Unmoved by the woman’s theatrics, Shepherd ordered, “Eyes on the Commodore. Start an electrical fire to his left.”
Entering a series of commands, sparks ignited—bulbs bursting as the voltage was manually increased beyond safe levels. Easy enough, though suspicious if anyone in that Dome had a brain cell between them.
As if stunned so simple a trick worked, Maryanne muttered, “Who still uses fucking lightbulbs anymore?”
“Men who wish to display their ability to waste a resource for the sake of vanity and as a show of power.”
Cocking a brow, Maryanne reached for a COM, cycling to a new display. “Are there lightbulbs in your new palace?”
Shepherd didn’t so much as blink at the question, his focus on the multitude of active screens. “Yes.”
“Let me guess. Claire thinks they are pretty.”
“For someone who demanded two assistants because she lacks the ability to handle this duty alone, I would suggest you prove to me that you are not so easily replaceable.”
“Who else on your team could have watched over that girl before you even got to the room? She climbed half naked across the side of a building! Guards were everywhere on the ground and I was manning this station while you were fast asleep.” Pursing her lips on an exhale when the latest integration of the system almost failed, Maryanne added, “You didn’t even get here until she jumped for the elevator—which was admittedly badass. So toss me some credit, I’m not even sure how I was able to dial your COM with that spider monkey on the loose.”
“Stop talking and pay attention. The Commodore has extinguished the fire, and guards are swarming around him. Standard procedure will lead to a lockdown of the grounds.” Despite the inability of the woman to remain quiet, Shepherd’s focus was unbroken. His enemy under his thumb. It didn’t matter that there was an ocean between them, that they existed in two separate Domes. They may as well have stood eye-to-eye.
Any man who had dared met Shepherd’s gaze in hostility had already lost. A few hours more and the Commodore would feel the fingers already around his throat squeezing until he was made to kneel.
“Intact Dome containment protocol in staging area base one. Assist the containment protocols if for any reason they fail or manual override is enacted, no one gets out. Record everything in that building.”
“That isn’t in the Palace, Shepherd. I don’t even have that sector of the Dome on screen right now.” Flying to another set of controls, Maryanne scrambled to follow. “Well damn, it might as well be a palace. Look at all that loot.”
Shutters fell about a startled group of men smoking cigars while the pretty Beta serving their cocktails dropped her tray.
“Enter code: Saga Culprit Kiss.” There was no hesitation or remorse in Shepherd’s cold command. There was only a job to be done. “Release the virus.”
Maryanne’s fingers stopped flying over the assortment of controls at her disposal, and for the first time in an hour, her attention left the screens. Though his attention never wavered from the multitude of live screens before him, he registered the nervous shake of her head in negation of his order.
She even whispered, “I can’t… I can’t do that.”
Pushing her aside with easy effort, Maryanne’s chair rolled from the console, and Shepherd took charge. And with a single keystroke, five people in a single building were infected with Red Consumption.
What had been confusion and lighthearted laughter at a technical glitch became Alphas scrambling from their chairs at the sound of a canister hiss. As with untried men, infighting was immediate. Shepherd did not need to hear the accusation thrown between them, he had witnessed the behavior hundreds of times over the years of his campaign. They were blaming one another, some leaning on the idea that it was a prank, a power play to intimidate the very rivals who smoked together, sipping dark liquor.
The oldest of them began to cough.
They could not possibly imagine what poison they breathed or how quickly it would kill them, but some deep animal part of them understood. They began to frantically beat at the shutters and attempt to use their COM, breaking furniture in an attempt to create a tool that could defeat steel.
From contented banter to abject terror… in less than three minutes.
Containment held.
The group would be dead in less than an hour. Lying in their glittering clothes, in their glittering club, in pools of glittering red contaminated blood. Their loved ones would never be able to collect the bodies. Their enemies would have no corpse to spit at.
Every treasure in that room would be burned to ash.
As if she had yet to come to terms with who she served, Maryanne muttered in horror, “You just murdered five people.”
Shepherd’s focus never wavered, he continued to do the job. “I murder at least five people every day.”