The Serpents and the Skulls, Chapter 3.3
11 Apr 2017Michael Wolfe
“Listen, Deggie- you wanna keep knocking over shipments of food cartridges, or do you want to move up to the big time?”
Snuffy McWalters. The old scoundrel with the filthy whiskers and glass eye, hunched over a steel mug of tavern-distilled Pegasi rotgut. We were in a private booth in my father’s nightclub, loud music throbbing in the background. It didn’t surprise me that old Snuffy knew about my procurement work on the side. The semi-retired pirate typically had ten filthy fingers in ten mushy pies, and there wasn't a deal that went down on Clair Dock that he didn’t know about.
I ran my fingers through my shoulder-length hair and looked away. “Don’t know what you’re talking about. Pop needs me here day and night. We’re trying to run a respectable joint, you know?”
A look of crocodile-teared sympathy crossed the old pirate’s face as he put a gnarled hand over his chest. “No one is sadder about your father’s health than I am. I’m just asking you think about the future. Dante sunk his whole life into peddling tits and rotgut. Is that what you want for yourself?”
I took a deep breath and fish out an onionhead joint, lighting it up and staring at the inebriated masses below. Snuffy was right. Dante DeVerre, my father and owner of the Seventh Circle Nightclub, had been born, grown up on, and had seldom even left Clair Dock over the course of his long, debauched life. Even if Mother hadn’t left, he would still have been a womanizing, drink-addled lowlife. Why go shopping for milk when you own a dairy? he liked to ask.
But he raised you and always looked after you, I thought. And in Pegasi, that counts for something.
I turned back to Snuffy, sensing that he had more to say. “Maybe I do, maybe I don’t. Depends on what exactly you mean by ‘moving up’.”
A sharky look crossed the man’s features. “I’m gonna just assume you’ve heard of the Morgans.”
I took another drag and glanced at him from the corner of my eye. “Yeah, the crime family. Murderers and pirates. Didn’t they kill themselves off or something?”
Snuffy shrugged and and downed another mouthful of his liquor. “There, uh- there may have been a bit of a family quarrel. But it’s all settled now. Old Man Morgan and all the uncles are dead, keelhauled by his own son. Big guy. Name of Rabat. You may have heard of him.”
Exhaling a cloud of the pungent herb, I made a face. “That’s your gig, not mine. I just make sure that the customers stay thirsty and the girls stay limber.”
A smile crossed the old pirate’s face, revealing his rotting teeth. “Spoken like your father’s son. But times are changing, Deggie. Rabat is on the move, and he’s making contacts in Tjakiri- which means he’s coming here, to Clair. This time next year, everyone who’s anyone in this old rustbucket will either be out of the game or playing ball with Coach Morgan. So what’s it gonna be for you and your old man?”
I struggled to keep my face impassive, even as my heart started to pound in my chest. A Morgan? Coming here?
“This Rabat guy wants to stop by for a drink, I’ll pour it myself,” I said. “But the Seventh Circle isn’t for sale. Pop’ll eat a plasma blast before he lets himself get strongarmed.”
A look of cunning understanding spread over the old pirate’s face. “I know,” he said. “And that’s why you’ve got to make him see reason. I can arrange a meeting. The sooner you get on the same holo-page with Rabat, the bigger piece of the pie gets cut for you.”
I scoffed, taking another drag of my onionhead joint. “And you’d make these introductions out of the kindness of your heart?”
Snuffy’s look of understanding was supplanted by a smuggler’s gleam. “The kindness of my heart, and a third that cargo bay full of food cartridges. Chun’s having a hell of a time with the Kumo Crew right now, and someone’s got to answer those darky’s prayers, right?”
There was no point in denying what I and some mates had pulled off. Parting with my third of the profit would set me behind- but if this meeting with Rabat went well, both my father’s and my future would be safeguarded for years to come. It wasn’t perfect, and it wasn’t my first choice- but you play with the hand that the fates deal you.
“A third,” I said. “And it had better be a hell of an introduction.”
Grinning, Snuffy downed the last of his drink and stood up. No handshake was offered, nor was one needed. In Pegasi, a deal over a drink was as close to sacred as anything ever got.
“I’ll tell him the sob story about your mother,” he said. “And besides- when have I ever cheated anyone?”
I raised my eyebrows at the man’s mocking, rhetorical question. Father would drum my ears just for having a drink with the old scoundrel, and here I was making deals with him behind his back.
“See you around, Snuffy.”
“He’s awake.”
I opened my eyes, gasping deeply. As before, there were tubes running in and out of my arms, and constant monitoring from doctors, nurses, and aides. Already, I’m irritated at my situation. I’d been laid up in this bed for a month- eating, shitting, and walking only under supervision. I was still weak, and knew that I’d need to sleep again soon. Even so-
Can’t a man get a moment of privacy? Watched over like a goddamn baby. This is no way to live.
I tried my best to speak clearly and authoritatively. “Summon the council.”
“At once.”
At least I can still make a K-cast without anyone telling me that I’m too weak.
With their assistance, I managed to sit up into a position that resembled dignified. One by one, the rest of High Council appeared around me, each with their own holographic selves projecting into my ward. Once the encryption on the connection was verified, I nodded for them to proceed. Victor was the first.
“Don DeVerre. How are you feeling?”
I shrug, waving off the question. “Like I had a heart attack and the replacement meat isn’t growing fast enough. How goes the snake-catching?”
This time, Marra spoke. “There’s been a breakthrough. We’ve learned the location of one of their sanctuaries.”
Finally. Some good news. “Oh?”
Laius nodded. “A strike force is being assembled, and we’ve got probes scouring every inch of the planet in question. It’s only a matter of time before we have surface coordinates.”
I leaned forward, feeling a rush of excitement. “Only probes? No ships?”
Victor nodded. “Minimum sig, recon-only. No need to alert the snakes before the strike.”
I nodded, in agreement with the decision. “And this information came from the lone survivor of that convoy raid?”
Azalea took the opportunity to chime in, casting Marra a look of resentment- or perhaps envy? “It was luck as much as anything else. Luck, and that quack doctor Glaboski.”
I felt an eyebrow raise in amusement. Envy. Definitely envy.
“You know how this business is sometimes, Constantinestu- if you’re not lucky, we can’t use you.”
The petite Gallic woman immediately nodded and bowed her head. “Of course.”
I looked to Marra, my eyes narrowing. “Then it’s done? The child is disposed of?”
My consigliere placed her hands on her hips, a cunning look in her eyes. “No. She may yet be of use to us.”
I cocked my head to the side, intrigued. “Explain.”
Her eyes bored into mine in the same dark way that her father’s used to. “The girl was being sent away from the sanctuary to somewhere even more secret. Some kind of temple for their barbaric rites. But that isn’t important. What’s important is who she is.”
I exhaled, feeling the first tendrils of fatigue in my limbs. “And? Who is she, exactly?”
The women smiled, her red lips curling. “We searched the ship’s logs before we scuttled it. The girl is the only remaining granddaughter of that Serpent Elder. Groomed to lead when she comes of age. She’s priceless as a bargaining chip.”
Victor shook his head. “Not in her current state, she isn’t.”
Now it was my turn to delve into conspiracy. “But the snakes don’t know about that, do they?”
The council and I trade an understanding look as Marra slyly replied. “No. They don’t.”
I raised a finger to the holo-council around me. The effort required to do so was disconcerting. “Then it’s settled. When you strike, be damned sure of what you’re getting into. I don’t want another Serpent’s Redoubt.”
They didn’t answer in detail, only bowing their heads in deference.
“Don,” they said simply.
I took a long look at each of my council members. “You know what to do. Dismissed.”
The holograms flickered off, and I let my hand drop to my side. Just that brief exchange had exhausted me. I took a moment to myself, not allowing any deep breaths or signs of fatigue in front of the aids. The doctors had assured me that my replacement organs were coming along just fine, but-
You’re an old man, I thought. Old and weak.
Already, sleep was overcoming me. Soon, I would be out for another twelve hours or so. And when I woke up, there would be more news from my subordinates. Thus had been my life for weeks. I laid back into my bed, closing my eyes and wishing that I believed in any gods with which to bargain.
Those organs can’t grow fast enough.
“Dante DeVerre, may I present Rabat of the Clan Morgan.”
I stood over my father as I straightened his back as much as much as he could while rising to greet our guests. For myself, I was tempted to help him up- but had been warned not to beforehand by Snuffy. The Morgans prized strength above all things, and any perceived weakness would have been used against us during this important first meeting.
But my father set his face and rose as though he were in the pink of health, grasping the pirate’s hand in the old style, with each man gripping the other’s forearms and locking eyes. Not that I relished the idea of being in the man’s grasp, either.
Rabat Morgan was a younger man, barely thirty but with piercing dark eyes that seemed much older than the rest of him. And he was massive- not obese, but simply big. He towered over everyone else in the room, a dominating presence that affected all those around him.
“DeVerre,” he said simply.
“Morgan,” said my father.
Snuffy signalled for everyone to sit, and my father gestured that I pour some drinks. I did so in silence, the young pirate and my aged father sizing each other up across the table. The club had been closed specifically for this meeting, as Rabat still had plenty of enemies across Pegasi who might have used a crowded location against him. My father hadn’t objected, as Snuffy had discreetly slipped him some credit chips from the pirate beforehand. They were the equivalent of a busy week’s business, and a sign of the man’s appreciation and interest in the deal.
The two men began speaking, neither of them introducing the people around them but both getting straight to business. Rabat wanted a place from which he and his people could safely lay low, store small quantities of contraband, and serve as a neutral ground of sorts for the unsavory types with whom he inevitably dealt. In exchange, Dante would receive a cut of whatever business was conducted under his roof, as well as the rights to an adjacent plot of station property that he’d long had his eye on to expand The Seventh Circle into a true beacon of debauchery. How exactly Rabat had intended to convince the neighboring owner to sell wasn’t deemed important enough to bring up.
The meeting took hours, with both sides drinking down an entire bottle of Eranin Pearl that my father had been gifted for his wedding but never opened. Details of specific percentages and rights were haggled over, but the conclusion of the meeting was never in doubt. In the end, both men clasped forearms to seal their new understanding. My father stood a second time and smiled grimly at his new partner, embracing and kissing each other on the cheek as was the custom in Pegasi.
Dante excused himself with all the grace that he possessed, jokingly blaming his aged bladder for taking him away. I knew better. The old man could barely stand, and was on the verge of collapsing. I signalled for a few of the scantily-clad waitresses to make sure that he got to his bedroom safely, and was just turning to leave myself when I felt a tap on my shoulder.
It was Snuffy, a ratty look in his eyes and jerking his thumb to the table where Rabat and I father and just concluded negotiations. The man hadn’t said a word to me the entire meeting, but was now looking at me with interest.
“The boss knows,” he said. “About everything. Your father’s health. Your little side business. He wanted to have a word with you privately.”
Hesitantly, I sat down where my father had just been. Even at a table, I felt tiny compared to the dark-eyed man across from me. He signalled for another bottle and waited as one of his minions poured a drink for me. With a dangerous look in his eye, he waved her away and slid the filled glass my way. I looked behind me. My father was already gone, and Rabat’s lackeys had already shut the door to the private room, standing by it with crossed arms.
“Degginal DeVerre,” he said. “Snuffy here tells me that you’ve got ambitions beyond being daddy’s little bartender. How would you like to run with the big dogs for a change?”