Sirius Zero: Building A Corporate Kingdom After Being Expelled

"Damn girl, the body is a brutal mess," said Natasha, looking at the splattered remains that had once been Aditya Thakur.

"Well, I also wanted to give the uniform a full stress test," replied Kavitha, carefully wiping herself with thick paper towels.

The mild disinfectant that the towels were soaked in, easily wicked away the blood and gore, leaving the black leather of her uniform gleaming under the bright white OLED panels of the torture/execution chamber.

"Well, this sure will send a message," chuckled Natasha as she manipulated the controls of the cleaning drones that were carefully scraping the remains off the floor and putting them into biohazard bags, her leather-gloved hands flicking smoothly over the joysticks and buttons.

"You've worked with Senator Goldberg before joining here right?" asked Kavitha.

"I did, but back then, I never realized how she was connected to this Cabal that Saladin had managed to uncover," replied Natasha with a small sigh.

"Well, let's hope she gets the damn message. Master Zakhrov isn't one to cross even if you're some Illuminati type shadow organization," said Kavitha, checking her hair and makeup in a small face compact mirror.

"Indeed," replied Natasha, as the cleaning drones scraped the last of the remains into a biohazard bag.

Kavitha let out a low whistle.

"I can't even smell the remains. These things are amazing," she said, gesturing to the cleaning drones.

"When Master Zakhrov builds something, it's always almost too effective," chuckled Natasha.

She loaded the bags into a pelican case and sealed it.

"Time for a special delivery," she said, as she and Kavitha headed out of the torture/execution chamber, Natasha dragging the pelican case behind her.

----

Monica Goldberg sighed as she relaxed in her office chair.

"Clean me good, OK?" she purred to the sex-slave under her desk.

The battered and bruised young woman undid the fly of Monica's pantsuit with trembling hands.

She fought down the urge to retch at the pungent smell of sweat and the sight of the hairy crotch.

The slave leaned forward and began to gently lick Monica's pussy.

Monica let out a low moan as the slave's tongue worked its magic.

"That's it, bitch. Lick me good," she purred.

There was a knock on the office door.

"I'm busy, come back later!" snapped Monica as she slowly approached her climax.

"Ahh! That's the spot," she moaned as her climax hit, releasing her stress.

She shoved her chair backwards and disengaged from the sobbing sex-slave.

"Aww, cheer up doll, you should consider yourself lucky. If I didn't get you, you'd be breeding stock," taunted Monica, as she went to the door.

She opened the door to find a large pelican case had been left for her, with a small card.

She opened the card to find a message written in a slanting cursive script: "Compliments from Sirius Software, Ms. Clarke - Aaron Zakhrov".

The card fell from her trembling fingers as she recalled the name of "Clarke".

She hesitated, and then opened the case.

Her scream echoed through the office and hallway as she beheld the contents.

Neatly arranged inside the case, were plastic bags filled with crushed and mutilated remains of a human body.

Security quickly arrived, and Monica was gently led away, still sobbing.

----

Kavitha ran a hairbrush through her long black hair as she stood in front of a full-length mirror in her quarters.

For good measure, she had changed into a fresh Sirius Software security uniform, and had sent the one she had worn during the execution to The Feminine Professional for a thorough cleaning and conditioning.

She had also taken a shower and washed off the disinfectant and gore that had splattered on her skin.

Her ruby-red lips curved into a smile as she admired her reflection.

"Recalling that still turns me on," she murmured to herself.

She finished brushing her hair, and then twirled in front of the mirror, admiring the way the black leather hugged her slender figure.

"OK, time to shed the executioner and get back into doctor mode," she said pulling on a white lab coat over her uniform.

She grabbed her medical bag and headed out the door, her heels clicking on the polished floor as she made her way out of the employee housing complex and towards her parked red BMW Z4.

----

Admiral Artemis Winters sighed as she sifted through intelligence reports in her office on board the USS Gerald R. Ford.

"How are two damn ships causing this much excitement?" she muttered to herself.

The maiden voyage of the Libyan Naval Ship Aristotle, and the Sirius Nuclear Merchant Ship Bach, had put nearly every NATO naval asset in the Mediterranean and Atlantic on high alert.

Even now, a week after its launch, the Aristotle and Bach were being shadowed by no less than two Polaris class submarines, and were being tracked by NATO's satellite network as they made their way towards the eastern seaboard of the US.

According to the reports, the Aristotle was Libya's new flagship, and it was escorting the Bach, and a flotilla of fast Japanese freighters, all carrying a shipment of computer components and electronics.

"Why does a software company need a nuclear-powered cargo ship? And why does that ship need a full warship escort?" she wondered.

With a sigh, she got up and headed to the bridge to get a status update from the captain.

----

"OK, now I get why Malkovich and Saunier were so damn spooked," chuckled Artemis, as she looked through the binoculars at the flotilla approaching them.

The Aristotle and Bach were both sleek and black, with much smaller radar cross-sections than their size would suggest.

The Bach itself was basically a twin of the Aristotle, but clearly unarmed and with its deck filled with containers.

The Japanese fast freighters were smaller but shaped like more traditional cargo ships, with large boxy hulls and superstructures.

They were also lashed to both the Bach and the Aristotle with heavy cables, and sonar reports indicated that the Aristotle and Bach were both powering the Japanese ships through these cables.

"Admiral, the Aristotle is hailing us," said the captain.

"On screen," said Artemis.

The bridge's main screen flickered to life, showing a sharply uniformed man with a thin goatee and a neatly trimmed mustache.

His naval uniform was a sleek black leather that gleamed under the bright lights of the Aristotle's bridge.

"Admiral Winters, I am Captain Siddig of the Libyan Naval Ship Aristotle. We are escorting the Sirius Software Nuclear Merchant Ship Bach, along with the MV Akeno, MV Koneko, MV Akiyama, and MV Hirasawa. We request permission to enter Boston harbor to offload our cargo," he said.

"Captain Siddig, this is Admiral Winters of the USS Gerald R. Ford. The Bach and the other ships have clearance to enter Conley Container Terminal. However, the Aristotle will need to hold position outside US waters," replied Artemis.

"Acknowledged, Admiral. We will comply," said Siddig, before the screen went dark.

"Well, that was cordial," mused Artemis.

"Tell that to Saunier and Malkovich, that thing's missile test nearly sank the Charles de Gaulle," said the captain.

"Hmph! That was hubris and overconfidence on their part. Saunier gave the clearance order too early, instead of waiting for the drone to be at a safe distance," replied Artemis.

----

"Aristotle to all ships, cut power lines and switch to internal power," announced Captain Siddig over the radio.

The power lines connecting the Aristotle's nuclear reactors to the other ships were cast off, and the Japanese freighters powered on their diesel-electric engines.

The drone of the heavy diesel engines filled the air as power cables were retracted, and the freighters moved under their own power.

"Bach, you are cleared for entry. Hold position, and prepare for boarding and inspection," ordered Siddig.

"Bach copies, holding position," replied the Bach's captain.

"Let's hope everything goes smoothly," mused Siddig, as he observed US Coast Guard and Customs boats approaching the flotilla.

----

"Bach pilot to Gerald R. Ford. I cannot pilot the Bach, it is a dual use platform, unarmed but fully armored with stealth systems, requesting conformation to proceed," came the voice of the US civilian pilot over the radio.

"Acknowledged, return to base, Ford to Aristotle and Bach, maintain position outside US waters, your cargo can be offloaded to the freighters, Ford out," replied Artemis.

"Understood, Ford, Aristotle and Bach out," replied Siddig.

The Akino repositioned itself to use its cranes to offload the containers from the Bach onto its deck.

"Who the hell puts armor and stealth systems on a cargo ship?" grumbled Artemis.

"Saladin apparently," chuckled the captain.

"Have that pilot come to the Ford. I want a debrief," ordered Artemis.

----

"All right sir, calm down," said Artemis, as the civilian pilot's hands shook violently.

The pilot was a middle-aged man with a closely cropped beard and a look of panic in his eyes.

"Admiral, that thing was nothing like any cargo ship I've ever seen! The decks were all coated in some kind of rubber, and the ship was like a damn ghost! You could barely hear the machinery! And the bridge! It had missile launch controls, radar and sonar displays, the works! I thought I had boarded the Aristotle by mistake, but no! The Bach is a damn warship!" he said, his voice trembling.

"OK, deep breath. Did you see any weapons?" asked Artemis.

"No, the deck only had containers, and it had a big-ass cargo hold, but no cranes. The bridge had everything though," said the pilot.

"I see. So they've swapped out the missiles for cargo space," replied Artemis, deep in thought.

"They can swap whatever they want, but the sonar and infrared signatures are nearly identical. You can't tell them apart unless you look really hard for the Aristotle's higher thermal signature," said Captain Denzel, the captain of the Gerald R. Ford.

"Were we able to inspect the reactors?" asked Artemis.

"Negative, the abort call came out before the nuclear inspectors could board," replied Denzel.

"Fine, let's just get those damned Japanese freighters through and done with. Then we can breathe easy once those two things go back to Libya," growled Artemis.

----

"What the hell were you thinking?" demanded Michael DuPont, storming into Aaron's office.

"I'll need you to be more specific, Michael," replied Aaron, looking up from his desk.

"What the hell were you thinking trying to bring a cargo ship that's identical to a damn stealth warship into Conley friggin Terminal?" shouted Michael.

"Hey, it's a civilian registry, and I own the thing," said Aaron.

"Yeah? You know what you own? A nuclear-powered monstrosity that's indistinguishable from Libya's nuclear-powered missile monstrosity! Hell, NATO had two subs tailing the flotilla all the way, and they couldn't tell which one was the warship unless they tapped into the transponders!" shouted Michael.

"And how is that my problem?" asked Aaron, leaning back in his chair.

"Because my dear Mr. Zakhrov, your little cargo ship is now reclassified as a warship, and NATO now has standing orders to treat it and the Aristotle as DEFCON-1 threats! They can't step outside of Libya's harbors without all of NATO going on high alert!" shouted Michael.

"Michael, I have it on good authority that Libya does not have any nuclear weapons, and the Bach is fully unarmed," replied Aaron.

"Oh yeah? Try convincing Israel of that! They're in New York right now, pushing for a total trade sanction against Libya, and that means your chip fabs are stuck in limbo!" shouted Michael.

His face paled as he saw Aaron's grin.

"Precisely why the Bach has stealth systems and armor, Michael. I don't have to worry about Libya's enemies trying to disrupt my supply chain," said Aaron.

Michael sank into a chair, running a hand through his hair.

"Aaron, look. I get it, you've been subjected to the kind of stuff that would sink a company into oblivion. But this is different. The Aristotle gives Saladin a weapons platform that's just one ICBM away from being a first-strike platform, and the Bach is also under the Libyan flag, even if you own it. Israel's freaking out, and so is NATO. You need to tone this down," said Michael.

"That's not my job Michael. Saladin's the one who has to worry about that. The Bach has a merchant marine registry, and a civilian transponder. Plus it cannot be outfitted with missiles without modifications in dry-dock," replied Aaron.

"Oh yeah? Try convincing NATO of that! They've reclassified it as a warship and a lawful military target," said Michael.

"Well, I'm not giving it up, so don't bother asking," said Aaron firmly.

"Yeah, yeah. Just don't come running to me when NATO or Israel decides to sink it. I can't get you out of that one," said Michael, as he headed for the door.