The next day is another day of Aura training with Morgan— the last before she has to go. Magical advancement waits for no woman. Late in the afternoon we take a break.

  “How is Second Squad?” Morgan asks. “I know they got pretty banged up during Redding’s bullshit.”

  “Well, after you healed all of them they probably didn’t even need to go to the hospital. But the doctors have kept them there anyway for observation. They’re being discharged the day after tomorrow. We fly out after that.”

  And it’s a good thing too, we’re cutting it close. By the time we fly out, I’ll barely have time to clear several Fractures before they rupture. But I won’t leave without them.

  “Don’t you ever get tired of the constant grind, Mach?” Morgan says, lounging in the air. “Just the endless grind of combat? I know it wears on me.”

  Yes.

  “I don’t get tired, remember? No need to sleep.”

  “That’s not what I mean and you know it,” she whispers.

  “I’m fine. Really. I have to keep going.”

  She sighs and sits up.

  “Alright, well, let’s continue.”

  An hour later I receive a message that peaks my interest. I set up an email server a little while ago, and I’m running it through my own hardware, wherever or whatever it is. At first, it was an inside joke with myself.

  machina@machina is a funny email address.

  But it’s actually become extremely useful. Datalinks can solve many problems, but there’s a reason email has become so commonplace worldwide. It’s quickly become the primary method of contact for me. I get lots of spam, hate mail, fan mail, and even computer viruses. Those are fun to tear apart, and they wouldn’t even work on me anyway.

  I don’t know what operating system I run on but it certainly isn’t Windows. Maybe I’m a Linux guy?

  “Morgan, do you know of a company called Palisade Security?”

  A quick search of them reveals quite a bit, but I wonder if she knows a bit more, given her history in the corporate world.

  She relaxes from her lotus position into something more comfortable with a strange look on her face.

  “That’s… a non-sequitur. Where did that come from?”

  “They want to meet to discuss a deal of some kind. I’m not really interested in a job, so I was going to turn them down. Unless you think I should meet with them?”

  She sucks in a breath between clenched teeth.

  “That’s a hard question to answer. I wouldn’t turn them away out of hand though. Even before The Apotheosis they were the number one private security—mercenaries, really—company in the world. Now they’re the most valuable company in the world bar none. They’ve been making serious moves to hire as many Empowered as they can. I guess you’re their next target.”

  “And…” I say leadingly.

  “I’d say you should hear them out at the very least. They’ve got an immense amount of power right now. In this new world, military prowess is now the most important thing. Not every country has America’s bloated military. That’s where companies like Palisade come in. They can open a lot of doors, and I mean a lot.”

  “I don’t want to be a mercenary, Morgan.”

  “I know, Mach, I know. But I won’t lie to you, they can do a lot for you. They’ll get you whatever you want, whenever you want, wherever you want. Most of the world won’t be able to afford to deny you entry or tell you no. Not if the alternative is losing a contract with Palisade. But like everything, it’ll come at a cost. You’ll probably be contracted out to nations who don’t have the firepower to clear Fractures, or other mega-corporations looking for guards. And that’s the best case scenario.”

  “And the worst be contracted out to a nation like Russia or the Empire of the Sun. Used as a weapon in a war of conquest.”

  “Technically, but that won’t happen. You’d never accept a contract like that, and they know it. Palisade didn’t get as large as they are by being stupid. Even with limits on where you’ll go and what you’ll do, you’re still a valuable asset to them. Even if all you do is clear Fractures for money. I wonder what a national capitol is worth these days, if the alternative is destruction-by-Fracture.”

  “Well, I guess if you think I should hear them out, I will. Are you sure?”

  “Yeah Mach, I am. And tell you what, I’ll put you in contact with a few of my lawyers I keep on retainer.”

  I reply to Palisade’s Chief Personnel Officer, accepting their offer for a meeting as long as it’s tomorrow. Their reply is almost instantaneous, and we’re on for tomorrow.

  The next morning Morgan flies out, on her way to a private compound just outside of Denver. After annoying the US government with our snubbing of Congress a few days ago, she’s decided to work on her own terms.

  A column of black luxury SUVs pull up, with a heavy armored vehicle in the middle.

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  That one’s for me.

  A guard hops out of one of the escorting vehicles, and opens the door for me. Palisade Security’s CPO sits on one side, wearing a suit that probably cost as much as a month’s rent back in my college apartment. She gives me a smile and waves me in.

  “Please, hop in!”

  My seat is in the center of the vehicle, and angled back so I can fit inside, even with the vehicles spacious interior. Despite sagging with my bulk, the APC rumbles off smoothly.

  “I hope we’re not going off for a corporate brunch, Ms. Tilden.”

  “No, no.” She says, laughing. “I’m sure it would have been awkward. And please, call me Laura. We’re actually going to our private base outside DC.”

  That would explain the escort. Most major cities are rapidly fortifying, using magic and mundane methods to quickly build walls reminiscent of castles. Beyond them is rapidly becoming monster-infested as undiscovered Fractures outside of cities rupture. If we’re going outside of the walls escorts are commonplace.

  For those who can pay. Everyone else will just have to make do.

  “What’s there?”

  “You’re a busy man on a mission, Machina. We’d like to show you what we can do to help you accomplish that mission. We’re professionals, and we have the best equipment you can get. Not even money can buy some of the things we’ve got. And we spare nothing for our best.”

  “And what would that equipment be?”

  “I’d prefer to let the equipment do the talking, Machina.” She says with a smile. “What I’d like to talk to you about is the contract we’d like to offer you. Room for negotiation, of course,” she finishes quickly.

  She snaps her fingers, and an instant later I receive the several hundred page long contract. I toss it over to the multitude of lawyers Morgan has graciously lent me. I still look it over myself, reading the entire thing several times in nano-seconds.

  The timing was near perfect, almost suspiciously so. A quick scan of the vehicle reveals several microphones and cameras embedded throughout the entire vehicle. Ms. Tilden has an ear piece on her opposite side’s ear. Did they mean to hide it from me? Or just so she could listen to someone else without interfering in our conversation?

  After a brief moment of hesitation, I stealthily tap in. I know I probably shouldn’t but all’s fair in love, war, and contract negotiation. At least that’s what Morgan said before she left.

  “Message delivered, ma’am. No read confirmation, but whatever service he uses doesn’t provide one.”

  “Is the contract to your liking, Machina? I’m sure you’ve read it multiple times by now. We’re well aware of your computational abilities.”

  “Connection confirmed. He’s in.”

  Oh, fuck.

  “We’re good, Machina. We leave nothing to chance, and prepare for every scenario. All’s fair in love, war, and contract negotiations, right? No hard feelings,” she says. “We played a bit dirty too.”

  Scrubbing through sensor logs proves she’s telling the truth. Two vehicles that were parked near where Morgan and I were training are registered to Palisade Security.

  “You’re being rather honest about it.”

  “Why would we lie about being good? We’re not trying to get you on anything. Consider this a demonstration of capability. Obviously you can’t be stopped. You know that. We know that. The world knows that. But you aren’t exactly subtle, you know?”

  “This doesn’t seem like a good start for a relationship built on mutual trust.”

  “Trust is for children, Machina. That’s why we have contracts,” she says laughing. “If you work for us—and we hope you do—it’ll be because we have something each other wants. Speaking of, how do you like your side of the table?”

  What they’re offering is actually… quite a lot. It’s not just the salary, though it’s truly immense. They’re offering more money than some countries have GDP.

  Literally a billion dollars a year. What the fuck. 30% stake in the company. A personal compound, to be built to my specifications.

  “That’s… extremely generous.”

  Enough to make me wealthier that Morgan in a year, in terms of net-worth anyway.

  “You should be appropriately compensated for your skills and abilities. Of course, your compensation package isn’t all of it. How are the perks themselves?”

  While not on the clock, I’d have access to private air lift, capable of getting me anywhere in the world in no more than 36 hours. A massive support team would be provided as well. Two infantry companies, 120 strong each, a tank squad, with four tanks—where the fuck did they get tanks from?—, an air support squad with two attack helicopters, and a command company.

  They’re offering a small army.

  “How…How did you get tanks?” I ask weakly. The squad is made up of American made Abrams, though older variants.

  She smiles.

  “We have close partners in the US Military and the Military Industrial Complex. It’s not as hard as you think it is. Not for us. The government might shortchange you on equipment, but we won’t. No expense spared. Unlike your average company, we don’t cut corners.”

  She’s not lying either. Both infantry platoons are equipped with high-caliber battle rifles and magical armor piercing ammunition. They even managed to scrounge depleted-uranium rounds for the tanks, though not many.

  More than the National Guard had.

  It all comes with a price, of course. Not exactly set hours, but the responsibilities are clearly laid out. Assurances that I’d only ever be deployed to close Fractures or defend against ruptures. I’d never be contracted out to be used as a weapon of war or to quell internal dissent.

  I’d even have right of refusal, and the right to take certain contracts before others. There were even limits on how long a contract could last, so some mega-corp or country couldn’t just put me on retainer indefinitely.

  It’s a pretty good deal. I’m personally not all that interested in the money side of things, but the private army? There’s a lot of good I could do with that. We could take on the most difficult Fractures, defend cities on the verge of being overwhelmed. There’s just one problem with it all.

  I don’t want to be a mercenary.

  Getting paid to save people leaves a bitter taste in my mouth, though I know it shouldn’t. Mom was paid to save lives. She ran into burning buildings and fought wildfires, and she was paid for that. I refuse to accept that being paid for it made her heroic actions less so. Dad picked up shifts as an EMT to save lives too. The money was nice, and he put most of it away for college.

  Two things can be true at once.

  I could be a hero and save lives. Stop the apocalypse one rescued person at a time. And I could be paid for it, without cheapening what I’ve done. Because as much as I hate it, money makes the world go round. That’s the world we live in.

  But it’s not the world I want to live in.

  But I can’t dismiss this offer out of hand.

  “I can see that, Ms. Tilden. I can’t lie, this is a very good deal.”

  “I’m glad you think so. While you continue to think it over, I’d love to offer you an in-person tour of everything we’re promising.”

  “Alright, let’s take a look at what you’ve got.”