Negotiation and Sabotage

Adrienne paces back and forth across the short wall of the conference room, her hand running through her hair as she tried her best to think. The hours of negotiations with Selig Corp had not been interesting. She needs the Arawn to be able to pass through space they control without being hassled, but they want to load us down with inferior weaponry at inflated prices in return for using the shortcut through their controlled zone. It didn't matter how much she talked them down if she couldn't get HQ to sign of on a non-standard weapons deal which wasn't easy.

She reaches the wall and turns on her heel beginning to pace back the other way. What passes for music on corporate systems played from the small speaker as the Selig reps on the other side of the line no doubt were calculating the commission on any version of this sale. Adrienne stops for a moment, turning to the quartermaster who sits at the end of the table nearest to herself.

"OK, what if we just offer to buy three-quarters of the shipment with our discretionary fund?" She speaks quickly and precisely, despite it being over an hour past dinner call, and this meeting having started just after breakfast. "We would have to cut back on any celebrations in the next month, the crew wouldn't love it, but we need to cross this space."

"Selig make shit weapons, no doubt about that," the quartermaster punches some new numbers into the glowing tablet in front of him on the table. "but they've got more than enough to turn us into scrap if we encroach."

"I know I know-" Adrienne turns back to her pacing. She's dressed in simple casual-wear accepted around the ship when off-duty or in the gym. Black leggings, a loose tank top, over a sports bra, with her hair tied up in a high pony-tail. She'd been on her way to grab breakfast after taking her morning run and finishing her weekly range-time when the Selig bastards had finally returned their calls. "- but we're going to lose track of the marauders who hit our outpost if we can't cut through Selig space, and I'd rather buy some overpriced rust than allow Heller Corp to hit us yet again with no recourse."

"Are you sure this isn't about the prison thing? I mean you fucked up like a dozen-" The Quartermaster catches Adrienne's sharp gaze and immediately stops talking.

"This is about making sure Heller doesn't think we're taking it lying down." Adrienne pauses a moment, her head pounding as she leans against the table. She grabs a small bottle of water and squeezes it into her mouth. The lukewarm mineral-rich water somehow tastes delicious. She thinks back to Max as she drinks.

"OK ok- look at this-" The quartermaster turns his tablet towards Adrienne, she scans the numbers but doesn't really intake what they mean. As if on cue the quartermaster continues, "If we use discretionary funds rather than waiting for HQ to stamp a purchase, we could buy and store up to 81- maybe 82 percent of what they're wanting to sell us." She nods slowly, quickly finding the right numbers in the spread sheet and adding them up. The math more or less checks out to her.

"Captain of the Arawn, are you all still there?" The voice crackles from the communication device. Each word sounds slithery and wet to Adrienne's ears. She hated dealing with Selig, they were lowlife corpos who sold weapons to anyone and everyone who could pay their rock-bottom prices. Every two bit crime-lord on the outer rim and revolutionary fighting for their own kingdom shot Selig rounds. They also had a habit of taking territory as collateral, ensuring they had a hold on key pathways throughout any solar system with the right number of warring factions.

"Yes, we're still here." Adrienne spoke up, turning around and leaning over the small black frame of the communication device, "we've been running numbers on our end and- look we're not really feeling like waiting for HQ to approve a requisition, how about we run something with our on board slush fund instead?" She tries to project as much confidence as she can. This could seem desperate, but a rep like this makes money on commission, even when that commission is on extortion. Selig were no friends to Heller Corp, often they were at odds due to Heller's insistence on using Selig as a sort of corporate shield, setting up their operations just on the edge of Selig controlled space to make sure they could pull any opposition into Selig space and count on their firepower to help throw off any unsavory attacks.

"We would be open to this arrangement." The voice responded with a crackle.

"But of course- we can't buy two million exchange credits of gear, especially stock from more than four years ago. But what would you say to one point one million's worth?" Adrienne waits a moment, allowing them to start to decline the offer. It was a low-ball for sure.

"We're not interested in an offer that low." The Selig rep begins to reply, "The full offer is what we require for the exposure you're asking us to endure." Adrienne smiles to herself, taking a beat to sip some more water from her bottle.

"Damn, you folks love your Return On Investment don't you. You know we've been hashing this out for damn near nine hours," Adrienne leans in close to the phone, "Don't you want something to come from this whole waste of time? One point three-five." The counter offer is met with a moment of silence on the other side.

"One point four-eight and we have a deal Miss- Captain Adrienne."

"Deal. I'm feeling so good about this we'll wire you the exchange credits now and we'll pick up the weapons on our way back from Heller space."

"That is acceptable to us, however if your equipment is in our possession for more than a week, we will charge you storage fee. Once storage fee reaches the estimated value of the equ-" The Selig voice lapses into it's standard terms of the deal. Adrienne taps the mute key and a red light flicks on.

"Danny finish off whatever paperwork this Selley wants from us, the moment you send that transfer get word to the pilots that we're rolling on to catch that Heller raiding party."

"Yes Captain." the quartermaster un-mutes the communication unit and begins to hash out details with the Selig rep. Adrienne opens the door and turns down the anonymous hall of her ship. She strides with purpose towards the Dining Hall, the sweet scents of dinner still lingering in the air, despite cooking having finished over an hour ago. She nods to crew members as she passes them in the hall, a quick "how are you" and small "how's the wife?" to those she knows well.

As she reaches the hall she peeks at the sign, "Fried Kartik and choice of veggies" vegetarian night was not her favorite, but it beats the slop she'd eaten in the Heller prison. She'd been back nearly two weeks, but she still swore she could taste the mushy soup in the back of her mouth. She proceeds across the dining hall with a steady pace, as her mind thought back to the prison. She replayed the scene in her mind, each of them sharing their various scars and battle stories, Max's tender kisses, Bryce's hands slipping into her pants, the way Max had gingerly appreciated her body, and how he looked face down in his own blood. The last image took her off guard, for a moment she thought she might fall over. She'd lost friends before, even a boyfriend, but never right in front of her, never so suddenly.

She shook off the memory as she reaches the counter, smiling to the cook she exchanging some pleasantries.

"Has anyone picked up food for the pilots yet?" She asks, her hands resting on the cool stainless steel counter-top.

"No Ma'am, looks like Ensign Hayes was supposed to come down but I haven't seen her yet." The cook checks his notes as he spoke, already knowing what they'd say, but checking anyways.

"Alright no problem, I'll run them up on my way to my quarters" Adrienne idly scratches her head as she looks over the small menu, "I'll take the food for the pilots, and two orders with all the options."

"Alright, just a moment Ma'am." The cook turned away from Adrienne, digging in some heater boxes and scooping the now lukewarm food into small cardboard clams-shell boxes. He stacks five on a tray, then turns and grabs two more. The last two get a scoop from every small heater box, then are snapped closed and set to the side of the tray.

"And if there's any of that special sauce- could use two cartons." Adrienne speaks softly, a wink in her tone.

"Of course Ma'am. Not a problem." He grabs the tray stacked with dinners, all neatly in their own clam-shell box and turns back towards Adrienne, setting the tray before her. With a smooth motion he reaches under the counter and pulls out another identical clam-shell box, only with a small "S" written on top in ink.

"Thanks, need some unwinding time tonight." Adrienne says with a wink as she grabs the tray and turns to leave.

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"Delivery!" Adrienne says, her voice artificially full of cheer as she sets the tray stacked with clam-shell boxes down on the console nearest the door.

"Thank God I'm st-" The young pilot turns in her chair, immediately stopping herself mid-sentence, "Sorry Ma'am I didn't realize it was you." she raises her hands to salute.

"At ease, Jace said that Ensign Hayes was supposed to pick it up, but she never showed?" Adrienne speaks the comment as if it's a question. "Is she OK?"

"Yea- just wasn't feeling well, something about a headache or something- sounds like she got in a dust up with someone last night- probably a few swigs too many of that special sauce Jace cooks up." The pilot speaks quickly, her eyes darting from Adrienne to the food and back. "I sent her to the med bay and forgot to send anyone to get dinner."

Adrienne pauses a moment, she wasn't aware of any fighting last night and it wasn't like Hayes to get trashed and fight someone the night before her shift.

"How did she seem?" Adrienne continues her questioning as she takes the tray around the room, each member of the piloting staff grabbing a box and beginning to eat eagerly.

"I dunno, a little distracted, but she said it was nothing, so I didn't bother asking any more questions. You know how Hayes can be." The young pilot grows more nervous as the questioning continues. "I'll- don't worry about her- I'll check on her as soon as we finish inputting the new route."

"Sounds good. It's important to make sure those in your command are properly cared for- even if they may ignore you sometimes." She hands the last of the meals out, only leaving her three clam-shells on the tray. "What's our ETA on the new route?"

"Running about 19 hours, Ma'am." the lead pilot turns back to her controls, confirming the route and slowly bringing the massive ship into the right orientation to venture forth. "Those Heller raiders have been riding for at least four days going the long-way around Selig space, we should catch them before they can drop any of their ill-gotten goods off."

"Good, punch it, I'd like to be there and talking as soon as possible." Adrienne grips the tray tightly as she turns towards the door leading out of the bridge. "Good work."

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"Knock knock," Adrienne speaks sarcastically into the small box beside the door to her quarters. She hears shuffling inside and the standard "thud Thud THUD" of someone rapidly approaching the door. There's a moment of hesitation before the speaker crackles to life.

"Oh I'm sorry. No cleaning today I've got the sheets just how I like them." Bryce's voice sounds both sarcastic and comforting. In the few weeks since their daring escape, Bryce has been a comfort both emotionally and physically. He's been volunteering with the Intel division, helping fill in some gaps in the Blood Eagle group's routes and some updates on who is running what on some of the outer worlds.

The door slides open with a gentle hiss. Bryce stands to the side in his underwear, tight black boxers with speckles of white meant to represent an abstract star-scape, his thumb holding the door control. Adrienne steps inside, her hair gently swaying with each step as she crosses the small quarters. As the captain, she has her own private quarters, which the Free Systems Alliance command has relatively few rules about. Door must be locked at all times, only open while someone is holding the controls, no pets, no distilling of hard liquor.

The room itself is more than spacious for one, though a little cramped for two. Directly across from the door is a Queen sized bed, the foot facing the doorway. Right against the foot of the bed is a small credenza, intended for memorabilia and personal decoration, though Adrienne more often used it to eat meals while reviewing reports and half-watching the local broadcasts of whatever system she found herself in that evening. To the left of the bed stands a wall of dressers and drawers which, when closed, form a large display surface that can be customized by the viewer to display video in more or less any size they'd like. To the right of the bed a large floor-to-ceiling window looked out on the gently shifting space ahead of the ship, just above the window, the floor of the bridge was visible, painted with massive amber lettering "FSA Arawn". Just past the right side of the window is a small kitchen and attached dining area. Despite having studied at culinary school for a year before joining the FSA, the kitchen saw very little use outside of preparing morning shakes and housing late-night snacks. The Dining area had been converted into a makeshift desk, complete with a large-screen monitor and a physical keyboard, which is a rarity outside of typographic professions.

Adrienne sets the tray on the credenza at the end of the bed on the dresser side, immediately flopping herself down and letting out a sigh as Bryce grabs a chair from the dining area and rolls it over, taking up a seat at the opposite corner of the credenza. Her feet stay on the floor, but she relaxes her body for what felt like the first time in hours as the soft material of the comforter

"Let me guess, some low level commission-paid Selig rep spent the entire day grilling you for a purchase?" Bryce spoke, more comment than question as he grabs the box from the top of the pile. He set the clamshell box in front of him on the credenza and opened it. He practically deflated seeing the thin sliced fried root and spread of various vegetables and a small plasteel spork, each in their own little self contained depressions.

"Nine fucking hours, bastard wanted two point two million ex creds for like seven hundred k worth of shitty guns-" she rolls over grabbing the remaining non-marked clam-shell and sliding it across the bed to rest in front of where she lay. She pops the top, allowing it to fall on its own against the blanket, and wastes no time digging in. "-and the worst part is-" she lifts a lukewarm slice of Kartik to her lips, taking a large bite and continuing as she chews "don- even need the guns. We don't have compatible ammo!" She chews quickly, finishing her first slice and grabbing another, her eyes quickly dulling as the mental fatigue that has been building all day starts to finally set in.

"Making you negotiate price on something you don't even want," Bryce responds, taking a small bite and quickly swallowing the tough and sinewy root, before taking another, "That's part of what makes Selig so profitable in holding passages. They suck off of Heller like a leech, and get fat from it." He takes another bite, trying to swallow but finding the thick fibers immediately caught in his throat. He wordlessly motions to the third and still unopened clam-shell, to which she immediately nods, taking her next bite of fried Kartik. He pops the clam-shell open, revealing two small bottles of barely-refined alcohol, dark red in color. He grabs one, setting it on her side of the credenza, then grabs the other and pops the lid off with one smooth motion. He doesn't take the time to smell it, just puts it to his lips and takes a sip. The harsh sting of the liquor and the bright sweet flavor of the cranberry syrup mix together into a strangely repelling and alluring drink.

Jace's Special Sauce is the kind of home-brew liquor that's an open secret on most any ship. There's often a stash of Celebratory Rations on any decently funded craft, but most cooks take some portion of their allotted berry or sweets rations and use them to brew powerful and tasty liquor to be distributed at their own discretion. Most crafts technically have policy against it, and showing up to a shift with anything on your breath will get you put on cleaning duty or worse, but after hours most captains look the other way, or participate themselves.

The sweet and sour liquid washes the moderately overcooked root down Bryce's throat, as he sets the bottle down and goes for another bite.

"Ugh, anyway- just a long goddamn day." She exhales, finishing off another slice and grabbing the last from her small clam-shell box. Holding the slice of Kartik in one hand, she grabs her spoon and scoops some bean-looking veggies from her tray into her mouth.

"Well, it's over now, guessing we've got twelve, maybe fifteen hours before we're in range of that raiding party?" Bryce finishes his finishes his first slice of root. He likewise grabs his own spork and scoops some green vegetables he doesn't recognize in a sauce that smells vaguely spicy up to his lips, taking a bite. The flavor is better than he expects, though the green veggies are mushier than he'd like.

"Mmmm-" She starts to respond, but takes a moment to swallow her beans first, "Closer to nineteen according to the pilots." She grabs her own bottle, popping the lid and taking a swig. She swallows a third of the bottle before setting it back down, with a satisfied sigh.

"Nineteen? Wow." Bryce responds with subdued surprise, scooping up the rest of the spicy sauce and slathering it against his second slice of fried root. He takes a bigger bite, the sauce certainly helps it all move through a bit easier. "So what do you have in mind until then?"

"Honestly?" She looks at him, before turning her attention back towards the few remaining veggies in the clam-shell. She scoops a spoonful of the straggler veggies together and lifts it to her lips, the conglomerate flavor is odd but not unappealing. She chews for a moment, then swallows the veggie melange. "Kinda jus' don't wanna think for a bit. What do you have in mi-" Bryce quickly stands up, moving himself to stand just beside the large dressers that appear at this moment to be a solid wall. He rears up a foot, smiling a devious smile before bringing it down gently against the bottom of the dresser-wall. His foot pushes a wide but short section at the bottom of the dresser contraption in just a few centimeters, before a quiet hiss lets out and it begins to slide out from the wall.

"Oh my god." She lets out a playful, somewhat embarrassed noise as she closes her clam-shell, sliding it onto the credenza and rolling over onto her back, shoving her eyes closed in an exaggerated show of embarrassment. She props herself up on her elbows as she watches the drawer slide open. "Look- I wasn't hiding it I was just- not sure if you're into it yet-"

The drawer slid all the way open, coming to a stop about 60 centimeters from where it'd started, then the small hydraulics lift up the bottom of the drawer tilting it towards the presumed observer to show off what it contained.

"You know I feel like most girls would have shoes- or for a soldier like you, maybe guns? But this is- unique." Bryce's voice is playful as he ribs her gently. The drawer is full of vibrators, strap-ons, harnesses, collars, paddles, a handful of variously sized dildos, and a collection of rope, cuffs, tape, and other binding instruments.