FINANCIAL FREEDOM
A Tech Infantry Novella
by
Edward Stasheff & Marcus Johnston
Copyright © 2011

 

Chapter 3:  Hard Sell
(click here for galactic map)

 

In a lab on a Jurvain shipyard orbiting Laang, Heth watched the material test.  He couldn't actually see the military-grade laser when it struck the black ring of Impossibarium, only that the intense light actually seemed to push it back a fraction of a millimeter.  It carbonized, it softened, part of it burned away in the tiniest wisp of smoke… but that was it.

"And that's exactly how Impossibarium reacted in the development labs during quality assurance testing," Heth said, taking off his protective goggles.  "It absorbs the energy, bending but never breaking.  Then it re-solidifies and hardens in an instant—almost as if it grew back."

Above Heth, the Jurvain surrounding him leaned forward to examine the Impossibarium test sample.  Heth looked up—way up—at the faces of Jurvain more than twice his height, seeking out the face of the Vice Admiral leading negotiations.  K'Nes were short, just over a meter tall… well, the females at least.  Heth, not only male but the runt of his liter, was positively tiny compared to the towering green giants.  If Heth wanted to look his prospective customers in their eyes, he'd need some lift.  He clamped his jaw around the nozzle to the helium tank on his back and inhaled.  Heth inflated, stretching like a balloon, until he was almost spheroid.  He had to hold that much gas to get any lift—the shipyard's artificial gravity, although comfortable for the Jurvain, was set significantly heavier than the K'Nes home moon of Purrfang… and Heth's heavy gold jewelry didn't help, either.

He could generate his own hydrogen inside his body if he needed to (provided he drank enough water, of course), but when popping up and down during negotiations like this, using a helium tank was quicker and easier.  The laser test, for example—when near a high-intensity heat source, it's always safer to be on the ground and not full of extremely flammable gas.

Heth finally rose to eye level with the Jurvain.  "Now imagine a fleet of ships armored with this material," Heth said.  "Why, you could close to short range and not even feel it.  It's the perfect thing to make a legacy warship more effective than an enemy would ever expect.  Better yet, it's naturally resistant to corrosion and rust.  All Impossibarium products come with a full twenty-year warranty (voided by combat, of course), and you don't have to worry about cutting and shaping this incredibly tough material—all Impossibarium that ships from MIRADI will be custom cut to your exact specifications.  All you have to do is assemble them."

Heth's pitch seemed to fall on deaf ears.  The Jurvain continued staring at Miu's Impossibarium ring as if Heth had said nothing.  Eventually, Vice-Admiral Tsonguo stood upright, and the others followed.  Officially, since they were in a civilian shipyard, the Jurvain construction foreman Heth had opened negotiations with was technically in charge of the deal.  In reality, as Vice-Admiral Tsonguo was the highest ranking member of the Commonality present, all Jurvain deferred to her instantly and without question. 

Heth had been orbiting Laang for two days now.  When he'd shown the Jurvain foreman the potential of Impossibarium, he'd seemed impressed, but then stalled for over a day.  Heth understood once the Vice Admiral, hurriedly pulled away from the Ilbo picket guarding the jumpgate to Kalintos, had appeared to inspect the product personally.  That was alright with Heth—the higher up the food chain he got, the fatter the contract would be.

The construction foreman retrieved the black Impossibarium ring and returned it to Heth.  Vice Admiral Tsonguo shifted her head slightly and gazed at the foreman.  It was a sign, Heth knew from previous negotiations, that meant the Jurvain were communicating on a personal telepathic wavelength.   The gathered Jurvain were silent as the mental conversation took place, their three eyes darting around from face to face.  Suddenly the voiceless conversation was over, and the Jurvain turned as one and walked down the corridors.  Heth floated along behind.

They ended at a conference room.  Several Jurvain swerved off and sat in chairs; the rest moved along the walls and stood, observing.  Heth floated across the room to the only open chair left at the foot of the table across from Vice Admiral Tsonguo.  Heth hovered above the seat and, discretely as possible, opened his throat and belched out the helium from his flanks, sinking down into the chair.  Luckily, the Jurvain either didn't notice or didn't care about his somewhat embarrassing bodily function.

The Jurvain stared across the table at one another, glancing back and forth with the tiniest of head movements—the signs of a lively and rapid telepathic debate taking place.  No one spoke to Heth, though, and it felt… weird.  He felt left out of the conversation in a way he rarely experienced.  All creatures at least spoke during business negotiations, and there was so much a crafty salesman could read between the lines if he was observant.  The apes are so much easier to mark, Heth thought.

Once or twice, Heth tried weighing in on this conversation he couldn't hear, extolling the virtues of his product and the unbelievably good deal he was offering the Jurvain now—but all it earned him was perfectly unison glares.  Getting the message, Heth did the polite thing: he sat back and waited patiently.

Heth pulled out his datapad and continued working while he waited.  Time is money, he thought, and I have a very tight schedule to keep.  The convoy Heth was escorting would ultimately be heading to Ashdown in the Earth Federation, but would have to pass through St. Michael's Star in the Holy Terran Empire on the way—a potentially sticky political situation, given that the two factions were currently at war.  K'Nes maintained a strict neutrality in the galactic conflict brewing, and most humans understood that… but it never hurt to have your paperwork in order, just in case.  So he continued registering the convoy's flight plan, itinerary, and manifest with the different agencies of the star nations they'd be travelling through.

Finally he turned to the more important matter of commerce.  The Ministry convoy Heth had brought safely to Laang, after unloading its cargo of minerals, would need to refill their cargo holds with whatever commodities the Jurvain had to offer before continuing their journey to St. Michael's Star—and Heth's ship, the Bountiful, was no exception.  He joined in the bidding, except he knew exactly what he was looking for: Mungunwha algae.  It was a safe, common cargo that would cause no problems with customs checkpoints or border patrols (and far too bulky to bother confiscating).  More importantly, it gave off massive biosigns… enough, at least, to mask several Federation families being smuggled across the border into Federation space.

A light flashed over the table, and a holographic image appeared before the Jurvain.  Heth looked and up and kept one eye on the display while continuing his digital work.  He could speak Jurvain, and read and write it with some effort—but not at the speed with which the pictograms flashed across the display.  He was able to recognize most of the symbols as numbers, though—presumably a cost-benefit analysis of accepting his offer.  Heth knew the telepathic conversation was over when all the Jurvain simultaneously turned to look at him.  He whipped away his datapad and turned to the Tsonguo with a polite smile.

The Vice Admiral nodded.  "We approve.  How much can you produce, and how fast?"

The black cat kept him smile behind his whiskers.  "MIRADI has assured me that they can produce a hundred square meters a day.  Mind you, that's a conservative estimate, and only the raw sheets.  If you want it customized… well, they are more than happy to adjust the product, but it will slow down production."

Tsonguo looked back to her fellow aliens for a moment and consulted.  Finally, they nodded and she turned back to the K'Nes.  "How soon can it be delivered?"

"That's the beauty of this plan," Heth answered.  "Depending on your needs, we can take the daily production, put it on a freighter convoy, and have it within Jurvain space in three days.  That's the advantage of trading with your neighbors."  Heth finally released his fanged grin; I have them now, bait the hook well.  "Of course, that kind of shipping would be horrifically expensive, so I suggest a weekly shipment schedule for greater efficiency."

"Cost?"

"As you can see, this is a quality product," Heth stalled.  "You will not find anything close in terms of density and mall—"

"How much?" the Vice Admiral repeated with infinite patience.

"Two thousand Llan credits per square meter—of the toughest material money can buy!"

"Too much."

"Gentle… er, being.  This is far superior to plastisteel," Heth pressed.  "Even if you lacquered your ships in ceramcrete, you couldn't get the amount of protection you might see with a thin layer of Impossibarium."

"Too much."

"Very well."  Heth sighed loudly for dramatic effect.  Well, I didn't really expect them to take the first offer, Heth reflected.  That's why I inflated the cost—so when I 'lower' it to the original price they think it's a good deal.  "Well, it's fortunate that the Commonality works in economies of scale, then," Heth told Vice Admiral, "because I am authorized to offer you an exclusive deal.  If you can assure the producer that you will buy their entire production…"

"We will," Tsonguo said.  The Jurvain nodded as one.

"Excellent.  In that case, I'm permitted to bring the price down to a wholesale cost, rather than retail."

"How much?"

One track hive mind, Heth amused himself, but so malleable.  I'm almost sorry to bleed these green giants.  "Knock fifteen percent off the price.  Seventeen hundred per square meter."

There was another silent telepathic debate, red eyes glancing back and forth.  More images and text flashed across the holoproj display.  Tsonguo looked up at Heth and shook her head.  "We cannot afford it.  Counteroffer: one thousand per square meter."

"Admiral!"  The K'Nes floated off his cushion in indignation.  "How could I return to my patrons with such an offer?  They would throw me out of the company!"

The Vice Admiral turned back to her gathering, blinked, and achieved a new consensus.  "Then we will have to buy less than your daily production."

Heth suppressed a hiss—he didn't want that, either.  He needed MIRADI to stay solvent… and Miu grateful enough to consider renewing their merger.  "Neither of us want that, Admiral.  After all, your entire race's survival is at stake!" Heth said, pressing the obvious issue.  "Now, I will take a hit to my personal commission… but I believe I can convince MIRADI to accept sixteen hundred."

Tsonguo shook her head firmly.  "One thousand per square meter," she repeated in a monotone.

Time to grease some paws, Heth thought.  "I'll put an addendum on the contract," he said, picking up his datapad and altering the text.  "A standard K'Nes sales commission for all members of the negotiating team present at the contract signing, coming to one tenth of one percent per person of the total purchase value."  He looked up at them.  "That may not sound like much, but I think you'll find that, with the sums we're dealing with, it adds up rather quickly."

Sure enough, the holoproj whirled with numerals—and when the final figure popped up, red Jurvain eyes widened at its size.  Kickbacks were standard K'Nes policy for tough negotiations.  Nothing pushed a mark over the edge of a hard decisions quite like personal greed.  The Jurvain were a commonality, true—but one made up of individuals.  The lower they negotiated the price now, the lower their cut of the deal would be…

The Jurvain exchanged minute glances again.  New numbers and images flashed across the holoproj on the table at incredible speed.  The silent debate raged for a long, long time.  Finally, Vice Admiral Tsonguo turned back to Heth.  "Fifteen hundred per square meter or no deal."  

It was a lower price than Heth had hoped for, but still well with acceptable profit margins.  More importantly, Heth knew it was the Commonality's final offer—he'd done enough business with the Jurvain to know that when they threatened to walk away from the negotiating table, they meant it.  Jurvain didn't bluff.  Deception didn't come naturally to them; when every member of your species can read your thoughts, there's not much point in lying.

"I believe we can do that," Heth purred, feeling the thrill of victory rippling through his fur.  Fifteen thousand a day into my coffers… for a few days travel!  If the Jurvain keep up their order for even three months, I might have enough to win Miu's reproductive auction!

Tsonguo jabbed a finger at Heth.  "And MIRADI will accept the cost of customizing the Impossibarium sheets to our requirements!"

"Of course," Heth nodded, "that's already part of the contract.  I would need to see the specifications, however…"

The Vice Admiral tapped on her terminal, and the holoproj displayed three-dimensional wire images showing the minutia of each object in glorious detail.  "These are the specifications."

Heth could read Jurvain script, of course, but it took him a little longer to decode the adjectives… so it was a second before he realized what he was looking at: starfighters.  The Commonality was buying armor plating, alright… just not for their capital ships.  It wasn't what Heth had expected, true… but he had to admit it was an excellent allocation of resources, and sound military strategy too.  The ability of starfighters to strike at multiple targets from multiple directions would work particularly well for a collective consciousness linked by telepathy.  The Jurvain could organize and coordinate their fighters extremely efficiently.  There was no doubt about it: the Jurvain were definitely rearming—but for what?

Heth watched the schematics flicker past on the holoproj—then felt a shock of recognition.  "Wait!"  He reached out a paw to pause the display.  "I know this one…"  He leaned closer, studying the graceful curves of the fighter.  "This is an Urrkkak heavy strike fighter—a K'Nes ship!"  Well, almost… the two-seat tandem cockpit had been modified for a single, larger Jurvain pilot.  "A variation on a K'Nes design sold by one of our competitors, I believe—the Gurrmew Construction Yards, I presume?"

When the Jurvain just stared back at Heth silently, his mind kicked into overdrive.  Gurrmew & Yeomurt LLP were Miao Mercantile's political enemies in the K'Nes Llan.  This was an interesting new development… but Heth's wasn't sure what it meant, or if it was even relevant.  When you can't tell, undersell.  "I'm sure our company could offer you a more advanced design through—"

"These are the specifications," Tsonguo repeated.

"Well, as you insist..."  The black feline shrugged.  "Just consider it an open offer."  Best not to push the issue now, Heth thought, not until the Impossibarium contract is signed, at least.  I can always look into it later.  He continued scrolling through the schematics—no K'Nes worth his portfolio ever signed a contract without knowing exactly was he was agreeing to.  There was another puzzling specification—thousands of small cylinders and spheres, much too small for armor plating even for a fighter.  "Are you sure about these?" Heth asked, running a statistical analysis of the shape and size on his datapad.

"These are the specifications," the Vice Admiral intoned, as if they were written in fire on sapphire tablets.

"Very well… it seems a waste, but I will inform our—"  Heth stopped as his pad's analysis found a match.  Given the shape and quantity, it could only be used one thing: missile and shell casings.  Heth looked back up at the schematics on the holoproj and noticed something he'd missed before—the casing were notched and grooved for fragmentation.  For a moment, Heth was impressed.  That particular military use for Impossibarium hadn't occurred to him… but it could be quite profitable.

Then the uneasiness set in.  This is why I never went into gunrunning, Heth thought.  I don't have the stomach for it.  He was selling Impossibarium to the Jurvain on the assumption they'd merely use it to defend themselves—but this force they were building instead could serve just as well for offense.  What if they turn these new guns on us? 

"Are you sure you want to go the offensive route so soon?" Heth asked.  "Conquest is a rather risky venture with a highly unpredictable return on investment.  Besides, who you do you have to fight?  The Commonality isn't strong enough to take on the Holy Terran Empire—let alone the Earth Federation—anytime soon."  He purposefully left out the Jurvain's other (and most vulnerable) neighbor: the K'Nes Llan.

Vice Admiral Tsonguo seemed to hesitate for a moment before finally answering, "The Bugs."

Heth's stomach dropped.  Just because the Jurvain weren't good at lying didn't mean they wouldn't try—and Heth was fairly sure Tsonguo just had.  Somewhere in the back of Heth's mind, an alarm went off.

The hordes of huge alien arachnids known only as "Bugs" that inhabited the galactic southwestern rim were certainly a threat—but one easily contained.  True, if the Bugs got a foothold on a populated planet, they could only be exterminated through a huge commitment of time, money, effort, and blood.  Eradicating the Bugs from a planet they'd already infested was nearly impossible.  But park a few warships in orbit around that planet, and one could effectively prevent the infestation from spreading.

The bottom line was that no one fought the Bugs if they could possibly avoid it, and invading Bug systems was the delusional domain of fools and madmen; Vice Admiral Tsonguo was neither.  She had lied—badly.

Of course, Heth couldn't let the Jurvain know that he knew.  "I see…" he began casually.  "Well, on behalf of Miao Mercantile, I wish you the best of luck.  Of course, we'll need to make sure you won't resell the merchandise…" Heth said, hastily adding another article to the contract on his datapad.  "The Bugs are certainly a threat, one I'm glad you're focused on, for all our sakes."

But the sake of all species didn't seem to rank too high in the assembled Jurvain affairs.  "We will accept weekly delivery here on Laang," Tsonguo said.  "Payment will be sent, half now, half on delivery of each shipment.  Acceptable?"

"Perfectly."  Heth held a datapad contract out to the Vice Admiral and bared his fangs in a smile.  "I assume you are legally authorized to sign on behalf of the Commonality?"  Tsonguo answered by gripping the datapad's pressure patch.  She didn't even blink as it drew her blood signature.  Heth ignored the needle—he was used to it (and had the scar tissue to prove it).  "I'll send the contract back to Urrin for approval," Heth continued.  "Once Prurr K'Aou K'Miu signs it, MIRADI can begin production immediately."  Hopefully, the delay would give him enough time to determine the Commonality's intentions—and, if necessary, cancel the sale.

"Good," Tsonguo said.  Then, without any parting pleasantries, all Jurvain stood, turned, and filed out the door.

Heth waited for the Jurvain to leave, then quickly followed.  He made his way to the waiting auto-flitter and ordered it to the docking bays.  Heth always made sure to get the automated shuttles when dealing with the Jurvain; drivers had a bad habit of eavesdropping… and, what one knows, the rest know.  After checking for listening devices, Heth activated a comm channel to the Bountiful's pilot.  "M'Rowr, pick up."

A second later, plump, mangy long-haired black cat answered with a yawn.  "Yeah, director?"

"Get me a secure line to Miao K'Nhur K'Yawr, now.  This can't wait."

"The Miao LEO?"  M'Rowr's whiskers twitched in confusion.  "You sure, boss?  Don't you remember the last time you—"

"M'Rowr, I don't have time for this!" Heth growled.  "Time is money.  This deal might impact international relations, and he's my feed to the Board of Directors."

"Heth…"  His pilot rolled his eyes.  "I hate to break it to you, cousin, but these days you're too small time to deal with the K'Nes Llan."

"Then it'll be a short call."

M'Rowr shrugged.  "It's on your credit."

Heth sighed.  "Fine, it'll be a personal call."  Trust me, even with interstellar Net rates, I can afford it now.

M'Rowr's eyes went wide.  "Sky Father above… you are serious!"

"You didn't appreciate that from the encryption I put on this feed?"

"Scat, Heth… I put encryption on the feed to my mate and litter!"

"That's because you leveraged your cubs for a loan."

"That's right," M'Rowr smiled, "and now I own a percentage of this operation.  I expect dividends, y'know…"

"And you'll get them—but only if I get that secure feed, now," Heth warned, pointing an angry claw at the screen.

The pilot shrugged—a popular alien gesture among the K'Nes.  "Sure thing, boss.  One moment."

Heth leaned back in the uncomfortable flitter's cushions.  If the Jurvain are going to war, then we need to get  a non-aggression pact in place right away.  Not only will it protect us from the Jurvain, but it'll keep us from being forced into another unfortunate alliance against the apes… and looked what happened to the last one with the Vulthra!  As the screen switched to the call waiting display, Heth preened himself while he waited for the head of his company to pick up.  After all, one has to look good for the boss… and it's about time for a promotion.