Warning: Some names may be stolen from Baccano! I got lazy that one time.
Contractual Obligations
Part One
“You know, I’m really starting to get too old for these insane schemes of yours, Reynard.”
The man leaning up against the doorjamb of the hotel suite’s balcony turned with a start, a worried expression on his face. His lanky blonde hair reached down to the collar of his ill-fitting silk shirt, and he twirled a cigarette nervously between his fingers.
“No, jackass, not old enough to turn into a giant dragonfly and eat you. There’s a chrysalis and months of time involved. I’ve told you . . . “ The words trailed off into muffled grumbling. The voice itself, while speaking Terran fluently, came out in a strange buzz.
Reynard shook his head. “I don’t care how many times you tell me Anlek, I’m not going to get used to living with a bug”. Anlek was an Eckoli, a race of bipedal insect that often traded with the New Terran system. Reynard had been his partner since he was a teenager, and before fortune had its way repeatedly with Anlek, his slave. Reynard had met his fair share of Eckoli, but none who were so willing to mix with human culture. He’d never really understood why Anlek was so eager to stay with Reynard, or why he’d remained his partner. For all his constant grumbling, the Eckoli never made mention of leaving. Reynard had always assumed that for one reason or another his partner had nothing to go back to, but it was an unspoken rule between them that neither of them talked about their history before the day, not long after Reynard’s seventh birthday, that Anlek purchased him from a Medved slave trader.
Reynard stepped out onto the balcony, and Anlek shoved his way through the narrow door onto the platform. The Eckoli weren’t a particularly pretty race by human standards, and it had taken two centuries of relations to take them out of nightmares and into familiarity. Anlek sported four arms, two with manipulating phalanges and two smaller arms with large, club-like claws. His body was plated in a grey-green color, and his mandibles were offset by a small, incongruous-looking device wedged between his head and thorax that provided him with the ability to reproduce human speech.
The balcony looked out over the skyline of New Arcadia, capital city of Isis, a moon known as much for its corruption and mob connections as for its casinos and amusement parks. Anlek chuckled under his breath as Reynard clumsily attempted to hold and light the cigarette in his hand, but in a matter of minutes he let out a little ‘ha’ of triumph. He pulled the cigarette up to his mouth and prepared to take a drag of it as he leaned out over the balcony’s edge. Anlek exploded into laughter as he lurched sideways in a fit of hacking and coughing. The cigarette went whirling out of Reynard’s hand, leaving a trail of cinders as it fell to the street, 60 stories below.
Anlek slapped Reynard on the back, hard, with one of his smaller arms. “Face it Reynard, you might as well give up looking cool.” Reynard’s coughing fit eventually tapered off into a deep sigh.
“I know, I’m just sick of being ‘Reynard the unrefined geek’”, he said, pulling another cigarette out of its case.
“Cheer up buddy,” Anlek said slyly, “sometimes you’re Reynard the unsuccessful womanizer, or Reynard the guy who talks about shit no one understands. Hell, on good days you might even become Reynard the greedy criminal businessman.”
Reynard glared at his partner for a moment, then began laughing softly to himself. “Yeah, let’s hope today is a good day. If we can land this job with Luciano, we’ll be rollin’ in negotiable currency. If we make a really nice profit we might be able to take the considerable financial risk of letting you open up a bar.”
Anlek hissed inhumanly. “Ouch,” he said, remembering his most recent establishment, a little hole-in-the wall on the rainy moon of Anu that he’d been forced to abandon under a particularly unpleasant political climate. Anlek had a bad history as an entrepreneur, having lost no fewer than four establishments of varying quality during his time in the New Terra system. The loss of one on Okamu Station about a decade earlier had resulted in his partnership with the then-teenaged Reynard, who had bought his way out of his slave contract. He had made the money by designing and building illegal electronics systems which could be used to take people, warships, and anything in between off the grid of the increasingly oppressive Colonial Authority, the military organization that ruled every pocket of space, and a handful of worlds, in the system.
Maybe this will work out better than our last contract, Reynard thought to himself. Anlek and Reynard had met some limited success in the recent past by doing some work for the fledgling and very secretive Rebellion, but after a clever strike against the Colonial Authority during what should have been a glorious Bicentennial celebration for the regime, the Rebels had scattered to the four winds as the CA’s considerably navy attempted to hunt them down. Since then, they, too had been trying to keep a low profile lest they be connected to the insurgents. And now we’re working for the mafia, Anlek thought, chuckling. That’s about as high profile as they come.
Reynard peered down into the faraway street, watching as a particularly classy floatcar pulled into the hotel’s roundabout, slamming to a stop and ejecting a figure that, despite its ant-like size from this height, gave off an air of contemptuous femininity. “I think that might be our contact. Mr. Luciano said this Elise drives like a demon and dresses like a whore.”
Anlek laughed. “He also said to keep that last bit to ourselves.”
Reynard shook his head. “What little faith he has in us social cripples to be discrete. Yep, that’s definitely her. Guess we’d better head down. Luciano’s expecting us at his office in less than an hour, after all. Figure if she drives like that we’d better not take any longer than forty-five minutes to make our way to the lobby.”
“Yeah, I can’t wait for the ride,” Anlek replied, turning to one of the large synthetic feather beds sitting in the middle of the room to pick up a long, black bag, grunting slightly with the effort as he slung it across his chitinous shoulders.
Reynard raised an eyebrow at his partner. “Do you really think you need to be lugging that thing around?” Reynard, and a number of bar patrons across the system, knew that Anlek carried with him, whenever possible, an enormous gamma gun, a weapon capable of firing concentrated cosmic rays at its unfortunate victim, scrambling their cell replication and, with a direct hit, even their genetic code. Only Reynard knew, however, that the gun had never been fired--either way, it was a powerful intimidation device, and a large investment for his Eckoli partner even during the salad days of Anlek’s most successful establishment.
“Yes, I do. Luciano seems like a nice guy, but this is the mafia we’re dealing with here, son. And we’re not the two brightest bulbs when it comes to parley, either. I’m bringing this with me as a bargaining chip and a potential means of escape.”
Reynard nodded. “Good point,” he said, reaching over to the drawer of the bedside table to retrieve his small laser pistol and wedge it into the waistband of his pants. Grabbing his electronics kit, an oversized black briefcase chock full of contraband, from the floor with a grunt, he turned to Anlek. “Let’s go.”
When the two arrived in the hotel’s opulent lobby, Reynard immediately spotted their contact. Elise lounged against the marble counter near the lobby’s entrance, sporting a gold top, a denim jacket, unnecessarily tight jeans, and a bored, vaguely irritated expression. She twirled a cigarette between two of her fingers, earning a sidelong glare from the nearest desk clerk. Anlek gestured toward her. “See, that’s how you look cool,” he whispered to Reynard.
Reynard snorted. “That’s how you look like you belong on a dark town billboard,” he retorted quietly. The two approached Elise, and Reynard set shuffled his briefcase to his left hand, holding his right out toward Elise. The woman lowered her sunglasses, pointedly ignoring Reynard’s offered hand. “You two must be the ones Luciano wants me to cart around.” She turned to head for the door. “He didn’t tell me I was going out after a pair of chumps,” she said, lighting up as she pushed the doors open, the front desk clerk’s objections dying on her lips.
Reynard was still standing with his hand extended, mouth agape. Anlek chuckled nervously. “I think for once I can’t blame her attitude on a poor first impression, Reynard.”
Reynard stared after her for a moment, then suddenly turned a glare on his partner. “Wait, what the hell do you know about being cool? You’re not even human.”
The Eckoli shrugged four shoulders. “It’s a universal thing, buddy. Let’s go after her before she decides to leave without us.”
The car ride to Luciano’s office was awkward, naturally, but in the end Anlek was just happy it was in a convertible. He had more than a little trouble fitting into the coffins these humans called floatcars, and was more than happy to dangle several appendages and half a gamma gun precariously out into traffic if it meant he could avoid another carapace fracture. Despite what Reynard had said, that tram ride up to Black Star Mountain on New Earth had not been fun, and there wasn’t a doctor this side of the Colony Ship that knew much about treating the Eckoli carapace. And if he’d gone to the Colony Ship, he’d just as likely have ended up in a tank for research. It wasn’t really their fault--the Eckoli hadn’t run into many races out there in the galaxy who hadn’t taken one look at them and thought “Damn, that’s some nice DNA you have there! A splice here, a splice there, and we’ve got ourselves an army of super soldiers!” And to date, the Tholetans had been the only ones to get any kind of success out of it. Carapaces were, as a general rule, a pain in the ass, but sometimes lessons have to be learned the hard way--with billions of credits down the drain and a few hundred volunteer soldiers insane and covered in plates of painful armor. Ah, military research.
Anlek tore his eyes off the sights of New Arcadia’s dark side and spared a glance for his partner and their rather undignified chauffer. Reynard kept leaning forward, looking motion sick, and every time he did the wind would gust just right to send a handful of red-died hair right into his eyes. He gave Anlek a long-suffering glance as another hard rock tune blared over the floatcar’s radio. Reynard was of the musical school of thought which held that any music created by a genuine instrument was somehow inferior. Anlek liked Eckoli music . . . But it had been so many years since he’d heard any, he could hardly remember the sound.
What are we even doing? he wondered. Anlek was edging past his prime, already over a hundred Terran years old, but for the last thirty he’d been stumbling along. First he’d left his clan over what seemed now such a minor dishonor, giving up the life of a star faring merchant to become an entrepreneur in this backwater system. Sure, he’d always wanted to be independent, he could mix an Arteian Skull Crusher that could sneak up on a Colossus like a ninja with a sledgehammer, and there was a certain joy to really owning something, a pleasure which was nigh impossible within the strictures of Eckoli clan life--but ever since he’d left he’d been stumbling, had even fallen flat on his face a time or two. And for the last ten years, he’d been partnered with a boy who, in better times, had been his slave.
Not that it was all bad. Reynard was as good a friend as any, and he definitely kept life interesting. When he didn’t manage to attract disreputable girls with the illusion that he had a lot of money--not that it was always an illusion--Reynard had always been just as unmoored as Anlek. They had each other. Of course, now Reynard had met an actual female, someone he actually wanted to impress, and presumably to stay with for more than a week or two. Anlek wasn’t sure how to feel, he knew he felt a certain fatherly pride for Reynard actually achieving some form of social success, but . . . In the long run, where might that leave him? Better not to worry too much about it, the Eckoli thought, staring out toward the approaching twilight that marked the Nightside edge. Below the highway, hotels, casinos, parks, and even a floatcar racing track sprawled out, the hover cars mocking the bumper to bumper traffic above, pushing along at top speed. This is such a hectic place, Anlek thought, shaking his head--a habit he’d picked up from too much time around humans. As much fun as the place was, he didn’t particularly want to live here. Hopefully Reynard’s upcoming deal with the Mafia wouldn’t require relocation. He liked Thoth, despite all the labor unrest . . . And the downright unnecessary number of cops.
Anlek was jarred from his reverie when a well-manicured hand appeared in front of him on the back of the unoccupied front passenger’s seat. Elise, still driving in dense traffic, half-turned to look at the two of them over the rim of her sunglasses. “So, Luciano told me to pick you two up, but he didn’t say what you were here for. Must be something technical, considering how nerdy you look.”
Reynard grimaced, unconsciously folding his scrawny arms over his chest. “Yeah, technical is right. We’re here to show Mr. Luciano what we can do with a little electronics suite I put together. It’s not entirely legal, but it worked just fine for a little ship called the Wayfarer, from what I understand.”
Elise’s eyebrows raised. “I wasn’t aware you were affiliated with that particular group. I understand their resident hacker still lives here. Luci lured her out of her geek cave a few weeks ago for a drink.”
Elise did not miss the look that leapt onto Reynard’s face, and let out a throat laugh. “Oh, so you do know her. Well don’t worry, the old man’s interest in her is purely business. Seems they share a grudge against the Aztecs.”
Anlek was surprised. What could Mendoza’s thugs have done to piss off a kid that young?
Elise finally turned around, paying attention to the road long enough to pass three cars in the outside lane. Anlek heard a rush of air and realized Reynard had been holding his breath the entire time she had been leaning over the seat. For all of the kid’s customary recklessness, nobody could remain calm through driving like that.
A few minutes and a few near misses later, Elise exited the highway and made her way across a business district, pulling around the back of a tall building bedecked with the kind of business names that just screamed “front for organized crime”. A short trip across an empty lobby and a much longer trip up an elevator intended for a smaller number of giant larvae, and the three of them arrived outside a corner office suite. Elise rapped on the door, and a moment later an aging man with short, thinning hair, an impressive nose, and an equally impressively tacky shirt, complete with a tropical design, answered.
“Hey Luci,” Elise began, slipping past the older man into the room, “you know you have business to do today, right?”
Luciano laughed. “Hell no, there’s no business today! Just a couple of old friends visiting from Thoth, right? Come on in and have a seat, boys, you must be tired after your long trip.” The older man gave Elise, already sprawled across a love seat on the far wall, a sidelong glance, a look of nervousness in his eyes that could only mean he’d experienced the terror of being a passenger in her car.
The office seemed sparse, and barely used, but it was nicely furnished, and sported a view that looked onto the logos of several famous hotels and casinos. Luciano indicated a corner where they could store their things, his expression turning puzzled and a little concerned at Anlek’s quiet determination to keep his gamma gun with him. Finally he conducted them over to his desk. Elise was sending phone messages over the second-tier Net, and seemed fairly oblivious to their activity. Suddenly, she snapped her sunglasses out of her pocket and stood up.
“It’s been fun Luci, but I’ve got to run. Looks like I’ve got some freelance action planned for the afternoon.” She flashed Luciano a mocking grin. “Don’t worry, I’m not working for Mendoza.”
Luciano scowled. “Elise, you know I don’t care who else you work for. Just keep your nose clean and don’t forget we have an appointment at 3 tomorrow.”
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world, Luci,” she said, swinging the door shut.
Luciano waved Anlek and Reynard over to his desk, where they took a seat. “She’s a damned good courier and a great informant, but I’m always a little relieved when she finds something else to do.” Neither Anlek or his partner knew what to say to that, though Reynard did crack a nervous smile.
Padding across the room in sandals and chinos, Luciano sat down in his chair, pushing what appeared to be an entirely artificial stack of papers off to the side. He leaned back, steepling his fingers. “All right boys, I hear you have something interesting to show me,” he said, smiling. “Let’s get down to business.”
Listening to the two of them haggle is giving me a headache, Reynard thought to himself. Anlek and Luciano had been hashing out the details of a sale for what felt like hours. The two of them had a good setup for their sales pitch, though Reynard would admit himself that he had gotten greedy and destroyed their premise a time or two. Reynard would open up with a short demonstration, opening his briefcase like a down-on-his-luck salesman and using a small scanner and a small but powerful jammer he had created to recreate the effects his devices had on law enforcement electronics. He would play dumb when it came time to make the sale, and Anlek, who would have stayed silent the whole time, would jump in and take over. Without the customary Eckoli merchants’ robes, no one would suspect him of being a professional haggler.
Luciano leaned back in his seat, doing his best to look relaxed and unconcerned with the dealings, his hand propped on the back of his chair, his occasional gesturing flashing light off of his gold watch like Morse code. “We can do five thousand per ship at the most,” he said, the smile on his face clashing with the calculating look in his eyes. “We can make an initial commitment of ten vessels of varying sizes. We’d like to see a . . . let’s say sixty day rollout time.”
Anlek was taking the opposite pose--standing up, waving his four arms expressively, giving the Mafioso the impression that he was every bit in control. “Mr. Luciano,” he said pleadingly, “My associate can hardly mass-produce these electronic suites. Each one has to be tailor-made to the ship it’s protecting. As I’ve said, ten thousand per ship will give us only a modest profit in order to continue our experimenting and cover our travel costs, not to mention the steep price of the raw goods Mr. Reynard is utilizing. With ten different types of vessels and handling our own transportation, we could say a 100-day rollout at the fastest. One other issue, if I may bring it up, is exclusivity--we will need a non-competitive clause on any deal we make to insure that my associate’s work is not duplicated in any way, and that we continue to be the sole providers of this product.”
Luciano actually paused for a moment. Reynard felt that he could almost hear the numbers rolling around in his head, comparing their rates to Imperial tariffs and the price of confiscations, not to mention the edge it would give their out system anti-pirate fleet. Finally, he spoke up, leaning forward on his desk. “Mr. Anlek, there is no doubt that we can agree on this non-compete clause you’re referring to. If we can sell it, anyone can sell it, and before we know it, we will no longer have the edge. On a similar note, and while I know you’ve done outside business in the past to some degree of success, I would like for you to guarantee to the Mafia that you will not sell this technology to any other individual or organization while you are doing business with us.” Luciano paused again, and Anlek seemed to be holding his breath. “Given the . . . Effect that could have on your potential profits, I will give a standing offer of 8,000 per unit installed, and in order to speed the process, I believe we can give you only, say, three different types of vessel to work with. In addition, consider your transportation covered, and please accept our welcome to buy as many of your raw goods as possible through Mafia channels.” The aging man leaned back again, his tanned face creasing along laugh lines.
Anlek paused for a moment, then held out one of his manipulating appendages. “Mr. Luciano, I believe we have a deal.” He shook Luciano’s hand, and the man rose from his desk. “Where would you like us to start?”
Luciano smiled, thumbing the console of a holoprojector mounted near the edge of his desk. “Well, as a matter of fact, I have something very special planned.” A hologram sprang to life over the polished oak face of his desk, showing a spinning model of one of the Mafia’s most iconic commercial airships, the Firenza.
Reynard’s eyes lit up, and a smile crept across his face. “Mr. Luciano--”
Luciano smiled. “Just call me Luciano. I thought you might like the opportunity to give a demonstration to the Don. And what better canvas for your art than the jewel of our commercial fleet, eh?” Luciano smiled, then thumbed the projector off. “I expect you’ll want to get to work on it right away. We’ll have you do a simple, low-power jammer--something to throw our adversaries off without alerting them that something’s going on. As long as we’re under the agreement that we want much more powerful units for our starships.”
Reynard reached out and shook Luciano’s hand. “Let me gather some materials and I’ll be there at dawn. I think I can have it put together by, say, the following noon?”
Anlek piped up. “Assuming, that is, that he’s provided with meals and snacks to suit his needs.”
Luciano shrugged. “I don’t see why not. Just ask for Ennis when you get on the ship, she’ll be your attaché while you work. Deal?”
Reynard smiled, Anlek trilled quietly in an Eckoli show of appreciation. “Deal,” they both intoned.
Contractual Obligations
Part Two
The car ride to Luciano’s office was awkward, naturally, but in the end Anlek was just happy it was in a convertible. He had more than a little trouble fitting into the coffins these humans called floatcars, and was more than happy to dangle several appendages and half a gamma gun precariously out into traffic if it meant he could avoid another carapace fracture. Despite what Reynard had said, that tram ride up to Black Star Mountain on New Earth had not been fun, and there wasn’t a doctor this side of the Colony Ship that knew much about treating the Eckoli carapace. And if he’d gone to the Colony Ship, he’d just as likely have ended up in a tank for research. It wasn’t really their fault--the Eckoli hadn’t run into many races out there in the galaxy who hadn’t taken one look at them and thought “Damn, that’s some nice DNA you have there! A splice here, a splice there, and we’ve got ourselves an army of super soldiers!” And to date, the Tholetans had been the only ones to get any kind of success out of it. Carapaces were, as a general rule, a pain in the ass, but sometimes lessons have to be learned the hard way--with billions of credits down the drain and a few hundred volunteer soldiers insane and covered in plates of painful armor. Ah, military research.
Anlek tore his eyes off the sights of New Arcadia’s dark side and spared a glance for his partner and their rather undignified chauffer. Reynard kept leaning forward, looking motion sick, and every time he did the wind would gust just right to send a handful of red-died hair right into his eyes. He gave Anlek a long-suffering glance as another hard rock tune blared over the floatcar’s radio. Reynard was of the musical school of thought which held that any music created by a genuine instrument was somehow inferior. Anlek liked Eckoli music . . . But it had been so many years since he’d heard any, he could hardly remember the sound.
What are we even doing? he wondered. Anlek was edging past his prime, already over a hundred Terran years old, but for the last thirty he’d been stumbling along. First he’d left his clan over what seemed now such a minor dishonor, giving up the life of a star faring merchant to become an entrepreneur in this backwater system. Sure, he’d always wanted to be independent, he could mix an Arteian Skull Crusher that could sneak up on a Colossus like a ninja with a sledgehammer, and there was a certain joy to really owning something, a pleasure which was nigh impossible within the strictures of Eckoli clan life--but ever since he’d left he’d been stumbling, had even fallen flat on his face a time or two. And for the last ten years, he’d been partnered with a boy who, in better times, had been his slave.
Not that it was all bad. Reynard was as good a friend as any, and he definitely kept life interesting. When he didn’t manage to attract disreputable girls with the illusion that he had a lot of money--not that it was always an illusion--Reynard had always been just as unmoored as Anlek. They had each other. Of course, now Reynard had met an actual female, someone he actually wanted to impress, and presumably to stay with for more than a week or two. Anlek wasn’t sure how to feel, he knew he felt a certain fatherly pride for Reynard actually achieving some form of social success, but . . . In the long run, where might that leave him? Better not to worry too much about it, the Eckoli thought, staring out toward the approaching twilight that marked the Nightside edge. Below the highway, hotels, casinos, parks, and even a floatcar racing track sprawled out, the hover cars mocking the bumper to bumper traffic above, pushing along at top speed. This is such a hectic place, Anlek thought, shaking his head--a habit he’d picked up from too much time around humans. As much fun as the place was, he didn’t particularly want to live here. Hopefully Reynard’s upcoming deal with the Mafia wouldn’t require relocation. He liked Thoth, despite all the labor unrest . . . And the downright unnecessary number of cops.
Anlek was jarred from his reverie when a well-manicured hand appeared in front of him on the back of the unoccupied front passenger’s seat. Elise, still driving in dense traffic, half-turned to look at the two of them over the rim of her sunglasses. “So, Luciano told me to pick you two up, but he didn’t say what you were here for. Must be something technical, considering how nerdy you look.”
Reynard grimaced, unconsciously folding his scrawny arms over his chest. “Yeah, technical is right. We’re here to show Mr. Luciano what we can do with a little electronics suite I put together. It’s not entirely legal, but it worked just fine for a little ship called the Wayfarer, from what I understand.”
Elise’s eyebrows raised. “I wasn’t aware you were affiliated with that particular group. I understand their resident hacker still lives here. Luci lured her out of her geek cave a few weeks ago for a drink.”
Elise did not miss the look that leapt onto Reynard’s face, and let out a throat laugh. “Oh, so you do know her. Well don’t worry, the old man’s interest in her is purely business. Seems they share a grudge against the Aztecs.”
Anlek was surprised. What could Mendoza’s thugs have done to piss off a kid that young?
Elise finally turned around, paying attention to the road long enough to pass three cars in the outside lane. Anlek heard a rush of air and realized Reynard had been holding his breath the entire time she had been leaning over the seat. For all of the kid’s customary recklessness, nobody could remain calm through driving like that.
A few minutes and a few near misses later, Elise exited the highway and made her way across a business district, pulling around the back of a tall building bedecked with the kind of business names that just screamed “front for organized crime”. A short trip across an empty lobby and a much longer trip up an elevator intended for a smaller number of giant larvae, and the three of them arrived outside a corner office suite. Elise rapped on the door, and a moment later an aging man with short, thinning hair, an impressive nose, and an equally impressively tacky shirt, complete with a tropical design, answered.
“Hey Luci,” Elise began, slipping past the older man into the room, “you know you have business to do today, right?”
Luciano laughed. “Hell no, there’s no business today! Just a couple of old friends visiting from Thoth, right? Come on in and have a seat, boys, you must be tired after your long trip.” The older man gave Elise, already sprawled across a love seat on the far wall, a sidelong glance, a look of nervousness in his eyes that could only mean he’d experienced the terror of being a passenger in her car.
The office seemed sparse, and barely used, but it was nicely furnished, and sported a view that looked onto the logos of several famous hotels and casinos. Luciano indicated a corner where they could store their things, his expression turning puzzled and a little concerned at Anlek’s quiet determination to keep his gamma gun with him. Finally he conducted them over to his desk. Elise was sending phone messages over the second-tier Net, and seemed fairly oblivious to their activity. Suddenly, she snapped her sunglasses out of her pocket and stood up.
“It’s been fun Luci, but I’ve got to run. Looks like I’ve got some freelance action planned for the afternoon.” She flashed Luciano a mocking grin. “Don’t worry, I’m not working for Mendoza.”
Luciano scowled. “Elise, you know I don’t care who else you work for. Just keep your nose clean and don’t forget we have an appointment at 3 tomorrow.”
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world, Luci,” she said, swinging the door shut.
Luciano waved Anlek and Reynard over to his desk, where they took a seat. “She’s a damned good courier and a great informant, but I’m always a little relieved when she finds something else to do.” Neither Anlek or his partner knew what to say to that, though Reynard did crack a nervous smile.
Padding across the room in sandals and chinos, Luciano sat down in his chair, pushing what appeared to be an entirely artificial stack of papers off to the side. He leaned back, steepling his fingers. “All right boys, I hear you have something interesting to show me,” he said, smiling. “Let’s get down to business.”
Listening to the two of them haggle is giving me a headache, Reynard thought to himself. Anlek and Luciano had been hashing out the details of a sale for what felt like hours. The two of them had a good setup for their sales pitch, though Reynard would admit himself that he had gotten greedy and destroyed their premise a time or two. Reynard would open up with a short demonstration, opening his briefcase like a down-on-his-luck salesman and using a small scanner and a small but powerful jammer he had created to recreate the effects his devices had on law enforcement electronics. He would play dumb when it came time to make the sale, and Anlek, who would have stayed silent the whole time, would jump in and take over. Without the customary Eckoli merchants’ robes, no one would suspect him of being a professional haggler.
Luciano leaned back in his seat, doing his best to look relaxed and unconcerned with the dealings, his hand propped on the back of his chair, his occasional gesturing flashing light off of his gold watch like Morse code. “We can do five thousand per ship at the most,” he said, the smile on his face clashing with the calculating look in his eyes. “We can make an initial commitment of ten vessels of varying sizes. We’d like to see a . . . let’s say sixty day rollout time.”
Anlek was taking the opposite pose--standing up, waving his four arms expressively, giving the Mafioso the impression that he was every bit in control. “Mr. Luciano,” he said pleadingly, “My associate can hardly mass-produce these electronic suites. Each one has to be tailor-made to the ship it’s protecting. As I’ve said, ten thousand per ship will give us only a modest profit in order to continue our experimenting and cover our travel costs, not to mention the steep price of the raw goods Mr. Reynard is utilizing. With ten different types of vessels and handling our own transportation, we could say a 100-day rollout at the fastest. One other issue, if I may bring it up, is exclusivity--we will need a non-competitive clause on any deal we make to insure that my associate’s work is not duplicated in any way, and that we continue to be the sole providers of this product.”
Luciano actually paused for a moment. Reynard felt that he could almost hear the numbers rolling around in his head, comparing their rates to Imperial tariffs and the price of confiscations, not to mention the edge it would give their out system anti-pirate fleet. Finally, he spoke up, leaning forward on his desk. “Mr. Anlek, there is no doubt that we can agree on this non-compete clause you’re referring to. If we can sell it, anyone can sell it, and before we know it, we will no longer have the edge. On a similar note, and while I know you’ve done outside business in the past to some degree of success, I would like for you to guarantee to the Mafia that you will not sell this technology to any other individual or organization while you are doing business with us.” Luciano paused again, and Anlek seemed to be holding his breath. “Given the . . . Effect that could have on your potential profits, I will give a standing offer of 8,000 per unit installed, and in order to speed the process, I believe we can give you only, say, three different types of vessel to work with. In addition, consider your transportation covered, and please accept our welcome to buy as many of your raw goods as possible through Mafia channels.” The aging man leaned back again, his tanned face creasing along laugh lines.
Anlek paused for a moment, then held out one of his manipulating appendages. “Mr. Luciano, I believe we have a deal.” He shook Luciano’s hand, and the man rose from his desk. “Where would you like us to start?”
Luciano smiled, thumbing the console of a holoprojector mounted near the edge of his desk. “Well, as a matter of fact, I have something very special planned.” A hologram sprang to life over the polished oak face of his desk, showing a spinning model of one of the Mafia’s most iconic commercial airships, the Firenza.
Reynard’s eyes lit up, and a smile crept across his face. “Mr. Luciano--”
Luciano smiled. “Just call me Luciano. I thought you might like the opportunity to give a demonstration to the Don. And what better canvas for your art than the jewel of our commercial fleet, eh?” Luciano smiled, then thumbed the projector off. “I expect you’ll want to get to work on it right away. We’ll have you do a simple, low-power jammer--something to throw our adversaries off without alerting them that something’s going on. As long as we’re under the agreement that we want much more powerful units for our starships.”
Reynard reached out and shook Luciano’s hand. “Let me gather some materials and I’ll be there at dawn. I think I can have it put together by, say, the following noon?”
Anlek piped up. “Assuming, that is, that he’s provided with meals and snacks to suit his needs.”
Luciano shrugged. “I don’t see why not. Just ask for Ennis when you get on the ship, she’ll be your attaché while you work. Deal?”
Reynard smiled, Anlek trilled quietly in an Eckoli show of appreciation. “Deal,” they both intoned.
