The Chains That Break
by
Ken-Zero
Disclaimer: Kim Possible and all related characters are property of Disney; the Honorverse, its characters, and its concepts are property of David Weber and BAEN Books.
Pre-A/N: Last boring chapter, so bear with me. Next chapter, we'll see Things start to happen.
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3
The room they sat in was well-lit and ventilated, and yet still managed to give the impression of being shady and cigarette-smoke-filled.
The table they sat around was well-maintained and polished, and yet still managed to give the impression of considerable age and wear.
The chairs they sat in were padded and comfortable, contoured to fit their bodies, yet they sat on the very edges of their seats, each one erect and rigid.
The room's general atmosphere was one of nervousness and paranoia, in spite of the pleasant décor and climate-controlled air.
There were six people sitting in the chairs at the table in the room. Four of them were fidgeting nervously, trading worried glances, while the sixth, who was sitting closest to the room's lone door, remained almost surreally calm.
That sixth person, a man by the name of Lester McDalmon, folded his hands together and laid them on the table. "Well," he said, "who wants to go first?"
The remaining five traded glances before a frail-looking woman with straight dull-brown hair raised a hand.
"Are you sure we're doing this the right way?" she asked. Even her voice sounded like it was ready to break.
"Of course I'm not, Amy," Lester responded. "That's why this is called a 'risk.' You ought to know that; you're all investors, after all. That said, I've already taken steps to ensure that this risk will have the smallest number of risks possible. For all our necks."
"Like what?" The question, delivered in a belligerent tone, came from a powerfully-built man across the table from Lester, one Anthony Enviren.
"Like choosing a different, unrelated facility for our program. And hiring new, unrelated scientists." He spread his hands in an approximation of a shrug. "The only thing really risky here is that I copied some of the procedural and material data to the new place. If they can track that, we'll be in trouble."
"And if they do, what then?" Anthony pressed.
"We go to ground," Lester replied easily, again using his almost-shrug. "And since we live here and they don't, it's a simple matter of getting from point A to point B before slipping away."
"It's not that simple," a woman at Lester's left clarified, facing the rest of the room, "but it's close." She had black hair pulled back rather severely into a low ponytail, but her brown eyes were much softer than her expression would have suggested. She was Lynn Zigby, and she usually ran some sort of damage control when Lester's mouth got away from him—like now. "Still, we can hide. And I've already set up a half-dozen false IDs we can use if things go south."
"Will that be enough?" the frail woman pressed. She looked afraid that their little operation was going to fail even before it really began.
"It will be more than enough, Amy," Lester replied, and all present could hear his patience wearing thin.
Amy Keri swallowed nervously before nodding. She didn't try to speak again, in spite of her still-many reservations.
"Anyone else?" Lester demanded. Silence met his question, and he folded his arms across his chest. "Good. Now. On to the plan."
Lynn took her rather obvious cue and ran with it. "The plan is this: we cheat Manpower and break into this business on our own."
"It can't be that easy," protested a third man, seated down the table from Amy.
"I didn't say it would be easy, Marcus" Lynn corrected calmly. "But it's simple. Plans that are too complex can fall apart—too many moving parts, as it were." She brushed a strand of hair from her face before continuing, addressing the whole table. "We're all in this for the money—even you, Marcus. And let's not kid ourselves; this won't be easy. But when we pull it off, we're going to be worth a lot."
Marcus Khovaskar raised a hand. "What will make us so different from Manpower?"
"Manpower won't do certain…body styles, shall we say," Lester put in. "They stick with the profitable. We'll do those plus the niches—the ones people will pay lots more for."
"And you're sure there's a demand for those?"
"Why, absolutely. Just yesterday we had a visitor from off-planet arrive; we know her itinerary involves coming here to check out our production facilities, and she's looking for a certain type for her boss back on Lynx." Lester grinned. "I think we can suitably wow her with what we've got already; laying the promise of better models in the future on her should mean we've got a returning customer."
"But what do we have to show her?" Amy asked.
"We've got the standard line from Manpower," Lynn answered. "Plus there's a pleasure line we've been working on here for the last year or so that's actually a lot different from the models Manpower offers."
"How so?" It was Anthony asking this time.
"For one, the techs don't rape them from birth to sale date," Lynn answered dryly. "They've been programmed to be physically flawless, and they've got enhanced pheromonal control."
"You're saying they can choose when to feel aroused?"
"Not really when…but when they are aroused, the control they have over their bodies is finer than a normal human's, so that they can ride herd on their impulses and actually avoid sending any 'signals,' as it were, or they can ramp it up and really drive their owner wild."
"Fascinating," Marcus put in, "but what's the application?"
"They feel less like a sex slave and more like a willing partner…in spite of that small fact that they really are sex slaves," Lester answered.
Everyone else but Lynn winced. Lester was usually good at remaining somewhat tactful, but when he felt like he was explaining a concept down to three-year-olds, he turned quite blunt.
After a moment of silence, Marcus asked, "What did you name that line?"
"The G-Fortune line," Lynn answered.
The group considered the name for a moment. Normally, a line of genetic slaves was named after the lead engineer who designed them…but then, as they were planning a break from the people who followed that convention, it made a sort of sense to abandon anything and everything that could possibly tie them together.
"Well enough," Marcus said eventually. "Now. Are you sure Mesa won't get wind of this?"
Lester grinned thinly, barely showing his teeth. "Let's just say that their informants are…already taken care of."
Amy gasped, her hands darting over her mouth. "You didn't…kill them, did you?"
Lynn couldn't help but chuckle. "No, no he didn't. Ladies and gentlemen, you're looking at the informant." She gestured to her right.
For another second, confusion reigned. Then she could see understanding dawn around the table…and even panic in a face or two as Marcus practically leapt out of his seat.
Before he had a chance to put any accusations to voice, though, Lester pinned him in place with a steely glare. "Sit. Down," he growled, his voice dangerously controlled. When the rest of the table obeyed, he nodded. "Better. Now. Did you really think I called you all here to turn you in?" He snorted. "Why do you think I chose you to be the initial investors? If I'd wanted you captured I'd have reported you ages ago when I knew how much you chafed working for the lazy bastards who run Manpower. This is a chance to make it on our own, without having any overlords to report to and take our money away if we don't do what they like." He grinned again, this time showing a bit more genuine amusement. "As long as I tell them what they want to hear, we have nothing to worry about."
Slowly the stricken looks faded, and Lynn hid a smile. She and Lester had planned that little bombshell for the last couple of weeks, ever since they first "discussed" separating from Manpower…in bed.
"Remember," Lester added, "we don't want Manpower to look too bad, because we still will need there to be a demand for our slaves. We just need to make ourselves look better: smaller company, more agile, better able to respond to demand, and all that. We'll be the specialty to their mass production, so if people come with specific demands, we can match it. Manpower won't do that. And as I said earlier, that is what will bring in the big bucks."
There was silence as the rest of the table digested what Lester said. The plan was, of course, risky; heads began to nod, though, as they recalled what he'd said only a few minutes before about great risks yielding great rewards.
"What happens if we're found out?" Marcus finally asked.
"If we can't eliminate the problem, we make ourselves scarce," Lynn answered. "Just as I said earlier. Believe me when I say we're not all that interested in losing your assets—or you."
When the small assemblage nodded once more, Lester leaned back in his chair and folded his hands across his chest. "Then I think our business here is done, my friends." As they rose, he added, "Oh, and that customer coming in tomorrow? Have her be the test case. Try and push that defective G-Fortune on her. She doesn't have to know it's broken, at least. If she'll take it, we'll be in the clear."
--
Kim Possible dug through the supplies she'd received for her mission on Orthua, verifying that everything she'd been assigned had made the trip in one piece. She knew she needn't have worried; the items' materials were advanced enough to be nearly invulnerable to most mundane dangers like weather, water, shock, and the like. Still, her time at Saganami Island had taught her to take nothing for granted…which is why she decided to take apart the back side of what looked like an old picture frame.
The frame came apart easily, like it should; buried inside the plentiful electronics were two extra pieces of specialized circuitry, each one an innocuous design on its own…but paired together, made a handy, if unconventional, tool.
Kim snorted gently. Since when are any spy toys conventional?
She reassembled the frame and placed it on a waist-high table by the entrance to her hotel room. Switching it on, it began to display photos of scenic vistas from a world she didn't recognize—Probably Lynx, she thought—while the extra parts on the inside blanketed the small living space in a decent-grade sound suppression field. Kim smiled; it would take a serious piece of military hardware to pierce that veil, and she could always explain it away as a sleep aid.
"Speaking of sleep…" she mumbled, one hand rising to cover a yawn that had attacked at the mere thought of the word. She selected an outfit from the clothes she had brought with her, hanging it up to let the material straighten itself out, and got herself ready for bed.
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A/N: Geh. This was even boring to write. I can't imagine how you must feel trying to read it. Sadly, though, it was necessary to even have a chance to understand half of what will come.