Chapter 111: The Arasaka Gig
Deep within the desert bastion, the air was thick with the smell of dust, metal, and cheap industrial cleanser.
The only light came from a few hanging work-lamps, casting pools of dim yellow light over the cluttered space.
Maine, Dorio, Rebecca, and Pilar were gathered around a rusted metal workbench, strewn with second-hand cybernetics freshly acquired from Gloria.
Some parts were still slick with bio-lube; others blinked with faint standby lights.
Falco leaned against a nearby pillar, polishing his shades.
Kiwi and Sasha were hidden in the shadows further back, data-streams flowing across their screens, accompanied by the soft tick-tick-tick of input.
Maine picked up a complex mechanical arm, his thick, armored fingers checking the hydraulic actuators at the elbow for wear.
Just then, a priority communication request flashed silently at the edge of his vision—Padre's icon.
He raised a hand, and the low murmur around the bench ceased instantly.
Dorio took the arm from him. Rebecca and Pilar looked up, their eyes following him.
Maine walked behind a stack of derelict industrial parts where the signal was stable and the corner secluded.
He took a breath of the oil-scented air and accepted the link.
"Padre." His voice was low in the empty space.
"Maine." Padre's voice came through, steady as always, carrying a calm born of a lifetime of survival, cutting through the static. "I have a gig. Specifically requesting your crew."
Maine didn't reply immediately. Only the faint hiss of the connection filled the silence.
After the direct conflicts with Militech and Biotechnica—especially the bloody Arasaka ambush and Moiré's cold retaliation—any gig that specifically named them was cause for high alert.
He waited, silent as a stone soaked in caution.
Padre seemed unsurprised by the silence and continued. "The client is Arasaka. Specifically, Valarie."
Maine's brow furrowed deeply. "Valarie? The Deputy Director of Counter-Intel?"
His voice tightened imperceptibly.
Not long ago, this woman had represented Arasaka in suing for peace, offering up Abernathy's career and corporate reparations to quell the storm caused by that foolish ambush.
"What does she want? Hit a wall with the Boss, so she's turning to us?" He could almost picture Valarie's calculating face behind her corporate mask.
"Her intent is not difficult to surmise," Padre's voice remained emotionless, stating facts objectively. "After the last incident, Arasaka—or at least Director Jenkins' faction—has temporarily abandoned the hardline approach.
"Valarie, as the executor, needs to maintain a channel of communication. Or, more accurately, establish a 'connection.'
"Direct contact with the entity behind you is too high-risk. Approaching you—a rising merc crew clearly close to that entity—is a roundabout strategy that fits corporate logic."
Maine considered this. Padre's analysis aligned with his and Dorio's earlier assessment.
Valarie's move was more about building bridges than setting traps—at least on the surface. The corp was trying to touch a power they couldn't grasp directly through another medium.
"What's the job?" Maine asked, pulling his thoughts back to reality.
Whatever the intent, it came down to the work.
"She offered two options," Padre summarized. "One is a standard escort gig. Moving a 'corporate asset' from Heywood to an Arasaka facility in Charter Hill. The route is sensitive, passing through several gang territories, but her intel assesses the threat level as low.
"The other is data retrieval. Recovering a specific data-packet from an Arasaka subsidiary server compromised by a rival. Requires infiltration and electronic warfare capabilities."
He paused, adding the critical detail. "The advance payment for both is substantial. Far above market rate for the difficulty. She emphasized this is to demonstrate 'good faith'."
"'Good faith'..." Maine repeated the words, his tone dripping with unconcealed cynicism.
In Night City, corporate "good faith" was always tied directly to eddies, and it always came with a hidden price tag.
But he also knew the crew needed to operate. They needed to buy supplies, maintain gear, and, more importantly, prove to the entity deep in the sanctum that they could still handle business independently in Night City, beyond the insane, trans-dimensional missions.
Refusing contact entirely wasn't realistic, and could be seen as weakness or incompetence.
"What's your read, Padre?" Maine habitually asked the old fixer's opinion.
Padre was rooted in Heywood. His intel network and wisdom had helped mercs like them find footing on the edge of the abyss countless times.
"Risk is manageable," Padre judged concisely. "Valarie needs to de-escalate, not create new conflict. These gigs don't involve core Arasaka secrets; they're resources within her authority she can use to 'make nice.'
"Accepting the gig can be seen as a tentative response, and it replenishes your funds."
Padre's voice lowered, carrying a note of warning. "But remember, Maine. When dealing with corpos, especially when they extend an olive branch, watch for the price not written in the contract."
"Understood," Maine replied gravely, etching the warning into his mind. "Thanks, Padre. Usual cut."
"Vaya con Dios." The link cut silently.
Maine stood still for a few seconds before emerging from behind the parts pile.
Several pairs of eyes at the workbench focused on him immediately. He didn't speak right away. He shared Padre's mission briefing to the team's encrypted channel, then walked to the bench, leaning his hands on the cold metal.
"It was Padre," he began, his voice echoing in the silent base. "Client is Arasaka. Valarie."
"Arasaka? That Valarie again?" Rebecca was the first to shout, her green eyes widening in disbelief. "They just don't quit, do they? Didn't they learn their lesson last time? Moiré literally..."
She trailed off, but the scent of blood seemed to linger in the air.
"This isn't aimed at the Boss. It's a gig specifically for us." Dorio had already scanned the briefing. She looked up, her bronzed face calm. "The job looks... normal. Almost too simple for the price tag."
She pointed at the prominent figure on the data-slate.
(End of Chapter)