“Because that’s how every industrial head has their alert system configured, and you are the head of Dracorte Industries. Now, let’s not waste time on obvious trivialities. I have something much more important to tell you.”
Basra stopped and cocked his head to one side. “I am Hersius Kartolus the Thirteenth. You know who I am, you know what my resources are. What you also might know is that for the past week—since our delightful run-in with your moral equivalents, the Treznor-Nirmanas—I have been purchasing Dracorte products from every broker I know across the systems. Minerals, mostly, the same minerals that constitute the majority of your sales and revenues. And Shadow, of course.”
I blinked. “Pardon?” Perhaps blood loss was playing with my hearing.
Father, on the other hand, seemed to be hearing just fine. What was more, he seemed to grasp what Basra was saying. His face was still made of stone, but he lowered his arm slowly. “You’re bluffing,” he said.
Basra’s voice could have cut metal with the matter-of-fact edge it possessed. “Feel at liberty to check your comms, or the feed you no doubt have on your visor.”
Shockingly, Father actually activated his visor, which reassembled itself over his face. Seconds later it deconstructed again. His eyes were angry, his face gaining color.
“You think this is a good idea? To make me angry before your arrest?”
“Your Majesty.” Basra steepled his fingers in front of him, and the way he said “Majesty” stripped it of any distinction outside of formality. “I think we both know that you have outstanding military and judicial capabilities, but your mind has never taken to industry like your father Axandar’s. Allow me to explain.”
I looked around, trying to make sense of what was happening. The troops were spreading across the hangar, slowly moving farther out and surrounding us. These weren’t Bladeguards, and they were obviously somewhat taken aback at the devastation before them. Bodies littered the ground, and blood pooled in score marks and gouges left by the firefight.
In the middle of all this, Basra was talking about the markets? His claim to be Hersius Kartolus—the Thirteenth, no less? There had somehow been thirteen?—was beyond absurd. I could buy that he worked for Kartolus, but I’d seen the man myself several years ago, and Basra was most definitely not him.
“First, there is a news article being leaked, with some remarkable footage from the Kaitan, stating that there has been a massive incident at the Dracorte citadel, thanks to an inability to control your mining drones any longer. Second, for the past hour, all the minerals I have purchased are now selling as fast as they can. When traders see a product being unloaded so quickly, they inevitably think something is amiss and follow suit. A few who are more intelligent, or just particularly well informed, might take the opportunity to buy instead. Such as, say, the Treznor-Nirmana family. Third, when news begins to spread of your drones running amok on your own homeworld, coupled with the Treznor buy-out, your investors will simply panic. They’ll think you’ve lost faith in your product, and they will lose faith in you. I’m sure Treznor will be happy to snap up what they sell, and watch you struggle to repay your debt to them in the allotted time frame…a task you and I both know was to be challenging in the best of situations. Shall I continue?”
Father’s breath had become labored. Something in his face twitched. “You just signed your own death warrant.”
Basra gave him a pitying smile. “Now, you know as well as I do how concerned the public already is over your ability to maintain control of your drones. The events of the past hour will be a disaster, but with my push, they shall be completely catastrophic. Should you detain or kill us, these events I have described will proceed as planned. The only way they will stop is if my biometric signature gives the order from the good ship Kaitan in orbit. What’s more, should my compatriots and I be allowed to safely leave the warm embrace of your hospitality, I will personally initiate a buyback. Your stock value is unlikely to return to its current level, but it should recover substantially.” He paused and added thoughtfully, almost to himself, “Since I’ll be purchasing more of the product back at a lower rate, I might stand to make something on the transaction. Everyone will win.”
Thelarus stared at Basra, not with venom, but with calculation, the way a duelist might assess their opponent. “It’s a quality bluff, but you know as well as I do any attempt to devalue our product on that scale will look like blatant manipulation. No one will truly believe we don’t have confidence in our own product. Besides, you could have made these claims without crashing your ship into my citadel and getting yourselves in a dire predicament. I smell desperation.”
Basra nodded agreeably. “That’s true, on both counts. Unless, of course, it’s not a bluff, since the sell orders have all come from within your royal citadel within the past hour.” He flicked a thumb, and a small communicator, designed to jack into a larger system, flew through the air. Father instinctively caught it. “Dracorte family members attempt to secretly unload stock, hackers uncover their fingerprints all over the sales. I can see the headlines now. It will be the financial scandal of the century…and the ruin of your family.”
Silence filled the hangar, broken only by the steady dripping of blood from one of my hands to the floor. Everyone stood in a stillness that felt jarring and eerie compared to the recent havoc.
It was easy to imagine that Basra was simply concocting a fantastic tale. I knew he was gifted; I knew that only the best came out of the financial corporation he’d been indentured to. How he’d ended up with Qole was a baffling mystery. But that didn’t begin to explain why Father was now taking him seriously. Basra had said he could hit my family where it hurt most, and that he’d been doing some shopping during our journey to Luvos…but that was like comparing pole fishing to a Shadow run if this was what he’d been up to.
Even if Basra was somehow telling the truth, I still couldn’t imagine Father agreeing. To allow the crew of the Kaitan to simply leave after everything that had happened was unthinkable.
Except…there was something Father valued more than his pride.
“Are you thinking of what is best for the family right now, or your ego?” I asked softly.
Thelarus Dracorte took a deep breath. In the dimming daylight, I saw some of the rage leave his face. He didn’t look at me but kept his gaze fixed on Basra.
“Leave,” he said curtly. He finally glanced at me. “You too. Get out.” Without another word, he turned and strode back toward his troops.
In numb shock, I stared after Father as he left. He never looked back. Not once.