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Authors: Chris Bunch
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sin.
In the middle of one such blinking, flashing row of iniquities, some of which were yet to be invented, sat, like a prim maiden with her legs crossed in a whorehouse: miner's aid society.
There appeared to be no one inside.
"Now this," Baldur announced heartily, "is my kind of place." A delicate pink tongue came out, touched his lips. "It smells of credits. Loose credits, just waiting to leap into our pockets."
Reg Goodnight stared in incredulity.
"But I thought you were�"
"Rumors of my execution," Chas said dryly, "were thankfully exaggerated." He looked across the desk, only approximately big enough to land a starship on, then around the paneled suite. "Well, aren't you gonna leap into your brother's arms, or go kill a prodigal sheep or whatever it was?"
Reg came around the desk, and embraced his brother.
M'chel thought it took a bit of study to tell the two men were related. They had the same lank bone structure, the same lean build. But where Chas's face was weatherbeaten, with easy smile lines, Reg clearly didn't get out in the open much, and he'd started to go a bit to fat. He was also balding a bit, and his fingernails were well dined on.
Where Chas wore a shirt and trousers an engineer or outdoorsman might choose, Reg was most carefully tailored and trimmed.
He looked exactly like what he was�a very sharp executive, who was also very harried.
He turned away from his brother, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand.
"You said," he said to Baldur, "that you had a surprise, and that it was personal. But I never dreamed�"
"That's the best kind of surprise, isn't it?" Riss said.
"Well, yes. Yes, of course," Reg said, almost stammering. He turned back to Chas. "How did you get out?"
"These people were kind enough to rescue me."
"Well, thank you," Reg managed. "Thank you from the bottom of my heart. I assume you didn't do it for charity, and I'll be happy to meet any fee you want, to the limits of my resources."
"We do not want any credits from you," Baldur said. "Only from Transkootenay."
Goodnight turned suddenly cold, and now M'chel could definitely see the resemblance between the two brothers.
"Go on," he said, voice flat, neutral.
"Should we have been more subtle?" Grok asked.
"Why?" Baldur said. "There were no witnesses, and I was carrying an anti-bug."
"That is not what I meant," Grok said.
"I think what our furred friend means," M'chel said, "is should we have put it less blatantly than 'in return for your brother's ass, we'd like to be at the top of the list for your security contract'?"
"Why?" Baldur asked again. "We do not tart around; we do not expect him to do so either."
M'chel looked at Grok, shrugged.
"Hell if I know if Freddie blew the pitch," she said. "I've never done this kind of business before, either."
"Perhaps we should have let his brother negotiate?" Grok tried.
"That's a terrible idea," M'chel said. "We don't know if Chas has a silver tongue, and, as far as we know, as soon as we give him leave, he'll be off on his galaxy-wide thieving and could give a rat's elbow if we starve."
"Bit of a pity," Baldur said. "We could use someone of his talents."
"Speaking of which," M'chel said, "where is our bouncing young bester tonight?"
"Out," Baldur said. "He asked Jasmine if she wanted to help him find a place where you might not be ptomained to death."
"Just a lonely guy," M'chel said. "Wanting to keep a lonely gal from being lonely."
She snickered. Chas Goodnight, on the flight from Tormal, had made it clear he was interested in Riss, and wouldn't mind waking up next to her at all.
Riss, being a polite sort, hadn't said that she'd had her days of pretty boys, and generally looked for a bit more these days, and had fobbed him off with the excuse she never fooled around on a job.
She also hadn't given her real reason, which was that on the flight she'd talked enough to Goodnight for her initial interest to fade, and to start thinking Chas had the moral makeup of
In the middle of one such blinking, flashing row of iniquities, some of which were yet to be invented, sat, like a prim maiden with her legs crossed in a whorehouse: miner's aid society.
There appeared to be no one inside.
"Now this," Baldur announced heartily, "is my kind of place." A delicate pink tongue came out, touched his lips. "It smells of credits. Loose credits, just waiting to leap into our pockets."
Reg Goodnight stared in incredulity.
"But I thought you were�"
"Rumors of my execution," Chas said dryly, "were thankfully exaggerated." He looked across the desk, only approximately big enough to land a starship on, then around the paneled suite. "Well, aren't you gonna leap into your brother's arms, or go kill a prodigal sheep or whatever it was?"
Reg came around the desk, and embraced his brother.
M'chel thought it took a bit of study to tell the two men were related. They had the same lank bone structure, the same lean build. But where Chas's face was weatherbeaten, with easy smile lines, Reg clearly didn't get out in the open much, and he'd started to go a bit to fat. He was also balding a bit, and his fingernails were well dined on.
Where Chas wore a shirt and trousers an engineer or outdoorsman might choose, Reg was most carefully tailored and trimmed.
He looked exactly like what he was�a very sharp executive, who was also very harried.
He turned away from his brother, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand.
"You said," he said to Baldur, "that you had a surprise, and that it was personal. But I never dreamed�"
"That's the best kind of surprise, isn't it?" Riss said.
"Well, yes. Yes, of course," Reg said, almost stammering. He turned back to Chas. "How did you get out?"
"These people were kind enough to rescue me."
"Well, thank you," Reg managed. "Thank you from the bottom of my heart. I assume you didn't do it for charity, and I'll be happy to meet any fee you want, to the limits of my resources."
"We do not want any credits from you," Baldur said. "Only from Transkootenay."
Goodnight turned suddenly cold, and now M'chel could definitely see the resemblance between the two brothers.
"Go on," he said, voice flat, neutral.
"Should we have been more subtle?" Grok asked.
"Why?" Baldur said. "There were no witnesses, and I was carrying an anti-bug."
"That is not what I meant," Grok said.
"I think what our furred friend means," M'chel said, "is should we have put it less blatantly than 'in return for your brother's ass, we'd like to be at the top of the list for your security contract'?"
"Why?" Baldur asked again. "We do not tart around; we do not expect him to do so either."
M'chel looked at Grok, shrugged.
"Hell if I know if Freddie blew the pitch," she said. "I've never done this kind of business before, either."
"Perhaps we should have let his brother negotiate?" Grok tried.
"That's a terrible idea," M'chel said. "We don't know if Chas has a silver tongue, and, as far as we know, as soon as we give him leave, he'll be off on his galaxy-wide thieving and could give a rat's elbow if we starve."
"Bit of a pity," Baldur said. "We could use someone of his talents."
"Speaking of which," M'chel said, "where is our bouncing young bester tonight?"
"Out," Baldur said. "He asked Jasmine if she wanted to help him find a place where you might not be ptomained to death."
"Just a lonely guy," M'chel said. "Wanting to keep a lonely gal from being lonely."
She snickered. Chas Goodnight, on the flight from Tormal, had made it clear he was interested in Riss, and wouldn't mind waking up next to her at all.
Riss, being a polite sort, hadn't said that she'd had her days of pretty boys, and generally looked for a bit more these days, and had fobbed him off with the excuse she never fooled around on a job.
She also hadn't given her real reason, which was that on the flight she'd talked enough to Goodnight for her initial interest to fade, and to start thinking Chas had the moral makeup of
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