Kingmaker Read online

  Contents

  Copyright Ebook

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Prologue

  PART ONE GHOSTS & DEMONS

  Chapter 1 Kingsmen: Shakedown

  Chapter 2 Amy: Shakeup

  Chapter 3 Senator: The Vote

  Chapter 4 Kingsmen: Meet the King

  Chapter 5 Scout: Patrol

  Chapter 6 Senator: A Debate in the Dark

  Chapter 7 Kingsmen: Unexepected Visit

  Chapter 8 King: Another Variable

  Chapter 9 Nexus: Assignment

  Chapter 10 Kingsmen: Arena

  Chapter 11 Senator: Catch-up at the Cafe

  Chapter 12 King: Make Decisions

  Chapter 13 Senator: What I Wanted

  Chapter 14 King: Conspiracies

  Chapter 15 The Communicator: Two More, and We're Done

  Chapter 16 Scout: First Contact

  Chapter 17 Amy: Ghosts

  Chapter 18 Senator: Desk-Jockey

  Chapter 19 Nexus: Executor Prime

  Chapter 20 Amy: Etches

  Chapter 21 King: Old-Fashioned

  Chapter 22 The Communicator: Toys

  Chapter 23 Jack & Torrie: Third Party

  Chapter 24 Ramir: Rock the Vote

  Chapter 25 King: Prepared

  Chapter 26 Senator: Dissent

  Chapter 27 Amy: Cube

  Chapter 28 Senator: Independence

  Chapter 29 King: Great Work

  Chapter 30 Amy: Mangled

  Chapter 31 King: Dine with a Demon

  Chapter 32 The Communicator: Breakdown

  PART TWO FIRST STRIKE

  Chapter 33 Scout: Damage Report

  Chapter 34 Nexus: Find Her

  Chapter 35 Kingsmen: Stupid Suit

  Chapter 36 King: Death Dunes

  Chapter 37 King: Present Course

  Chapter 38 King: Bloodboil

  Chapter 39 Kingsmen: War Without a Leader

  Chapter 40 Maria: A Friend

  Chapter 41 Kingsmen: My Job

  Chapter 42 King: Bone and Sinew

  Chapter 43 Kingsmen: Acting Authority

  Chapter 44 Maria: Spoons and Sinks

  Chapter 45 King: Blackout

  Chapter 46 King: Vanished

  PART THREE DEALS IN THE DARK

  Chapter 47 Maria: Get Angry

  Chapter 48 N'cole: Unconscious

  Chapter 49 Kingsmen: Battle Blazer

  Chapter 50 The Demon Degula Roi: Checkmate

  Chapter 51 Kingsmen: Monsters

  Chapter 52 Kingsmen: Run the World

  Chapter 53 Senator: Baking Bread

  Chapter 54 Kingsmen: Royal Procession

  Chapter 55 Nexus: Left Jab

  Chapter 56 Kingsmen: Crossroads

  Chapter 57 Senator: Hiring

  Chapter 58 Kingsmen: DFWK

  Chapter 59 Maria: Revelation

  PART FOUR RELENTLESS HEARTS

  Chapter 60 King: Old Flame

  Chapter 61 King: Dying Light

  Chapter 62 King: The Weapon

  Chapter 63 King: Family

  Chapter 64 Senator: Interview

  Chapter 65 Maria: Nine Days

  Chapter 66 Maria: No Nerves

  Chapter 67 Roderick: Kitchen

  Chapter 68 Ramirez: Breach

  Chapter 69 Maria: Captain

  Chapter 70 Ramirez: Hangar

  Chapter 71 Kegan: Rescue

  Chapter 72 Ramirez: Standstill

  Chapter 73 Maria: No Other Way

  Chapter 74 Ramirez: Surrender

  PART FIVE MERCHANTS OF DEATH

  Chapter 75 Kingsmen: A Day Off

  Chapter 76 Kingsmen: That Evening

  Chapter 77 Maria: The Descent

  Chapter 78 King: Passing Time

  Chapter 79 Dia & Maria: Negotiation

  Chapter 80 Kegan: For Blood

  Chapter 81 Jack & Nexus: Keep Them Safe

  Chapter 82 Dia & Maria: Fish in a Barrel

  Chapter 83 Jack & Nexus: Airlock

  Chapter 84 Kegan: Warrior

  Chapter 85 Maria: Infiltration

  Chapter 86 Jack & Nexus: On Your Game

  Chapter 87 Maria: Harmless Spark

  Chapter 88 Ramirez: Power Source

  Chapter 89 Maria: Arrest

  Chapter 90 Ramirez: Assault

  Chapter 91 King: Fallen

  Chapter 92 King: This Day Forward

  Epilogue

  Website and Contact Info

  Cover by

  Jay Hilaire

  Original Character Design & Illustration

  Email: [email protected]

  Insta: @jay_artistic_

  Ray Croza

  Cover Design & Illustration

  Email: [email protected]

  Insta: @raycroza

  Edited By

  D. Jason Fleming

  Structural Editor

  Email: [email protected]

  Twitter: @deejf

  Copyright © 2019 J.T. Sharp

  Copyright © 2019 Sporadic Fiction

  All rights reserved.

  THE GODS THAT GAMBLE, VOL. I

  KINGMAKER

  by J.T. Sharp

  To all my friends.

  I owe you more time and more beers than I could possibly count.

  Prologue

  Mars, 2552

  "Look, Miss, it's just a little DNA. Now, we can get it from anywhere, but we need your permission to use it." Torrie Longham straightened her blazer's lapels and sat up straight in her chair. "We're prepared to pay you fifty million, dispersed however you like between standard and digital currency." She pulled up a contract on a screen in her palm and slid it across the table. "A pluck of hair, a prick of skin, hell, you can spit in a cup. A quarter of your net worth for a few seconds of work."

  Sydney Hyatt sat on the other side of the conference table wearing a long, white coat of blended natural wool and old-earth cotton. Her lawyer sitting to her left reached to intercept the pad sliding toward her. Sydney struck his hand, swiped her arm across the table, then brought the document up to her nose. To her right sat her talent agent and her producer, both in suits and well-groomed, and her girlfriend, in a t-shirt and sweatpants, who crossed her arms and chewed gum.

  Torrie and her paralegal, Markiz, a balding man with a crooked nose, exchanged whispers while Sydney perused the contract. After several moments, Torrie began rubbing her hands together and sighing.

  Sydney glanced up from the screen. "I'm sorry. Do you have somewhere else to be? Am I not your most important meeting today?"

  "No, no! Nothing like that. I'm sorry, just, did you have any questions about the contract?"

  "Several." Sydney put down the screen and crossed her legs."And several about you."

  "By all means. Your lawyer and entourage have reviewed the document as well."

  The lawyer nodded incessantly. "Yes, yes. But j-just me and my client. No one else. Just us." He was sweating.

  Torrie pursed her lips and leaned back in her chair, eyebrows raised. "Well, go ahead."

  Sydney began, "It says here that you want my DNA to produce images and likenesses of me. Care to elaborate?"

  "Certainly. We are mostly concerned with the likenesses of you. This would give us a 5-year license for the use of your DNA to produce those likenesses."

  Sydney's top leg began swinging back and forth. "What sort of likenesses? You're going to print a golden statue of me and put me in a museum?"

  Torrie leaned forward and rested her hands, one inside the other, on the table. "Well, the contract doesn't specify, so it grants the liberty to create any sort of likeness that my client wishes." She shot a look at the celebrity's lawyer.

  "Any sort of likeness, is it?" Sydney crossed her arms.
>
  "Yes." Torrie leaned forward, tilted her head, and squinted toward the celebrity.

  Sydney's lawyer cleared his throat, breathed two heavy breaths, and then said loudly, "Well, Ms. Longham, I think you have fine offer here, and we definitely like the money—"

  Sydney slowly turned her head and gave her lawyer a cold stare.

  Her lawyer looked down and fiddled with the end of his tie. "Syd, I think, you know, that you should let me handle this," he said into his lap.

  "No," Ms. Hyatt retorted. "I can handle this just fine."

  Her company reigned in, Sydney brought her gaze back to Torrie. Torrie was stoic: not a hair or thread on her moved an inch.

  "Ms. Longham, these likenesses. Would they include human likenesses?"

  Torrie flatly stated, "No, of course not. Well, legally, yes, if my client wanted to create a genetic replica, they'd be allowed to do so. But for what it's worth, Ms. Hyatt, my client only prints virtual media. They aren't genetic engineers. We're striving for accuracy, not imitation."

  Sydney tilted her head down and chewed her bottom lip. Her gut was burning. Something was wrong, but she couldn't place it.

  Pop! the celebrity's girlfriend had managed a sizable bubble with her gum. The young woman slurped the gum off her lips. She gave two loud smacks, spit the wad into her hand, and then unabashedly stuck it to the underside of the table. "Yeah, but what about ya client's friends, creep-eyes? Syd, baby, I don't like this book-jockey. She's toyin' with ya."

  Sydney's head whipped back to meet Torrie's deadpan stare. "Ah, that's it. That's exactly it." Without breaking eye contact, she addressed her lawyer. "Mick, did that document give buying-and-selling privileges to the client?"

  Her lawyer wiped his forehead with his tie. "Yes, yes it did."

  Sydney said, "Now, Ms. Longham. Is your client, in any way, associated with Kingmaker Industries, or its subsidiaries, like Nexus Intelligence & Security or the Martian Genetic Exchange?"

  Torrie squeezed her hands together. "Ms. Hyatt, I am legally bound to tell the truth if a client inquires about our institutional affiliations." She snorted. "So, yes, we—technically—have some ties to the groups you've mentioned. However, I ask that you consider the fact that any successful business on this planet must. You couldn't do any business with such a constraint."

  Sydney rose from her seat, and her company followed. "Our business is done here. Go trade your smut elsewhere."

  Torrie was unphased. "What seems to be the concern, Ms. Hyatt?"

  Sydney slammed her hand on the table. "My concern is being associated with filth and evil, Ms. Longham! I will not contribute to some degenerate looking for a quick off."

  Torrie leaned back in her seat. Her shoulders dropped, so did her facade. She smirked. "It's a perfectly legal industry, Ms. Hyatt."

  Sydney gasped, then scoffed. "You monster! You're a monster and you work for monsters! I've put a lot of money and media attention to make sure that, come November, during the next Global Election, your industry, will be criminalized for what it is!"

  Torrie crossed her legs and chuckled. "One hundred million dollars. Standard or digital."

  Sydney clenched her fists. "That isn't the game I'm playing. My game is bigger. You aren't going to win. There are some things money can't buy—and my dignity is one of them."

  Torrie raised an eyebrow and smirked wider. "Six hundred million."

  Sydney ushered her entourage out of the conference room, spewing curses. After her company had left, she turned to Torrie. "I hope they find you in an Earth Prison or a Martian Sewer. Go tell your client to go clone themselves!" She slammed the door.

  Torrie and Markiz sat silently in the empty conference room for a few moments. Markiz pinched his the bridge of his nose. "Well, does that mean we're fucked?"

  Torrie laughed. "Let's hope not."

  Markiz exhaled. He rubbed his eyes and then ran a hand through his hair. "I can't believe they sent us to try to get a sample from an Abolitionist."

  "We don't choose the client, Mark. Sometimes the big-wigs like to poke the hornets nest." Torrie shrugged. "I can't believe she turned her nose up at six hundred million. Preachy brat."

  Markiz stood up and paced around the room. "I say we start collecting from the chair she was sitting in. Go back and clone her anyway."

  Torrie shot a glare toward her subordinate. "The last thing it needs is to risk a proper copyright lawsuit. We're already as extralegal as it gets. What's gotten into you, Mark?"

  Markiz was staring out the window of the conference room. His eyes were focused on a colossal, onyx tower, whose bright logo leered high above the Martian cityscape: three shattered clocks orbiting a red globe. "I don't want to go back empty-handed. Someone might get hurt."

  Torrie sat up. "What makes you think it'll be that bad?"

  "Because we failed and…" He sniffed and then wiped his cheek. "Somebody has to tell King."

  PART ONE

  GHOSTS & DEMONS

  Chapter 1

  Kingsmen: Shakedown

  Cairo, Earth

  The sun gleamed off of silicon roofs, charging the technology of Cairo's buildings and residents. The occasional winds of the Nile River stole what moisture was left in the atmosphere: pedestrians visiting the Capital had either taken extra pills or biotech injections to soothe their skin. Traffic zipped overhead. Sunlight beamed onto the absorption plates of cars, moving them fast and efficiently, at least in the business lane. The public traffic, a couple hundred feet in the air below them, was as slow as usual. As the cars went to and fro their business at the Capital, they would dive out from the traffic lanes, or soar into them, like locusts joining a swarm.

  A silver vehicle, its shining paint job reflecting a white glare, was approaching the city from nearly five kilometers high, perfect for descent into city traffic. It was a standard Flight-and-All-Terrain-Hover vehicle, but with some major modifications: it had a large thruster in the back; expandable and retractable wings on the top and sides of the car; inside, an array of buttons and levers scattered throughout the driver's seat, the dash, and the wall to the left of the driver, which were unusual for modern computerized flying. The cockpit was roomy: five average-sized people could lay down shoulder-to-shoulder in it. The majority of the car was storage space. Plastered on the side of the car, a grayscale version of a familiar logo advertised its business: a planet orbited by three shattered clocks. This was an Executive Class vehicle driven by anyone on official Kingmaker Industries business.

  The driver punched his passenger awake. "Alright, Ramir, we're almost there. This is your first shakedown, so be polite to everyone and I'll do all the negotiating."

  The passenger sat up abruptly. "I wasn't asleep, man." He rubbed his shoulder. "I can help with the talking. I've read her docs, I know the leverage. I'm not gonna make a fool out of you, Jack."

  Jack gave a slight, paternal smile to Ramir. "I appreciate your eagerness, but it isn't about you and it isn't about me. It's about not fucking up the big-guys' money. Sit back and be glad you get to be a part of a big move like this."

  Ramir rested a foot on the dash and leaned back. He took in the scenery of the illustrious city: the yellow glow of the sun, the crystal-blue of the purified Nile, reflected on the sides of colored metallic buildings. Chic, pastel. It was nothing like the part of Earth he was raised in.

  Jack looked up to the ceiling of the cockpit and raised his voice: "Dorsey, take us to the Common Wing of the Capital." The car descended. A panel on the dash flashed the words: Descending to merge into traffic.

  Shakedowns like Jack's and Ramir's were frequent. For instance, it was Galactic Legislative standard that any Autonomously Operating Machine, such as their vehicle, be programmed to constantly communicate its actions to a human user. Kingmaker Industries had launched a marketing campaign to convince consumers that this would protect humanity from the attempt of an AI takeover. Such a takeover was unfounded and ludicrous. When the new law passed, Kingmaker was able to
kick out its competition, amateurs and entrepreneurs alike, from the Autonomous Operations industry. Similar regulation was created by, proposed by, and pushed by Kingmaker Industries nearly a century ago in many other industries under Council authority.

  The Kingsmen's car had made a smooth merge into business-lane traffic. Broadcasting Intent to Descend. Below, public traffic—four entire lanes—halted, their antennae blinking red. The sleek Kingmaker cruiser dived passed them. The antennae changed to green: public traffic spurted forth, like unleashed dogs.

  They flew over the Qasr-al Nil Bridge, and headed for the man-made Nile Lake. Centered upon the massive body of water, a colossus emerged: a statue of an upright-Sphinx—bipedal, with a lion's body and human head—whose left hand gripped a sheathed sword on its hip, and whose right hand was raised in the air, palm out. The statue was animatronic with a rotating arm: no matter what time of day one peered upon the Capital, the Sphinx appeared to hold up the sun.

  The Guardian Sphinx, three hundred meters tall, stood on an island—its pedestal—which housed the Galactic Capital buildings. White sunlight coated the clear blue of the surrounding Nile Lake. The silver car rocketed toward the island, tossing up the peaceful water and leaving a foamy wake.

  Ahead of the car, there was a splash, and a straight stream of water pulsed from the lake. A large, white cylindrical bullet shot into the sky. It froze midair, then rotated, pointing itself at the incoming vehicle. Its engines began buzzing. Three panels rose from the machine, like wings. Its nose, concave, was glowing red.

  Inside the car, the Kingsmen reclined in their seats. Jack stared at the ceiling, chewing his tongue. Ramir waved his hands wildly in front of his black glasses. The dash panel blinked: Incoming request for identification.

  The silver car pressed on, flanked by rising water. The white robot's nose began glowing brighter.

  Jack was mumbling to himself, rehearsing arguments. He was interrupted by Ramir shouting, "Damn it!"

  Jack sat up. "What?"

  Ramir tore off his glasses. "I keep dying."

  Jack raised his seat back up. "I need your head in the game. Quit playing that shit and start thinking about the next few hours. You aren't even supposed to have games on those—they're company property."