Post by Ilana Logan on Sept 6, 2012 20:56:03 GMT -5
Before Ilana could ask where the station was, which was going to be her next question for him, he plowed on, ”s’ a big ass station floats out on the border of Georgia. It’s one a the largest tradin’ hubs in the system, since its right between there n’ Persephone. The things owned by some big player ‘Frenchmen’."
Ilana raised a brow at that, but said nothing, as Carl kept on talking. "He keeps the Feds presence small, and lets people like us do business inside. But there aint a doubt he’s heard a Longstreet’s passin’, and that’s made him all twitchy.”
He paused for a moment, and went on, ”The guy don’t like doin’ business over the cortex. Handles everythin’ in person. So that’s where you’d come in. I want ya’ll to lug a crate full a money and ‘gift items’ off to him to make sure the gates stay open. Money’s gonna be a bit on the tight side fer right now, so I can only offer about four hundred to do this. But this is just’s simple as sendin’ the crate and talkin’ to him. I’ll handle fuel cost ‘fore you leave, n’ you can probably get free things from the Frenchmen once yer there… s’long as you keep the talk fun. He’s one the ‘social-er’ types."
Ilana was practically in awe of Carl by the time he finished. She didn't think she'd ever heard more than three or four words at a go from him, and he practically gave a five minute speech. She knew he wasn't exactly a social person, but he was quickly proving to her that he could seriously take care of business when he had to. She was beginning to see why Longstreet had left his legacy to Carl.
"So it's a diplomat mission," Jay said, "Can't be that simple, can it?"
The words spoken from Jay echoed Ilana's own thoughts. Everything had a tendency to turn sour. Even if it's supposed to be an up and up job, something always goes wrong.
”Guess you could say that,” Carl answered Jay. ”Aint never had a problem with em’ before. And he’s clear on the other side a the verse’, with aint a bit to profit from takin’ a shot at us."
"We'll just have to remind this Frenchman there's more profit working with us, than not," Marcus said, adding his two cents to the conversation, drawing a slight frown from Ilana.
She wondered briefly if Marcus had ever felt like this when he went to meetings with the entire crew. Not like they shouldn't be there, because they most certainly should. With more people there, the more likely it was that someone would spot something shifty. The feeling she had was pride, a slight annoyance, and heartburn.
The pride came from the fact that at least the majority of the crew was so willing and ready to help Carl after the untimely death of Longstreet. The slight annoyance was most likely caused in part by the heartburn, and part by the fact that she hated to have someone sitting behind her, it literally made the skin on the back of her neck crawl. And she was pretty sure the heartburn came from the pickle chips she'd eaten at lunchtime. She didn't know if he'd been in a similar situation in his own mind, but she still wondered.
Pulling herself back to the topic at hand, Ilana figured the guys gathered here were all pretty well decided on what they wanted to do, and there was no reason for them not to do the job. Decent pay, fuel for the trip, makes Carl happy that he doesn't have to look for someone else to do the job.
" 'Course we'll do it. Get us the "gifts" you got for him, and we'll go. Doesn't sound like a hard job, so it's more than worth what you're givin' us to do it," Ilana said, keeping it short and sweet.
Ilana raised a brow at that, but said nothing, as Carl kept on talking. "He keeps the Feds presence small, and lets people like us do business inside. But there aint a doubt he’s heard a Longstreet’s passin’, and that’s made him all twitchy.”
He paused for a moment, and went on, ”The guy don’t like doin’ business over the cortex. Handles everythin’ in person. So that’s where you’d come in. I want ya’ll to lug a crate full a money and ‘gift items’ off to him to make sure the gates stay open. Money’s gonna be a bit on the tight side fer right now, so I can only offer about four hundred to do this. But this is just’s simple as sendin’ the crate and talkin’ to him. I’ll handle fuel cost ‘fore you leave, n’ you can probably get free things from the Frenchmen once yer there… s’long as you keep the talk fun. He’s one the ‘social-er’ types."
Ilana was practically in awe of Carl by the time he finished. She didn't think she'd ever heard more than three or four words at a go from him, and he practically gave a five minute speech. She knew he wasn't exactly a social person, but he was quickly proving to her that he could seriously take care of business when he had to. She was beginning to see why Longstreet had left his legacy to Carl.
"So it's a diplomat mission," Jay said, "Can't be that simple, can it?"
The words spoken from Jay echoed Ilana's own thoughts. Everything had a tendency to turn sour. Even if it's supposed to be an up and up job, something always goes wrong.
”Guess you could say that,” Carl answered Jay. ”Aint never had a problem with em’ before. And he’s clear on the other side a the verse’, with aint a bit to profit from takin’ a shot at us."
"We'll just have to remind this Frenchman there's more profit working with us, than not," Marcus said, adding his two cents to the conversation, drawing a slight frown from Ilana.
She wondered briefly if Marcus had ever felt like this when he went to meetings with the entire crew. Not like they shouldn't be there, because they most certainly should. With more people there, the more likely it was that someone would spot something shifty. The feeling she had was pride, a slight annoyance, and heartburn.
The pride came from the fact that at least the majority of the crew was so willing and ready to help Carl after the untimely death of Longstreet. The slight annoyance was most likely caused in part by the heartburn, and part by the fact that she hated to have someone sitting behind her, it literally made the skin on the back of her neck crawl. And she was pretty sure the heartburn came from the pickle chips she'd eaten at lunchtime. She didn't know if he'd been in a similar situation in his own mind, but she still wondered.
Pulling herself back to the topic at hand, Ilana figured the guys gathered here were all pretty well decided on what they wanted to do, and there was no reason for them not to do the job. Decent pay, fuel for the trip, makes Carl happy that he doesn't have to look for someone else to do the job.
" 'Course we'll do it. Get us the "gifts" you got for him, and we'll go. Doesn't sound like a hard job, so it's more than worth what you're givin' us to do it," Ilana said, keeping it short and sweet.
