The Unexpected
Copyright© 2025 by Technocracy
Chapter 30
Fiction Sex Story: Chapter 30 - "If you do not expect the unexpected, you will not find it; for it is hard to be sought out, and difficult." -- Heraclitus of Ephesus
Caution: This Fiction Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Consensual Heterosexual Fiction Military Science Fiction Violence
Pearsall, Tx - September 2011
Mason woke up on a strange couch before sunrise, in an unknown and unexpected house; the abode of widower Pete de la Cruz and his daughter. Mason was abruptly forced into full consciousness as a large dog, of indeterminate origin, continued to lick his hands and forearms. Mason sat up to briskly pet and scratch the happy dog.
“Hey there, big guy. Don’t remember you ... Actually, I don’t even remember Marie taking me here ... Word of advice, Mister Dog. Don’t talk to strange humans...”
Mason separated himself from the dog to scan the area. Seeing a kitchen, he immediately sought water. After re-hydrating, Mason bid the appreciative dog farewell, and exited through the front door. Mason found the rising sun, determined the ordinal direction of north by west, then walked across the north half of Pearsall to find his trailer.
Spoons South Ranch, Frio County, Tx - Spoons Ranch, Frio County, Tx - October 2011
Billy Joe did not like the former Marine officer, and he made no effort to disguise such sentiment from Mason. Billy Joe continued to argue against Mason Johnson’s new collateral duty, as assigned by Benny and Harry. Billy Joe yelled into the speaker phone.
“His type don’t belong on the main ranch! He’s running things on the south end and McKinley; that’s more than enough.”
Harry could not know Billy Joe’s reasons for his acerbic opinion of Mason, and Billy Joe could not tell his older brother.
“Billy Joe, like it or not, Mason Johnson is your security man. He’s the stone we’re killing two birds with. Without Jason on site, he runs security, and he runs the engineering and production how he wants. Doris and me aren’t asking ya. We’re tellin’ ya. Mason and you are the security team, at least until Henry comes up with something else. Work with him or I’ll beat your cranky butt worse than dad ever did.”
Billy Joe gave Mason a look of contempt as he answered his brother’s voice over the phone.
“Okay ... I’ll work with him. We’ll figure it out, or something.”
Billy Joe punched the phone button to disconnect, symbolically and literally.
“Why are you, Mason?”
“Why am I what?”
“Why are there people like you? People that can easily kill. I’m having nightmares from shooting those three men that were attacking Benny. A few times I had to puke my guts out when I thought about it too much. How can you be so calm and controlled? Don’t ya feel anything?”
“Control is an element of self-discipline, mostly achieved through training.”
“Why, Mason?”
“Not intending to be glib, why not?”
“Why not? Because its freaking wrong to kill people!”
“We can suppose that would be the veneer of your Judaeo-Christian indoctrination. People like me kill, so that people like you don’t have to.”
“Give me a break. That’s crap. You’re a sociopath.”
“Most likely, I am a sociopath. Furthermore, I may be a psychopath. But I’m also a well-trained, disciplined, and logical person. As for sociopathy, what do you think of Bill Gates and Steve Jobs?”
“They’re brilliant jerks. They gave us a different world.”
“Gates is a psychopath. His CIA file so indicates. Jobs was a sociopath, also per his CIA file. Yet they moved mankind forward. So the question is not if someone is a sociopath, but whether a particular asshole can move mankind forward.”
“You’re trying to make it sound easy. Rationalization. It’s still crap.”
“It is crap. It will always be crap, and people such as myself may, at times, hurt people that are innocents. But only if ill-trained and poorly disciplined.”
“Do you really feel anything? Sympathy? Remorse?”
“I used to have such feelings. Empathic feelings; and as for those feelings ascribed as per a sense of guilt, are no longer common to myself.”
Billy Joe shook his head with disbelief. He did concede one thing, Mason Johnson was honest and had openly exposed the logic and illogic of the situation.
“Fair enough. Here’s the deal. Call me if you need to come on the main ranch. Stay away from Marne, Lucy, and Raul. They’re innocents. I do not want them to know the full extant ‘bout any of this crap. Not yet.”
“Understood. And I expect you to maintain vigilance and provide cover for the main ranch. You have been trained and evaluated. You have the required skill set.”
Spoons South Ranch, Frio County, Tx - Spoons Ranch, Frio County, Tx - November 2011
Mason looked at the small armory he had inherited from Jason. Two M16A4s, two M4s, two Remington 870 shotguns, and a shelf of 9mm and .40 caliber pistols. Enough to arm a small town’s police force. Mason wondered what Colonel van Doreen had been expecting, then reminded himself of the paranoia forced upon SIG personnel by his fellow Marines, and all of the violent events indirectly attributed to various interventions and influences by the intelligence community.
Mason cringed at the idea of supposedly rogue Marines attacking American innocents. He would not give General Stewart a pass for that particular operation.
Mason locked up the large steel safe before sitting at the array of data readouts and visual ranch monitors. He had allotted himself the weekend for mastering the operation of the security systems and understanding Lizzy’s sensor fusion algorithms.
SIG, Needham, Ma - January 2012
Harry was disappointed that his wife had taken to wearing pantsuits for the winter. But he did admit to himself that a tight pair of trousers look good wrapped around her butt. He re-directed his attentions to the memos from their accounting over-lords at Google, that Doris had plopped onto his desk.
“What’s their problem this time, babe?”
“They want part of the action from our security systems spin-off. They’re requesting a closed-stock offering of 49%.”
“These the same people that said no to any funding for setting up the Texas sites? Screw all of ‘em ... Uh, just what are they offering for 49%?”
“Half a billion.”
Harry struggled to not spit out his mouthful of coffee over the desk.
“Holeee Moleee. Five freaking hundred million samolians? Ya valued it at less than a fifth of that. What the heck changed? Why are they suddenly interested?”
“Lydia says that they heard about the Microsoft and Intel contracts. Then after AMD put in a systems order for their new fab site, it made them believers. We’re also getting bites from defense and aerospace factories.”
“Ya talk to them Google clowns yet? Ya know Benny ain’t gonna want them in on this. This is his baby.”
“Benny is all wrapped up with stuff in lab two. Andrea said she would bring him down from the stratosphere after lunch.”
Andrea calmed her mind before entering the engineering lab, using the ‘blanking’ method as had been taught to her by Benny.
Benny was focused on the sweep, almost holding his breath as the bode plot progressed across the small CRT. The twins did not understand why their boss insisted on using such ancient test equipment. Benny was decidedly old-school when it came to decorating his lab benches.
Andrea waited for the ‘twins’ to leave the lab, then approached her husband, smug in the knowledge that he had not yet sensed her presence. She reached around Benny’s chest while burying her face into the back of his neck.
“Vamos comer, meu amor.”
Benny rotated his lab stool to face his wife. Pulling her between his legs, he held her forearms as he looked at his woman with an intense observation.
“No one should be allowed to be so beautiful ... O universo é ciumento.”
Andrea knew her husband was blinded by his love, but she did bask in Benny’s appreciation of her physical form. She bent forward to kiss her man and accept his mental flow. For a few seconds, bodies did not exist. There were only two minds in their mutually-exclusive reality.
“Doris brought ... uh, salpicão. Salada de frango em sanduíche be lunch. She want to talk.”
“Chicken salad sandwiches? Sounds good. What is Doris concerned about this time? Twenty cents not accounted for at the last quarterly report? Someone embezzle a dime?”
“No be mean, luv. Let’s go
Benny swallowed hard on a chunk of chicken as his head indicated ‘no’, then made verbal his bent.
“No. Absolutely not. Mason and Marie have been working six and seven days a week, sometimes non-stop for days. Lizzy worked non-stop for almost a month on the data-fusion library. This belongs to us, Doris. And only us.”
Harry shrugged. While it was an earth-shattering sum, he had no idea what he would even do with the millions they had previously accumulated, thus saying nothing. Doris did not agree with Benny, nor did she appreciate her husband’s tacit support of Benny’s stance.
“Benny, think stock options for Mason and his people. Reward their loyalty.”
“Negative. There will be no issue of stock. It is how founders lose control. We are not being stingy. We allotted a 12% across-the-board raise last month. We’re now paying the two principles a 270k salary. Their loyalty and hard work will be continue to rewarded, but we will not sell off parts of our company.”
Harry did finally say something. His question was appalling to his wife per his ignorance of Google’s fiscal reality.
“Babe, just how the heck does Google afford a half a billion in cash, just like that?”
“Just like that? Baby, Google’s last quarterly net was over 2.5 billion. That, and the eleven million per quarter we’re putting into their executives’ personal accounts.”
The office went silent as the four SIG principles thought about the mountain of cash that Google was offering. Benny and Andrea closed their eyes, exchanging thoughts without spoken words. Harry objected to this manner of communication.
“You two just freaking stop that. Not fair. Talk to us Andrea.”
“Ask for more. Give less.”
Harry abruptly stood up, almost dumping his sandwich.
“Freaking brilliant. Damn right, Andrea, that’s it. Think ‘bout it, Benny. The Google execs are all hot and bothered, thinking we have the next Big Thing; and their greedy little clam-shells are getting all sweaty ‘cause they missed getting in when we first asked for funding. Give them clowns, I dunno, maybe twenty or thirty percent, but for, let’s see, something outrageous. Yeah, how ‘bout seven hundred fifty mil?”
“Baby, I do not think their CFO would advise the steering committee to...”
Benny talked over Doris’ reply to Harry.
“No. I agree with Harry. Slam the deal terms; slam them hard. If they acquiesce, this could be our last big move. This could provide independence from Google and Stewart’s money.
“Why do we need to be independent of Google?”
“We can control one hundred per cent of our capitol without the Google accountant’s approval for every move we make. Furthermore, we should start unloading all of this money, put it back to the economy. Google’s sitting on billions not doing anything for the GDP. We will not do the same.”
Doris asked the skeptic’s question.
“In what way would we systematize the return of capitol to a broken economy that would be productive?”
Benny ignored her description of the economy as ‘broken’.
“A facile task. We reserve at least half of the buy-in net to implement new spin-offs. Also, we maintain a liquid reserve for use as a semi-annual bonus program for our people and for capex.”
Benny paused before resuming, ensuring that the group was following and serious.
“ ... Doris, consider this proposal. We offer Google something under 25% for 600 to 700 mil, as a non-institutional investment, with nothing prefered, and no terms for return during the first twelve months. Tell them to take it or leave it. We avoid the funding trap.”
Harry jumped to his feet, again, impressed with Benny’s new-found business-preceptorial instincts.
“Yeah. Heck yeah, Benny. I like it. Like ya said, if those clowns are looking at it as a private equity thing, then we only allow for a limited partnership. For negotiation space, we can offer them zero-debt liability, with no further financing required. Do it, my hot lady Doris.”
Doris scanned the faces and body language of the three, taking a non-verbal vote and waiting for any disagreements.
“Okay. I’ll have Robert write something up and see what they say. I would never take such an offer for what would be, essentially, diluted stock, but then, I’m not running Google.”
Mackinley Field and Spoons Ranch, Frio County, Tx - February 2012
Jason followed Benny and Brian down the Pilatus air steps. Seeing Mason Johnson and Marie de la Cruz waiting, Benny briefly wondered who was minding his new company. The thought was forgotten when their Dallas ‘rental’ lawyer stepped out of her car and approached the airplane. Carmen Lancaster noted that Benny was wearing a Boston Red Sox hat, and was mildly concerned that it would not play well in south Texas. Benny did not bother with any greeting.
“Ms Lancaster, you said they would not go to trial, and that there would be no delays.”
“Per contemporary legal logic, it would be normally be considered prudent for the defense to make a deal and avoid motions. But given the defendants’ risk per the Habitual Offender Statute, and being accused of five second-degree felonies, they have nothing to lose and much to gain.”
“Habitual Offender Statute?”
“Commonly referenced as the Three-Strikes Law.”
“What does the county say about this?”
“The DA’s office is looking forward to showing their stuff in court. Although the county is not happy with potential trial costs.”
“How much?”
“I’m not certain. Perhaps fifty to hundred fifty thousand.”
Benny waved his hand in dismissal, then pulled out his phone.
“Doris, can we send Frio County one fifty k? ... No, not that, court costs. It would appear these cretins desire their day in court ... Okay, tell Robert and Henry that we may be here for the remainder of the month.”
The Dallas lawyer raised an eyebrow at the phone conversation. She knew better than to ask. With incurred financial difficulties to the county no longer an issue, Carmen Lancaster decided to leave the airfield.
“Ms Lancaster, I will need you to be available tomorrow morning for a conference call with Robert Northrup. Let Jason know where you are staying. He will provide transport to the ranch.
Carmen Lancaster nodded to Benny before leaving the area.
Benny pocketed his phone, re-laced his fingers into Andrea’s hand, and walked towards Mason and Marie.
“Good to see you, Mason.”
“Hello, doc. Good to see you.”
“We have been watching production numbers and the improved line yields; they are impressive. You will have to give me a tour of your test process when you have the time.”
“ ... uh, Marie is running that show. We can head over there right now. It’s a short walk.
Andrea, Benny, and Brian followed the two site managers off the tarmac and to a gate on the north fence, then down a well-graded gravel road that traversed the 75 meters from the airfield property to the production facility.
“This road is new.”
“Put it in last month. Makes it easy to get from the production box to the airfield. We paid the McKinley brothers a small honorarium for direct access.”
“How much did the bribe cost?”
“A kilobuck. And a few other considerations.”
Marie led Benny to the northwest wall. Four 19-inch rack-mounts full of instruments, were separated by five benches. Marie pointed to each bench in turn as she explained usage and work flow.
“ ... and each shift has one technician and two to four test operators, depending on the production schedule. The first stack is for the array-head, which has been the most difficult iteration. The first version had the most false negatives, so you would know this little monster as the source of our poor yields during our first three runs. Mason stopped production during the third run to fix it.”
Brian, in operations manager mode, nodded to Marie and commented.
“Aye, Ingalls Shipyard all but happy. But you met the deadline, mot. And know the Ingalls Security Director is also happy with your support.”
Marie took Brian’s comments as complimentary. Mason shrugged in agreement, also seeing an opportune moment to breach a subject that Doris would not consider.
“Doc, about support. We have no formal process. Your ‘five-nines’ min rel will crash without us being able to do immediate on-site support and supervised installations. This is further exacerbated because we are ninety to two hundred minutes away from San Antonio International.”
Brian looked chagrined that two brilliant engineers were stumped by a mundane infrastructure issue, thus scolding his charges.
“We be thinking as children here, Benson. The company airplane is the answer.”
“Perhaps, but we have personnel as the delimiter for this problem. We cannot afford to have Jerri or Jason continually removed from security duties.”
With a flourish, Brian swept his hand towards Mason Johnson.
“This fine young lad is the other part of the answer.”
“What?”
“The lad is of engineering bent; a sound mind used to learning. Send him to a flying school.”
Mason had taken about ten hours of flying lessons while an enlisted avionics technician, so knew well of the time and costs for such training.
“Not feasible, Mister Mulharain. I don’t have the time, and fiscally unsound. Total costs, by the time I was rated and safe to fly something like a PC-12 would be one to two years, and, maybe, a hundred thousand.”
Mason was made uneasy upon seeing that Benny was considering the idea. He could ill-afford the time to take flying lessons.
“Doc? You’re not actually considering this?”
When Benny did not answer, Mason further prodded.
“Doc?”
Benny provided a non-answer.
“We shall table this discussion for later ... At this time, I want to see the cumulative failure distributions at final ATP for the sensor head and array test stations.”
“It’s sitting on Marie’s computer.”
Benny, Mason, and Marie concerned themselves with technical infrastructure in Marie’s office, while Brian Mulhrain charmed the production line ladies with his Gaelic-accented Spanish. He was closely watched by Andrea, who was, in turn, closely watched, or rather leered at, by the male test techs. Such was the daily drama for a south Texas workplace.
Marie’s office was small, functional, and sparse of furnishings. Benny was quick to note the hand-built book shelves and side table, recognizing Mason’s construction technique. Marie’s office was not sparse of imagery. Various framed photos of her equestrian and her other outdoor acts hung on the wall opposite the shelves and the other wall with her desk. Over her desk was a 19th century rifle, a piece easily considered a historical artifact that had been in her family for a century.
Mason turned the second of three screens towards Benny.
“ ... and this is what I’m working on. The current surge, probably from the low output impedance, is eating fuses and time. If the surge is too short, the fuse does not blow, and sometimes the front-end converter over-temps and shuts down. While not a failure, we just re-set and start over, but it is a significant interruption to our production flow.”
“Show me the power supply.”
Marie pulled several binders of documentation off her book shelves. Mason thumbed through the pages, then presented the bulk power schematic and wiring diagrams to Benny.
“This off-line converter supplies all of the linears? Ratings?”
“Yes. The output rating is forty eight volts at thirteen amps. My peak load is under nine amps.”
“Are the linears’ output fuses rated to interrupt DC?”
“They are, but had to find a fuse with a different I-squared-T curve. Which is why I believe the test units are being stressed.”
“Perhaps they are stressed. Perhaps not. In any case, failure rates do not indicate a corresponding high infant mortality for fielded systems. Customer data, to date, only demonstrates installation errors.”
Mason shook his head at Benny.
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