"The Real Deal" - Chapter 2
"The Real Deal"
(C) 2017 Sinclair Diavante
Chapter 2.
The Clarkson's outer hatch in front of Mist slid apart when he stepped close. Its reinforcing locks parted on smooth bearings, opening up like a second eyelid. Mist peered at them, recognition dawning on their rather unique design. He'd just purchased a new ship, and was well-versed with all of the current market's offerings.
The Clarkson was a brand new Memorex Talisman HD20, built from blueprints that had been curiously archived fifty years ago, abandoned under the label of unprofitable. Of course, now that the original designing firm had gone bankrupt, suddenly Memorex was spitting them out and selling them like hotcakes. With no per-sales royalties to the original designer, it was very profitable now, a masterful stroke.
It featured a stout design, mostly round for the main chassis, outboard engine nacelles in the back numbering three. Beam weapons, nothing offensive, though. An overly large cargo hold meant it could carry as much cargo as some small barges, though he figured it was customized for something, or rather, someone... else. The outer surface sparkled blueish green, like a bottle fly.
He pulled in his shoulder as he passed through, careful not to snag the ion rifle strapped to his back on the edge of the doorway. Broke off the emitter that way, once. He really needed to find something a little smaller and more durable. Mist was attracted to power, though, drawn to it with an instinctive desire to harness and control it.
The Rubicon Ion-III would not disappoint, if things turned hostile aboard the slaver ship. Ceremastic armor on the outside would do little to stop a blast originating from the interior, it was a sound exit strategy, oh yes. DNA Identi-Safe in the grip, wetware enhanced targeting, it was almost impossible to miss.
Mist stared around, where the fuck was everyone? He expected a personal greeting, this was his scheduled arrival time. Did they make a mistake? Well, if they did, no sense failing to exploit it...
He crept forward on silent paws, his leg muscles still complaining loudly from yesterday's jujitsu wan-do training. Why, oh, why did he keep putting himself through with that? It was difficult walking without a limp today.
Why, was simple. There was that one slave who got free and almost killed him. He had lacked the combat skills needed to subdue him.
He used some of his new combat training, and cautiously peered around the corner where the passage split, looking to the right, noting unusually widely spaced hallways, tall ceilings. Fresh air, new fitments and ship accouterments, a delicious smell that never quite lasts long enough. It was very quiet in here, thick foam underfoot, firm, and it was heated. Mist made a mental note to get that installed, it was ridiculously comfortable.
"Mist?" From the hallway on his left, his ears suddenly flat with anger, rather than tilted towards the source. He intentionally didn't look, only his nostrils flared, but the stupid ventilation was carrying everything up, so he couldn't tell if it was a hologram, or real. He unbunched his shoulders and stood tall, turning his head to stare... down.
A red fox Rhenthar with green eyes eerily similar to his own was staring up at him, perhaps they were a little darker, kind of like a four-leafed clover. Lucky, indeed, surprising Mist like that. The metal collar around his neck did not go unnoticed, no, his eyes lingered on it, in fact.
"Yes. And?"
"Welcome to The Clarkson, I'm Jack." He held his paw out to shake, but Mist only eyed it warily, making no move to touch it.
"Trust such as that," he gestured at the offending appendage. "Does not come instantly, Jack. I know not what's on your paw, and given this vessel's purpose, I'm sure you will understand if I refrain."
Jack laughed, forming a vicious, sharp grin.
"True, true. Wow, I like you already, dog knows I have jack shit for stock right now. A black and white husky as big as you... would certainly sell well." He smiled, his eyes appraised Mist with a discomforting twinkle. He clearly did not understand precisely how offensive that idea was, nor did he know his past.
Mist growled and sprang forth a paw, snatching the fox's muzzle with such speed as to arrive with an impact, he squeezed and yanked him close, staring deeply into his eyes, lips curled, menacing.
"Funny, I was thinking the exact same thing, about you... maybe if I bought the access codes to your collar..."
Jack struggled to pull his muzzle free, trying to pry at Mist's hand, whimpering and voicing a shocked, muffled complaint of some sort. If even one claw breaks his skin, Mist will just squeeze harder until something breaks.
Jack was apparently smarter than he'd given credit. He quickly held his paws out, away, and Mist reluctantly let go, sheath twitching with sudden firmness from the open display of submission, Jack sure avoided his eyes now.
"OK! OK, point taken, sorry, Mist. I didn't mean to insult you, I'm new to this industry. Consider it a lesson learned."
"Mmm. Lessons from me are not free, Jack. Show me what you have available, I want someone I can teach new limits to, and new ways to have fun."
Jack was rubbing his muzzle, and not appearing terribly confident, he nodded, though.
"This way, most of our interview rooms have someone, but we do need to make a pickup over in gamma next week, I'm hoping we score something better than all these."
"I don't like the sound of that..."
Mist followed him through a hallway, climbing a set of stairs at the end to see a long isle stretching forth, not as wide as the rest of the ship, what he'd seen so far.
High security doors lined the isle on both sides, evenly spaced all the way to the end. They each had a narrow window set into the middle, it was polarized, about ten centimeters wide and a meter tall. He had to look straight in to see who was inside.
He barely spared a glance at the various offerings. Human, Kzinti, Rhenthar, Terellian, all naked, clean, standing in the center of their own small compartment, on the end of a long metal leash trailing down from the ceiling. Mist knew they were in an adjusted gravity, making that position possible for many hours without fatigue. Half had expressions that said they wanted to be here.
Those were Mark V collars they wore. Mist was certain, and they were similar to what Jack had around his neck. Something about his was different, though. Ah, the screen wasn't back-lit with green, instead it was red. Clearly, it was custom. Probably used to monitor transactions. It had gold dermal posts facing in, though, so it could certainly do more than just watch. He'd be inquiring about that, for sure.
"This is it?" Mist scowled, having reached the end of the isle and glanced into the last room. It featured an orange male Kzinti warrior, dog only knew why someone would want one of those. There had only been a few Rhenthar he'd seen, and all were female.
"Well, yes. I figured you'd want a male Rhenthar, you had indicated that particular preference in your reservation."
A wave of disappointment flooded Mist's mind. He'd been hoping for so much more. He had a real penchant for wolves right then, they were familiar. A certain portion of his past contained one who was very special to him. He needed another one in his life, it was the only way to scratch a building itch that had been in his head, for so many years now. Ever since...
"Hm. So, you've wasted my time, then?"
"No, no, I didn't say that."
"NO?" He growled. "A word you'll learn never to use in my presence. Lets revisit our earlier topic, shall we?" Mist narrowed his eyes and showed his overly sharp teeth with a wide grin, staring at Jack as if for the first time, up and down. "You'll do."
He appreciated the fact that the isle was a dead-end, and he had him cornered. Jack blanched, laughing to hide his immediate discomfort.
"Ah ah, not... for sale..."
"Bullshit. Every thing has a price, and that includes every one." Mist tabbed his financial app and shot a massive chunk of credits to the general account for The Clarkson. More than Jack would ever be worth. He knew it was monitored at all times, and could almost hear the eyebrows raised with sudden shocked statements of surprise.
A small note was attached to the funds, indicating who it was for.
At first glance, it might seem only like it was a gratuity destined for Jack, payment for satisfaction from business attended.
Mist was very explicit, though. It was not gratuity.
"Well, I don't..." Jack said, swallowing suddenly, trying to look past Mist. His eyes went wide as inbound comms presented him with new information via his wetware.
Mist leaned close, snatching small whiffs of his intense discomfort before the air handlers could greedily whisk it away, almost having to stick his nose into Jack's head-fur to get it.
"Have I your attention, now?" he asked. "I believe there's so much more I'm about to have, shortly." A wide smile.
"This..." Jack blurted, voice an octave higher. "This wasn't in my contract!"
"Jack," Mist barked, slamming a hand against the wall in front of Jack's head, halting his forward progress, he was attempting to move past him while uselessly whining.
"I'm going to explain things very carefully to you, perhaps even give you a little bit of advice, and some options stand before you. Proceed with caution, if you don't want to be walked out of here on the end of my leash.
"I want a wolf.
"Male.
"He's never to have had anything to do with the slave or pleasure industry, none of these fakers or freaks that your rooms are so full of right now. I want someone normal, and again I'll say.
"You'll do, in his stead. In this industry, money talks. So. Who will it be?"
"Come..." Jack stammered. "Come to my office... please..." Jack's voice was hoarse, and his paws left little sweat marks with every step, Mist noticed.
He lowered his arm and followed closely, almost floating through the scent of fear Jack was leaving in his wake.
He felt much better now, and his legs didn't even hurt.