to be down here?”
“I’m pretty sure I’m not. Why don’t you go get station security and tell them all about it? While you’re at it you might as well show them what you’ve got and how you acquired it.” I spread my hands out, palm upwards. I gave him my best nonchalant shrug.
He stared at me for a few moments, thinking it through. I could almost see him working out in his mind how he could get me arrested without implicating himself in any wrong doings. Eventually, he concluded that he couldn’t. He did his best to appear unaffected by my teasing.
“Very well, if Chief Markum isn’t here, you’ll have to do mister…?”
“Germaine,” I said. There was no way this creep was getting my real name. “Walt Germaine.”
“Very well, Mr Germaine. Are you here to buy or to waste my time?”
“That depends on what you’ve got and what condition it’s in.”
An incoming message flashed on my overlay, a quick glance showed me it was from Chief Markum. I gestured for the shirt to wait, holding a finger up at him. He looked annoyed by didn’t say anything. I accepted the message.
Meeting started? It said.
I replied, Yes. You want in on a camera feed I have in the room?
Most definitely.
I opened a channel for Markum to access the camera feed, and linked my audio to it.
Know this guy? I asked when he confirmed he was connected.
Unfortunately. Name’s Wilson Graham the 12 th . Prickly little shit, I’ll tell you.
I already figured that out.
Want to scare the piss out of him?
Hell, yes.
Tell that guy on your right not to be late for his shift in thirty minutes. His name is Peters, one of my junior grades.
“By the way, Peters,” I said, throwing the thug on my right a grin, “I hope this meeting doesn’t make you late for your shift in half an hour.”
The thug’s menacing stance shifted to one of shock, then uncertainty. Graham gave the goon a solid dose of stink eye, before Peters shrugged and resumed his glaring.
“You really should make sure you’re not hiring your competition’s own men when you do these sorts of deals, Wilson. Can make all sorts of ripples in the pond, if you know what I mean?”
“He’s paid for through a proxy, I had no idea who he was before this.”
“Sloppy.”
“We’re not all criminals, you know?”
“No, one of us is a civilian. Now, Mr Graham, shall we get on with it? I don’t want to be in your presence any longer than necessary, and I’m sure we don’t want Peters to be late for his next shift.”
Graham begrudgingly turned to his trolley of crates and unclipped the first one, peeling back the lid and gesturing for me to take a look. He stepped back to allow me better access. I walked up to the crate, careful not to let the pair of goons out of my view. I peered inside. Instead of Ghantri weapons, all I could see were containers filled with ampules. A cooling nanite pad rested at the bottom, chilling the contents of the crate.
“What the hell?” I said, reaching in to pick up a container. I counted over thirty ampules in each, and at least a dozen containers all up.
What in the galaxy have you gotten me into, Markum? I texted. I couldn’t read the writing on the boxes, but I recognised a few of the symbols. It didn’t bode well.
Better living through chemistry is something I’ve always advocated. The Ghantri have some wonderfully diverse insights into narcotics, truly unique perspectives on some technology.
You’ve got me checking in on a drug deal for you?
Put it this way; they’re not illicit substances yet, are they?
Only because no one knows what’s in this shit!
True, but opportunity favours the swift.
“I trust you’re happy with the product?” asked Wilson Graham, “You can sample one if you like.”
Do it. I need to know if it’s pure.
Like hell!
If I can’t verify the substance, I can’t do the deal. No deal, I can’t grease enough palms to get you that fuel.
I quietly fumed. I’d never been a fan of
“I’m pretty sure I’m not. Why don’t you go get station security and tell them all about it? While you’re at it you might as well show them what you’ve got and how you acquired it.” I spread my hands out, palm upwards. I gave him my best nonchalant shrug.
He stared at me for a few moments, thinking it through. I could almost see him working out in his mind how he could get me arrested without implicating himself in any wrong doings. Eventually, he concluded that he couldn’t. He did his best to appear unaffected by my teasing.
“Very well, if Chief Markum isn’t here, you’ll have to do mister…?”
“Germaine,” I said. There was no way this creep was getting my real name. “Walt Germaine.”
“Very well, Mr Germaine. Are you here to buy or to waste my time?”
“That depends on what you’ve got and what condition it’s in.”
An incoming message flashed on my overlay, a quick glance showed me it was from Chief Markum. I gestured for the shirt to wait, holding a finger up at him. He looked annoyed by didn’t say anything. I accepted the message.
Meeting started? It said.
I replied, Yes. You want in on a camera feed I have in the room?
Most definitely.
I opened a channel for Markum to access the camera feed, and linked my audio to it.
Know this guy? I asked when he confirmed he was connected.
Unfortunately. Name’s Wilson Graham the 12 th . Prickly little shit, I’ll tell you.
I already figured that out.
Want to scare the piss out of him?
Hell, yes.
Tell that guy on your right not to be late for his shift in thirty minutes. His name is Peters, one of my junior grades.
“By the way, Peters,” I said, throwing the thug on my right a grin, “I hope this meeting doesn’t make you late for your shift in half an hour.”
The thug’s menacing stance shifted to one of shock, then uncertainty. Graham gave the goon a solid dose of stink eye, before Peters shrugged and resumed his glaring.
“You really should make sure you’re not hiring your competition’s own men when you do these sorts of deals, Wilson. Can make all sorts of ripples in the pond, if you know what I mean?”
“He’s paid for through a proxy, I had no idea who he was before this.”
“Sloppy.”
“We’re not all criminals, you know?”
“No, one of us is a civilian. Now, Mr Graham, shall we get on with it? I don’t want to be in your presence any longer than necessary, and I’m sure we don’t want Peters to be late for his next shift.”
Graham begrudgingly turned to his trolley of crates and unclipped the first one, peeling back the lid and gesturing for me to take a look. He stepped back to allow me better access. I walked up to the crate, careful not to let the pair of goons out of my view. I peered inside. Instead of Ghantri weapons, all I could see were containers filled with ampules. A cooling nanite pad rested at the bottom, chilling the contents of the crate.
“What the hell?” I said, reaching in to pick up a container. I counted over thirty ampules in each, and at least a dozen containers all up.
What in the galaxy have you gotten me into, Markum? I texted. I couldn’t read the writing on the boxes, but I recognised a few of the symbols. It didn’t bode well.
Better living through chemistry is something I’ve always advocated. The Ghantri have some wonderfully diverse insights into narcotics, truly unique perspectives on some technology.
You’ve got me checking in on a drug deal for you?
Put it this way; they’re not illicit substances yet, are they?
Only because no one knows what’s in this shit!
True, but opportunity favours the swift.
“I trust you’re happy with the product?” asked Wilson Graham, “You can sample one if you like.”
Do it. I need to know if it’s pure.
Like hell!
If I can’t verify the substance, I can’t do the deal. No deal, I can’t grease enough palms to get you that fuel.
I quietly fumed. I’d never been a fan of
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