Business Suits and Combat Boots

[Aver Brand]

Shell companies. A wonderful, wondrous thing.

Especially when you employed several galaxy-class slicers, economists, and managers. Nobody ever warned you going in, but running a criminal empire involved a lot less blood and guns than a strife-hungry mercenary would necessarily prefer.

Lacking interest, skill, and time to devote to the drab day-to-day, the merc resorted to the tried and true strategy of paying obscene amounts of money for obscenely good cadre.

The pioneering, though? The front-lines were her element. Board room or street shootout – didn’t matter none. It was where she thrived, where fires lit behind icy eyes, where a perennial grin found her lips.

Today, the incursion began with a bespoke suit, a phrik knife in the boot, and a sharp, sharp smile.

Aver Brand sat in a three-star restaurant suspended in a glass dome just below the furious black weather of Sullust. Much like the famed Jedi Temple, the End of the World employed state of the art technology to keep the dome afloat, safe, and running. The view was once-in-a-lifetime. The food was to die for. (The price, too.)

Getting a reservation here was about as difficult as breaking the back of the greatest galactic power in history.

[member="Judah Dashiell"]​

 

[Judah Dashiell]

[member="Aver Brand"]


It seemed every semi-shady deal had its hand in the Galactic Alliance. Or so it used to seem ages ago. Expanding the biofuel business into Terminus had brought some touch of his name to various bits in Galactic Alliance territory. Perhaps it should no longer be unusual that he was called to such space.


Not having been particularly interested in the Alliance over several years, Judah was hadn't heard of the fancy floating restaurant or its reputation. Not that it would matter. He was comfortable in a dirty refueling station cafe as he was at the fanciest of establishments.


With the client he was supposed to be meeting already seated, Judah was led back through the floating restaurant. Glass covered nearly every wall surface, trying to maximize the views of Sullust. An odd contrast, heat and barren rock against an opulent background.


Tie adjusted as he walked, lead to a table near one of the better views of some type of vent. Sulfur? Someone was already sitting at the table, waiting patiently.


Hand went out in greeting.


"Judah Dashiell, Salacia Consolidated."

 

[Aver Brand]

She considered the hand for a beat before clasping it, firm but cold. She was always cold.

“Dren Var Nabba, Comet Industries. A pleasure.”

In a setting like this, with people like this, Aver made sure to erase any traces of accent or idiom from her speech. Nothing to mark her particularities beyond the business offer she was here to present. Anonymity, she’d learned, made for better armor than even phrik.

“Our waiter should be along shortly. Until then,” she smiled, tipped her head, “let us discuss business.”

“We’ve access to large amounts of derelict, broken, and abandoned vessels.” Ships hauled in by pirates over the years, mostly. “We’re looking to repurpose all that technology before it rusts away completely. Build something new from it. For such things, Mr Dashiell, I hear you are the right man.”

A pause, a languid bat of the lashes. “The only man.”

[member="Judah Dashiell"]​

 

[Judah Dashiell]

[member="Aver Brand"]​

​

​

Ignoring the potential flattery, Judah took a seat across from one Miss Nabba. There was an issue of turning waste vessels into something useful. Some type of technology. It didn't seem Miss Nabba was interested in restoring said vessels into working machines again. Sometimes it wasn't worth it, other times clients had little use for a fleet of hob-knob starships.


"Into something new? There are a variety of things one could do....spacestations, facilities, reinforced buildings. Melted down and manufactured into new items. Sold for profit, we do a stripping down business for clients..."


There was a long pause.


"Its up to you."

 

[Aver Brand]

Sometimes, she endeavored in self-reflection. Short-lived as it was, Aver could stare her hubris down when needed.

She swallowed the ‘I know’ and smiled a smile that never reached the eyes.

“We were thinking more in the vein of spacestations, yes. A ring of orbiting stations, geared mostly towards habitation and agriculture.” And if Nadir was going to do some military after-market modifications, [member="Judah Dashiell"] never need know.

“Miss Var Nabba. Mister Dashiell.” A waiter in bespoke livery appeared beside the table, holding two ornate, bite-sized dishes. “An amuse-bouche from Chef Fauverny. We have a marrow-enriched bantha veal cheek, served over a rosti of young potato – straight from the Sullustan fires – with a side of Glee Anslem Golden cress.”

“Now, for the table d'hôte. Tonight we have Menú al Dac, a fine selection of seafood and fish; Menú al Alderraine, with a rich variety of meat and vegetables; and finally, the delicate Menú d’Omai – Chef Fauverny’s vegetarian tribute to our Grand Marshal Rhen.”

Aver considered her options for a whole second. “I’ll have the meat.”

Always did.

 

[Judah Dashiell]

[member="Aver Brand"]


"A ring of interconnected space stations could be useful. Ringing an entire planet, would be a spectacular sight. Useful as well, depending on the habitable of nature of the planet chosen. Salacia could easily use a mix of old and new to keep cost down, although only you and I will know the nature of the station itself. It will appear to be a cohesive unit."


A bite-sized starter arrived, complete from the fires of Sullust. Judah refrained at rolling his eyes at the 'fires of Sullust' comment from their waiter, knowing the man was merely doing his job. He found it amusing anyone would don protective gear to wrap a potato in foil and roast in on the planetary surface.


"I'll have the al Dac."


Living on the planet itself, Judah doubted the Chef could come close to what he had before, especially way out from any ocean. He'd take the risk though.

 

[Aver Brand]

“Mm. Quite. Except it’s not a planet we’re aiming at – not yet, at least. In the future, perhaps, but we’d rather start small, make any mistakes that need to be made before we move on to such massive projects.”

She paused, declining the wine the waiter returned with. Not because of some stupid principle like ‘never drink on the job’ – she simply preferred bourbon. Well, Aver preferred bourbon. Dren Var Nabba simply… abstained.

“An orbiting ring of stations, yes. Around a…” she tipped her head to the side, “comet.”

[member="Judah Dashiell"]

 

[Judah Dashiell]

Hand raised to decline any alcohol. It wasn't due to [member="Aver Brand"] but his own past. Hopefully Miss Var Nabba wouldn't feel slighted, he hated revealing personal information on business. Typically he made some excuse and let the other think him a reformed drunkard rather than dive deep into the issue. Linen napkin unfolded as he listened to her idea about the comet.


In all actuality, ringing a planet with space stations was much easier than comet. Not that he was going to say as much.


"A comet?" A long pause. "Ambitious."

 

[Aver Brand]

“If we never aimed for the stars, we’d still be stuck on planets, no?”

“You wouldn’t be where you are now if you weren’t an ambitious man, Mr. Dashiell.” In these moments, it didn’t matter that she killed people for a living. Her hands looked clean, her lips curled high enough – she could pass for a human being. Could even behave like one.

Slowly, the woman shifted forward in her seat, spearing the treat on her plate. “What resources and conditions would you require to take on this project?”

The moment she slid the tender meat from the fork and into her mouth, Aver fluttered her eyes closed in a shameless display of delight.

[member="Judah Dashiell"]​

 

[Judah Dashiell]

[member="Aver Brand"]


"Resources are easy, old space stations retrofitted for new use. Harder part is calculating the speed and loop of the comet and matching a pace to it. Short term we will have to hire a team of scientists to determine the comet track and to make sure a space station ring could safely traverse."


Fork speared a potato, thinking.


"Conditions? Payment half up front, half when we finish. Standard in this line of work. If you looking for armament systems it will have to be sub-contracted out, typically not something we would handle ourselves."

 

[Aver Brand]

“We’ve taken the liberty of making those measurements already – we’re mining the comet, you see.” She smiled, pushed away the empty plate. “The stations would serve as basis for expansion, to house workers, families… to ensure a steady source of food out in space.”

It wasn’t all lies. Nadir had mines – old, turned into slums ages ago – but business had long turned to more lucrative waters.

“Armament, I hope, shouldn’t be necessary. The terms are agreeable, naturally – I’d be surprised by any other arrangement, frankly.”

“What kind of timetable are we looking at, Mr. Dashiell?”

[member="Judah Dashiell"]​

 

[Judah Dashiell]

[member="Aver Brand"]


"Armament is always up to the end user, hence why I ask. You'd be surprised about the raids mines face....well, perhaps you wouldn't be..."


Timetable was interesting and variable. Fork was put down and linen napkin came out of his lap for a moment. Typically he didn't mince words when it came to a timeframe of when something was going to be complete. It didn't seem Miss Var Nabba would appreciate anything less than a frank discussion.


"It depends on how much you would want to spend. For a lower price, one could say a year. If the situation is urgent and you prefer to pull more credits out of your pocket, I estimate the earliest time a crew could finish would be three to four months. That is three crews working around the clock to finish the project."

 

[Aver Brand]

Her posture relaxed a fraction as she settled back into her chair.

“Do you feel like…” she made a lazy gesture towards their surroundings, “credits are going to be a problem?”

The smell of juicy steak filled her nostrils moments before their waiter appeared around the corner, bearing plates laden with bounty. With another mouth-watering introduction for both their dishes, the man abandoned them to their three-figure feast.

“So long as the quality of your work isn’t going to suffer, I’d prefer you expedite the process as much as possible. Is there anything else you’ll require?”

[member="Judah Dashiell"]​

 

[Judah Dashiell]

[member="Aver Brand"]


Fish arrived in front of him with thin slices of citrus and herbs sprinkled on top. It appeared the Chef took liberal culinary license with the vegetables and perhaps there was a bit of kelp on his plate. Having a half-Galan son, he was well verse in the different types of kelp and seaweed available throughout the various oceans throughout the 'verse.


"You may not have a problem spending credits on yourself but the business may be another story."


How many times had he seen business owners waste credits on themselves with the company was near bankrupt and on its last leg? Countless.


"The work will not suffer, I will have more than enough crew to keep the schedule on track. As for requirements, not really. I have very few demands if we're allowed to do our work."

 

[Aver Brand]

“Mm. Fair,” she conceded around a mouthful of hibbas ribeye. Blue and practically still mooing on the plate – the only way she liked it.

“You’ll be more than allowed, Mr. Dashiell. Our people will see to it that you can work without interruptions.” Aver had been meaning to shoot down a few pirate nuisances anyway. This was as good a time as any.

“Will you begin the stripping and salvage operation on site, or do you have a facility where you’d like the derelict vessels delivered?”

Feth. She was starting to sound like Rev – all articulate and shet.

[member="Judah Dashiell"]​

 

[Judah Dashiell]

[member="Aver Brand"]


"No, for a project such as this we prefer to do the work on site or near the site. Our crews are trained to do such work in the vacuum of space, so its just another day at the office so to speak."


It was cheaper, faster and easier. Less fuel waste hauling scrap to and form various points. Fork flaked down on his sea bass filet and he realized Miss Var Nabba had been directing most of the questions. Typical, considering he was the one being hired. In some ways in was like an informal job interview mixed with networking.


"Any concerns? Questions?"

 

[Aver Brand]

She chewed on her answer and on her steak, precise and slow and full of delight. There was little value in rushed pleasure – though she’d found it in stolen moments, sweat and blood and scorched ruin. Her teeth sank through the last of the meat, and Aver sank back into her chair.

“Former? No.” She smiled, dabbing at her lips with a convenient handkerchief. Usually, she’d just wipe it in the back of the hand, but this was neither the time nor the place. “As for the latter… just one.”

“What’s the number of your bank account, Mr. Dashiell?”

[member="Judah Dashiell"]​

 

[Judah Dashiell]

[member="Aver Brand"]


Fork cut into his piece of fish, listening about the lack of concerns brought by Miss Var Nabba had. Most people didn't have many concerns about salvaging. For them it was just taking pieces of unused metal and splicing them back together. Judah preferred it that way. Less questions,more opportunity to get the job done effectively.


"I'll pass you onto accounts, can't say I know any of the numbers beyond my own. Once accounts sees something though, crews will be out without a problem to start."

 

[Aver Brand]

“Excellent,” Aver mouthed over the lip of her glass – water, for once. “We’ll send you the data and the payment once the contract has been finalized, then. Sometime next week, I hope?”

Doing business with any semblance of legitimacy came at the cost of expediency. Back on Nadir, contracts were rarely more than a cosmetic detail, tacked on to make someone’s office look a shade prettier. Negotiations were more often conducted at the wrong end of a blaster barrel, and agreements signed with blood instead of datapads.

But that was home.

Her smile morphed into something altogether more mellow now that the deal was near as good as sealed. Aver melted into the harmony of the steak on her tongue, savoring every bite.

“Chef Fauverny’s rather outdone himself tonight. How’s your dish, Mr. Dashiell?”

[member="Judah Dashiell"]

 

[Judah Dashiell]

[member="Aver Brand"]


"Next week is fine. Gives us some time to pull together salvage and arrive at the site. Once everything is pushed through we can immediately set to work."


If timed right the crews would be on site and ready to go once the payment clears. Tended to make the client a little more confident as well. If things started rolling immediately it tended to keep credit flow and confidence high. Conversation turned from the business and back to their dinner. He suspected dealings with Miss Var Nabba were reaching a close.


"The Chef has done well. The dish is as close to being caught off the Dac waters as anything else. Can't say I'm not impressed with the attention to detail. Wouldn't have suspected it on a planet such as this, but I suppose the Galactic Alliance has brought forth all sorts of change."