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Archive for October, 2009

New Poll – What Happens Next?

Oct 27, 2009

Several titillating (and yes, I make up excuses to use that word) options this week!

Just in case anyone thought the past few polls might have been overly flippant (*coff*), I give you plot-altering options!

Use your voting powers for GOOD, not evil. <3

14. Bargain

Oct 27, 2009

Hank closed his eyes.

Clearly, the girl was insane.

Nobody capable of rubbing two thoughts together believed in Starbirth as truthsome. The story was just as pretty and twice as useless as the dawnstar it talked about.

Insane or no, she was obscenely wealthy. He’d be a fool to toss her overboard if there was easy money to be found through exploiting her fanatical quest.

He opened his eyes, steepling his fingers and eyeing her carefully. “Just what do you propose, Miss Price?” As intended, he straightened at his use of her full name. If this was to be a business meeting, it should be formal. “Be mindful, I’d appreciate if we could base our agreement in details rather than generalities.”

She nodded. “What I’d propose, Mr. McCoy, is a collection mission. A treasure hunt, if you will. This is but one fragment of a larger find, I am certain of it. I need transportation – the kind of transportation that may require air travel for expediency – to each of the sites, and both assistance and protection while I hunt down the other pieces. In addition, some of the pieces may require…less than legal methods to obtain them.” She paused, gesturing in his direction. “I trust that won’t be a concern?”

So that was her game? She just needed a chauffeur whilst she chased ghosts and children’s tales?

“I’d need a time frame and guaranteed payment,” he asserted. “My ship don’t fly on wishes and dreams alone, nor am I interested in any kind of long-term job.”

Her eyes gleamed. He made a note to be certain she was never allowed near the card tables. She telegraphed her every emotion plain as brass.

“A year. One thousand gold doubloons.”

Immediately, he countered. “Unthinkable. A full year’s engagement is out of the question, and I’ll need a full crew for this. One thousand will barely cover expenses.” Inwardly, he swallowed hard. One thousand gold doubloons would see his ship the repairs she needed and have what was left of his crew fat and happy for more than a year. He never accepted the first offer in a business agreement, though, and he’d be damned if he’d spend a full year babysitting a fluff-headed moneybags.

“Six months at the same price,” she said without flinching and without pause. She’d expected haggling, then.

“Three,” he countered, lifting a brow.

She laughed. “Six,” she repeated, “and I will see to the proper outfitting of my ship at my own expense, and ownership of the Miraj shall be transferred to you with neither question nor clause at the end of that time.”

Hank paused. Six months was still longer than he’d like. He could probably still bargain her down. There weren’t many sky pirate captains sitting around waiting for work, so he was probably her only bet for getting this done soon.

“Take the deal, Hank,” Bones advised, his voice hollow and metallic. Hank glared up at the row of copper speaking tubes lining the front of the room.

“Bones! I told you to check on the ship!” Hank barked.

Bones’ voice came again, rattling through one of the tubes. “As I am, Captain.” He sounded smug. “At current, I am testing the communications system.”

“You subversive tin can, I’ll have your gears recycled for the waste collection system! You’re spying on me!”

“I am your First Mate. I determined that the outcome of this conversation was more important than examining the hull for sparkbarnacles.”

“I am your Captain! I determined I didn’t need your meddling in this meeting. I outrank you, and while you’re a member of my crew, you’ll do as I order.”

“You outrank me, but leaving you to do your own business agreements is what got us in this mess, Captain. Had I been present at the meeting with the Shima brothers, I would have made certain the deal included their continued assistance.”

Hank scowled. “Not that it’s any of your concern, but the Shinra’dor brother did promise assistance.”

“A promise which you cannot prove, as you had no witnesses to it and no signed paper to uphold it.”

Hank opened his mouth to reply, then closed it, clenching his jaw tightly. There were times when he wished his First Mate was a bit less bullheaded. The ticker was at his most irritating when he was right, though.

Absent Bones to glare at, Hank turned his frustrations to Remora, who merely blinked at his ferocity. He could have done without her hearing that particular conversation. Gathering the tattered scraps of his authority, he bristled. “I am the Captain,” he asserted.

“You are the Captain,” she agreed without argument.

“I pick my crew!”

“You pick the crew.”

Her easy agreement just irritated him more. “You’ll keep that upturned nose of yours out of my business.”

She sighed. “Mr. McCoy, I have no intention of trying to run your ship. Elsewise, I would not have gone to such lengths to hire you. Do we have an agreement, or shall I go back on land and find another pirate to make incredibly wealthy?”

Hank bit back his first response, which could be considered impolite at best. “You heard all the particulars of the deal?” he barked up at the copper tubes.

“I did, Captain,” Bones replied.

“You’ll honor the bargain as stated,” he warned Remora. “This ain’t the kind of deal I can take you to court over. You cross us and you’d better hope we die in the doing, else it’s your blood on the line.”

Her face looked suitably serious as she nodded.

Roith’delat, a goodly portion of him still wanted to just toss her overboard and set sail as far from her and her crazy Starbirth ideas as he could. The deal seemed sound, and the job cushy as they come, but all his alarm bells jangled and his arms itched with gooseflesh.

Can’t win the game if you never place your bet, though. He lifted his open palm and spat into it. Her nose wrinkled slightly, and he felt slightly better. Girl was so high-bred she couldn’t even admit to spitting. How much trouble could she be?

She repeated the gesture and they shook hands over the table.

“Good! Then it’s done,” she said.

“Boss?” Bones’ voice. “There are…well…you might ought to come topside and see this. There are about ten wagons full of sundries parked dockside, calling permission to board.”

Remora brightened. “My things have arrived! What marvelous timing!”

Hank closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose against a rising headache. Six months. He resolved to get a calendar, that he might mark off the days.