by Ryk Brown
Commander Jexx chose not to comment further, fearing he might have already crossed the line.
“I want all our ships upgraded and ready for battle as soon as possible! And I want whatever world is providing them with their technology erased from existence!”
“These things will take time, my lord.”
“We will strike out and harass their ships, their worlds…”
“My lord, that would not be advisable,” Commander Jexx reminded his leader. “We are barely able to protect ourselves.”
“The Chekta protocol protects us!”
“From complete invasion, perhaps,” Commander Jexx pointed out, “but not from destruction of our warships.”
“They must be reminded of whom they are dealing with!” Lord Dusahn continued. “I will not bow down to this…”
“I am not suggesting that you do, my lord,” Commander Jexx interjected. “I am only asking that you be patient. We must play the long game. We must ensure continued trade with Pentaurus worlds, at least until we can replace those products with ones produced locally. We must ensure that our forces are adequate to discourage attacks against the empire. We must buy time. Time is the great equalizer. With it, we can rearm, resupply, and remake what we now have into something that will take us forward into the future. We must ensure the survival of the Dusahn Empire.”
“You mean the dominance,” Lord Dusahn corrected, glaring at the young officer.
“I mean survival, my lord,” Commander Jexx reiterated. “Expansion and dominance can come later, once we have regained our former strength.”
“And what do we do in the meantime?” Lord Dusahn questioned angrily. “Cower in our homes and pray that the Karuzari Alliance graces us with the right to exist?”
“Of course not, my lord,” the commander promised. “But there are many things we can do that do not require direct conflict. We can sow the seeds of unrest throughout our enemy’s allies. We can steal their technology. We can hire outsiders to destroy their resources, providing us with plausible deniability.”
Lord Dusahn stepped forward, locking eyes with the commander. “That man threatened to end me. How can I not respond to that kind of challenge?”
“Responding is precisely what he wishes us to do,” the commander explained. “For if we do, he will have the excuse he needs to attack. And if we lash out in force, he will have no choice to but to destroy us, Chekta be damned. That is what you would do, my lord. There is no reason to believe that he would not as well.”
Lord Dusahn stood there a moment, fuming. “I will not allow Nathan Scott to dictate terms to the Dusahn Empire.”
“No, you will not,” the commander agreed. “You will ignore his threats, seeing them for the hollow words that they are. That is what a Dusahn leader does. That is what you have always done. That is why we follow you.”
Lord Dusahn turned toward the window, staring out at the gardens below as workers toiled to return them to their former glory. “You will find me that world of theirs,” he grumbled. “The one providing them with all of their advanced technology.”
“Yes, my lord.”
* * *
Fifteen men and women sat around the large, circular conference table, each of them well dressed in Corinairan business attire. Before them were dark, wood-grained nameplates engraved in gold leaf. The table was decorated with floral centerpieces, and attendants waited on all sides, ready to serve those in attendance.
Nathan and Deliza entered from a side door, guided to their seats by one of the attendants.
“Thank you for seeing us,” Deliza stated confidently to the owners, as she and Nathan took their seats.
“We are honored by your presence,” the man at the head of the table replied. “I am Ross Coulthard, primary shareholder in the Glendanon. Captain Gullen has spoken highly of you both, and of course, your noble actions are well known among the people of Corinair.”
“Thank you,” Deliza replied. “I assume everyone has had a chance to review the upgrades we have made to the Glendanon, as well as our proposal for her future use.”
“I cannot speak for everyone but, as for myself, I have read your report with great interest,” Mister Coulthard assured her.
“For the purposes of expediency, I’ll assume that everyone has reviewed the document,” Deliza began. “The Karuzari Alliance is proposing to increase the interior volume of the Glendanon’s main cargo bay by sixty-seven percent and adding additional cargo pod racks along her forward ventral surface. In addition, her jump drive system will be converted to the ‘bubble-field’ system developed by the SilTek corporation, in order to allow her to accommodate smaller, non-jump-enabled cargo vessels docked onto her dorsal side. This will enable the Glendanon to act as both a cargo carrier and ferry platform.”
“It is a fine plan, to be certain,” Mister Coulthard agreed. “However, I suspect the concern of the shareholders will be how the Glendanon’s operation will be financed.”
“And how we are to make a profit,” the woman across the table from Deliza and Nathan added.
Deliza glanced at the woman’s nameplate, noticing the name. Iona McAllen. The name was familiar, but she couldn’t quite place it.
“Just how long do you propose to charge only cost?”
“Cost plus ten percent,” Deliza corrected.
“Cost plus ten percent hardly covers unexpected maintenance expenses,” Iona pointed out.
“The initial lower rates are needed to make interstellar trade affordable for all worlds within the alliance,” Deliza explained.
“Why would we want to cultivate trade with worlds that have so little to offer?”
Deliza suddenly found herself disliking Miss McAllen.
“Most inhabited worlds are not as prosperous as Corinair,” Nathan explained, interjecting himself into the debate. “However, that doesn’t make them of lessor value as trading partners. If anything, low-cost access to interstellar travel and trade will cultivate growth, turning those worlds into sources of goods and culture that benefit all.”
“You cannot know this to be true,” Iona insisted.
“No, I cannot,” Nathan admitted.
“Some of these worlds are isolated by choice,” another shareholder stated. “Are we to subsidize those worlds as well?”
“A world choosing to isolate itself will probably not avail itself of our transportation network,” Deliza told them.
“I believe that some of us may be missing the big picture,” Mister Coulthard stated, wishing to steer the conversation in a more positive direction. “What is being proposed here is not just the upgrade of the Glendanon, but the establishment of an interstellar shipping conglomerate…perhaps the first of its kind.”
“I don’t know that I’d use the word conglomerate,” Deliza protested.
“This operation will require ships, shuttles, traffic controllers, booking services, storage and holding facilities, customs facilities…all manner of supportive businesses,” Mister Coulthard stated.
“Point taken,” Deliza agreed. “However, such a network will take years, if not decades, to achieve.”
“Or to become profitable,” Miss McAllen added, once again reminding all in attendance of her concerns.
“The purpose of this alliance isn’t profit,” Nathan reminded her.
“Perhaps not, but it is the Glendanon’s purpose,” Miss McAllen asserted.
“The Glendanon’s profit margins will grow in time,” Deliza pointed out. “Based on our projections, the proposed rate increase over time, and the growth of demand as new worlds increase their trade with one another, the Glendanon should begin turning considerable profit within five to ten years.”
“Ten years is a long time to wait for profit,” Miss McAllen argued.
“How long did it take to build the Glendanon?” Nathan asked her.
“I wouldn’t know,” Iona admitted. “I bought into this syndicate after she was already in service.”
“Five years,” Mister Coulthard stated. “And this group had signed contracts from the Takarans before she was constructed.”
“How are you going to pay for these upgrades?” Miss McAllen challenged. “Most of us have had our fortunes raided by the Dusahn. Assuming we can grow our businesses again, it will take us decades to be able to afford such upgrades.”
“We can phase in the major upgrades as needed and as profits increase,” Nathan suggested. “The Glendanon is already a massive vessel. It will probably take years for demand to exceed her capabilities.”
“At which time we can reassess those upgrades and their costs,” Mister Coulthard pointed out.
“Or we can charge full rates now, make profits sooner rather than later, and weed out clients of lessor value,” Miss McAllen countered.
Deliza noticed several shareholders nodding in agreement. “If you price the Glendanon’s services so high that only the wealthier worlds can afford them, you are limiting your future market. Independent operators will quickly move to fill this void, and, over time, they will begin to steal your market share. At that point, you will be forced to lower prices in order to prevent further losses in market share. And as you all know, getting back lost market shares is far more difficult than keeping them to begin with.”
“We don’t know what the future holds,” Miss McAllen argued. “The Dusahn are still a threat. Until that threat is removed, none of us can afford to pass up profits today for increased profits that might come tomorrow.”
Again, Miss McAllen’s words drew nods of support from around the room. The number of shareholders nodding their agreement was increasing with each point she made.
Deliza decided to change tactics. “Tell me, Miss McAllen, what would you propose for the Glendanon?”
“I think that’s rather obvious,” the woman replied, a snide tone tainting her words. “Return her to her original mission, charging current market rates. What better way to replenish the finances stolen from us?”
“To hell with the establishment of a peaceful alliance of worlds,” Nathan commented, growing impatient.
“We all want peaceful interactions between worlds,” Miss McAllen snapped back. “But please, explain to me why it is our responsibility to finance such efforts?”
Nathan glared at her. “The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing,” he muttered.
“Pardon?”
Nathan bit his tongue for a moment before proceeding. “Why was it my responsibility to lead the fight against the Dusahn? Why was it my responsibility to liberate Corinair, a second time, thus creating this opportunity for you all to replenish your accounts? Why was it the responsibility of any of the men and women who gave their lives for this world and many others?”
“You, and those men and women, made personal choices,” Miss McAllen coldly stated. “We are here to do the same…to make personal choices. You may see me as a greedy woman, Captain Scott, but I am simply stating what everyone at this table is thinking.”
“Not everyone,” Mister Coulthard corrected, flashing a disapproving glance at Miss McAllen.
Deliza took a deep breath, letting it out slowly before continuing. “My report was clear and concise. There is no need to debate that which has already been clearly outlined in the document.”
“Then perhaps we should vote now,” Miss McAllen stated indignantly, sensing her pending victory.
“I said there was no need to debate that which was already clearly stated in my report,” Deliza corrected. “If you’ll indulge me a few more minutes, I’d like to point out what should have been obvious to you, but apparently is not. And that is your world’s ‘right-to-use’ law.”
Miss McAllen dismissed her with a wave. “Our own government is in disarray. I doubt they could even come together to consider such a move.”
“But suppose they did,” Deliza argued. “Suppose they were smart enough to realize that the fastest way to rebuild their civilization and their economy was to export to others in need. Suppose they decided that providing low-cost, interstellar cargo transportation was the best way to build positive trade relationships with all the worlds of the alliance. Suppose they had the foresight to see that invoking ‘right-to-use’ on the Glendanon was the fastest way to get those relationships established. How long do you think it would take for any of you to start receiving any profits from her operation?”
“‘Right-to-use’ requires payment to the owners of the claimed vessel,” Miss McAllen asserted.
“After the emergency for which ‘right-to-use’ was invoked has passed,” Deliza corrected. “How long do you think it will take to rebuild the Corinairan economy? How long will it take to replenish your financial accounts? Has the Corinairan economy fully recovered from her occupation by the Ta’Akar Empire? That liberation was seven years ago. Are you prepared to wait that long now?”
“A risk, perhaps, but one that is our right to take.”
“Agreed,” Deliza conceded. “However, I should also point out that, should you decide to return the Glendanon to her original tasking, at whatever rates and with whichever customers you choose to do business with, you will be faced with two new choices.”
“And they would be?” Miss McAllen inquired.
“Whether to pay for the upgrades to the Glendanon that Ranni Corp. has paid for or allow us to remove those upgrades, returning your investment to its pre-Dusahn-invasion configuration.” Deliza let a tiny smile escape as she added, “Do you really want your investment to be unarmed, unshielded, and only able to jump ten light years at a time? In an uncertain interstellar political environment?”
Miss McAllen glared at Deliza. “You have no legal right to demand payment for upgrades that this body did not authorize.”
“Just as you have no legal right to demand that we leave those upgrades in place without compensation,” Deliza retorted.
“I’m not certain a Corinairan court would agree with you,” Miss McAllen countered, her confidence waning.
“Considering the disarray that your government is currently in, how long do you suppose that ruling would take? And of course, we would demand seizure of the asset in question until that ruling was delivered.”
Miss McAllen had no response.
Mister Coulthard smiled at Deliza. “Perhaps now would be a good time to vote.”
* * *
“That was amazing,” Nathan complimented under his breath as they made their way down the corridor from the conference room. “I don’t even know why I needed to be there. You had everything completely under control. I mean, you let them lead themselves into that trap.”
“Your presence changed the tempo of the meeting,” Deliza stated, smiling.
“How so?”
“If it had just been me, they would have seen a businesswoman looking to work the situation to her advantage. Your presence lent a different perspective; one of honor and purpose. It provided camouflage; a distraction if you will, allowing me to lead them to conclusions favorable to our cause.”
“Remind me to never play poker with you,” Nathan joked.
“A successful business negotiation requires that you know what your opponents want before the negotiation begins.”
“How did you know?” Nathan wondered as they exited the building.
“Normally, considerable research is required. However, in this case, it was easy. For most of the shareholders, the Glendanon is the only asset the Dusahn were unable to take from them. Had they any other assets, they might have been willing to bet on higher profits over the short term.”
“In other words, they can’t afford to risk losing any amount of profit, even tiny amounts.”
“Precisely,” Deliza confirmed. “To be
honest, had Iona not been there, the others would have voted in our favor from the start.”
“Who was that woman?” Nathan wondered as they climbed into their waiting vehicle.
“I didn’t recognize her at first,” Deliza admitted. “One of her companies was once in a bidding war with Ranni Corp. They lost, of course, mostly due to her arrogance. I suspect she came into today’s meeting with a chip on her shoulder. Just like last time, she let her emotions cloud her judgment. Not a good move in business negotiations.”
“In any negotiations,” Nathan agreed, remembering his brief encounter with Griogair Dusahn. “I should’ve brought you with me to Infernum.”
Deliza smiled. “I probably would have gone off on the bastard as well,” she admitted as the vehicle pulled out into traffic.
“Thanks.”
“What are you planning to do?” she asked him.
Nathan sighed. “To be honest, I don’t rightly know just yet.”
* * *
Del stared at the Voss, his mouth agape as he took in the damage. Finally, he turned to Nathan and Dylan. “Did you even have your shields on?”
“We took a lot of fire,” Dylan defended. “I mean, there were fighters and shuttles, and… and…” he looked at Nathan.
“Reapers.”
“…Reapers, all over the place. Jumping in and out, blasting us from all sides. They even had ground troops shooting at us.”
“With what?” Del asked, pointing at the damaged aft cargo ramp.
“We had to drop the aft shields to let our people in,” Dylan explained.
“How the hell did you manage that?” Del asked. “The shields aren’t wired to drop individually.”
“We had to get creative,” Nathan explained. “Can you fix it?”
“Of course we can fix it,” Del insisted. “But it may take a few days.”
“You have two,” Nathan replied.
Del gave him a cockeyed look. “We have to swap out your nacelles as well, you know.”
“I’m going to want more gun turrets,” Nathan added.
Del shot him a sidelong look. “And where might we locate them?”