Windswept

by Adam Rakunas

  “Like what?” I said, laughing.

  Wash shrugged. “Bo Westin and some of his buddies have started a chemical engineering plant in Beifong. They’re going to get us off relying on Big Three products.”

  “Yeah?” I said. “You got any customers?”

  Wash made a face. “Saarien. But it’s good money!”

  “And it’s also local,” I said. “You want to make serious dosh, you need to send stuff up the cable, and the only things this planet produces on that scale are rum and molasses, and the Co-Op doesn’t make that much.”

  “Well, you’d know, wouldn’t you?” said Wash.

  “Oh, not you, too,” I said.

  “You still can dish it out, but can’t take it,” said Wash, winking.

  “I can’t take a bad deal, which is what this is,” I said. “You really think you’re doing your people a favor by giving into Saarien? It’s bad enough he’s got a third of the cane going to him; now you’re going to give him the keys to storage and shipping, too?”

  “Saarien’s an asshole, but he’s a manageable asshole,” said Wash.

  “Is he?” I said. “How many other Wards has he screwed over in the past ten years? How many times has he pinched Breaches? How many times has he promised to lend out cash or workers and not followed through?”

  “This deal is done, Padma,” said Wash. “Unless you’ve got something else to stick in my tanks and someone else to fix them, there’s nothing I can do.”

  “I just can’t believe you’d cave like this.”

  “You don’t have to believe it, but that’s how it is. I gotta get my equipment fixed. Hell, I got molasses that’s starting to go bad because the tanks are so nasty. I’ve never seen it like this, which is why I’ve got to get cracking now. Anything to get these leaking tanks off my books is a deal worth making.” He leaned back. “Now, about the crane you ruined–”

  “Bill Saarien for it,” I said. “I was just defending myself.”

  Wash sat back and snorted. “What, you’re going to blame him for everything now? Come on.”

  I leaned forward. “I made a fool of him last night. You think he’s going to let me get away with that? You start digging around, you’ll find his sticky fingerprints all over those cranes that chased us. Hell, you can blink up footage from all over the Ward, and you’ll find who shot at us.”

  He shrugged. “Maybe he did. That still doesn’t solve my problems now.”

  “Who owns the tanks?” asked Banks.

  Wash looked at Banks, then laughed. “I don’t think Padma introduced us, Mister...?”

  “Banks, my new lawyer, late of WalWa, prone to saying weird shit,” I said, turning to Banks. “What in hell are you talking about?”

  “It’s in the Union Charter,” said Banks, hunkering forward in his chair. “All ownership rights of a Ward’s natural and manmade resources have to be accounted for in order to preserve that Ward’s prosperity, and to make sure they’re kicking up enough to the whole of the Union.”

  “Where’s that?” I said.

  “Clause one, sub-clause seventeen,” said Banks. “You people read your own laws, right?”

  “Only if it suits us,” I said. “And you’d better watch that ‘you people’ business. You’re about to become one of us.”

  “Steelcase doesn’t have any natural resources,” said Wash.

  “No, but you do have those tanks,” said Banks.

  “Which are leaking,” said Wash, “and this is the only way I can get them fixed.”

  “But if you empty the tanks, you’re going to empty Slots along with them,” said Banks. “Part of the Contract is that Steelcase supplies so many hectoliters of industrial molasses every quarter, and if you’re not supplying it, you’re not part of the Contract. You’re going to lose even more if you give Sou’s Reach your holding concessions.”

  “You think I don’t know that?” said Wash. “I’ve gone over the numbers again and again, and this is the way I lose the least.”

  “But you have so much here that could help you gain more,” said Banks.

  Wash threw his hands up with a weak laugh, then turned to look at the tanks and trellis. “Yes, behold our unbelievable wealth.”

  “Banks, are you going somewhere with this?” I said. “Because I don’t think insulting our host is the right way to get there.”

  “Do you remember what I did during my ride in from Earth?” said Banks, fixing me with that smile.

  Last night had done the business to most of the previous day’s memories, but I wasn’t so wrecked that I couldn’t see where Banks was driving. “You worked the greenhouse, right?”

  “Greenhouse?” said Wash. “You came in on a WalWa seeder?”

  Banks nodded.

  “My condolences,” said Wash. “I heard about those wrecks. Makes my ride sound like a luxury liner.”

  “I’m sure it was,” said Banks. “Pulling weeds and tying vines was fun for a while, but then when planting came around...” He shuddered. “Where do you think we got our fertilizer?”

  “Oh, you didn’t,” I said.

  “Why do you think I wanted to jump ship?” said Banks. “All those fishsticks may have been catatonic, but they still shat themselves enough times to keep the greenhouse running.”

  I felt a glimmer of anger, deep in my guts. I remembered the metallic stench of the hibernant, the bright lights...

  And The Fear snicked me an icy toothed smile, sharp enough to make my hands tense and freeze. My teacup tumbled from my fingers.

  “You OK?” said Wash.

  “Fine,” I said, pouring myself another cup. “Nervy day, you know?” I told The Fear to get lost, then made a note to find the nearest WalWa rep just so I could punch him hard enough to make my old bosses feel it.

  “Well, that’s all good and done for you,” said Wash, “but if you’re suggesting I get into the humanure business, forget it. The capital costs to convert our plumbing would outweigh any favors I owe Padma.”

  “Of course they would,” said Banks. “But the actual worth of what you’re losing to Sou’s Reach might mean you’re getting screwed, and that’s a direct violation of the First Clause.”

  “The First Clause says the Union exists to protect its members from the Big Three,” I said.

  “But there’s plenty of legal precedent to interpret that to mean one Ward shall not screw over another Ward,” said Banks. “As far as I can tell, Saarien’s doing it to you two ways, by taking your workforce and your means of making a living.”

  “He’s doing it to me in many, many interesting ways,” said Wash.

  “Then it’s time to do it back,” said Banks, “and you’re going to do it with Brushhead’s help.”

  “And how will that work?” I said. “What exactly do we have to offer when we’re bleeding Slots?”

  “You would know,” said Banks. “You spent the evening talking about it with your friends.”

  I was too tired to blink up footage from last night, but not tired enough I couldn’t remember Jordan’s list of complaints. “We just have the sewage plant, and that’s falling apart.”

  “As are the tanks in Steelcase,” said Banks. “Separately, they’re the responsibility of the individual Wards, but if you were to enter into an agreement, it becomes a joint infrastructure project, and those get automatic funding from the Union.”

  I opened my mouth to object, but nothing came out. I could get Jordan and her crew to work in Steelcase, put Banks and company into the now-vacant Slots, yet retain all of them in my headcount. Holy crap, maybe I could even get extra Slots on my books from Wash, enough to make my number. I gave Banks a slow nod and said, “Well... I suppose that’s worth investigating.”

  “It’s bloody well worth doing!” said Wash, clapping his hands and grinning. “Good God, yes! It’s not glamorous, but it’s something that Saarien can’t take from us.” He held up a hand. “I’m in.”

  Banks turned to me. I crossed my arms over my chest
. Wash’s smile hitched. “What?”

  “You know I can’t make this kind of a decision,” I said.

  “I know you don’t want to make this kind of decision,” said Wash. “That’s different.”

  “You’re going to make me look at the list of things that need to be done in order to link Steelcase and Brushhead, and I’m going to see a mountain of engineering specs, construction costs, health codes, and employee gripes, and then I will have to murder you in cold blood, because what do I hate?”

  Wash kept grinning at me. Banks raised his hand and said, “Paperwork?”

  “Work, period,” I said. “That’s why I have an army of minions doing my bidding. Our host” –I pointed at Wash, wishing my finger could shoot incontinence rays–“is a freak of nature because he’s the only Ward Chair in the city who actually bothers to get his hands dirty.”

  “I am offended that you would besmirch your brothers and sisters in Solidarity,” said Wash, reaching for his tea.

  I grabbed his hand. “Wash, you can’t make me do this.”

  He put his head to the side, then nodded. “You’re right. I guess I’ll have to call Saarien and get started.”

  “Oh, hell, no,” I said. “You think you can guilt me into this deal?”

  “I think I can take it or leave it,” he said. “And I think you know that this is going to be good for all of our people. You remember them, right? The ones you work for?”

  “Oh, don’t try and give me the Solidarity Forever speech now,” I said. “Where the hell was Solidarity when Saarien pinched all those Breaches from me? Where was Solidarity when he diverted funds to his Ward? Where was Solidarity when he tried to screw over you?”

  Wash shrugged. “I’d say Solidarity is here now if you make this happen.”

  I ground my teeth. “You know Brushhead can’t pay for any of it.”

  “You won’t have to,” said Banks. “See, under a joint infra–”

  “I know how it works!” I yelled, my voice echoing off the trellis. “I know how it works, because I’ve done three of these deals, and they were all great, big pains in my ass. The only way to get the Union to cough up money is if each Ward puts up matching seed funds, which never happens because Ward chairs are notoriously cheap–”

  “A-hem.”

  “–present company excluded,” I said. “But it’s all pointless, because it’s going to take a few million yuan to get started, and there is no way I can take that out of my Ward’s budget.”

  Wash tapped his fingers on the tabletop. “You know, I think we could get a pilot program off the ground for ten K a piece.”

  “Which is ten K more than Brushhead could spend,” I said.

  “I know,” said Wash, his fingers slowing. “But a little bird told me that you have that kind of dosh, and that you’re willing to drop it for a little professional intervention here and there.”

  “That little bird’s going to get her badge-faced beak handed to her if she doesn’t learn to shut up,” I said, squeezing my mug.

  Wash raised an eyebrow. “What can I say? Soni brings Millie to the Kea Kea every now and then, and she fills me in on your illustrious adventures.” He tapped his glass with a meaty finger. “And I know you’re going to make bank once you’re in charge of Tonggow’s distillery.”

  I slammed the cup on the table. “Washington Hightower Lee, you of all people should know how not true that is. Or else, why aren’t you living the high life on Chino Cove?”

  Wash snorted.

  “Why aren’t you?” asked Jilly.

  “Because I’m not that good at business,” said Wash. “I can manage this place just fine, but to make it as a distiller? Hell, you know how many of those places go under in a year?”

  “No,” said Jilly.

  “Most of them,” said Wash. “So, I’d rather take my chances here and collect a nice pension. But you” –he pointed at me–”you have the magical combo of luck and sheer pigheadedness it takes to succeed in business. Plus, you still live in that grotty little flat on Samarkand, so I know you’re saving a packet.”

  “Even if I do, why would I pony up?” I said.

  Wash nodded at Banks. “I’m pretty sure you need Slots for your books, and I can provide them. For a price.”

  “What kind of price?”

  “How many Slots?”

  “Seventeen.”

  Wash laughed. “Christ, Padma, you aren’t making this any easier.”

  “You do that, I will cover both our shares of the seed funding.”

  Wash stopped laughing. “The whole twenty thousand?”

  “Look up my credit rating,” I said, blinking him a link. “You know I’m good for it. You think you’re going to get a better deal from Saarien? One that fixes this place up? One that covers all your people?”

  “Some of them are going to become your people.”

  “And I’ll look out for them,” I said, holding out my right hand. “You willing to do this on the Public?”

  He sighed, then shook his head. “What about my busted crane? My tornup lattice?”

  “You throw that into the proposals, and it’ll get covered. You might even be able to upgrade.”

  “You’re just gonna break my heart again, aren’t you?”

  “Maybe, but I’ll never break a promise.”

  He nodded, then shook my hand. I filled in the requisite forms quickly, but when it came time to blink the money into the escrow account, my eyes wouldn’t move. I just looked at my balance and saw how much had been eaten out of it over the past day. I would be under a hundred thousand yuan. That was way below my comfort level. Even with the payout for fulfilling my obligation, I would have a tough first year.

  But then I remembered the blue-green bottle sitting at home, and I blinked up twenty thousand yuan into escrow. Within three minutes, the Brushhead-Steelcase Joint Purification Infrastructure Venture was ready to roll. “Done,” I said. “Your turn.”

  Wash blinked up his info on the agreement, dumped ten thousand into the escrow account, then looked me square in the eye so his pai could talk with mine and said, “I, Washington Lee, do hereby grant seventeen Contract positions to Brushhead’s Contract headcount.” He blinked a few times, and the transfer codes, all in a precise ISO-20K font, rolled past my eyes.

  “I accept,” I said, then got up.

  “Is that it?” said Wash.

  “What more do you want?” I said. “You want me to ask you to the Golden Days Dance?”

  Wash blinked. “You hate dancing.”

  “Just like I hate farting around,” I said. “What else is there?”

  Wash smiled and said, “There was a time when people would seal a contract over a drink.”

  I held up my cup. “I’m on the clock.”

  “And you’re also Estella Tonggow’s buddy.”

  “Which means, what? I can make rum appear out of thin air? I have magical distilling powers?”

  He shook his head. “You have a flask-shaped object in your pocket. You do the math.”

  I glared at him but took the flask out. I unscrewed the cap; Jesus, it smelled good. I wanted to down the whole thing, but made a show of taking a pull. I pushed my tongue against the spout to keep anything from getting into my mouth. The rum burned a tiny, perfect dot on my tongue, and I handed Wash the flask. He took a drink and smiled. “I hope you’ll sell that to me at a discount once you’ve closed your deal.”

  I rolled my eyes and tucked the flask into my pants. “And I hope you’re OK with getting your hands dirty,” I said to Banks. “You’re about to start working for once in your life.”

  Banks smiled at Wash and said, “I can ignore her, right?”

  “Won’t do you much good,” said Wash. “She’ll still get her way.” He got up as a crane sailed overhead with Jilly’s tuk-tuk clutched against its belly. The crane gently set the little green beast on the ground. “Sorry I didn’t get this taken care of earlier.”

  I looked at the tuk-tuk; it
was stained with rotten breadfruit and reeked of crab juice. Wash snapped his fingers, and the waiters all rushed over to wipe the tuk-tuk down. “Solidarity,” said Wash, once they’d finished. “And now if you’ll excuse me, I have repairs to order, traffic to direct, countersuits to file, and about a million liters of rum to drink in order to get through it all.” He nodded to Banks and Jilly, gave me a heavy glance, then walked toward the upright where our crane was parked. As he mounted the stair, he turned and called, “What made you think you could jump a crane off the rail and not die?”

  “I saw it in a movie!” I yelled back.

  Wash shook his head and climbed out of sight. The crane hummed back to life, then cruised away to make its delivery. I blinked up a call to Jordan to tell her the good news, but just got her voicemail. I sent her a text, and we piled into the tuk-tuk.

  I eased down into the tuk-tuk’s back seat, now completely knackered. A nap, followed by a hot shower and signing in all these Breaches, seemed like just the thing. Overhead, the cranes kept cruising along like giant flying turtles. They hauled tanks of molasses bound for all parts of Occupied Space, ready to get dropped down a line and turned into fuel or plastic or, God forbid, food. I closed my eyes as Banks and Jilly chatted about action movies. I tried to text some people back at the Union Hall about our success but got nothing but network errors. Maybe the fall had done more damage to my pai. One more thing to deal with when we got back. I shut my brain off for the rest of the drive.

  When we came around Fernandes onto Solidarnoœæ, I could see the Union Hall clock tower poking above the shophouses. The clock’s massive face, almost three meters across, showed a huge thunderhead looming over the old microfiber plant up on Beggar’s Hill. The plant had been Brushhead’s main employer for forty years, a place that churned out the scrubbers used to clean spent fuel cans. It kept a lot of people working until WalWa figured the fuel savings from cleaning the cans wasn’t worth the expense of the plant, so they shuttered everything and booted us all out. I was shop steward, doing my first organizing gig, and I’d led all of Brushhead into that plant to steal everything, including the stuff that was bolted down. We hollowed that place in sixteen hours, and when the WalWa comptrollers came to do inventory, they found not a factory but brand new housing units for the now-displaced workforce.