The Industrialist

The predicaments in his Omnexus Market Business had already been settled. He paid the penalties of 20,000 units and weekly tax of 35,000 units.

He visited Joe and George managing the stalls. The sales had dipped down, due to the fact that the Demetrian season had started. People tend to horde supplies than buy luxurious stuff that could be found in Omnexus.

His Zelkian however was still flourishing, selling off three to five Zelkians per day or about a hundred per month rate. And the Skorgarz still in demand but only an eight of Zelkian's revenue.

Lance studied the demand and what remained marketable were the components used by Scientists for their inventions. There were many requests of fabrication but his time was only limited to accommodate a surge of demand.

"Sell everything using the Unitech Shades. The High Echelon would not wander far from their homes during this season and it would hurt our business, about over 75% decline. That's a lot of profit for a two to three weeks duration of the Demetrian," Lance said to the two undercover rebels.

"How can we do that?"

"We will offer delivery business. Let's tap the inland Logistics courier, or maybe we can use Jonaz Enterprises for this endeavor. I know he needed also the movement of his trucks and bike riders to move his product."

"Product?" Joe asked.

"Synapse. People love to hit that, especially during the cold season," Lance said. "Let me contact Jonaz. You handle the replenishments. Let's triple our supplies. Let's reinvest 80,000 units worth of components. All Rare-level and Masterworks. If the trench can handle that kind of level. It's good money for them to horde supplies."

"How do we market our mercs?"

"Through Unitech Shades. Remember. The advertisements will blow up on those shades. And as a legitimate business now, we can display our store on their platform."

"That's a good approach, Lance," George said, wiping the dusty metallic component on the table.

"Listen. We are going to steal in Homestead Green. Did you know the Dome?" Lance asked.

"Yes. Why?" Joe responded.

"This is to fend off Abominant attacks during the season. We can maybe plant five hundred or fewer seedlings around the fence."
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"That's seems doable. But we can't just steal a heavily guarded Sector. Remember, the guards are tight nowadays now that food is more in demand right now." George said.

"I know. So, we are going to steal it on a legitimate way."

"How?" Joe asked. Both of them were confused.

"I will buy the seedlings using my name and using the budget of CBD of course. I am going to horde the stocks. I'll buy two full-grown plants, but with seedlings in it. The Dome would not suspect it. And then deliver the pilfered seedlings to Felsom."

"Why seedlings? Why not full-grown plants?"

"It is more obvious if we are going to transport the full-grown than the seedlings. The seedlings are still stored in small vials, the in-vitro project with Jaqi. We can easily transport them using one truck."

"But how about their inspection? There should be an inspection of some sort before we take out the purchases."

"That's where you come in. I am the buyer, under my Berkley Inc. business. You will be my drivers at that time and haul the purchased plants." Lance said.

"That's risky, Lance. We can't risk our lives for it. What about the stall?" George said.

"Aren't you worried about your comrades back in prison?"

They looked at each other dumbfounded by their selfish worries and not pertaining to the greater good. Lance somehow had anticipated this, thus he said to them, "How about a fair compensation. Treat this as a business transaction. What say you?"

They hesitated, somehow, embarrassed. But they had done dealings before that were dishonorable missions, as long as there would be fair compensation for their faction and for themselves. People in this age had exchanged their moral inclinations for money because of the dire need for it.

"Four thousand each," Lance offered.

They both nodded in agreement. A gleaming smile struck upon Joe, while George seemed to be anxious about their mission.

"When are we going to conduct the deed?"

"Tomorrow is a good opportunity. I know the Homestead Green is now in a skeletal workforce deployment because of the season. The Directress of Agriculture, Miss Leric, is a sort of a humanitarian. She wants his people to prepare for the worst during the Demetrian season, thus, executing shifts of half the workforce. We can offer a hand during the transport, for that load, they would accept an extra hand."

"It seemed that you have planned this all along, Boss!" Joe said. "What about the store?"

"Let's close early, alright? And I can request the Dome Logistics and releasing staff to wait for our transaction."

For straight two days, their sales declined to about 30% per day, garnering for only 25,000 units of gross revenue for two days since the start of the Demetrian Season.

George even questioned his decision to horde an investment worth of components to 80,000 units despite the decline of sales and product movement.

Lance's rationale was that he had the utmost concern for the Outsiders. He needed to provide the Outsiders with the proper compensation to prepare for the worst through his purchases of traded goods.

***

Later that day.

STEAMHAVEN Weapons Division

Lance stood along a throng of machinery, moving parts in perfect alignment and efficiency, human operators behind the controls, as the start of the Railgun production commenced.

He only needed ten units to suffice Mister Leric's requirements. After which, he would propose the Railgun weapon to the Science Aspirant Committee (SAC) for his rank augmentations.

Then, right after, with his relentless momentum, he would produce the Bio bomb missile prototype. He had no name for it yet. This would be the path for him to locate the cream of the crop manufacturing for destructive weaponry.

He missed Flanegan. Without him, his stint on the production floor became boring.

"What are you doing here?" It was the Weapons Division Chief, Engineer Charlie Z.

Lance was startled. He turned and looked for the source of an intimidating voice. He did not expect that their division chief would walk the halls of the production floor and call his attention.

"I am sorry, Mister Z. I am just overseeing the production of my invention."

"You shouldn't do it, any longer. You have a different scope now, different coverage. Which I will cascade to you, now. I know you are not busy, judging that you are just standing here." Z said. The straight-to-the-point way of his statements could be hurtful sometimes.

Charlie Z. invited him to the conference room where he would be meeting other Division Supervisors and his subordinates. Such endeavor gave Lance gooseflesh.