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Trade Windows
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As Garat ran off, Targh let out a long breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding, and run his hands through his dark hair. Anyone would think he was dealing in black market narcotics the difficulty he'd had sorting out this simple contract. This 'boss' clearly seemed to see himself as some sort of crimelord - clandestine meetings, secret messages, a veritable army of lowlife thugs working for him; Garat just one of them. All this for some high yield mining lasers!
Suddenly aware he was alone in the dimly-lit service corridor, Targh hurried off in the opposite direction Garat had taken. Damn these obscure locations, he cursed to himself. A few minutes later, to the gentle hiss of auto-doors sliding open, Targh was back in the bustling hub of the station's trade centre, the harsh glow of a thousand ion-bulbs replacing the gloom behind him. Quickly he moved into the flow of people, instantly losing himself in the teaming masses from every corner of New Eden.
Neither the bustling chaos, nor the lines of retail units on either side of him, registered to Targh. He was lost in his thoughts, letting the crowd guide him forwards.
Blinking out of his thoughts, Targh spotted a comm pod to the right. With some effort, and quite a few angry mutterings, he negotiated he way out of the crowds and up to the pod. A bored looking attendant stood next to the credit scanner, several piercings glinted in ears, nose and lips. Deep set eyes shifted over the passing shoppers with complete disinterest.
Fishing for the chain around his neck, Targh drew out his cash chip and waved it in front of the scanner. A number flashed up and he headed to the nearby vacant comm unit with the matching number. The attendant didn't even acknowledge his arrival. Only two other of the fifty units were engaged. Business was slow.
With a few keystrokes, Targh established a connection.
"Hello?" The voice was deep, and smooth.
"Howdy!"
"Targh! My good man, you're not dead - that's great news! Fioji, Targh, he's not dead, ain't that great!"
Targh winced at the shout, and heard the indistinct response from a voice in the background.
"Fioji, she's happy too."
"Good, good. We're all happy I'm alive. Listen, Marl, that little worm Garat met me there, with half the shipment. They're trying to throw me through more hoops."
"Half... half! Ack, you're a dead man, you know they won't accept half."
"Yes, yes Marl, I know alright. I refused the shipment and demanded they be there with the full shipment tomorrow or I was pulling the deal."
"Ack, ack, Targh, what are you doing! We can't afford to cancel this deal."
"Don't worry, I called their bluff. They need this deal more than we do, or the 'boss' thinks he does at any rate. They'll deliver. And then you and me, my friend. Big time!"
"Oooh ooh yes, Big time! Direct deals with suppliers, new expanders and plates on the Bestower, no more middle men!"
"That's right, Mart. No more middle men, all the profit in our wallet. You and me, my friend."
Targh listened to his friend go on about their upcoming sucess for a few minutes more, a conversation they'd had many times together, before interupting him.
"Yes, yes Mart. All true. But I need you to be ready. Get that great wallowing beast of yours warmed up for tomorrow's pickup and delivery, and see if you can pick up something fast for me, a shuttle will do in a pinch but I prefer something with a bit more style. You know what I can fly, see what you can do."
"Another new ship, Targh, the wallet, it drops low."
"You've gotta speculate to accumulate, my friend. How many times have I said it. Besides, we need Mr Feolin and Co to be impressed when we arrive tomorrow with their equipment. It could be the beginning of a long relationship, and we want to make the right first impression."
Martof grunted, which Targh knew to be reluctant agreement. A soft beep in his ear reminded him of his credit limit.
"I've got to go, Mart. I'll see you bright and early in the morning."
A click announced the end of the connection and Targh closed down the comm unit. All he could do was wait for the next day. Targh headed towards his rooms, 'whatif's' swirling through his mind.
That night...
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