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Chapters
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
 
 
 

The Game of Empires - REVIEW THIS STORY

Written by Valerie Jones
Last updated: 02/13/2010 03:54:13 PM

Chapter 7

Remy LeBeau stepped into the plush office a step behind the secretary and paused to absorb his surroundings. The only light in the room came from a small lamp on the mahogany desk, but that glow was lost in the fairy tale glitter of the New York skyline that was visible through the wall of windows behind the desk. The sun had set while Remy was waiting for this appointment, and the transformation of the city from day to night was startling.

A man sat behind the desk, apparently oblivious to the view that framed him. He stood as Remy entered.

"Mr. LeBeau. Please, come in. I’m Jeremy Sands."

Remy focused on his host, an obscure but powerful player in the defense contract industry. He was perhaps fifty, reasonably fit and with a tan that proved he didn’t spend all of his time at the office. Black hair, only touched with gray, was pulled back in a short ponytail, and was matched by a neatly trimmed goatee of the same color.

Remy crossed the room and shook the hand Sands offered. His grip was firm and confident, which fit with what Remy knew about him. Remy settled in the leather bound chair that fronted Sands’ desk.

"It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Mr. LeBeau." Sands folded his hands before him on the desk, reminding Remy briefly of Charles Xavier. "I was encouraged to hear you’ve gone back into business."

Remy cocked his head in an approximation of a shrug. "Figured I’d been on vacation long enough." He couldn’t completely erase the sarcasm from his words. Even the easy parts of being an X-Man were harder than what he was doing now. Not in terms of skill, perhaps, but certainly in the things that counted most.

Sands seemed to read his reluctance to broach that particular topic, and turned immediately to business.

"It’s my nature to be blunt, Mr. LeBeau, so I’m just going to lay this out on the table. I’m sure you’ve done enough research already to know a great deal about myself and Event Technologies." He gestured at the office around them. "We are a primary space systems contractor to the U.S. government, as well as a defense contractor."

Remy nodded. Event Technologies was the industry leader in launch vehicle contracts, though, since they weren’t involved with the Space Shuttle, their name was almost unknown outside of the aerospace industry. The company had also made strong bids for missile and space-based defense systems, and currently held several development contracts. Event appeared to be well-managed and financially viable.

"Unfortunately, recent government spending cuts have reinforced my concern that we are too dependent on contracts for our livelihood," Sands continued. "There are tremendous opportunities in the private sector that we should be taking advantage of, as, in fact, we are beginning to do. Have you heard the term HALS?"

Remy nodded. "High Altitude Launch System."

Sands smiled. "Yes. The basic idea is to launch a space vehicle from a mobile platform at something like sixty thousand feet. The amount of fuel required to escape the Earth is dramatically reduced, and the number of launch windows increased by a factor of ten or more. Right now, we’re using a modified 747 as the platform to keep the cost down."

Remy was beginning to wonder if Sands had mistaken him for a potential customer. He was willing to wait, knowing that what he did made people uncomfortable and that they often needed time to broach the subject of what they really wanted.

Sands went on, oblivious to Remy’s thoughts. "The HALS is one of a very few technologically feasible means for putting private industry in space. The government has a near monopoly on space launch capability, which means that there is a real need for a private launch system that is unfettered by government restrictions, and that does not rely on use of government property such as Cape Canaveral." He leaned forward. "We have reached a stage in the development of the HALS where we will need to start investing significantly more money in the project in order to proceed."

He sat back abruptly. "In short, because of the development cost, we will have to bet the entire company if we want to manufacture a HALS. If we attempt to capture the private launch market and fail, Event Technologies will not be able to recover financially." He paused. "So, this is where you come in."

Remy was fairly sure he knew what Sands wanted of him, and Sands confirmed it. "There are two other private companies that we suspect are developing a HALS. I need to know where they are in the development cycle. If we can be the first on the market by a reasonable margin, we can almost guarantee enough market share to turn a tidy profit."

Remy kept the expression off of his face. Defense industries were tough to break, almost unilaterally. Stealing individual bits of technology wasn’t particularly difficult since engineers weren’t a security-conscious bunch. But the things Sands was going to want -- schedules and planning descriptions -- those were high level documents, seen only by a few members of upper management, and would be fiercely protected. Interestingly, Sands hadn’t suggested any kind of industrial sabotage, in the event that one of his competitors turned out to be ahead. It was a type of work that Remy avoided, which he suspected Sands already knew.

"My fee -- "he began, but Sands waved him away.

"The price tag on most of our products is well over a billion dollars, Mr. LeBeau. Your fee is inconsequential in comparison."

Remy arched an eyebrow at the blunt assessment, but he found himself tempted to smile. That was, indeed, several zeros more than he would be asking for.

Sands met his gaze without any sign of uncertainty. "Bring me the information I need, and I will pay you any reasonable sum. I’m fairly confident you wouldn’t be willing to give me a final number until the job was done, anyway."

This time Remy did smile in acknowledgment. "You’re right, dere."

Sands nodded. "Good. Then, unless you wish to refuse, we’ve only one more thing to talk about."

Remy was impressed. Not only was Sands confident, but he had also done his homework extensively, not just to choose a thief who had the skills he needed, but also to make his offer one that Remy would be hard-pressed to refuse. And since Remy had done some homework of his own, he knew that Sands was basically trustworthy and would honor his contract.

"What’s dat?" he asked.

Sands rested his elbows on the desk. "Well, here’s the thing. I can’t even offer you a project name for the HALS development going on at other companies. That means that I’m going to have to provide you with some pretty detailed technical information about our HALS, so that you will have enough knowledge to find the projects elsewhere. It’s sensitive information, and would be worth quite a bit to the right people, I suspect."

Remy’s lips tightened angrily. "I don’ turn on contracts, Mr. Sands."

He nodded. "No, your reputation is generally good. However, there were a somewhat alarming number of times when I asked a question about you and got the answer ‘Don’t ask". And, the truth is that I don’t hire this kind of work without insisting on a telepathic scan."

"Den I’m afraid y’ gon’ have t’ hire someone else." Remy stood abruptly.

Sand’s didn’t seem surprised. "I’d heard that about you as well. Which is why I thought I might be able to offer a compromise."

Remy watched him warily. "What kind o’ compromise?" He didn’t want to lose the contract, despite how nervous the talk of telepaths made him.

"A non-telepath who can still give me the kind of assurance I require."

That piqued his curiosity. "A mutant?"

Sands nodded. "Yes. Her name is Token. She has a limited ability to tell the future. She would be able to tell me if you were going to sell Event’s secrets."

Remy considered. It was certainly possible. Destiny had been a very capable precog, though she was the only one he’d heard of. He found himself nodding slowly.

"I’ll t’ink about it."

Sands smiled. "I’ll be waiting for your call."

Token was a tiny thing. Remy estimated her height at something like four foot ten. She was extremely slender. Remy felt like he might accidentally break her if he so much as bumped into her. She was completely normal looking, except for her eyes, which were pupiless and the color of pewter. It made her gaze rather eerie, and Remy chided himself for his reaction. His own eyes were at least as strange and drew the same kind of response. Often, he found that to his advantage, but there were a few times that it bothered him.

They met in a private room in Event Technologies corporate office. The woman who showed him in assured him that the room was unmonitored, and considering the white noise generator that sat in the middle of the table, he was fairly confident that was true. Token sat behind the standard conference-size table, her slim fingers clasped before her.

"Good morning," she said. Her voice was as slight as the rest of her.

"Mornin’, cherie," Remy answered. "You must be Token."

"And you’re Gambit." She smiled at him, her expression full of gentle good humor.

Remy moved to the table and took a seat across from her. "I see y’ usin’ dat power o’ yours on me already." He found himself grinning at her in return. There was something about her that put him immediately at ease. He closed his eyes for a moment and tried to listen with his mind. He wasn’t exactly a telepath, but he would be able to feel it if Token were projecting something. He found nothing, and finally concluded that it must simply be her personality that was so engaging.

He opened his eyes to find Token watching him expectantly. She was still smiling slightly, as if she was used to his kind of wariness and would patiently wait as long as was required. She was not the kind of person Remy expected to be hiring her services out, especially here on the gray edge of industrial competition. But what little he’d been able to dig up on her suggested that she worked on contract for a wide variety of people, including a few law enforcement agencies that were willing to believe her predictions. She had a reputation for telling exactly what she saw-- mercilessly, in some cases -- and for being sporadic but accurate.

"Are you ready to begin?" she asked him.

He shrugged. "Might as well." His investigation had also found that, as far as anyone knew, she could only look toward the future. Not the past.

She nodded. "My powers work only on contact, so I will be asking you to hold my hands here in a moment." Remy bit back the reflexive comment that rose to his lips. Her voice was inflectionless, as if she had begun to recite a standard spiel, and he had the feeling that she had heard all of the jokes before.

"I usually receive a number of impressions of various future events. The detail and type of impression varies widely. Sometimes I am restricted to a single sense -- sight, sound, feel. Sometimes it’s as if I’m actually there. They often come in mixed chronological order, though I can usually sense things that are distant future from things that are near. In general, I can’t go looking for a specific person or event. I can only direct my power toward a general segment of time. In your case, my employer believes that it will be sufficient to examine the near future, assuming that, if you were to betray him, it would be a reasonably significant event during that time period, and one my power will most likely detect. Questions?"

"Jus’ one. Why doesn’ Sands just have y’ look t’ see if he’s gon’ be first on de market wit’ his new technology?"

Token tucked a lock of chestnut colored hair behind her ear. "That’s too general an event. I wouldn’t be able to see it." She made a small gesture. "I can’t predict who will win the Super Bowl and that kind of thing. I can’t even tell you who will be elected President next -- unless by chance, I touched that person. Then it would be specific and personal enough for me to see it."

Remy thought for a moment, weighing once again the risk of doing this. It was a very sweet job that would keep him busy for a while. The risk was the unpredictability of Token and her mutant power, and what she might learn about him. Despite that, he had to admit that he was both curious and a bit excited. After all, who didn’t want to have their future told?

"All right. I’m ready." He held out his hands.

She didn’t move for a moment. "Do you want to know?"

"Know what?"

"What I see. I can tell you as I go, or I can keep it to myself. Fair warning -- it’s an all or nothing proposition. I won’t censor and I won’t just tell you the good parts."

He chuckled at her severe expression. She looked as if she was used to arguing the point. "Got it. An’ since I’ve always been too curious f’ my own good, y’ might as well tell me."

Her face relaxed into a smile. "Somehow, that doesn’t surprise me." A subtle change in her body language told him that they had just stepped across the line between pure business into a more dangerous mix. She reached across the table and took his hands in hers, then snatched them back immediately as if she’d been burned.

"What happened?" Remy asked in mild alarm. He hadn’t felt anything.

Token shook her hands out and looked at him. "I’m not sure." She gave him an embarrassed smile. "You’re a bit like touching a live wire." Somewhat hesitant, she reached out and took his hands once again. Remy could tell from her expression that whatever she experienced hadn’t gone away.

"That feels... very strange," she murmured to herself as her strange gaze grew distant.

Remy bit his tongue against asking her another question. He had the feeling that she wouldn’t hear him. Her eyebrows arched momentarily.

"Chocolate eclairs for breakfast? Tsk, tsk." Despite her empty gaze, she still seemed to know that he was there. There was a hint of teasing in her voice. "Tomorrow, I think. They’ll be stale."

Remy blinked at her, surprised despite himself. He wasn’t certain exactly what he thought she would see, but his breakfast wasn’t it. Then her expression changed.

"It’s hot out here." She looked around, smiled. "You’re in a desert."

Her fingers tightened around his almost reflexively. "You... will be... searching for something. Not business. Personal." Her brow furrowed. "No, not something. Someone. Ah. And you’ll find someone... I’m not sure if they’re the same person, though."

"In de desert?" Remy wasn’t sure how much to trust the woman’s visions. He wasn’t much of a believer in destiny or predetermination, but, if it would satisfy Sands, he would listen.

Token cocked her head. "You will find someone in the desert, but that’s not where you’ll find yourself."

Remy was grateful she didn’t seem to be able to see him. Woman, I ‘found’ m’self a couple months back in Antarctica. He almost said it out loud, then decided he didn’t really want to hear her response.

Token was silent for a while, then, "I see a woman. Young. Very beautiful. Very important to you, also." Then her expression clouded with confusion. "She is... a reflection in the mirror?" She paused, frowned. "No, because she’s on this side of the mirror with you." Her brows knit in concentration. "Y’know, it’s not really a mirror. The surface is all black. The woman is still there, though. You’re talking with her. Arguing about something, actually... I wish I could see her face, so I knew for sure, but it feels like she’s your sister."

That got Remy’s attention. "Sister?"

Token shook her head in puzzlement. "No, I was wrong. Not a sister... but what?"

Remy watched her with keen interest. He couldn’t explain why he was suddenly so tense, with little nervous flutters in his stomach, except that he’d always wanted to know about his real family. The question was, how much could he believe Token’s predictions? Until a moment ago, he’d been regarding her power as a kind of mutant voodoo. All you had to do was not believe it and it couldn’t affect you.

After several long minutes, she looked up at him with her strange, unfocused gaze. "I’m sorry, she’s gone." She shook her head. "You’re extremely hard to read."

Remy adjusted his grip on her hands, feeling a bit disappointed. "Lot o’ people tell me dat, chere." It seemed to be his curse. He had so much to hide that now the walls were too high, the pit he had dug for himself too deep, to ever let anyone inside him again. Even the woman who loved him couldn’t forgive. He doubted anyone else would, either, even if there was truth in what Token said.

He was distracted from his bitter musing by Token’s expression. She looked surprised. "You will meet a lot of important people. Mutants, mostly. I recognize some members of X-Factor... and that’s Captain America." She nodded toward something he couldn’t see. "The X-Men are there, too." Her face grew suddenly solemn, almost frightened. "It’s some kind of huge battle! I can’t tell who’s fighting who. There are Sentinels and some kind of... of animals -- they look like demons." She shivered and started to pull away from him. Remy tightened his grip on her hands, his thoughts of family banished. He’d been through too many strange things with the X-Men to dismiss what she was seeing. It simply sounded too familiar. And the mounting terror in her eyes was enough to convince him that he needed to know what this battle was about.

Token’s unfocused eyes darted around the room. "It’s utter chaos." She seemed stunned. "You’re there -- in the middle of the battle. You’re injured." She flinched and sucked in a sharp breath. "Not too badly, but... it hurts... Enemies are starting to close in on you. The others are trying to hold them off, but they’re failing. Slowly. Falling back." She shook her head and struggled harder against his grip. Remy fought her, leveraging his greater reach to keep her hands locked in his. "The enemies push forward -- they smell victory. There’s something coming up behind them... " Token froze as her face drained of all color. She stared at something beyond Remy in pure horror. "What is that?" Panic filled her face as she yanked her hands out of Remy’s grasp with surprising strength and collapsed back in her chair.

Remy stared at her, his heart pounding. "Token?"

She lay limp in her chair, her breath coming in shaky gasps. But after a moment she opened her eyes and then covered her mouth with the back of one hand. He could see her gathering herself by degrees. Finally, she straightened and met his gaze.

"I -- I’ll tell Mr. Sands that he doesn’t have anything to worry about." She still sounded deeply shaken.

"Token, what was so frightening? What did you see?"

She blinked at him slowly, then shook her head. "I don’t know. Something huge... evil." She crossed her arms over her chest, clearly disturbed.

In his life, Remy LeBeau had been in a number of large scale conflicts. The war between thieves and assassins in New Orleans. The Mutant Massacre. The battle to reclaim the Shi’ar throneworld from the Skrulls. The Brood. The conflict with Stryfe, and a number of others. And then, most recently, the battle against Onslaught. It was strangely reassuring to know that such things could become part of his life again, like a promise that the things that had made him feel most alive weren’t gone forever.

He took a deep breath. "How long?"

Token glanced at him. "A year. Maybe two, at most." She seemed to sense how he was feeling and looked puzzled. "I thought you were just a thief."

He gave her a lopsided grin. "Me too, chere."

 

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