Between the Lines
30 Mar 2024Ryuko Ntsikana
Between the Lines
Colonia Region
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Hilario Ryan was the type put in charge of their station's black market by the faction. His kind I was familiar with—a pure underling weasel, who couldn’t cut it on a pirate crew, so instead of making credits, he was put into a role to shake down those who could. An affront to everyone with cargo in their holds and data in their storage.
Tara didn’t need to say a word; the look in her eyes said it all. The only thing that had kept her from reaching across the counter and choking him was the shake of my head. It was impolite to throttle the idiot, even though no one would have missed him. He was still in a business position within their organization, and there were rules to be followed if I wanted to kick him out of an airlock.
I kept my face neutral, leaning on his counter in an obvious show of disrespect. “It is simple, a fair price for the data and goods, this ruling council will drool over, or we leave and I go to the star near here, and dump the entire lot into it.”
The stupid arrogant grin remained on his face as he raked a hand over his blond corn-rolled hair.
“A bluff. Your types work too hard for your credits, and this is not only the best offer, but the only offer you will get out here.”
Tara’s face and eyes were frozen like a marble statue, her programming wanting to break, bend, and twist the object before her, but as much as I, and those from other crews who were present, would have enjoyed the horror show, I couldn’t allow it, and Ryan knew it.
"No bluff, simple check show no need ya credits. But no cheat, no play. If choose, I deny bosses blueprints, trade secrets of rivals. If bosses lose, be on ya. Make it so, or lose all."
The moment I switched to pidgin talk, everyone’s ears perked up, along with Hilario, whose stupid smile started to fade.
I stopped leaning on his counter, straightening up to my full six-foot height, and began to turn around. "Time waits for none, and fate's hands are open. Decide. No play, no win. Tick tock."
Hilario ran his hand through his corn rolls again. “Listen, the best I can do is a million and a quarter, along with a free refuel and reload.”
That was a far cry better than the offensive quarter million he offered me.
I nodded, looking over my shoulder at him as all the others' eyes were on me. “Deal struck. Bots take cargo, cannons reload. Good trade. Break it, space's unforgiving."
The overly large security man at the door flashed a toothy half-smile as we exited. More out of amusement than any threat. I could only imagine his plight, guarding someone he would rather strangle than look at, but he had his orders too.
Back in the corridor, through which the tram ran, ferrying crews and equipment between the various hangars, Tara looked at me with a curious gaze.
“Is there a place where I can download that pidgin so that I can use it too?”
It was a valid question but one that had been asked of me in the past, even by Aby, but which I had no answer.
“It's more a matter of learning through experience than finding it in any dictionary or reference I know of. If you come across one, I'd be interested in taking a look.”
We strolled the path off the side of the tram lanes as Tara’s neural processor played through the prior negotiations. “Tell me how well I decipher it. You told him, ‘No bluff, simple check show no need ya credits.’ Which was you telling him that you were serious and didn’t need the credits.”
I nodded, as Tara continued. “Then you told him you would deny the goods and his bosses would lose out and it would be his fault.”
I took her hand, nodding once more. “You then told him to hurry up and make a decision, as you straightened up, showing that you would leave, and when he agreed, you told him it was a good deal, but if he double-crossed you, you would find him in space and that would be that?”
“You learn fast,” I said with a smile and a chuckle, as Tara tapped the side of her head, smiling.
***
We decided to spend the night on board the Krait, venturing out to explore the amenities of the asteroid station. The consecutive wars had depleted the shelves, and even with pirate ships flooding the local black markets with full cargo racks, they couldn’t keep up with the demand, resulting in soaring prices for what little remained.
The local bar was far from its usual bustling self. Those present were mostly cargo pilots who had survived, drowning their sorrows because they knew that many of them might not see tomorrow. The rowdy pirates who typically frequented the establishment were either out fighting for survival or had met their end in the void of space.
Though I went out of my way, in most cases, to ensure those I emptied the cargo holds of were safe and secure, there was a mix whose bounties I claimed, for one reason or another. The last of those was a member of this faction, who tried to interdict me, while I was pursuing the cargo of another. They were alive when I took them after they ejected in their escape pod from their disintegrating ship.
Being a gentleman I gave that escape pod to the cargo ship I had been going after initially. Once I finished emptying their cargo, I gave them a gift, as they were rivals and they appreciated the gesture. It would help his cause, once he was rescued to have one of their enemies available for a chat that I didn’t want to think about.
The highlight of the evening was encountering Hilario Ryan, the black marketeer with whom we had conducted business earlier, sipping a drink near the bar's entrance, scowling at passersby. His imposing bodyguard was nearby, acknowledging us with a nod as we approached.
“This one's out of favor; you can't space him yet, freelancer. The boss keeps him around for other plans. Politics, like space—cold and unforgiving.”
I smirked, glancing past the guard at Hilario, whose scowl softened as he noticed us. “That's a shame. I was considering giving my partner a gift as well.”
A broad, toothy grin spread across Hilario's bodyguard's face.
“And I wouldn't mind opening the airlock for you to throw him out,” came a female voice from behind us.
Her cold, blue eyes briefly studied Tara and me before a hint of a smirk appeared as she glanced past us at Hilario, who looked down at his drink.
“I'm Sena McKee, in charge of the area markets. You two must be the ones who have been working the lanes and found the most recent gift. That one brought us amusement.”
I knew what the amusement implied and I didn’t let my mind take it any further, as Sena motioned for us to take some of the nearby setting, looking once again at Hilario, and scowling.
Tara maintained a neutral expression, her gaze fixed on Sena, as we settled into our seats.
“Let's get straight to business. We've enjoyed doing business with you and would like to continue receiving your hauls at our markets. To sweeten the deal, I'm prepared to offer repair, reload, and refueling services for you.” Sena paused, studying Tara and me. “Occasionally, we'll send one of our own to interdict you. Rest assured, they'll be experienced and come with a healthy bounty, which we'll pay, of course.”
Tara remained straight face as the corner of my mouth lifted.
“Then we have an understanding,” Sena said, rising from her seat. “But remember, you can't space this one,” she nodded toward Hilario with a grimace, “at least not yet.”
I nodded in acknowledgment as Tara glanced over her shoulder at Hilario. “Politics means nothing to me. I'm like space—cold and unforgiving.”
Sena heard Tara’s pidgin comment to Hilario, saying nothing but smiling and nodding in approval before she turned and left, marching with purpose toward whatever—or whoever—was next on her agenda.
I waited for Sena to vanish from sight, as was customary, before casting one last glance at Hilario, who remained fixated on his drink. Confident that our business was concluded, I nodded at the bodyguard and walked to the elevators, which would take us to the tram level and back to the ship. Tara remained stoic and silent, keeping her head and eyes forward.