FINANCIAL
FREEDOM
A Tech Infantry Novella
by
Edward Stasheff & Marcus Johnston
Copyright © 2011
Chapter 13: Means of Production
The supply shuttles took off for the Avarice as soon as it arrived in orbit over Nhur. Heth was in the first wave of transports hauling equipment, supplies, and personnel up to the massive cargo ship, eager to once again take command of his former freighter. When he finally spotted it through the shuttle windows, of course, it was only a bright dot in the distance, albeit one that gradually swelled as they drew closer.
"Scat…" M'Rwor mumbled next to him, staring wide-eyed as the dot grew and grew and grew. "I never been on a super-freighter before, y'know? I mean, I knew they were big, but… Sky Father above…"
"Big" didn't do the Avarice justice. Well over a kilometer long and half as wide with four million tons of cargo capacity, Miao Mercantile's super-freighter class were the largest civilian starships ever constructed in K'Nes space—and quite possibly the known galaxy.
"Well, gravity drive systems are enormous," Heth replied, "so they require an equally large ship to carry them—especially if they have to be disguised, like on our super-freighters."
"We're taking that into battle?" Narrah growled, skeptical. "It's big, yes… but it's still just a freighter."
"Oh, the Avarice has fangs, alright," Heth said, unable to keep a hint of pride from creeping into his voice. "It's got a full particle phalanx point-defense grid and a one-meter chemlaser."
"That's not much," Narrah growled, narrowing his eyes at the big cargo ship.
"Well, that's all you can see, yes…. that's all we were allowed during the Human Occupation, after all." Heth shot Narrah a mischievous fanged grin. "But the rest of its weaponry, like claws, are retracted and hidden." Heth pointed to the dorsal surface of the Avarice. "See that observation dome on top of the shuttle bay? It's fake. Flip it 180 degrees, and it's a twin fusion cannon turret. Believe me, we've surprised more than one Earth Fleet patrol ship with that! And finally, some of the outer cargo bays can be fitted with box launchers for missiles or torpedoes if necessary."
"And are they?" Narrah asked.
Heth shrugged. "Not right now, no."
"Why not?" Narrah demanded.
Heth did his best not to roll his eyes. "Because the Avarice isn't a warship, Narrah, it's a smuggling vessel!... well, and a commercial freighter, obviously. Instead of armor and starfighters, it's equipped with advanced navigation and sensors, decoy drones, and the most sophisticated stealth suite money can buy! Trust me, the K'Nes have never built a better blockade runner... and certainly not with this much cargo capacity!" When Narrah still look unconvinced, Heth sighed and continued. "You see over there?" He pointed a claw at the tips of two huge prongs recessed into housings embedded in the front of the ship. "Those are disguised to look like Vulthra long-range communication antennae—when they're extended, of course, they're retracted at the moment—but they're really the antennae for a transit beacon, yet another thing banned under the Human Occupation. Oh, it's expensive to use and a terrible power hog, of course, but so long as we're careful when and where we use it, it's extremely effective at covert cargo pick-ups and drop-offs. No shuttles ferrying cargo in and out of orbit to tip off planetary security—we can just teleport the payload straight into the transit bay and continue on our way."
"Or deploy hunters onto the surface unnoticed…" Narrah mused aloud as he contemplated the possibilities, looking a bit happier.
"Now you're thinking like a Miao!" Heth nodded in approval. "I have no idea what Chairman Smythe is hiring us to do… but I'd much rather do it with stealth and smooth-talking than skirmishes and shoot-outs. If we play the market right, hopefully we'll avoid combat altogether. The Avarice has never failed on a smuggling run." Yet, Heth added mentally.
Narrah seemed a little disappointed, but shrugged it off. "Well… so long as I still get paid, that's fine with me." The graying old cat stroked his whiskers slowly and gazed out at the retracted transit antennae. "Infiltration. Covert operations. I can work with that..." Thankfully, it seemed to satisfy the old hunter, and Narrah lapsed into thoughtful silence.
Heth couldn't help feeling a deep satisfaction as their shuttle entered the launch bay and docked with the Avarice. Being Executive for any of Miao Mercantile's three super-freighters was an honor and privilege, and Heth had been one of only three K'Nes who could claim that title… had been. After McNeilly framed him for breaking a contract and Heth was demoted, he'd lost his prestigious position and been transferred off the Avarice to the Bountiful. Although he'd cleared his name and rebuilt his assets since then, Heth hadn't felt his career was truly restored until he floated back through the airlock onto his old super-freighter. The only thing left to win back now was Miu.
"Gainful day, Director Heth! Welcome aboard"
Heth turned to see a furry black gorgon extending a tail to him. He grinned. "Rameth! Delightful to see you again!" Heth offered his own tail for a quick but firm tap of greeting. He had no problem remembering the name of the Avarice's manager—he was a hard K'Nes to forget!
K'Nes males, generally speaking, were rather proud of their manes. Unfortunately, zero gravity tended to turn long manes into an embarrassing rat's nests of tangles and mats, so K'Nes spacers tended to shave them off, or at least crop them short. Rameth, a former K'Nes Tor Navy officer who had apparently had his fill of military manes, had opted for a different strategy. He wove his long mane, along with gems, jewels, and other treasure, into thick black braids. Give him enough buttermilk, and he'd tell you where and how he'd acquired each trinket (whether you wanted to hear it or not). In zero-G, however, the heavy braids floated around his fluffy face like a school of eels. It was definitely a sight that stuck in one's memory.
"Glad to have to you back, Heth," Rameth said, then shook his head. "Believe me, it has not been the same without you—or as profitable!"
"Indeed?" Heth glanced at Rameth, curious. He could tell this wasn't the usual sycophantic flattery. Rameth almost sounded… relieved? Heth inquired, "Who was the Avarice's Executive after I was transferred?"
Rameth narrowed his eyes in disgust. "Miao K'Nhur K'Yoomi."
"Oh. I see..." Well, that explains it, Heth thought. Rival prides. From the outside, the Miao corporate clan was one big family, one big company. Inside, however, different factions within their clan—usually organized by family prides—vied for profit, power, and prestige. In Heth's absence, Rameth had the misfortune to fall under the command of a powerful (and aggressive) rival pride. No wonder he was relieved to have Heth back as the ship's Executive.
Himself, Heth was a K'Rrowr—a pride too small and unimportant to be much of a power player in pride politics, so they pursued a strategy of friendly neutrality instead. It made navigating the complicated corporate clan politics dreadfully difficult at times, true, but also gave them a degree of social mobility other prides lacked.
"Terribly sorry to hear that, Rameth," Heth said, all sympathy. "That must have very difficult for you."
"Eh, that was last quarter," Rameth said. "What's done is done. Point is, you're back, and I hear we're on a very profitable run! I don't know the specifics yet, though…" Rameth's voice trailed off, the question unasked but obvious, clearly fishing for details.
"Yes, I suppose we should get down to business right away, shouldn't we?" Heth sighed.
"Well, time is money." Rameth spun around in midair amid his swirling mane. "You can tell me all about it on our way to the command center. Don't worry, I'll have the crew deliver your baggage to the Executive's suite." With that (and a loud blast of oxygen), the pair of cats flew down the corridor, Rameth's long braids streaming behind him.
"The truth is," Heth began, "I'm afraid I don't even know what the job requirements are yet. Only that it's very risky… and very profitable."
"High risk, high return," Rameth agreed.
"So we need to get to the New Madrid system as soon as possible, to negotiate the contract. How soon can we depart?"
"As soon as the shuttles finish unloading," Rameth answered. "So any moment now." Rameth grabbed a pawhold on the corridor wall to stop his forward motion, spun himself upside down in a swirl of black braids, then flew down into a shaft descending to the heart of the ship.
Heth followed, albeit less gracefully than Rameth. The Avarice, being one of the few K'Nes ships equipped with a gravity drive, was also one of the few ships capable of generating artificial gravity—although the K'Nes crew seldom used it. For a species that spent much of their lives floating, zero-gravity wasn't that big of a change. Besides, artificial gravity used a lot of energy, and energy cost money.
"We'll need to go straight to New Madrid, too," Heth said as he floated behind Rameth. "So no stopping to trade in every system we pass through this time."
Rameth's head did a double-take (which did interesting things to his braids) and looked at Heth like he'd grown a second tail. "Uh… the crew's not gonna be happy about that, Heth. We're talking about a lot of lost profits here…"
One of the benefits of working on the Avarice was the tiny section of cargo space reserved for each employee. An enterprising crewcat with money to invest in low-bulk, high-value commodities could wheel and deal their way into a tidy profit in addition to their salary. Of course, that required stopping frequently to buy and sell merchandise…
"I understand, Rameth," Heth sighed, "but unfortunately this contract is time-sensitive. If it takes us too long to get there, we'll miss the window of opportunity, and this lucrative offer will be withdrawn. That's one of the reasons we're taking the Avarice; with a gravity drive for propulsion, it's one of the fastest ships Miao Mercantile owns. Now," Heth said, moving on before Rameth could protest further, "do we have a technomagickal consultant aboard to operate the transit beacon? We may need to use it."
"Uh… yeah. She's on the Avarice for a six-month consulting gig. Got three months left on her contract."
"Good. Which one is it this time?"
"An expensive one. Durrmach K'Hhak Na'Kirrp."
Heth winced. "Kirrp? Oh dear… If I remember correctly, she's an arrogant little rodent."
"She's a wizard," Rameth chuckled. "Aren't they all?"
"It does seem to be a more common personality than statistical averages would suggest, yes."
"Y'know," Rameth chuckled as he grabbed another pawhold and swung himself into a horizontal corridor. "I sometimes wonder if it's a requirement to be in the Paranormal Practitioner's Guild."
Heth sighed. "Well, at least if she's Guild-certified we know she's not a fraud."
"Yeah. Kirrp does good work, I'll give her that," Rameth admitted grudgingly. "She's consulted on the Avarice before; definitely good with the transit portals. Fantastic aim. Very precise."
"Then it's money well spent, I suppose," Heth said, probably trying to persuade himself more than anyone.
They stopped at a sealed hatch. Rameth pressed a paw to the pressure path next to it and, after a quick scan of his paw-print, the door rolled away and the two cats floated into the Avarice's command center. The circular room's walls were lined with control consoles surrounded by floating K'Nes monitoring and operating the various ship's systems. The Assistant Manager, a black and white calico resting atop the room's central perch, glanced their way, recognized Manager Rameth, and pushed off the perch toward him. She snapped a tail to her brow in a quick salute, then rattled off a status report. Once satisfied that everything was running smoothly, Rameth turned to his crew.
"Alright, team, point your ears this way! Now, most of you probably remember him from last fiscal year..." Rameth said, waving a paw at Heth, "but for those of you who don't, this is Miao K'Rrowr K'Heth, one of our previous—and most profitable!—ship's Executives. Well, he's back—and he's already got a lucrative run set up for us!"
A loud purr of approval reverberated throughout the control center. Heth couldn't help but smile.
"Unfortunately, the contract's time sensitive," Rameth continued, "so we'll be heading straight for New Mardid. In other words, we won't be making trade stops when pass through star systems."
A loud hiss of protest reverberated throughout the control center. Heth did his best to look apologetic, and narrowly averted a mutiny by promising performance bonuses (and putting it in writing).
Once the growling crewcats turned back to their displays, Rameth brought up a three-dimensional galactic map on the central holoprojector and began calculating distances and timetables, trying to determine the quickest route from Nhur to New Madrid. He glanced over at Heth. "I don't suppose the Federation gave you permission to use their military hyperspace lanes?"
"No, I'm afraid not," Heth answered. "Apparently their urgency doesn't extend to military jumpgate activation codes. We'll have to stick to commercial hyperspace lanes."
"Too bad. That might have shaved a day or two off the journey…" Rameth turned back to the navigational display, mumbling to himself. "…and there's still fighting in the New Tokyo system—that pro-Imperial revolt is lasting forever—so we can’t take the Wilke's Star Free State route… but the fighting in the Kalintos system is over, and that's in Fed paws now…"
Heth floated off to the side and waited silently. As ship's Executive, Heth directed the super-freighter's commercial enterprises, but Rameth managed all the day-to-day details of running a spacecraft. Heth had learned long ago that a good Executive, while keeping an eye on the Manager (and especially their efficiency reports), otherwise stayed out of the Manager's way and let them do their job. Heth, after all, knew nothing about starship engineering or hyperspace navigation.
Finally Rameth locked in a route and turned to Heth with a sigh. "Nineteen and a half days, Terran Standard Time. That’s the best we can do. New Madrid's halfway across the known galaxy, after all."
Heth wasn't thrilled with the estimate, but knew there was nothing to be done about it. He just hoped the Avarice got there in time for Chairman Smythe's offer to still be valid. "We'll be passing through the Urrin system on the way out of K'Nes space, correct?"
"Yeah, of course." Rameth cocked his head. "Why?"
"Make that twenty days, then," Heth answered. "I need to make a quick stop on Urrin."
So, apparently, did Narrah. The old hunter picked up a few more recruits for the Miao Mercenary Company there. Narrah wasn't sure which clans they came from, and didn't particularly care—he sent out the call, they came, and that was good enough for him. It was not, however, good enough for Heth, who made them all sign confidential non-disclosure agreements before coming on board.
But Urrin was also the home of MIRADI. Heth had some merchandise to collect and one very special person to see.
"I'm not sure power armor suits you," Miu said, looking him over with an appraising eye. "I think I prefer you in a waistcoat and ascot. Much more dignified."
"I'd have to agree," Heth nodded—or tried, rather. The sleek black K'Nes power armor felt stuffy and uncomfortable, and his movements were clumsy and awkward. "But then, one doesn’t wear armor as a fashion statement," he added. "It's… functional."
"Taking the nanobots from your ape power armor suit and reprogramming them with the specs for K'Nes armor was the easy part," Miu said. "Integrating them with the suitcomp from some old K'Nes armor was a bit trickier, but we found a way to do it. We've even managed to emulate the monofilament vibro-blades. Try testing them."
Heth raised his paws and gave the verbal command. "Claws." The black blades popped up along the gauntlet knuckles and boot tips. Swishing his tail in front of him, Heth nodded in satisfaction at the wicked spear blade on the tail tip. "Vibrate." The blades moved too fast for Heth to see, but he could hear the faint hum as they vibrated thousands of times per second. "Retract." The blades snapped back down into the armor. "I like it," he purred. Heth inflated, the nanobots stretching the armor as his body swelled and he rose off the ground.
"We've managed to emulate the directional thrusters of K'Nes armor," Miu said, "but fuel is more limited."
Heth tried out the directional thrusters. After bobbing around the office like a drunk in the wind, he decided the thrusters would definitely take some practice to get used to.
"The only thing that we couldn't really adjust the ape armor for," Miu continued, "was the helium tank on the back. There was just no way the nanobots could disguise that convincingly, given the camouflage requirements you gave us. So we left the tank off. You'll have to inflate internally. I figured you'd prefer stealth over flight time."
"And you were right." Heth smiled as he deflated and landed softly on his paws. "Speaking of camouflage… Suit, Human!" For a few seconds, the armor seemed to bubble and shift, changing color as it morphed into a black human business suit. "Suit, Jurvain!" The armor morphed into bland gray coveralls. "Suit, K'Nes!" The coveralls shifted into the colorful, multi-layered corporate clothing of the K'Nes. "Truly amazing. You've outdone yourself, Miu."
She smiled at the compliment and licked her nose.
"Given the job I've just been hired to do," Heth continued, "this might save my life."
"If I'd known that," Miu purred, "I would have charged you more."
"And how's our other nanobot project going?" Heth asked, changing topics.
"Successful so far, but time consuming," Miu sighed. "Reprogramming the Horadrim nanobots was tricky, but we figured out how to do it once we cracked their coding language. But it's the organic components that are taking time. We're having to grow new ones containing Zechariah McNeilly's DNA, then graft them to the nanobots."
"Well, I'm afraid it is necessary," Heth sighed. "If the nanos aren't compatible with McNeilly's biology, they might not work at all—and then you'll be left completely unprotected if he comes after you."
"With any luck, I won't need to use them anyway," Miu said. "I've had the security systems in MIRADI's headquarters upgraded, and if I need to go out on business I take a corporate security escort with me. But what about you, Heth?" she asked, concerned. "What exactly is this new job you've been hired to do? And why do you need power armor for it?"
"I'm afraid I don't know yet," Heth sighed. "Chairman Smythe has hired me to do… something. I won’t find out the details until we meet for contract negotiations. But I can tell you this much—it's going to pay a lot. A lot!"
Miu licked her fangs. "How much?"
"Enough that I can guarantee I'll win the action for your reproductive rights."
"Oh, is that so?" Miu teased. "The top two bids are quite substantial. How many credits do you have?"
"How many credits do I need?" Heth returned.
"A quarter million." Miu paused, waiting for Heth's reaction.
"Is that all?" Not too long ago, Heth would have balked at that number—but now he just shrugged it off. "I can’t help but think that your assets are severely undervalued, Miu." The white cat looked down with a smile, flattered and perhaps a little touched. "Still, just in case my competitors are low-balling your worth, I'll make sure I have an extra twenty percent for last-minute bidding wars. With luck, I should return a few days before the auction closes… but I'll set up automatic bidding too, just in case this job takes longer than expected. You might want to draw up the Articles of Procreation for our reproductive joint venture." Heth smiled. "Again."
"Well… I can’t say that I'm disappointed to hear that," Miu purred. Then her whiskers twitched and she looked away, frowning. "Assuming you come back at all, that is. Just how dangerous is this job going to be?"
"I don't know that yet, either." Heth scowled—he hated dealing in uncertain markets. "Captain Gergenstein didn’t go into details… but he did make it sound like weapons and armor were just a precaution for our own protection. With any luck, we won't need them. We are K'Nes, after all—we prefer negotiating over fighting."
"Well," Miu said, stepping closer, "just in case you do wind up in danger…" she purred, whipping her tail around Heth's waist and pulling him closer, "here's a little motivation to come back safe and sound."
She wrapped her paws around his neck and covered his face in soft laps as Heth swam in her glorious scent—and, for the first time since their merger was dissolved, she let Heth lick her, too. Yes, Heth thought, some things are worth risking your life for.
As much as Heth would have loved to draw out his meeting with Miu, he had things to do, places to be, and not much time for either. So as soon as Miu's staff had his nice new (well… pre-owned) armor packaged up and loaded onto his shuttle, Heth was on his way back up to the Avarice in orbit. Shortly after that, the super-freighter crossed over into hyperspace and their long, boring journey to New Madrid began.
At least the down time wouldn't be wasted. Narrah had made it abundantly clear that he planned to spend it all working with his mercenaries, drilling them into a cohesive military unit for… whatever it was this contract would require. The shabby old cat didn't waste a spare second, either; the last recruits from Urrin had barely stepped off the shuttle onto the Avarice when Narrah informed them, loudly and in no uncertain terms, that the Miao Mercantile Mercenary company's first team meeting would be as soon as the ship transitioned to hyperspace.
With a sigh of apprehension, Heth floated along to where Narrah had scheduled the meeting in the transit portal bay. The large, open chamber was good choice for a training area, Heth had to admit. But then, it wasn't the real estate that worried Heth—it was the personnel. Well, there's no point in delaying it any longer, Heth thought. Time is money… and it's time to evaluate my labor force.
When the hatch rolled back and Heth floated into the room, he felt the familiar weight of artificial gravity pulling at him; Narrah must have dialed it up in the transit bay for some reason. Heth silently surveyed the recruits for a moment with an appraising eye… and an increasing frown.
He was right to have been worried. What he saw when the hatch rolled back disheartened him. Over a dozen K'Nes, both males and females, floated and lounged about the empty bay, chatting, flirting, scratching, laughing, exchanging business cards and comparing bank accounts. The only ones he recognized right away were M'Rowr and his mate Surra, growling and clawing each other in a corner (as if no one could see them). These recruits were more or less what Heth was expecting: veterans. In other words, none of them had seen any action since the humans disbanded the K'Nes Tor Army eight years ago. Most of them had let themselves go, devaluing what was most likely their only asset—their bodies. They certainly didn't look like a very profitable bunch. The disorganized crowd was a motley mob of faded clothing, shaggy fur, and untrimmed whiskers.
"You call this a mercenary company?" Heth announced, shaking his head as he floated to the center of the room. "Well I assure you, I certainly wouldn't be investing in this company unless I absolutely had to—no matter how many credits I had to spare!" Heads were turning to look at him now as some of the chatter died down. "Alright, gather around," Heth said beckoning to this disorderly crowd with his paws. "I've do have some of the job requirements for your positions on this contract, so listen up." For a moment, the room was quiet, and for a split second Heth thought he'd successfully established himself as dominant male.
"Who the scat are you?" someone said.
"I," Heth said, "am your employer!"
A chorus of chuckles ran through the room.
"Narrah's our boss!" another cat called back. "Now get outta here, runt! Tell the Captain we're waiting!"
"How dare you!" Heth snapped. "I am your superior! One more word like that, and you're fired! Do you hear me? Terminated!" If anything, Heth's tongue-lashing only invited more laughter.
"Uh, boss?" M'Rowr said as his inflated, spherical form floated over to Heth. "That, uh, might not be the best management strategy for this bunch of K'Nes… know what I'm saying?"
"Rubbish!" Heth said, hearing the door behind him slide open. "I sign their paychecks, I give the orders!"
"Uh… that's not exactly how the military works, boss…" M'Rowr suddenly glanced over Heth's shoulder. Heth turned to see Narrah stalking toward them, limping on his bad leg, wearing sleek black power armor and a blacker scowl.
"SWAAAAARM-HUP!" he bellowed. The gathered K'Nes looked up and began milling around in something mildly resembling haste.
M'Rowr hesitated. "Sorry, boss," he whispered, "I gotta go! I'll talk to ya after—"
"DID YOU NOT HEAR ME, RAT?" Narrah roared into M'Rowr's face, robotic tail swishing angrily.
"Yes sire, I was just talking to the boss and tellin' him—"
Narrah swung down with expert aim. M'Rowr rotund form bounced off the floor and into the wall, ricocheting off towards the ceiling before deflating with a loud belch and landing in a pile of fur on the floor.
"WHEN I GIVE AN ORDER I EXPECT IT TO BE FOLLOWED!" Narrah seized M'Rowr by the scruff of his neck and, with more strength the Heth would have ever have guessed the old cat had, yanked M'Rowr to his paws. "DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME, RAT? NOW SWAAAAARM-HUP!" He threw M'Rowr in the general direction of the recruits.
And then… Sky Father above, Heth had never seen anything quite like it! If Heth could have motivated assembly line workers to move that fast, he'd be a quintillionaire. But even that wasn't enough for Narrah, who stalked around the room, bellowing orders and cracking heads until the K'Nes floated in three cloud formations.
"You call yourself K'Nes hunters?" Narrah spat. "Bah! You're rats! No, rats are too big—you're mice! A bunch of fat, puny rodents! Sky Father must have scat in the black when he created your sorry tails!" Narrah stalked through the formations, glaring into each set of eyes. "Now get this through your thick skulls—until this contract is over, I am Sky Father here! I dominate your worthless lives! I separate light from dark, heat from cold—and if any of you kittens prove yourselves valuable, I might just keep you alive, too! I am going to beat your flabby pelts into shape—or you will DIE! You will eat when I say you eat, scat when I say you scat, move when I say you move! You will train until you drop, then beg me for more! And the first and last words out of your fish-stinking holes will be 'Sire!' DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME, MICE!"
"SIRE YES SIRE!"
"I am your GOD here! And when I say he is," Narrah jabbed a claw at Heth, "then this runt is too! When he speaks as boss, you listen! Do you understand that, you creditless scat-heads?"
"SIRE YES SIRE!"
Narrah turned to Heth. "You have the air, boss."
"Why thank you," Heth said, floating forward. He looked over the faces of the mercenaries, noticing for the first time that a few looked too young to have served in the Tor Army. "We stand at the brink of a great financial opportunity," Heth began—then stopped, staring at some of the younger cats. "M'Rowr? Surra? A word?"
M'Rowr hesitated, casting an apprehensive glance at Narrah. "Sire! Permission to leave formation, sire?"
"Granted," Narrah nodded. "But make it quick, recruit!"
M'Rrowr and Surra flew over to where Heth floated. Heth turned his back to the mercenaries and hissed in a whisper, "M'Rowr, Surra… some of those recruits are your own cubs!"
"Well… yeah," M'Rrowr nodded, dead serious. "You said to keep it in the family."
"Yes, but I didn't mean your pride!" Heth said, anxious. "M'Rowr… you know this contract is dangerous. K'Nes could get hurt, might even die…"
"They knew the risks when they volunteered, Heth," Surra grunted. "Besides… they need the money."
Heth simply reached out and gripped their fur, speechless for a moment. "I can't thank you enough," he said. "If there's anything I can do…"
"Well, actually…"
"Yes?"
"I was able to get the power armor from one of our warehouses… but it wasn't free, y'know. The recruits had to buy their own suits. Most of them had to take out loans to do it, and the interest rate's pretty high. Look, my cubs don't have a lot of assets…"
Heth nodded, silently calculating the credits in his head. "Understood. I'll buy out the loans and refinance them to your cubs at five percent interest."
"Five?" Surra growled.
"Very well, three percent. Final offer."
"Thanks, boss!" M'Rowr grinned. "Trust me, apes with guns don't scare 'em half as much as a twenty-six percent interest rate does!" With that, the two cats sped back to their assigned positions in formation.
Heth resumed his speech to his mercenary company, briefly sketching out their business plan for the Smythe contract and how it was a great investment for the long-term futures of their corporate clan. He spoke not of courage, but of high-risk investments yielding greater returns—not of danger and noble sacrifice, but the cost-benefit analysis and the profit-to-loss ratio. It… didn't seem to be having the desired effect on the mercenaries. Strange, Heth thought, that approach usually works quite well in the boardroom… Finally, he turned to Narrah. "You have the air, Captain."
"Outstanding!" Narrah barked at him. "Now get in formation!"
Heth looked around, not sure who Narrah was talking to. All the recruits were already in formation.
"IS THERE A PROBLEM WITH YOUR EARS, RUNT?" Narrah demanded. "I SAID GET IN FORMATION, NOW!"
"Wha—me? Oh, don't worry, I'll leave you to your duties," Heth said with a dismissive wave of his paw as he floated toward the door. "Please, carry on."
In a flash, Narrah sank his claws into Heth's tail and yanked him back with a yowl. "YOU FALL INTO FORMATION! NOW, RUNT, BEFORE I PISS ALL OVER YOUR BALANCE SHEET!!"
Heth stared at Narrah, appalled. Such language! "B-but I'm not a soldier!" Heth protested.
"WILL YOUR CHEAP TAIL BE WITH US WHEN THE SCAT HITS THE FAN, YOU VALUELESS SCAT-BRAINED MOUSE?"
"Uh…" Heth wasn't used to such insubordination. "Well, yes, that is the general idea…"
"THEN YOU ARE A SOLIDER, RUNT, AND YOU WILL TRAIN AS ONE!" Narrah bellowed in his face. "WE CAN NOT AFFORD TO HAUL A SPOILED RICH KITTEN AROUND IN A COMBAT ZONE! A PLASMA BOLT DOES NOT CARE HOW MUCH MONEY YOU MAKE! THE ONLY ASSETS YOU HAVE ON A BATTLEFIELD ARE YOUR CLAWS AND FANGS—AND YOU WILL LEARN HOW TO USE THEM IF I HAVE TO CLAW YOUR THROAT OUT AND FART DOWN YOUR AIR SAC! DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME, RODENT?"
Heth was openly cowering now. "But… but I'm your boss!"
"THEN YOUR PUNY TAIL CAN FIRE ME AFTER WE GET OUT OF THIS CONTRACT ALIVE—ASSUMING YOUR USELESS PELT DOESN'T GET US ALL KILLED! UNTIL THEN, I AM IN CHARGE!" Narrah's cybernetic tail whipped out and wrapped around Heth's throat—tight. Narrah yanked Heth's face up to his and hissed in a low growl, "Don't you ever contradict me in front of my hunters again! Do you understand that, boss?"
Boss? Heth stared at Narrah, choking and confused. Then, suddenly, he got it—he was in the middle of a pissing contest for dominant male. Professionally, he was still Narrah's boss… but in all things military, Narrah was in command. Heth had known that, agreed to that, when he signed the contract—he just never thought Narrah would demand that Heth be part of the mercenary company! At the moment, though, Heth was running out of air. He couldn't speak, so he just nodded vigorously; he understood.
"GOOD! THEN GET IN FORMATION!" With a snap of his tail, Narrah threw Heth into the swarm of floating mercenaries. Heth bowled into them, scattering the formation. Narrah stalked up in front of Heth as the rest of the K'Nes hastily reformed into clouds. "NOW DROP AND GIVE ME FIFTY, YOU FLEA-BITTEN, FISH-STINKING, POVERTY-STRICKEN CAT!"
For a moment, Heth only stared at Narrah, confused. It seemed like an odd request… but Heth wasn't about the challenge the grizzled old cat over it. So Heth obediently deflated, sat down on his hind quarters, pulled out his datapad, and transferred fifty credits to Narrah's account.
He had a lot to learn about the military.
