DMG as a rabble of disgruntled workers, barely held together by a firebrand’s promises. Besides, he had seen Visal’s new crop of sleek, cutting edge HE-Vs on the test range: multi-legged, like predatory insects. Swift and deadly. War machines.
“How long to secure the facility and apprehend or neutralize?" Lanning asked.
"Once we make planetfall, less than 24 hours, sir. Likely less if they surrender."
---
"Our tactical team lead’s assessment and the supplementary intelligence package showed all indications of minimal resistance." Lanning said carefully. "DMG was assessed as a would-be independent operation, merely striking workers with grievances against the company."
"Assessed by whom?" Asked another committee member whose name Lanning could not recall. A hawkish woman from internal security. She didn't look up from her tablet.
"WegMaCo furnished much of the intelligence. That formed the core of our data."
Prasac's eyebrows rose, still staring at Lanning. "It never occurred to you, Mr. Lanning, that you should independently verify this information before committing the company’s resources?"
"WegMaCo is our most trusted corporate ally-"
Prasac leaned back in the expensive high-back chair, synthleather sighing. "Was a trusted ally, Lanning. Was." Prasac replied smugly, as slick as oil on plate glass. "Your adventurism has completely compromised that relationship,” He looked to Dubner. “Permanently, I fear."
Heat rose in Lanning’s cheeks, the collar of his shirt constricting him. He felt parched, vaguely disoriented. VisalCorp had guaranteed WegMaCo that they would end the strike at Prosperity swiftly and get the ore flowing again. On schedule and no exceptions. Immense profit rested on the fulfillment of their existing delivery contracts, profits that VisalCorp would get a slice of. All of it, blown, and with him to blame.
Lanning struggled to keep his voice even, plowing ahead with his paltry defense. "The workup was completely comprehensive, according to the manual, and was supplemented by our own satellite imagery, communications logs, and internal operational analyses."
"Tell us about the initial contact after arrival." Dubner said.
---
DMG responded to their hails with curses and demands, in no uncertain terms, that they tuck tail. They’d stay free. Endou had chuckled grimly at that.
"We can all talk tough." He'd remarked, then ordered the kill-sat deployed.
Demonstrating the multi-gigawatt orbital laser on a derelict ore hopper drove most of the spotted Dairo HE-Vs underground. The landing of Visal’s own forces went flawlessly. Too flawlessly, in hindsight. Despite some retrofitted, illegal ordnance, DMG's few remaining surface defenders were swept away easily. Loader and excavator HE-Vs were no match for the sleek company combat rigs that ruthlessly flanked and dismantled them. Afterward, dozens of the miners had come out to greet them, cheering. White flags and all.
Endou sounded almost proud, then, transmitting from the cockpit of his own HE-V. "Some locals, at least, are happy to see proper corporate management again, sir."
Lanning had felt joy, a kind of relief. This would work. He could do this. Success in sight. A glowing quarterly review formed in his mind. Executive potential.
---
"Initial resistance was light after we demonstrated the potential negative outcomes." Lanning replied. "Some of the DMG personnel actually welcomed our arrival."
"Welcomed? Really?" Asked another heavyset man, skeptical, from the personnel branch.
"Yes, sir. It was apparent they preferred ongoing employment with VisalCorp."
Prasac again. "How very fortunate for you, then. You did not think to consolidate these gains and reassess the situation after encountering only a few bad actors?"
A question with no right answer. Lanning could only go on. "With the surface facilities swept and secured, we set a topside security team and moved underground, into the dig sites, where the rest of the DMG personnel were hiding."
"You mean lurking in ambush. For you." Prasac said. It wasn't a question.
---
The killing properly started in the mines. DMG’s machines used heavy mining attachments as close-combat weapons of terrible potency. Power claws, jackhammers, cutter wheels, all designed to tear through the toughest rock. All had inflicted horrible losses on the VisalCorp tactical team. Their multi-legged designs, so ideal for ranged combat, were awkward and almost defenseless at point blank. Lanning watched from the command deck of his ship in orbit as an impact hammer crushed the torso of one of his light HE-Vs like an eggshell, wreckage sparking.
But Endou rallied his men and lured several DMG groups into following his false retreats, into interlocking lanes of deadly accurate laser and autocannon fire. VisalCorp’s security operatives gave as good as they got, dropping a score of the rebels. It wasn’t enough. In a titanic excavated cavern, they assumed the last DMG holdouts were cornered. Lanning, helpless, stared in mute horror as charges detonated among the vast columns in orderly lines. Uncountable tons of stone plummeted from the ceiling far overhead.
The last words he heard from any of his subordinates were from Endou, shouting vainly for his men to get out. Then most of the force’s status monitors showed ‘signal lost’ against a sky blue background. Lanning had stood there, tinnitus in his ears, pulse hammering, tasting copper, the other voices around him on the command deck indecipherable.
Then hidden entrances on the surface sprang open, and fresh DMG machines with unaccountably advanced weapons had poured out like hornets.
---
"The ambush resulted in the total loss of the tactical team below ground," Lanning said, his voice steady despite the haunting memory. “The few security personnel remaining above ground, and the lander, were overwhelmed by the counterattack and also lost.”
"Twenty-eight employees. Good ones. Men and women with families, futures," Prasac said, his solemnity counterfeit. He read off a list of names, smiling profiles with photos appearing on a wall screen in time with each. Each a dagger aimed at Lanning. "All of them, dead, because you – incompetent as you are – led them into an obvious trap!"
Lanning’s true thoughts raged against the walls of his skull. An obvious trap. What did Prasac know about any of it? Between the company-mandated procedures, tight timetable and absolute necessity of securing all company property against loss or theft, he had been caught between Scylla and Charybdis. The only move open to him and his team was to go in at once to dispatch the rebels.
"Again, the intelli-" Lanning repeated, dumbly.
"Damn the intelligence, Lanning!" Prasac shouted, venom dripping. "This is gross negligence. Manslaughter..."
Dubner lifted his hand from the table, forestalling any further exchange. He waited a few beats. "In light of events, what is your assessment of DMG's capabilities now, Mr. Lanning?"
Lanning spared only a moment and asserted control over his words. "DMG demonstrated sophisticated tactical planning and used their knowledge of the local terrain to great effect against us. However, most noteworthy is that the modifications to their HE-Vs suggest external support."
"External support? You’re insinuating DMG had help?"
Lanning was in dangerous territory and playing a very dangerous game. He saw the additional reports in his mind, the ones reviewed during the long flight home: WegMaCo's timely maneuvering to acquire DMG assets prior to their compiling of the intelligence briefing. A too-perfect setup for a power play.
He had also put together a package with other details. Details like VisalCorp's own human intelligence-gathering methods. Methods that would make for mighty uncomfortable reading by those who valued human rights.
His reverie ended. "I'm suggesting, sir," Lanning said, "that DMG was better prepared than anyone could have anticipated."
Prasac waved a hand in contempt. "That doesn't account for the failure at the tactical level. You went in undergunned and completely overconfident, and got our people killed”.
The audacity had Lanning near the end of his tether. "The force allocation was prescribed by the resources department, and based entirely on-"
"Faulty intelligence, yes, yes. You’ve said that, Lanning." Prasac's tone drilled into Lanning’s brain like a slug of molten metal.
---
The DMG personnel that surrendered were indeed loyal to VisalCorp, but had been “quarantined” topside apart from their confederates to boost the company’s confidence. The easy victory was just shy of choreographed. Both were part of a sophisticated deception tactic. Someone had trained DMG’s fighters, helped them, armed them.
Lanning had uncovered, deliberately buried in a VisalCorp database, evidence that their own external security department had suspected as much. Info that would have changed everything. Evidence that would clear Lanning's name. Something that would implicate someone in the corporation of espionage.
---
For two hours the committee conferred behind their sonic privacy screen, voices masked behind electronic white noise. Lanning watched their faces, looking for any sign of reprieve. When the screen lifted, Dubner's expression was stern, cold. Lanning’s stomach soured, hopes dissolving.
"Mr. Lanning. This committee has found gross negligence in both operational planning and execution of the Prosperity expedition. As the manager in charge, accountability begins with you. You are hereby relieved of your responsibilities. You will be reassigned to other duties pending additional review."
The now familiar ringing sounded again in his ears, the very same that had plagued him during the long flight home from Prosperity. A corporate death sentence, handed down in the blasé tongue of all corpo dogs. People like him, his people, Lanning understood with the clarity of the condemned.
"However," Dubner continued, his tone fractionally lighter. "We acknowledge the intelligence failures involved and the complex nature of the challenges you and other employees encountered. It is hereby found that these matters warrant additional investigation."
Prasac's head twitched toward Dubner, surprise shifting his features for an instant. "Sir, it’s apparent the failures lie with Manager Lanning and him alone.” Lanning noticed this, and his suspicions unfurled. Prasac hated Lanning, he seemingly always had, but the man never wasted even a passing opportunity to extract a toll from any who transgressed against VisalCorp interests. That he would pass on the opportunity against a competitor, much less WegMaCo, was jarring. Even telling, perhaps.
"Thank you, Mr.Prasac. Your comments are noted." Dubner's tone a subtle warning. "We owe it to our shareholders, and our departed employees, to examine all aspects of this failure thoroughly. This meeting has concluded."
Lanning’s career with VisalCorp was dead, finished, even now cooling to room temperature. His life-that-was hacked apart, root and branch. The recording drone’s light winked off and it hovered away with a soft whir. He was soon alone in the dim room. But for the first time since his career began, Lanning had a goal besides climbing the corporate tower toward its lofty pinnacle.
He wanted justice, of a kind. Maybe it was just good, old fashioned revenge. On WegMaCo, for torpedoing his life and killing his peers. On Prasac, too, the prick. He thought of the reports he uncovered, the copies sitting safely in a secured device. Those reports would be very valuable to the right person. VisalCorp had taught Lanning everything he knew about problem solving, and he intended to put that teaching to good use.
Illustration by Eldon Cowgar