Sector 6 - Jaril
Oliver Atchison
“You’re sure?”
“That’s the sixth time you asked me that question, Jim. Do I need to draw you a picture?”
“It seems implausible that she would break the agreement,” Jim Crater replied. He was wearing a ridiculous green safari hat. Oliver wondered, again, why he’d bothered to make this trip.
Because I need money, and I need it today, he reminded himself.
That wasn’t quite enough to justify working with Jim Crater.
“I doubt the woman knows there is an agreement. The Union and Republic don’t exactly get along.”
“You’re sure she was from the Republic?”
Oliver sighed in exasperation. “Of course, I’m sure. I lived for twenty years on Terminus, and I know the difference between one of us and one of them,” he insisted. “So, are you going to loan me the money or not?”
Jim leaned back in his chair. He closes his eyes when he thinks, Oliver knew. But I already know how he’s going to decide. Predictability is a nice quality in an asset.
Oliver knew he was reaching out on a limb here, but he needed the funds quickly if he was going to make this deal with Vivian work. He’d known Jim Crater as a casual acquaintance for over a dozen years. But the last time he’d seen him was two years ago. He’d changed since then, but not much.
What he did remember of Jim was a man with too much money and not enough sense. Jim was a military man, through and through, but instead of leveraging his family name and influence to become an officer, he’d jumped in at the bottom rung. He’d insisted it would make him a better soldier, hence, a better leader.
What it did make him was a pariah. He was mocked by the other officers and blocked from any natural progression through the ranks. Five years of service and he grew disheartened. He quit the military and withdrew from society. Most people forgot about him.
Oliver didn’t. Jim was one of the few people who had a lot of spending cash on hand that wasn’t a bank. Oliver didn’t like banks or paper trails. And if the deal was going to work, Oliver needed to buy the water purifiers now.
But right now, all he could do was watch Jim think.
The kettle on the burner began whistling softly. Oliver moved it to a cool counter and waved the steam away from his face.
Jim Crater had inherited a great deal of money from his family estate when his mother passed away. The family was deep into mineral rights, but their mines had run dry while Jim was in his teens. He’d inherited what was left, but with his stint in the military and unwillingness to listen to advice, good or bad, that money was slowly drying up.
Normally Jim was frugal with those credits, but he’d been spending them hand over fist in the last few days since the ship Evelyn’s Grace showed up. Oliver was hoping that since Jim was in a giving mood, he might be able to cut a deal with the man.
The problem was, Jim wasn’t spending as frivolously as Oliver had hoped. He was trying to kick start an underground movement. He wanted the Union to leave Sector Six for good.
The Royal Family, on the other hand, was greatly interested in a trading partner. It would solidify their grasp on the region. All they had to do was become good lapdogs for their new masters. So, what if making a deal for themselves hurt everyone else?
To be honest, Oliver could sympathize. Eventually, the trade would happen no matter what. But he wasn’t here to argue politics with Jim.
Oliver touched the side of the kettle. Still not cool enough to pour.
“Six hundred thousand credits?” Jim asked again. Oliver nodded. “That’s the lowest you could get?”
“The ship is valued at a million. I’m getting it for just over half price and I’m splitting the deal with you.”
“Splitting? It’s my money,” Jim said. “‘Splitting’ is a generous choice of words.”
“I did the legwork,” said Oliver. “And I brought the deal to you in honor of our old friendship.”
It was true. Sort of. Mostly, Oliver’s list of willing friends with enough money to make this deal was incredibly short.
Jim waited a moment and then nodded. “Fair enough,” Jim agreed, leaning forward. “All right, I’ll give you the money. I’ll even give you half stake in the ship, but there is a condition.”
“Name it,” Oliver said, suddenly worried. He’d been expecting to get a twenty percent holding of the ship at most out of this deal.
“You mentioned that she was armed.”
Slowly, Oliver nodded. “She had a sword of some sort and a pistol.”
“And she seemed capable of defending herself? If provoked, I mean.”
Oh shit.
“That doesn’t seem relevant—”
“No one has to die is the best part,” Jim said, oblivious to Oliver’s objections. “Create a distraction, she draws her weapons to defend herself, and the Royal Family has no choice but to declare the armistice with the Union broken.”
“They’ll turn our defenses against Evelyn’s Grace,” Oliver realized. “And end the discussions before any deals are signed.”
“That’s my price,” Jim said, leaning back in his chair.
“Seems kind of cold-blooded,” Oliver said, pouring the heated water over tea leaves to steep. “How will they know she’s not a local?”
“If she’s in a fight, they’ll run her face against databases. Since she isn’t local or even from the Kingdom, she won’t show up.”
“And if they don’t run her picture?”
Jim shrugged. “Some things you have to take on faith.”
“It’s a risky plan.”
“But if it works, we’ll be better off for it,” Jim said. “Sometimes you just have to bite the bullet and do what is necessary—”
There was a sudden knock on the door. Oliver sipped his tea and set it on the counter. “Who is that?” Jim asked, wariness on his face.
Oliver opened the door.
A ruddy man with pockmarks covering his face waited outside, nervous. Oliver gestured for him to come inside and shrugged at Crater. “I forgot to mention, I need that money now.”
Jim’s eyes went wide. “What?”
“Pay the man,” Oliver said, sitting back down in his chair at the kitchen table, “and I’ll do whatever you need me to do.”
Jim grumbled, but he did offer up the data pad. The ruddy man typed in a few commands. Jim entered his passcodes and did a quick biometric scan and transferred the credits.
“Thank you,” the broker mumbled, disappearing. Oliver shut the door behind him and sipped his tea again.
Jim looked angry once the money was gone. “You knew I would take your deal,” he accused. Oliver shrugged. “That’s a lot of credits.”
“It’s a lot of purifiers,” Oliver said.
Jim took his safari hat off and dropped it on the center of the table, running a hand through his receding brown hair.
“Well, I’m poorer by half a million credits.”
“But richer by a ship,” Oliver retorted, pulling a carefully rolled-up handkerchief out of his jacket pocket and unrolling it. A pair of cigars rested inside. They were expensive but well worth the cost. Jim’s favorite brand, Oliver remembered.
Oliver handed one to Jim, who was already perking up. “You went along with my plan, so I’ll play along with yours,” Oliver said.
“I’ll call the Wrake brothers tomorrow morning and negotiate a price. A few well-timed shots in the air, make her think she’s being attacked, and it’ll be over.”
Oliver nodded, mind working over the possibilities. The more he thought about it, in fact, the more he liked it. Evelyn’s Grace had piqued the interests of the Royal Family. Whetted their appetite, so to speak, and their greed would not allow them to accept anything less than the profits they were promised.
Oliver knew how to trade, and he’d been to Terminus many times. He stood in the perfect position to slip his way into the vacuum being created when Evelyn’s Grace fled. He would make a fortune; if he had his own ship and the ability to trade on behalf of the Royal Family…
Betraying Vivian, when he thought about it, seemed like a very small price to pay for half of a claim on a trading vessel. The money he could make doing his own shipping was well worth her animosity.
“Tomorrow, I’m going to the port to inspect the vessel we’re about to trade for,” Oliver said. “Then the next day we’re making the transfer. Once a deal is struck, I’ll get her to the market and create your distraction.”
“You think you can lead her on like that?”
Oliver almost laughed. “She won’t have the slightest clue.”
“Okay then. I’ll hash out the other side of the plan. She’ll never know what hit her.”
“No,” Oliver said. “No actual attacks. Scare her, sure. But don’t hurt her. She might be just a normal civilian.”
“She’s armed.”
“Just because she carries a gun does not mean she knows how to use it,” Oliver said. “Maybe in a few days, this will all be over. A couple shots, her weapons pop out, and the treaty is broken. Evelyn’s Grace goes home.”
“What time should I meet you at the spaceport tomorrow?”
“Don’t worry about it. You put the money in; I’ll take care of the rest.”
Jim shrugged, putting his hat back on and sliding a lighter from his pocket. “You know, Oliver, if things go right, then this time next week we could be heroes for sending the Union packing. We’ll have to pick up a couple victory cigars.” He flicked the lighter and held the flame across the table for Oliver.
“Or coffins,” Oliver added, leaning over and puffing on his cigar.
“Yeah,” Jim said, lighting and drawing deeply before leaning back in his chair and releasing a cloud of silver smoke.
2
The hangar was built in an old grain field several centuries earlier. Back when Jaril was still mostly farmland. A monarch built the structure while declaring this his home, and the city of Mys sprouted around it. Now it was the largest and most beautiful city in the entire Kingdom.
But it doesn’t change the fact that the hangar is falling apart.
Oliver leaned against the concrete-and-rebar wall in bay forty-three. He was carefully avoiding a stripped wire hanging from the ceiling that might or might not shock him if it touched his skin. It was hovering about twelve inches from his left cheek and he could have sworn it chased him whenever he moved.
That wire had fallen loose from a ceiling light during construction and draped down to ground level due to excess cable and shoddy workmanship. Oliver didn’t even want to guess how long it had been like that.
Once I have my fifty percent of a ship, I’ll have to put up with these damn deteriorating spaceports on a regular basis.
Suddenly a wrench hit the ground a few feet to Oliver’s left. A man shouted down apologies.
Oliver carefully moved away from the wall.
He tried not to picture what he would look like lying dead on the floor, skull bashed in.
Vivian Drowel stood a few meters away, reading over the schematics of the water filtration system. Each unit came in four pieces. If the shoddy hangar conditions bothered her, she didn’t show it.
She was thorough. He had to give her that. Luckily, she didn’t seem to know any more about water filtration than he did, and with prices fluctuating throughout the galaxy, she would have a hard time proving he was cheating her.
He’d been hoping to leave the hangar a few hours ago, but Vivian insisted on going over each unit to make sure they were up to spec. A few of the units were old and she insisted on running water through them and testing them.
Traq was sitting on the ground a few meters away, looking bored out of his mind as only a five-year-old can. Oliver felt bad for the kid, wondering if he’d ever been that bored when he was young.
He doubted Vivian was the kid’s mother—they looked nothing alike—but she was a lot more for Traq than Oliver had while growing up. His grandparents gave him a place to sleep sometimes, but for the most part, he lived in group homes for kids or on the street surrounded by miserable adults and thieving bullies.
“Are you satisfied?” he asked.
“Nearly,” Vivian replied. “Are you in a hurry?”
The question oozed mistrust.
“Of course not, but they close the hangar in a few hours,” he said. And I’m bored, tired, and frustrated. Also, by the way, I’m planning to betray you so that a madman can run you off the planet and break up a tentative treaty.
He decided to keep those thoughts to himself.
And people say I’m not diplomatic. Ha!
Oliver felt in his pocket and found the little good-luck coin he carried. It was a trinket he kept out of sentimentality…mostly. It was also (conveniently) an exact replica of the Admiral Medallion for Heroism. It was given by the Admiralty whenever someone went above and beyond the call of duty and was only rewarded once every few years.
They were, of course, quite easy to replicate.
Whenever he dropped into a local bar, it was the perfect conversation starter. A quick story about how he risked his life to save his war buddy Chester in some galactic battle was a great way to make sure he didn’t spend his nights alone. I pulled him out of the burning wreckage, giving him my own oxygen supply until we got to safety. I don’t think I’m a hero, but the Admirals…
He flipped the coin over in his hand and knelt next to Traq. “Want to see a magic trick?”
The kid looked up. “Sure.”
“See this coin?” Oliver asked, handing it to Traq. “Feel it, it’s totally solid.” Traq turned it over in his hand and then gave it back to Oliver. He held it up again for inspection and then held out his hands, showing the fronts and backs. “Now watch, I’m going to make it disappear.”
Oliver exaggerated the motion of pushing the coin into his fist for a few seconds. He had Traq’s complete attention now, and when he opened his hands to show Traq that the coin was gone, the kid’s eyes went wide. Traq looked around on the ground and then up at Oliver, and Oliver couldn’t help but grin.
“Where did it go?”
“I told you, I made it disappear. Now watch, I’m going to make it reappear.” Oliver closed his fists, exaggerated the motion again with his right hand, and then opened his hand to show the coin. Then he handed it to Traq. “See? Magic.”
Traq held the coin up for inspection. “How did you do that?”
“A magician never reveals his secrets,” Oliver explained. Traq handed him back the coin and stood up. Traq turned to Vivian.
“How did he do that?” he asked.
Vivian finally looked up from the schematics.
“Probably a fake coin,” she said. Oliver flipped it to her. She caught it deftly and scanned it over. “Then some sort of adhesive.” She tossed it back to him.
“You wound me,” he said, “to even accuse me of tricking this youngster here with anything less than real magic. I’d like to see you do better.”
Vivian sighed and turned back to the manifests.
Oliver held the coin back up in front of Traq. He whispered, conspiratorial, “I use a sticky substance called petroleum jelly to hold the coin to the back of my hand,” he said, showing his hand to Traq. “And I press the coin against the soft part between my thumb and finger so that when I open my hands and show you my palms you can’t see the coin.”
“Oh,” Traq said, looking at his own hands and slightly deflating.
“Unfortunately, magic isn’t real,” Oliver disclosed, aware that Vivian was still watching him overtop the manifests. “And before you ask Vivian, yes. That means I always carry a little container of petroleum jelly in my pocket. Just in case.”
A few moments passed and then Vivian set the schematics down on the table.
“It’s not a lot,” she said. “Only twenty purifiers. In the Republic, we could get twice this many for the same price.”
She’s bluffing, Oliver knew. Her eyes told him everything. If she knew for certain, she’d never sign this deal.
“Never been there,” Oliver lied. “So, I wouldn’t know.”
“No,” Vivian said, “I suppose not.”
Oliver was glad she was in a hurry to leave the planet because only a few hours in the right markets would have been enough to call his bluff. “I suppose this is enough if you are willing to stick to the rest of the agreement.”
“The delivery has already been organized, and the goods will be on Mali within two weeks. I’ve taken the liberty of plagiarizing a trade contract and making a few modifications for us to sign. I added your stipulations in the bylines.”
“I want your word as well,” Vivian said. Oliver pretended to be offended.
“The people who need water, those are my people, even if they live on a different world. You have my word that your purifiers will make it there. And in addition, I also pledge that if I find others willing to donate food, supplies, or water to Mali, then I will deliver them as well in honor of this deal we’ve struck today.”
Provided they pay, of course.
He still had to put up with a few more moments of her eyes boring into him before she relaxed. Oliver briefly wondered what she would have done if she didn’t like his deal.
“I will come back one day to make sure you live up to that promise,” Vivian said, rolling up the schematics. Oliver bowed.
“When you do, you’ll be quite pleased,” he insisted.
“Come back tomorrow, and I’ll have the ship ready for transfer,” said Vivian. Oliver bowed again, only a few inches this time, and then turned toward the exit. He waited until Vivian was safely out of sight:
“Layers upon layers of lies,” he mumbled. “Oliver, I believe you’ll get yourself in trouble one of these days.”
