Despite the size of the base, the drive to the administration building is fairly short. It’s more than long enough for me to do some serious research on who exactly Steven Coulson is.

  He must have a very good PR team.

  There’s not much out there, and what is are the dime-a-dozen CEO newspaper articles bio-pics. He’s been called a “visionary” and a “disruptor” twenty-seven and thirty-one times respectively. “Silicon Valley’s warlord” was a term used in a positive sense.

  What the hell. Whoever writes these articles needs to sleep in an apartment building below the 3rd floor.

  Not all of it is positive of course. It’s a certainty that someone would have something negative to say about anyone. There’s a few posts on a few sites about job quality that he’s temperamental and tends to fire people at the drop of a hat. He’s extremely demanding about dedication to the company, and is willing to drop people who don’t meet the Herculean requirements.

  The public’s perception of him is non-existent. I suppose the CEO of a company that provides troops to the highest bidder, regardless of who it is, would want to keep a low profile. There’s nothing confirmed, only rumors and hearsay that Palisade has had a hand in the Empire of the Sun’s recent rise in military prominence.

  I can’t say I’ve fully made peace with the idea of defense for money, but what I’ve seen so far is jaw-droppingly impressive. There’s a lot of good I could do with that kind of backing. Not even the US government is able to provide as much, given how much they have to do. Cutting edge weapons and equipment? The freedom—if not always—to go anywhere? The money could be put towards research initiatives and helping refugees.

  We pull up to the admin building, and I follow Ms. Tilden up to the door before hesitating. She notices my reluctance to enter, and motions me in.

  “Don’t worry, the building is reinforced. It is on a military base, after all. We’re absolutely sure you won’t damage it.”

  She kicks the tile inside, and it makes an odd klink.

  “The flooring is high strength ceramics. Resistance to all kinds of damage.”

  I step inside, and quickly discover she’s right. I don’t even have to duck to not scrape the ceiling.

  “Right this way, if you would.”

  She leads me to an oversized elevator, and we both go up a few floors before it opens up into a single carpeted hallway. On the other end is a pair of doors, flanked by two heavily armed soldiers. Opaque black gas masks and thick body armor render them featureless. They look like instruments of violence in the dark and crimes buried deeply.

  Ms. Tilden doesn’t follow me out of the elevator.

  “Mr. Coulson would like to speak with you personally. It was good to have the opportunity to speak with you, and I truly hope you take us up on our offer. We could save a lot of lives together.”

  She hits a button without waiting for a reply, and the doors close.

  Into the lion’s den.

  The death squad guards don’t react to my presence, and the doors open on their own accord. A plush, blue carpet, the same color as Palisade’s logo muffle my steps. Inside the office is a man of average height and expertly cut hair. He’s wearing a cream colored turtleneck and slacks. Loafers complete the look, giving the impression of a librarian rather than the CEO of a defense contractor.

  Coulson turns from looking out over the base through a floor-to-ceiling window, and steps around a huge mahogany desk inlaid with ivory. He greets me with a bright smile, one that even meets his differently colored eyes; the left one hazel, the right one green. He extends a hand, and I gently shake it.

  “Machina! It’s good to finally meet you, and I hope my subordinates gave a proper tour of what we’re offering?”

  There’s a hint of malice in those words, though not directed at me.

  “Yes, I can honestly say I’m impressed by the equipment and professionalism displayed by everyone.” I reply.

  Somehow his smile grows even wider, and the look of a lion having caught its prey briefly passes over his face before vanishing. Instead it’s merely overly friendly.

  “I’m glad! We’ve got a good operation here, and I’m happy you can see that. Not everyone appreciates the hard work we do, you see.”

  “I imagine that’s changing,” I say noncommittedly.

  “Oh, yes. It’s a good time for us. Business has been booming!” He says excitedly. “Please, have a seat, why don’t you? All of it has been reinforced.”

  He waves me over to a ring of couches, and we both make ourselves comfortable.

  “Now, we’re both busy men, and as much as I’d like to make small talk, neither of us has time for it.” He says, sounding truly disappointed.

  “Now, what was it you wanted to talk to me about? Is it about the contract, or the equipment provided?”

  I lean back on the couch, plush fabric over a thick steel frame. It’s my best attempt at nonchalance.

  Going to be leaning heavily on the expressionless body for this one.

  “I just wanted to know more about you and the company. I’m curious about the kinds of places you could get me too, as well.”

  He mimics my posture, a picture perfect high-power CEO casually negotiating. Despite my experience with the Senator and some tips from Morgan, this is not a battlefield I’m comfortable with.

  I should be concerned I’m starting to become more comfortable in combat than in civilian company.

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  I terminate that thread of thought.

  I’m fine.

  “Well, we’ve got contracts all across the globe. In the last month, we’ve managed to acquire contracts with virtually every country on Earth. A few exceptions, as with everything, of course. If you’re worried about being denied entry over political disputes, don’t. We’ll make sure you can do what you need to do.”

  “Oh? You can do that?”

  “Absolutely. We’ve got a large stake in many nations, and that’s only growing by the day. Our profits are skyrocketing, and getting access to heavier weaponry is far easier. I’d really recommend getting in on this as soon as possible. I’m biased, of course,” He finishes chuckling.

  “I wasn’t aware you had that much pull. The contract you sent me claims that, but it’s hard to believe.”

  “Oh, yes, we absolutely do. Our partnership with our client nations goes deep. We’ve always been serious about our business relations, and given the times, we’ve gone above and beyond. Both in terms of services provided and deepening our working relationships. It’s a chaotic time, which means good for business.”

  “I suppose that’s one way of looking at it.”

  “You don’t agree?” He asks, leaning forward.

  “Not with that framing, no. I’d say it’s an apocalypse. A human tragedy beyond anything ever seen. I wouldn’t call it good for anything.”

  “It’s been good for you.” He suggests.

  “At best you would have been a mechanical engineer before all this, right? What’s the most you could hope to make? Seventy, eighty thousand out of college? Two-fifty towards the end of your career, assuming you transitioned into a management role? Now look at you. A billion dollar salary, 30% stake in the largest and fastest growing company on Earth. A private compound. Immortality. You made it more than anyone else.”

  “None of that is important,” I mumble. “I’d give it all up in an instant if it stopped the apocalypse.”

  Coulson snorts.

  “The apocalypse was already happening. It’s always been happening. That’s just life. The old collapses and makes way for the new. If we called every shake-up to the world order an apocalypse, we’d have one every decade. At least this way you get something out of it.”

  He runs a hand through his hair.

  “Look, Mach, can I call you Mach? You’re an idealist, and that’s fine. Better than fine, it’s practically your brand. You want to be a big ol’ Hero, capital H. I hate to break it to you, but the world doesn’t work like that. I wish it did, I think everyone does. The real movers and shakers know how it is—there aren’t heroes. They’re fairy tale stories for children and superhero movies for the masses who don’t know what’s good for them. They’re fiction.

  “So come join us. Work for us, and yeah, you might not get to do the hero work all the time, but when you do you’ll get the best support there is. With you on the team, our reach is only going to grow, and our profits margins and stock value are just the easily quantifiable value of Palisade. The things we can do for you are immense. Our contracts with our client states are… extensive. If we—you—want to be in a country, you’re there. They can’t say no, not without voiding the contract.”

  “Even nations must bow to corporations, huh?”

  “They have since the time of the British Empire. This is nothing new. You’re just one man, Mach. You can’t change the world. At least make some money off it. The contract we’re offering is so ridiculous there’s not words in the English language to describe it. I had to fight the Board tooth and nail to get this for you. This is as good as you’ll ever get.”

  “That’s such a nihilistic worldview. How can we know the world will never change unless we try? The world is already changing, like you said.”

  “Systems change systems, not individuals. We’ve got the money, the resources, the people. We’re the winning team. Join us, and you can win too. Don’t throw it all away for a hopeless pipedream. You can’t do what we can. You want media presence? Fine, done. Change the world one PR event at a time. Speak at rallies and fundraisers and work with people who dislike me. I don’t care, Mach. You can change the paint, but the building stays as the building is.”

  A thousand thoughts across a dozen threads race through my head in a microsecond. As much as I hate it, he’s right. I am just one man in a world of billions. I have no power of my own, any I have is merely borrowed from organizations and entities whose interests only align with mine.

  A message from the team of lawyers Morgan put at my disposal—yet another example of power that isn’t mine—only deepens my turmoil. They’ve finished going over it, and to our collective surprise, it really is as good as Palisade claims it is.

  Contract is golden, they’re making an offer in exceptionally good faith. As a side note, this contract is the best our team has ever seen.

  Palisade is negotiating in good faith, and truly does want to work with me on terms I find hard to refuse. Before all this, I would have worked a normal job. Sold my time for money, doing things I might have enjoyed, working with people for people I hopefully wouldn’t hate. Would this really be any different? Ideals are expensive.

  And I’m not the only one who would suffer the cost.

  Can I afford them? Can the world?

  I get up and look out the window overlooking the base. From this height, all the workers and soldiers look so small.

  They’re like ants, almost.

  “What’s the end goal, Mr. Coulson?”

  “What do you mean?” he asks.

  “What’s the end goal of Palisade? You grow and grow and grow and grow and do what?”

  “We’ll figure that out when we get there.” He says, shrugging. “We’ve still got a ways to go. You could help us figure it out quicker.”

  “So, what, you just eat the world and hope you have a plan once there’s nothing left?”

  “I’m confident in our ability to prepare for any and all eventualities. Who knows what kind of opportunities research into both Fractures and magic will bring? We have many programs of our own looking into those very questions. That’s something else you could help with. We have the best funded labs, best staffed, best equipped labs hands down. With your abilities to recover materials from the Fractures, well, the possibilities are endless. ‘Impossible’ is just a word for quitters.”

  “On that, I think we both agree,” I say, turning back. “A friend once asked me what I hoped my powers would let me do. Do you know what I told her?”

  “What?” Coulson asks warily.

  “The ability to fulfill an impossible legacy. The ability to do impossible things.” I draw myself up. “You might be right, Mr. Coulson. Changing the world might be impossible, but we live in a world where impossible is just a word for quitters. It might be hopeless, but you know what? I’ll hope anyway.

  “I’ll struggle, I’ll fail. Sometimes it’ll be a small thing. Sometimes it’ll be a terrible failure. But maybe, just maybe, I’ll succeed. And that’s worth trying for, striving for, hoping for. Having hope when all seems lost is difficult. We live in a world of cynical ‘realism’ where having hope is seen as na?ve. That the correct thing to do is to face the facts and accept everything is irreparably broken, and trying is a waste of effort.”

  I stride towards the door, my sure steps thumping against the carpet.

  “I’m sorry Mr. Coulson, but I can’t accept your offer. I do apologize for all the wasted effort, and I truly do appreciate what you did for me, but I can’t accept it. I won’t accept a flawed world without trying to reach for even greater heights.”

  I open the door, but pause before leaving.

  “Do you think that maybe we live in a world of shades of gray because we make it that way? We claim the world isn’t clear cut, that good actions don’t exist. Then we make Machiavellian decisions based on that assumption. I wonder what would happen if we all tried to be good. The world isn’t a zero-sum game. There doesn’t have to be just one winner.”

  “You’ll regret not taking this offer, Machina.” Coulson says coldly. “This is a one time offer. If you leave now, it’s off the table.”

  I nod sadly.

  “You’re right once again, Mr. Coulson. I’m sure I will regret walking away from this. But I’d regret taking this deal even more.”

  I step out into the hallway, and the door clicks shut behind me.

  This one is from an author friend, and I would love for you to take a look his work. Eschaton does have elements regarding the military, mostly because I simply refuse to believe that nearly any military (especially one as bloated as the USAF) would simply explode immediately. Unfortunately, I don't get many chances to really delve into that as much as I would like. If you want some more military action, I have good news for you!