NationStates Jolt Archive

The system had been perfect. A single F9 class star radiated its heat and light onto five worlds, two of which were gas giants. Only one of the three terrestrial worlds was habitable, and it was the home of a small colony of only five million people. The colony was primarily agriculture based, since it had been founded by a religious order that espoused the moral value of living a simple life.

Which also meant they were practically defenseless when General Martinek's Marauders found it. Any resistance was quickly quelled, and a the colony became a 'protectorate' of Martinek and his forces. They'd hollowed out a large asteroid, fitting it with barracks, a command center, defenses, magazines, hangars, and everything else needed to run their operation. They'd named it Penzance, after an old Earth play that the General was amused by.

Combined with his squadron of warships, the system was relatively well defended against any other pirate or mercenary groups, and could probably engage small naval task forces with a chance of victory.

The only problem was income.

Warships are expensive to maintain of course, and crewers need to be paid or else they quit, or worse. As such, a constant, or at least regular, cash flow was needed.

***

Martinek's quarters were quite simply best described as luxurious. Expensive rugs covered the floor, holographic art pieces sat in alcoves along the wall next to oil paintings, the sleeping chamber was dominated by a comfortable king sized bed, currently occupied by a pretty young blonde girl, passed out from the General's entertainment the night before, and his desk in the main chamber was a fine antique. All of it had been stolen of course, even the girl.

"General?"

Martinek looked up from his paperwork. It was Kapitän Raevsky, one of his cruiser commanders. "Yes, Kapitän?"

"The other officers and I were having a discussion earlier, and we felt we should bring our idea to you..."

"Go on."

"Well, we were thinking that in addition to doing work for crime syndicates and freelancing, that we might advertise our services to other organizations."

"Such as....?"

"Well, there's always at least one war going on somewhere at sometime, and many corporations tend to bring their market rivalries into armed conflict, so we were thinking that we might try to find work with those as well as our usual clients. Perhaps things like convoy protection, defending claims, privateering for governments, things like that. We could stand to make a bundle."

"Are you implying that our current financial assets are not satisfactory?"

"There is no such thing as having too much money, Sir."

Martinek chuckled, "You thought this all up on your own didn't you, Alexi?"

The Kapitän looked vaguely nervous, "I don't understand what you're asking Sir."

"The other officers would have never had the initiative to bring an idea like this to me, nor would they have thought of it in the first place. We will try your idea, and if it works, the credit, and substantial reward, will go to you, for your display of personal initiative and financial ambition."

Raevsky saluted, "Thank you Sir!"

"If it works. I'm placing you in charge of finding clients and working out deals. If there is nothing else, you are dismissed."

Raevsky saluted once more, turned crisply, and walked out of the room.
A low groan came from the sleeping chamber, the young woman was apparently waking up. Martinek neatly stacked his papers back in their folders, and stood. He removed his uniform jacket, then pulled out a low powered taser from his desk draw, walked into the sleeping chamber, and closed the door behind him.
***

To any interested parties,
The independent security firm Martinek's Marauders is now offering its services to interested companies and organizations. Sending a valuable cargo along a dangerous route, and the government won't give you an escort? We'll do it! Trying to buy land on a planet, and the colonists won't sell? We'll convince them for you! Competing firm is running you out of business? Don't ask questions and we'll take care of it. Art collector looking for a unique item only found in museums? We'll give it to you as a present! Rich old uncle is thinking of writing you out of his will? We'll make sure he doesn't get the chance.
Simply contact us through the same route you got this message, and let us know what you need done.

~Kapitän Alexi Raevsky
Martinek's Marauders

The message was transmitted by subspace to the group's usual buyers of stolen property, who then distributed it to their contacts in the criminal underground and corporate murk, and so on.

Bump.

Come on, someone out there has to have another nation or company that annoys them.

A nondescript (though ugly), medium-ranged merchantman executed a thoroughly unexceptional jump, snapping into existence a reasonable distance from the typical little star. The Extortionist plodded haphazardly towards the world that had once been home to an agrarian paradise, and now appeared to play host to a band of musically inclined pirates.

Rather calmly, too. Not because it considered Martinek's Marauders to be harmless - just because the prevailing wisdom was that whoever 'Martinek' was would rather accept a lucrative contract than blow it out of the sky.

At least, that was the fervent hope of the ship's company.

They'd found the coordinates after coming across refugees of the pirates' attack. After their usefulness had been expended, they sadly fell out of an airlock. As refugees tend to do, from time to time, being accident-prone.

Totally out of place on the drab bridge of the tramp freighter sat a man with a closely cropped head of hair and a lazy manner. Dressed fashionably in a white suit and Panama hat, he leaned forward and flicked a switch.

"Ahoy, mateys." He paused for theatrical effect - sarcasm need have its moments. "I would like to extend the congratulations of powerful and wealthy individuals to General Martinek for his recent acquisition of this system. I would like to extend, as well, a charming little contract that we might discuss, should you allow us to land." De-flicking the same switch, the man sat back, and waited.

The intercom on Martinek's desk buzzed with its usual harsh tone. He was back filling out paperwork again, and annoyedly pressed the button.

"What?" he demanded gruffly.

"Sir, we've just received a transmission from a freighter that jumped into the system a few minutes ago."

"Send it through to here."

"Aye Sir."

As the transmission played out for him again, he pursed his lips in thought. On one hand, it could be a trap, perhaps one of the governments he'd offended had finally found his lair, or it could always be a legitimate business offer. He decided to be an optimist in this case and think of it as a chance for profit.

"Allow them to send a shuttle over. Only a single shuttle, a max of two bodyguards with their representative, no heavy weapons."

This was transmitted back to the Extortionist, along with instructions for the shuttle to pass safely through the asteroid belt's minefields and automated weapon emplacements.

Theory: DA is an obscenely liberal, pseudo-idealistic society that dislikes (Violent, white-collar crimes are an entirely different issue altogether) crime and oppression, has a severe dislike for strict hierarchies, and generally likes people to be vaguely free.

Practice: DA features a considerable need for less-than-moral assistance regarding certain issues, in particular Mars and its less-liked inhabitants. Certainly not a need that is publicly announced or admitted - The public would be outraged - but there are still certain groups that are simultaneously aware of the need - Or at the very least, the usefulness - of this kind of assistance, and features the ethical ambiguousness necessary to pursue this kind of deal.

There are various possibilities to do this kind of deal, of course. DA-expats presently living (And killing) on Io, guests of La Tigra (Blessed be her insanity). The Augmented, lizards with thoroughly bad habits, but of potential usefulness.

And well, there were other possibilities you heard of, from a friend's friend's acquaintance twenty lightyears off-sol in a shady brothel featuring triple-breast- But the exact way the information travelled wasn't of concern, here.

What was of concern was a group of perhaps half a dozen individuals, posthumans, shipminds, sentient installations, deciding that some basic contacts could be useful for the sake of future 'agreements', in particular the possibility of privateer work or takeover of certain foreign criminal networks (As mentioned, crime in DA consisted almost entirely of white-collar crime, thus the lack of interest from this level of the society. The higher levels who regularily considered genocide (Without going through with it) on the other hand...).

Decisions, decisions. Backtracking the source and just coming in, uninvited, was of course a possibility - Effectors be blessed - and would presumably not be too much of an issue, given Penzance's 'Occupation'.

But why bother? As it was, a quick message was sent back the way the initial notice had been received. Nothing more was necessary. Besides, who knew if they were even close enough to get there - Being limited to about 3000c relativistic-space equivalent kind of reduces one's ability to reach certain places.

From: Frederick Marquis
To: Kapitän Alexi Raevsky, Martinek's Marauders
Subject: Your Potential Services

Your offers sound intriguing, and while we're presently lacking any dire need for them, we can certainly envisage a need, or at the very least, an opportunity where your services would be considerably useful for our own, as well as (Presumably) your ends, meaning that we're presently considering the possibility of requesting your services for what can essentially be described as privateer work, although other, more subtle actions - generally within a number of societies - may be considerated as well.

We're under the assumption that secrecy is a primary parameter for your 'business', and we're certainly not going to require you to reveal more than you deem appropriate. Neither do we - Though it is unlikely that the society we're coming from can be 'hidden'. The specific sub-society however is supposed to be just that - intend to reveal more than absolutely necessary. Nonetheless, we'd need to know some details about your capacities with regards to the potential jobs in question, and knowing a little more about your organisation's primary individuals (Leaders) in order to decide if hiring your services is indeed advisable - We hope that you wont be offended by this precaution.

If possible, suggest a time and place that'll allow us to do just that. As we're familiar with the potential risks you're taking - I suppose that nobody in your business wants a proper warfleet to enter one's location - we'll of course understand any precautions you might decide to take in order to secure your continued safety.

Replying shouldn't be an issue - I'm sure the vectors who transmitted your, as well as our message will gladly continue to assist in our communications, even though we've so far preferred non-corporeal contacts with said vectors - and we're eagerly waiting for a confirmatory message from you.

Sincerely,

~ Frederick Marquis

[Attachements: Distance Limitations (Based on 3000c maximum velocity & factor 10000 increased acceleration, preferable first meeting - Transportation to the final destination to be provided by the final receiver of the message - within a 100 LY from sol, ideally 10 LY]

In sol, where the message had originated from, the Interstellar Exploration Unit (Essentially a mixture of skilled explorer and unskilled diplomat) Ethics and Reality whistled to itself, a part of its mind located in an (For a ship) oddly biological body - It was a little impractical, but it enjoyed the 'Vintage' feeling, regardless of any issues - I.e. the tendency of said body to turn into a liquid when it accelerated too hard - it brought up.

Done, it sent to its (Few) morally 'Questionable' peers. It'd certainly take a while until a reply was received, - It supposed that the Penzance would do their own checking around, figuring out where the message originated from, though it seemed unlikely (But certainly not impossible) that they'd figure out that Frederick Marquis wasn't exactly an existing person, what with changing one's name, body etc. all the time, in DA - but then, it had time.

Had he known that he had interrupted Martinek while he was filling out paperwork, the man in the Panama hat would've laughed aloud. Pirates fill out paperwork too, do they? Or a charming quirk of the general he was about to meet? An idiosyncratic, paper-pushing, would-be despot? Marvelous!

Of course, he had no idea such a thing had occurred, and was subsequently mirthless.

He hadn't been planning to bring a brace of boisterous, barbarian bodyguards, bumbling about during his bartering with the big bad general, but the stringent restrictions were an indication of the pirate group's uneasiness. He'd never have dreamed of bringing any bodyguards at all, let alone an extra shuttle full of them. Or grenade launchers. But the very idea that Martinek chose to specifically enunciate each term was frustrating - each provision was a symbol for hurdles to the establishment of a functional, trusting (or, rather, mutually wary) relationship.

"Screw it," he concluded, ignoring the articulately inquisitive 'eh?' from the merchant captain. "Ready the shuttle." This directed at the monosyllabic captain.

As the man in the Panama hat walked down a dirty corridor to the launch bay, he chided himself. It's not as if the murderers didn't have reason to feel a little jumpy. They go off and enslave a independent agrarian world and here he comes, all of a sudden and fairly soon after the fact, and starts throwing offers around. Damn those recently deceased refugees for the awkward introductions they'd provided.

Reaching his destination, he strolled across the bay and entered the chrome-everything, leather interior Pisces shuttlecraft. The beautiful ship surged from the gaping orifice of the launch bay and hurtled toward Penzance.

Later, as he landed, he checked his inventory. One briefcase. Contents: one plastic card, one autopistol. Nothing more. The man in the Panama hat had no illusions as to the pistol's usefulness in any situation he might encounter, but it was nonetheless reassuring. He punched the hatch release, and stepped to the door.

Raevsky's eyebrows arched in interest as he read the latest message dumped in his inbox. Excellent, potential business. He quickly composed a reply.


From: Kapitän Alexi Raevsky,
To: Frederick Marquis
Subject: RE: Your Potential Services
I am delighted to hear of your potential interest in our services. It's fully understandable that one should wish to know more about an organization that they are considering for future business deals, and hopefully our capabilities will sufficiently impress you. As such, we can send a representative to meet with you and discuss our capabilities and how they may pertain to any future deals. Fregattenkapitän Enfield will be arriving in Sol in three standard days time on a business trip, and he will be able to fit a meeting with your representatives into his schedule. If this is satisfactory, we will just need to work out the details on how our two parties will be able to contact each other. If it is not, please let us know and we will work out an alternative meeting proposal.
~ Kapitän Alexi Raevsky
Martinek's Marauders

+++
Penzance's mysterious visitor was met by an honor guard of four marines and a leutnant in dress uniform. The junior officer clicked his heels together as the marines came to attention. "I am Leutnant Hebsen, if you will follow me, I will guide you to the main conference room." With that, Hebsen motioned for their visitor to follow, and with two marines marching behind the Panama Hat Man, he led through a warren of passageways and compartments before finally coming to a broad steel door marked "Main Conference". He pressed the entry button, the doors slid aside, and he waved for the Hat Man to enter, while he remained in the hall with the two marines.

The compartment itself was handsomely decorated. It was a long rectangular room, dominated by a smooth black table of hard plastic with leather seats arranged around it. Lights inset into the ceiling ringed the room and one wall was occupied by a massive 2D visual display. Three of the table's twenty seats were occupied. At the head sat Martinek, looking just like a flag officer in an actual navy thanks to his navy blue and gold dress uniform, along with the other two officers. Behind Martinek, a painting (http://www.100megsfree4.com/rusgeneral/gal018.jpg) hung on the wall, that of Napoleon watching the Kremlin burn. As further evidenced by the rather old fashioned style of his uniform, Martinek obviously had a taste for ancient military history.

"Welcome to my humble abode. I am General Martinek, founder and commanding officer of this security firm. You mentioned you had a potential business contract for us, Mister...?

* QE-FTLCOM; Peer-to-Peer relayed; Text only
* Contacting List #3 Business Matters; Matthew Morgenstern; Poseidon; TEU Let's Talk Later; SUD 501/227]
<IEU Ethics and Reality> Mhm. Seen that? [Response Attached]
<IMU Business Matters> Well, now that you show me... But yes...
<Matthew Morgenstern> Ho-Hum. They're either close or fast. Both is nice, I guess.
<IEU Ethics and Reality> Quite. Well, going to reply now.

From: Frederick Marquis
To: Kapitän Alexi Raevsky, Martinek's Marauders
Subject: RE: RE: Your Potential Services

I'm glad that you understand, and I'm certain that you'll be sufficiently impressive - Nonetheless, some pecautions need to be taken.

As far as a meeting with Fregattenkapitän Enfield is concerned, there's a variety of options - A meeting in the Kuiper Belt is certainly possible, and would be reasonably safe. Alternative meetings could be done in more public but nonetheless safe - If not safer - places on Mars, Jupiter or Earth (Provided you use an appropriately unnoticeable/ harmless/ civilian form of transport to get there). Neptune would be a poor choice - There's a shooting war happening there.

As far as identification/ contact are concerned, I suppose that identification through visual contact is sufficient - we'd need to know how Fregattenkapitän Enfield looks like, of course, and a DNA sample would be extraordinarily useful - for a meeting-in-space, low frequency/ range broadcasts at the coordinates in question should likewise be sufficient. The frequency being your choice, whereas coordinates are attached in this message.

Sincerely,

~ Frederick Marquis

PS: The Commune's creepy, and we'd very much prefer a meeting in either the Belt or in the Tomoko-Hotel

[Attachements: Coordinates for meeting in the Kuiper Belt (~ 8 billion kilometers from the Sun, ten degrees off Neptune's present position, relative to the Sun); Address for meeting at Jupiter (Themisto, Jack's Club); Address for meeting at Mars (Daedalia, Martian Commune); Address for meeting at Earth (DA Sisgardia, Tomoko-Hotel, Suite #1013)]

<IEU Ethics and Reality> Well, so far, so good [Reply attached].
<TEU Let's Talk Later> Mhm. I recall a night in the Tomoko-
<Poseidon> We don't wanna know. Also, I'm busy organising a war. Consider me sporadic.
<SUD 501/227> Well, anyway. Sounds good enough - Why you've choosen places in DA is beyond me, though. Too easy to track back, IMHO.
<IEU Ethics and Reality> 'Cause Angstians are generally watched in most other nations they frequent? Okay, slight exaggeration, but still - It's unlikely that someone will spy on us when we're staying at home, and besides, we wont be limited in our secretive measures. And I'll be damned if some wannabe-haxx0r teen beats milgrade security measures.
<SUD 501/227> Point. Well, cya - Work's waiting, meaty.

The Man in the Panama Hat throttled a slightly bemused expression as Leutnant Hebsen's heels met with a precise click. The little bit of pomp was no more than could be found anywhere across the universe, but it was, at the moment, coming from a honest to god, swashbuckling, booty-plundering, wench-deflowering pirate. Or, rather, a respectable member of a private security firm. Smiling, he thanked the junior officer and began walking.

As his (somewhat overly numerous) escort bustled him along towards the impending meeting, his carefully neutral expression came to reflect his thoughts more and more. The feeling of bemusement withered and finally died as he realized that he was touring the facilities of a proper military outfit rather than a ragamuffin band of scoundrels. What mere pirates would bother with uniforms? The controlled chaos of the hallways bespoke of logistical competence and discipline, and his escort was entirely businesslike. Slightly, the Man in the Panama Hat smiled a minute, little smile. Yes. 'Businesslike' was the perfect adjective for these... most conveniently available professionals.

When they arrived, he politely thanked Hebsen and stepped through the doorway. Taking stock of the chamber, he noted the decorating and nodded ever so slightly. This was looking like a better and better investment every second he spent here. The Man in the Panama Hat was not conversant with military paraphernalia, but the man at the head of the table was clearly in command, and it was even easier to tell that he was Martinek... well, when he said he was.

Transferring his briefcase to his left hand, he extended his right in greeting. "My name is Mr. Savage." He said the name with just enough relish and with an expression just wry enough to make it clear that 'Savage' was nothing more than a colourful pseudonym. "And your abode is anything but, General. Thank you very much for meeting with me... and for not blasting my modest conveyance from the sky. I realize, in hindsight, that it might have been somewhat jarring to have your system's anonymity compromised out of the blue like that, but hindsight is always 20/20, I'm afraid. I would like to apologize, and reassure you that the individuals who passed on your location are decidedly unlikely to manage the feat again.

"Sir, I work for a self-governing corporate entity called Conquest Incorporated, and I would like very much to discuss a possible business venture that your firm could assist us with."

OOC: My apologies for the late posting.

+++

The General returned the handshake and gave a rather wolfish smile, "Well, you did manage to find us, and its not like it costed any money to hear you out instead of destroying your vessel. Missiles do cost money as well, and blowing away potential business partners simply because they were resourceful enough to find us would be rather...unprofitable. That is indeed reassuring however about the security leak being fixed. No operational security is ever 100% perfect, but it helps to make it as tight as effectively possible."

He waved toward one of the empty seats at the table. "Have a seat, Mr...Savage. We are, of course, very interested in the possible business venture you are proposing. Why don't you tell us more about it?"

+++


From: Kapitän Alexi Raevsky,
To: Frederick Marquis
Subject: RE: Your Potential Services

After consulting with Fregattenkapitän Enfield, he agreed that the Tomoko Hotel in DA Sisgardia on Earth would be the most preferable location to meet, as he has other business on Earth that he would be able to quickly travel to before and after your meeting. I have enclosed his image from his dossier for your convenience.

~ Kapitän Alexi Raevsky
Martinek's Marauders

Attch: enfield.jpg

OOC: You're the man.
IC:
"It would be my pleasure, General." Savage smiled, laid his briefcase on the table and sat. He steepled his fingers and assumed a vaguely philosophical air. "The rule of law, generally speaking, is a good thing. Any good capitalist loves the law - it ensures a certain security in which profit can be generated without the constraining factors a lawless society might suffer." Savage smiled wryly. "For example, piracy.

"Laws are economic tools, really. They are formed for economic reasons. They are formulated because it is economically advantageous, at the most fundamental level. Stability means business. Business means profit." As if snapping from a reverie, his philosophe's mein disappeared. "My employers have come to the conclusion that our competitors are enjoying a little too much law and order - and by extension, profit. I was sent here to correct that problem.

"Conquest Incorporated is set to expand, after a certain brief period, into near-Solar space and beyond. It would be easier for us to do so if our competitors and potential competitors are reeling from attacks on their shipping, infrastructure, research and development programs and the like. Not only are those things critical to an organization's viability in the business world, but they would seem to be the most attractive to a raiding force as they are both fragile and vulnerable to the sort of smash-and-grab pludering that... extra-legal entrepeneurs favor."

He placed his hands, palms down, on the table and looked intently at the General. "Specifically, the deal is this: Conquest Incorporated will pay every microcredit of your maintenance costs and occaisionally deliver items or systems that will facilitate the effectiveness of your operations. Your forces will disrupt the economic activities of whatever organizations or nations you wish, with the occasional directed theft when we catch word of something we wish to... take a closer look at. The profits from whatever you accrue through theft or extortion or ransoms or what have you will be split sixty-forty in your favor."

Folding his hands in his lap, the business agent inclined an eyebrow at General Martinek inquisitively. "At this point, how does such an arrangement strike you, General?"

From: Frederick Marquis
To: Kapitän Alexi Raevsky, Martinek's Marauders
Subject: RE: RE: Your Potential Services

Most convenient. I shall meet him in the hotel - I'm sure our future agreements will be potentially profitable for both sides.

Sincerely,

~ Frederick Marquis

DA, A considerable amount of time later

Getting into DA? Simple. Just use whatever method of transportation you want and arrive. There'll be a few basic security scans, of course - But all very subtle, only the brief, undisturbing flickers of assorted sensors sensing particularly dangerous kinds of baggage (Nobody minds guns, although they're not particularly widespread. Balls of uranium are a somewhat less wished-for piece, though) and, in some exceedingly rare cases - When it's, say, Thelasi - even a basic analysis of neuron activity - A brainscan.

Of course, Fregattenkapitän Enfield doesn't fall into the category, and his thoughts remain duly undisturbed.

The view itself may be a little odd - assorted buildings reaching into the sky, clouds covering their tops - It's raining, and the pH's not particularly pleasant to the skin. Neither is it life-threatening, of course, but it's worth remembering.

Individual traffic is insignificant - DA is hyperurbanised and has its fair share of pseudo-arcologies, which promptly results in bus and train becoming a lot more popular than usual.

Imagine the rain, the umbrellas, the (Not particularly massive) crowd of people, schoolchildren, white-collar workers, drones, a scantily clad drow (What the hell is she doing here, and why doesn’t she mind the rain?), bipedals, quadropedals, wheeled and floating sapient- and non-sapient entities, a few psionic magpies, landsquids and psychic cyborg dragons - Cute, they are - mixed in... One gets the idea.

The Tomoko hotel itself is about an hour off, and far enough away from the industrial districts to make it vaguely acceptable – In fact, if one disregarded the continual rain, it looked outright nice, a kilometre-tall mixture of varying geometries, standing in the middle of comparable structures and a fair bit of (Not quite common) flora.

Holocommercials, assorted media, a billion opportunities for genetic- and mechanic alterations, other opportunities related to more sensual experiences, insurance companies, cabs, VR junkies leasing their brains’ processing capacity to make a living… It was a tad confusing, all things considered.

Inside, little obvious security. A ‘The more you bring, the more we care’ system. A sweep or two for obvious kinds of potentially dangerous toys – And depending on what this toys are, you get more or less attention. Polite attention, of course – You may be watched by assorted microdrones and a number of other means, but nobody’s ever going to explicitly ask you about your ‘toys’. They’re yours, after all, and if you actually need to have assorted compensatory toys with you…

The hallways are full with lots of tasteful and less tasteful paintings, a few screens, a few guides, offers and suggestions, a lot of false smiles and a bit of expensive help – A typical (If expensive) hotel.

Suite 1013. The moment Fregattenkapitän Enfield enters it, he’s finally identified, by a lingering microdrone, and the ethically questionable individuals are informed about his arrival. And while Captain Enfield has the chance to get used to the suite (And to check for potential threats or security risks, of which there may be a few – But who knows DA also knows that such is unavoidable and not actually much of a risk), its plants, screens, sleeping kitten, computers, connections, the view one has from it on the plaza below, and the sizeable amount of (Usually spiced, that is, assorted hallucinogenic substances added) alcoholic beverages available, ‘Frederick Marquis’ is on his way.

Mindstate transfer over sixty million kilometers, five minutes to get comfortable to his (Or in this case, her) new body, and approximately half an hour after Enfield had entered the suite, the mind of the IEU Ethics and Reality, Jennifer Beauford, knocked on the door. “Fregattenkapitän? I believe you’re waiting for me…?”

Hum. Should’ve used a male body. Ah well.

"Your proposition sounds quite acceptable Mr. Savage, however, I shall let you know right now that I will reserve the right to reject suicide missions. I won't throw away my starships and men on fruitless missions, nor will anyone else do it instead. As it is, you can now consider us to be a mercenary arm of your organization, if you wish."

+++

While he was waiting, Enfield had wandered over to sit by the kitten, and was pleasantly caressing its fur when his host entered. He'd figured that Frederik Marquis was an alias, but he'd never suspected that such an alias might also have been of the opposite gender, and was thus quite visibly suprised. "Ah...yes, not very long though, just admiring the suite. Please, just call me Henry. Although, I believe you'll need to reintroduce yourself, since I don't believe it'd be entirely appropriate of me to address you as Mr. Marquis..."

Savage spread his hands disarmingly. "If you were the sort who could be fobbed off on banzai charges, we would not even be talking." He paused for a moment's thought. "Well, we probably still would, but that's neither here nor there. Primarily, you will be on your own authority to hit whatever you feel would be the most disruptive and/or profitable. You know your own strengths far better than we could hope to at the moment, so it would really be best if you just engaged targets of opportunity at will."

He dropped his hands back into his lap. "While I am certain my employers will be pleased when I tell them you have deigned to work with us, I am equally certain of the breadth of their displeasure if they were somehow to find out about it from some other channel - say, a news broadcast, or an all-ships bulletin. Conquest Incorporated has an image to uphold, and will move... ah, decisively to ensure that that image remains untarnished. It might be best if those like Leutnant Hebsen - who do not strictly need to know the particulars of our business - knew me only as, say, the Man in the Panama Hat. Best for all of us, I meant to say." The envoy brightened, moving quickly past a point of possible contention. "If your operations prove to be reliable, CI will provide additional equipment and materials - feel free to make requests. Dummy IFF transponders are at the top of the list at the moment. But I digress." Unlocking his attaché case, he produced the credit chit and slid it across the table with a small smile. "For now, allow me to prove that our money is good."

For ten billion credits, it had better prove damn good.

"Ah, very good, Henry." Jennifer smiled, walking over (A little insecure - She wasn't quite used to moving bipedal after several months of having her consciousness confined to the computronium of a spaceship) and taking her seat, facing Enfield and smoothing her ankle-long skirt.

Still smiling, of course.

"Oh, well, yes, that's true. Especially the 'Mister'. But, Jennifer works. In any case..." She looked briefly at the available drinks, and chose one that was labelled with '50%' and about a dozen latin-sounding words, most likely representing assorted non-natural substances with a profound effect on one's consciousness and/ or physical state. The kitten itself was purring, and looked with slightly glassy eyes in the direction of the bottle, possibly trying to will it to open with her mind.

Jennifer looked at it, slightly displeased, "Not for you..." then turned again, once more looking at Henry - Straight into his eyes. "I suppose she's had a little too much of it in the past. Anyway... I'm sure you've been given the information we've so far made available to your organisation, namely your potential targets - The ones we'd presently consider targets, anyway - that is, The Osage, Thelas, Skeelzania, Tannelorn, the likes.

"Our interests are considerably limited - I'm sure that there would be some people willing to deal with you on a more regular basis, acquiring your bounty, but I'm not one of them. Heard there are a few at Jupiter... Anyway. Basic raids, harrassing traffic, eventually getting a small colony - Nothing hazardous, I'm sure you're interested in profit, not in pointless and casualty-rich heroism. You'd keep whatever you can grab from your raids, and I - We - would pay an additional bonus. Say, 10% of the monetary damage you've done.

"Additionally, we'd quite possibly hire your services for more special operations, 'raids' and other such services with explicitly defined goals - For these, you'd name the price, and we'd pay it. Most likely, this operations would include transport duties, as well as occasionally partaking in assorted - largely ground-based - assaults, but also the sheer gathering of specific pieces of information - Military intelligence - and other actions - Assassinations we don't want to be connected with come to mind, but I might as well be missing some as-of-yet unthought possibilitie, so it's best to be open-minded about the specific forms the potential business between the two of us may take.

"Coming back to the 'Information' bit, information is indeed something we're interested in - We have our own means, of course, but your help would be worth something - Again, we'd pay generously. With regards to, well, pretty much everything you encounter - Especially regarding, but not limited to, the aforementioned entities. But generally speaking, whenever you encounter something that could interest us, just show us - If it's worth something, you'll be a little richer.

"All in all..." Jennifer took a sip from her - For baseline standards - considerably toxic (Not quite as bad as heroin, though) drink, and presented a number, having them pop-up as transparent images in mid-air.

Several numbers in fact, and considerably high numbers, even when one accounted for the rather low value a platin coin (A missleading term - they were utterly devoid of platin, even in the currencies' physical representations) held. "Our offers for assorted services, and our predictions regarding the expected annual volume. The channels through which payment would commence are listed here..." Another set of images, this ones listing accounts, countries, deposits. "Would this be acceptable?"

Jennifer hesitated for a moment, then recalled something. "Oh, and while we're at it - We would require a few more things. First of all, we'd be very displeased if Angstian assets would suffer from your raids - Except if we're specifying such a target, in which case you'd receive some additional information, anyway. This goes for foreign assets of value for us, too - For example the odd freighter transporting cargo meant for us. You'll be provided with the information necessary to avoid them, though - And with information regarding targets we wouldn't mind you raiding. Consider the latter a little help to avoid you suffering a loss in profits. Likewise, you'll be informed if Angstian ships not associated with me or my backers intend to raid you - As you might have gathered, we're just one of many groups holding legislative, judicial, and executive influence, and cannot guarantee your safety as much as we'd like to.

"Last but not least - We're aware of your need for secrecy, and have thus avoided anything that could compromise it - Nonetheless, in order to verify your success, thus enabling us to pay you, we'd like to engage in a variety of privacy-penetrating measures - Not right now, of course, but when the circumstances require it. Would this be acceptable, or are the neurons and circuits of your crews too valuable to be allowed to undergo some basic Scan, Spy & Copy procedures?"

Another sip, and she was still smiling. "Oh, and before I forget it - I'm - We're - uncertain regarding your actual capabilities with regards to assorted mission profiles - Would yo have some information regarding such available? It'd be a terrible waste of time to provide information and money for something too big for you to handle."

Martinek's face betrayed his surprise as his credit chit reader displayed the value. Ten billion credits? We could add a new cruiser to the fleet for that, and accomplish all those refits we have scheduled!

"Ah...I must say, this is a very...substantial sum of money, my friend. I can assure you, we will put it to good use, very good use indeed. Is there anything you have in mind as an initial target?"

+++

"Your business proposition sounds quite agreeable, Ms. Marquis. And of course, we'll take every precaution necessary to avoid harm to Der Angstian property, probably even protecting it from other mercenary or pirate groups if necessary. It's good business sense to take care of customers after all, and I doubt you'd be very happy with us if one of our ships stood by and watched as a freighter belonging to you was blown away."

"As for your..um, truth verification methods, I'm afraid I'm not familiar with a 'Scan, Spy and Copy' procedure, could you explain what that consists of? Also, you're in luck, as I figured you would like information on our resources. I don't blame you, I'd want an assurance that a service supplier is actually capable of providing what I want before I'd pay them anything."

With that, he produced a thumb sized data drive, handing it to Jennifer. "That contains basic information on the capabilites of each of our warships. Nothing too specific, no emissions signatures or anything sensitive like that. At present, our mobile forces consist of seven Firebat class gunships, three Belarus class armoured cruisers, and a Foxhound class battlecruiser. There's also two Thor class assault landers, and various merchant starships we've captured and pressed into service, though ownership of those is usually until we can find someone to sell them to."

Tag for interest

"A battlecruiser?" Jennifer raised an eyebrow and accessed the data drive. "Mhm... That's fairly impressive, actually - I'm certain that you're perfectly capable of fulfilling the requirements." Datadiving commenced - Assorted compatibility issues had to be (And were) dealt with, and after a moment, she nodded in a somewhat absent-minded manner. "Yes... yes indeed, you are."

She then smiled, taking another sip from her mildly intoxicating drink. "And I have to say - This is more than I'd have asked for. I foresee an exceptionally profitable partnership for both of us.

"As far as SSC goes - Well, you're familiar with the way the brain and the nervous system work? We certainly are - In considerable detail. Essentially, it'd be a mindstate scan. You could possibly call it 'telepathy', but given the connotations this term tends to have - Psychicness or magic, both of which are rather exotic when compared to the plain use of a particularly well-developed form of electroencephalography - this strikes me as the wrong term.

"It'd be quick - The capacity is generally implanted in one form or another - but there's of course privacy issues not everyone is fond of having, hence the question. Other ways of verifying the information exist, but this would be the easiest way. Not that I suppose you'll have issues with it - Seeing as you came here in the first place - but it's polite asking, I guess. Just in case."

While Jennifer was talking, fields were probing the room, electromagnetic radiations and infinitesimal currents trying to acquire information about the ongoings - Not unlike the SSC procedures Jennifer was talking about.

Of course, the room had been prepared appropriately, the necessary tools to deal with this infringement of privacy being available 'en masse' (Relatively speaking. Of course there weren't enough to actually be seen if one didn't know what to search for) and the information the slightly enthusiastic teenage wannabe-hacker received was all so slightly corrupted, involving slightly edited physical properties as well as a heated argument between a married woman and one of her three lovers - After a few moments, he quit this particular, and (To him) rather boring attempt at voyeurism, and searched for a new target.

"We had hoped you would find the initial contribution worthwhile. Remember: this will be an enterprise into which Conquest Incorporated will invest significant sums. This simple tidbit of economic fact should stand as a testament to the degree of commitment which our venture enjoys from our end." Savage smiled a slow, lazy smile and closed his briefcase.

"Targets. Yes, targets." He pondered for a moment, running his index finger from the bridge of his nose to its tip before whipping it about, pistol-like, at Martinek. "To better understand your operational capabilities in order to plan missions in the future, I would like you to select a target without us prodding you. It would be informative to see your tactics in a vacuum, before we assign specific goals." It would also be a wonderful way to plumb the depths of the good General's propensity for casual violence - it would hardly do to have the mercenary turn squeamish at a later date, out of the blue.