Rising Tomorrow (Roc de Chere Book 1) by Mariana Morgan (essential reading txt) 📕

That was bad. It wasn’t just that it was a shit thing for an intelligence officer to be so visible, although that by itself was bad enough to get him on the General’s excrement list. The problem lay exactly where Gonzalez had known it would; he had blown his cover, compromised his real identity and his carefully polished career of nearly twenty-five years on a hunch.

It had been a good hunch, and it had definitely paid off, considering what they had recovered from Wagner’s account so far, but it was still a damn hunch.

There were regrets, Megan being the biggest of them, but given the chance Gonzalez would make exactly the same choices again. He had spent decades waiting for the right moment to strike, and he knew—not guessed but knew—this was it. The General probably knew too, which didn’t mean he wasn’t willing to rip Gonzalez’s head off for risking his career and the potential it had presented. Gonzalez’s career was still salvageable if he went back to the MIS to face the charges and defend himself, but he had no desire to do so. He intended to continue doing just the opposite.

Personally, Gonzalez couldn’t give a single fuck about his career. The reason he had joined the military in the first place had been to use the potential a well-groomed career and a high rank combined with his family name would present him with, so it was a shame he was very close to losing it, but there were other ways to fight. Which was good, because it certainly felt like if he pulled any more stunts like Givors that Wagner and the Central Police Inspectorate could blame him for, and not even the patronage of his family’s name could save his ass. Unless, of course, they came up with something juicy that would take down not only Wagner but also the people he worked for.

At the end of the day, it wasn’t just his ass on the line.

As expected, the three MIS operatives he had chosen were genuine volunteers even if technically no one had asked them to volunteer. Bringing them over had gone so smoothly that Gonzalez had a feeling Ingram had actually been disappointed that she couldn’t put her piloting skills to better use when she went to fetch them. Since their arrival a few hours ago, they had been nose to holo-screen, catching up on events.

Gonzalez liked his people to brainstorm together and share their findings as much as possible. It not only ensured they all knew what was going on but also allowed them to provide missing pieces of the puzzle for each other as they discussed the intel. Tilly was of tremendous help with cross-referencing the information, but she couldn’t read between the lines. Human eyes could.

‘Cassandra, previously known as Cassandra & Marx Entertainment, should be a name all of us have heard before.’ As everyone settled down, Ingram began the meeting, slipping fully into the role of Gonzalez’s second-in-command with natural and well-practised ease. ‘To summarise, they came into play when modern standards of VRPs were still in early development somewhere at the beginning of the 26th century. They gained instant popularity when they became the sole distributor of Jayden Chandler’s n-suits, following the man’s first real breakthrough in the n-suit-to-brain interface about a century later, circa 2615.’ She nodded towards Eloise to acknowledge her grand-uncle’s contribution. ‘Since then, Cassandra has endeavoured to provide the Alliance with all things entertainment. Nowadays, they specialise in the distribution and repair of n-suits complete with wiring systems, the fitting of VR playrooms and of course the design, development and sale of VRPs. They are also the main shareholders and bondholders for almost every VR amusement park in the Alliance.

‘Their stock of VRPs is immense. They pride themselves on being able to acquire any VRP that was ever featured in the VRP catalogue. The current catalogue dates all the way back to the early 26th century, and includes all of the Alliance’s productions, as well as some from the South American Association. Cassandra even provides the necessary compatibility converters for the Association’s older stuff.

‘What you might not know is that nearly thirty per cent of the so-called Cassandra-produced VRPs in the last three decades were actually designed and developed by Ms Moretti.’

The new arrivals had mixed feelings about Eloise, and neither Ingram nor Gonzalez could fault them for that. It was important to show them the extent to which the Elite woman’s expertise was of the essence. No MIS operative would ever feel comfortable trusting a civilian in the field, but at Roc de Chere she was a crucial cog in the operation. Her ability to squeeze anything of value out of VR code that would take mere mortals weeks to analyse was otherworldly.

At the mention of Eloise’s VR-coding prowess, all eyes turned to her with varying degrees of surprise. But Eloise only shrugged.

‘Why let Cassandra take the credit?’ Captain Palmeiro interjected before Ingram could continue.

Palmeiro was a handsome man, somewhere in his forties with sun-bleached hair and brown eyes. Despite the overt attractiveness, the passing years hadn’t been kind to him. And yet signs of nano-intervention, which made people like Wagner look too symmetrical to be natural, were conspicuously absent, and that said interesting things about him. The smile lines were deeply etched into his left cheek, courtesy of a permanently lopsided grin that most Elites would have chosen to correct. He didn’t. In fact, the one-sided grin was something he was deeply fond of.

‘It was easier to let Cassandra take the credit. Less fan mail bullshit.’ Eloise shrugged again. ‘My lawyers were instructed to publish each VRP in such a way that they wouldn’t bring anyone to my doorstep. First on my grand-uncle’s instructions and then on my own. Usually that meant letting Cassandra take the credit. Or the military for the military training VRPs, of course, and the private sector for the