Corporate Venture
by Philip Bordley

"Eighty seven miles to the ‘ell-zee' Poppa, and the boys are on the ground safely. Other teams are starting to report first contact," came the word from Sean Miles, my number two, over my headset.

"Time to get your shit together people," I said looking around at my team. There were too many young faces amongst them, young faces that were scared. If you asked any one of them they would have denied it, but some of these kids wished they were anywhere else at this point in time.

"Sarah-Jane, what's the situation on the ground?" I asked.

"It's hot and heavy...damn hot and damn heavy going," Sarah replied. I worked my way through the twenty men and women waiting to fling themselves out of this perfectly serviceable aircraft, back towards the glow that illuminated Sarah-Jane's technical department.

Much like myself with my crew, Sarah was hovering over her four kids and these were real kids, not one of them yet eighteen, but with the reflexes and the enthusiasm to be the best at what they did.

"We should have dropped a few more of the boys," Sarah said. "I don't know if we can secure the area Pop."
`
"Come to mama, come to mama," a girl, one of the few females within the technical department said loudly. I glanced over at her, illuminated by the glow of her screen. In a few years she might be someone who would draw attention from the males of our species, but at the moment she was still the usual collection of mismatched parts and acne that define adolescence. On the screen I could see a figure with a shoulder mounted weapon trying to get in close enough to take a shot at the mobile remote infantry unit, or ‘Bad Boys' as they had come to be known. The cross hairs found the target and a half second burst released five thirty-millimetre shells. The girl, Faith, was already moving on to the next target as the body exploded.

"The landing zone is going to be hot," Sarah-Jane said while chewing on her thumbnail. "Sorry Pop, there's nothing I can do about it except make them keep their heads down. If you'd given me another four units, like I wanted, there'd be nothing alive down there."

"Fuck it! I'm dead," a boy, who didn't look his sixteen years, shouted.

"There's the reason why you didn't get another four units," I said nodding towards the boy, who was now pointing out targets on the screen next to his. "If that unit can't be repaired this mission has already cost us twenty five million. Even with only four of them we could be squeezing our profit margin if we lose them all."

"Pop, no one touches my boy," Faith said without taking her eyes from the screen. I glanced down and watched a line of impacts march across the open ground towards four men taking shelter behind some brush, not realising that infrared and a little computer enhancement meant that they were as visible as if they were standing in the open.

"I'm sure they don't," I replied, "but watch your ammo. This time I would like some support when we hit the ground."

The screen flared for a second as a grenade exploded amongst the four men.

"It saves ammunition if I can get them all together first," Faith said as she reduced the on screen magnification showing the remnants of the explosion, far off in the distance.

"You just keep doing it and watch for freindlies when we hit the ground," I said.

"I will Pop," she said with a shy smile.

"I know you will," I said returning the smile. Sarah's kids were too young really; they needed reassurance and far more time than I was able to give them. They still looked to me, but Sarah was their momma, or more a big sister, there just for them. She knew how to get the most out of them.

"Ten minutes out people check your kit. I want a clean drop and when we hit I want you up and at them straight away. These aren't regulars we're dealing with here. They're just locals. No real hardware, no real organisation...just Farmer Giles with an attitude. We are there to change that attitude and if they don't like it then they're going home in a body bag. Just because they're ill equipped, ill-educated peasants doesn't mean that it isn't dangerous. If you get sloppy you will be dead."

"What are we looking at Pop?" Atkins asked, now a corporal, still not comfortable with his rank and one of the few familiar faces on my team.

"The local gentry, the local law enforcement and whatever military have decided to take sides. I doubt they'll have tanks, but it's not impossible. No air cover, nothing other than ballistic weaponry and explosives. If you stay sharp it's going to be safer than going to the shops. You check your targets though; I don't want any collateral damage, no dead civilians and minimal structural damage. This situation is due entirely to the local leadership. It has nothing at all to do with the local population and if we can keep the disruption to them to a minimum then things will go a lot smoother."

They were too tense. I could feel their fear. Some of them hadn't done a live drop and only the thought of the money kept them here. If they got through this one they would be rich. If they got through this they'd come back for more, until they had enough to buy whatever dream they were looking for. They had a good chance of getting through it too. Not like the old days. Science was now on our side and with that science we had an edge. You need to have faith to make full use of that scientific edge. Most of these kids didn't have that faith yet. It was something they would only find with experience.

"Two minutes Pop," Sean said in my headset. "I don't suppose I could convince you to bring up the rear?"

"You expect me not to be there to welcome the team when they touch down?"

"No Pop, it's just that I've got a bad feeling about this one. It don't feel right," Sean said after a moment or two.

"Just think of it like any other job," I said as I took position at the head of the column lining up for the ramp.

"But it's not any other job," he said from the rear. "That's British soil down there, you know England, our allies, why do you think so many of the regular lads turned down the job? This is different..."

"And their just another load of worthless bums who can't pay off their debts," I snapped back at him. "If they can't pay, then we repossess."

"But Pop...," he said and I was glad this was on the private channel. I could keep this between us and chew him a new arsehole when we got back. If he'd raised such doubts on the open channel, in front of the team, it would have been a pity to shoot him. "They made that law for foreign countries, places far away, you know enemies. They never intended us to be able to repossess friendly cites. What next, do we start on American cities?"

"America, India, Africa, it's all the same when you've got a job to do. Did you know I was British...once...long ago? If you want to work as a contractor for the big boys you've got to forget such petty allegiances."

The ramp opened and I stepped forward, below I could see the lights of the city, obviously the EMP drone was running late.

"Anyway, what did you expect when you decided to work for a bank, a quiet life?" I shouted at him, but on the open channel.

"No Sir," came the answer from my team. They knew where their loyalties lay.

The light went green and the lights of the city below switched off.

"Then let's go and do some business," I screamed as I ran forward and threw myself into the dark night.

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