Authors: Adam Rakunas
Tags: #Science Fiction, #save the world, #Humour, #boozehound
Wash sucked on his teeth, then started swirling his cup around. “Take a fifty-thousand hectoliter tank, and fill it to capacity with industrial molasses. Now, have a bolt on one of the tank’s seams corrode, just enough so some of that molasses starts to dribble out. How long until that dribble turns into a flood? How long until other bolts go, disrupting the equilibrium and creating a vortex that sends all that stuff sloshing around like the tea in this cup?”
The tea spilled over the top and splashed on the table. Wash swiped it away. “I needed people who were good at dealing with repairs in a specific environment. Those miners would have been a godsend.”
“You can’t put out a call?” I said. “Are you trying to tell me you don’t have the suction with the Union to make that happen?”
“No, because all of the right talent is taken,” said Wash, pouring more tea. “And three guesses where it is.”
I snorted. “Saarien. That bastard.”
“One of his little creatures was just in my office, giving me the ultimatum. He’ll give me people to fix my tanks, in return I don’t help you. My hands are tied, Padma.” Wash held his closed fists up to his face. There were huge hands, thick and veined. “I got four, maybe five months until I start reaching the failure point. You know the stories from Dead Earth, about that molasses flood that wiped out a neighborhood?” He shook his head. “That happens here, it’s going to be half the city.”
I picked up my own cup; it was the only thing around here that smelled good. Even the cane diesel fumes from the passing tuk-tuks were harsh against the odor of cargo baking on asphalt, the tang of rust and lube from the crane scaffolds. “So what’s he going to do for you?”
Wash leaned back in his chair. “He’s got new facilities with enough capacity to take all the molasses out of Steelcase. I won’t have to be responsible for any of it, and that means more room for shipping other products.”
“Like what?” I said, laughing.
Wash shrugged. “Bo Westin and some of his buddies have started a chemical engineering plant in Beifong. They’re going to get us off relying on Big Three products.”
“Yeah?” I said. “You got any customers?”
Wash made a face. “Saarien. But it’s good money!”
“And it’s also local,” I said. “You want to make serious dosh, you need to send stuff up the cable, and the only things this planet produces on that scale are rum and molasses, and the Co-Op doesn’t make
that
much.”
“Well, you’d know, wouldn’t you?” said Wash.
“Oh, not you, too,” I said.
“You still can dish it out, but can’t take it,” said Wash, winking.
“I can’t take a bad deal, which is what this is,” I said. “You really think you’re doing your people a favor by giving into Saarien? It’s bad enough he’s got a third of the cane going to him; now you’re going to give him the keys to storage and shipping, too?”
“Saarien’s an asshole, but he’s a manageable asshole,” said Wash.
“Is he?” I said. “How many other Wards has he screwed over in the past ten years? How many times has he pinched Breaches? How many times has he promised to lend out cash or workers and not followed through?”
“This deal is done, Padma,” said Wash. “Unless you’ve got something else to stick in my tanks and someone else to fix them, there’s nothing I can do.”
“I just can’t believe you’d cave like this.”
“You don’t have to believe it, but that’s how it is. I gotta get my equipment fixed. Hell, I got molasses that’s starting to go
bad
because the tanks are so nasty. I’ve never seen it like this, which is why I’ve got to get cracking
now
. Anything to get these leaking tanks off my books is a deal worth making.” He leaned back. “Now, about the crane you ruined–”
“Bill Saarien for it,” I said. “I was just defending myself.”
Wash sat back and snorted. “What, you’re going to blame him for everything now? Come on.”
I leaned forward. “I made a fool of him last night. You think he’s going to let me get away with that? You start digging around, you’ll find his sticky fingerprints all over those cranes that chased us. Hell, you can blink up footage from all over the Ward, and you’ll find who shot at us.”
He shrugged. “Maybe he did. That still doesn’t solve my problems now.”
“Who owns the tanks?” asked Banks.
Wash looked at Banks, then laughed. “I don’t think Padma introduced us, Mister...?”
“Banks, my new lawyer, late of WalWa, prone to saying weird shit,” I said, turning to Banks. “What in hell are you talking about?”
“It’s in the Union Charter,” said Banks, hunkering forward in his chair. “All ownership rights of a Ward’s natural and manmade resources have to be accounted for in order to preserve that Ward’s prosperity, and to make sure they’re kicking up enough to the whole of the Union.”
“Where’s that?” I said.
“Clause one, sub-clause seventeen,” said Banks. “You people read your own laws, right?”
“Only if it suits us,” I said. “And you’d better watch that ‘you people’ business. You’re about to become one of us.”
“Steelcase doesn’t
have
any natural resources,” said Wash.
“No, but you
do
have those tanks,” said Banks.
“Which are
leaking
,” said Wash, “and this is the only way I can get them fixed.”
“But if you empty the tanks, you’re going to empty Slots along with them,” said Banks. “Part of the Contract is that Steelcase supplies so many hectoliters of industrial molasses every quarter, and if you’re not supplying it, you’re not part of the Contract. You’re going to lose even more if you give Sou’s Reach your holding concessions.”
“You think I don’t know that?” said Wash. “I’ve gone over the numbers again and again, and this is the way I lose the least.”
“But you have so much here that could help you gain
more
,” said Banks.
Wash threw his hands up with a weak laugh, then turned to look at the tanks and trellis. “Yes, behold our unbelievable wealth.”
“Banks, are you going somewhere with this?” I said. “Because I don’t think insulting our host is the right way to get there.”
“Do you remember what I did during my ride in from Earth?” said Banks, fixing me with that smile.
Last night had done the business to most of the previous day’s memories, but I wasn’t so wrecked that I couldn’t see where Banks was driving. “You worked the greenhouse, right?”
“Greenhouse?” said Wash. “You came in on a WalWa seeder?”
Banks nodded.
“My condolences,” said Wash. “I heard about those wrecks. Makes my ride sound like a luxury liner.”
“I’m sure it was,” said Banks. “Pulling weeds and tying vines was fun for a while, but then when planting came around...” He shuddered. “Where do you think we got our fertilizer?”
“Oh, you didn’t,” I said.
“Why do you think I wanted to jump ship?” said Banks. “All those fishsticks may have been catatonic, but they still shat themselves enough times to keep the greenhouse running.”
I felt a glimmer of anger, deep in my guts. I remembered the metallic stench of the hibernant, the bright lights...
And The Fear snicked me an icy toothed smile, sharp enough to make my hands tense and freeze. My teacup tumbled from my fingers.
“You OK?” said Wash.
“Fine,” I said, pouring myself another cup. “Nervy day, you know?” I told The Fear to get lost, then made a note to find the nearest WalWa rep just so I could punch him hard enough to make my old bosses feel it.
“Well, that’s all good and done for you,” said Wash, “but if you’re suggesting I get into the humanure business, forget it. The capital costs to convert our plumbing would outweigh any favors I owe Padma.”
“Of course they would,” said Banks. “But the actual worth of what you’re losing to Sou’s Reach might mean you’re getting screwed, and that’s a direct violation of the First Clause.”
“The First Clause says the Union exists to protect its members from the Big Three,” I said.
“But there’s plenty of legal precedent to interpret that to mean one Ward shall not screw over another Ward,” said Banks. “As far as I can tell, Saarien’s doing it to you two ways, by taking your workforce and your means of making a living.”
“He’s doing it to me in many, many interesting ways,” said Wash.
“Then it’s time to do it back,” said Banks, “and you’re going to do it with Brushhead’s help.”
“And how will that work?” I said. “What exactly do we have to offer when we’re bleeding Slots?”
“You would know,” said Banks. “You spent the evening talking about it with your friends.”
I was too tired to blink up footage from last night, but not tired enough I couldn’t remember Jordan’s list of complaints. “We just have the sewage plant, and that’s falling apart.”
“As are the tanks in Steelcase,” said Banks. “Separately, they’re the responsibility of the individual Wards, but if you were to enter into an agreement, it becomes a joint infrastructure project, and those get automatic funding from the Union.”
I opened my mouth to object, but nothing came out. I could get Jordan and her crew to work in Steelcase, put Banks and company into the now-vacant Slots, yet retain all of them in my headcount. Holy crap, maybe I could even get extra Slots on my books from Wash, enough to make my number. I gave Banks a slow nod and said, “Well... I suppose that’s worth investigating.”
“It’s bloody well worth doing!” said Wash, clapping his hands and grinning. “Good God, yes! It’s not glamorous, but it’s something that Saarien can’t take from us.” He held up a hand. “I’m in.”
Banks turned to me. I crossed my arms over my chest. Wash’s smile hitched. “What?”
“You know I can’t make this kind of a decision,” I said.
“I know you don’t
want
to make this kind of decision,” said Wash. “That’s different.”
“You’re going to make me look at the list of things that need to be done in order to link Steelcase and Brushhead, and I’m going to see a mountain of engineering specs, construction costs, health codes, and employee gripes, and then I will have to murder you in cold blood, because what do I hate?”
Wash kept grinning at me. Banks raised his hand and said, “Paperwork?”
“
Work
, period,” I said. “That’s why I have an army of minions doing my bidding. Our host” –I pointed at Wash, wishing my finger could shoot incontinence rays–“is a freak of nature because he’s the only Ward Chair in the city who actually bothers to get his hands dirty.”
“I am offended that you would besmirch your brothers and sisters in Solidarity,” said Wash, reaching for his tea.
I grabbed his hand. “Wash, you can’t make me do this.”
He put his head to the side, then nodded. “You’re right. I guess I’ll have to call Saarien and get started.”
“Oh,
hell
, no,” I said. “You think you can guilt me into this deal?”
“I think I can take it or leave it,” he said. “And I think you know that this is going to be good for all of our people. You remember them, right? The ones you work for?”
“Oh, don’t try and give me the Solidarity Forever speech now,” I said. “Where the hell was Solidarity when Saarien pinched all those Breaches from me? Where was Solidarity when he diverted funds to his Ward? Where was Solidarity when he tried to screw over
you
?”
Wash shrugged. “I’d say Solidarity is here now if you make this happen.”
I ground my teeth. “You know Brushhead can’t pay for any of it.”
“You won’t have to,” said Banks. “See, under a joint
infra
–”
“I
know
how it works!” I yelled, my voice echoing off the trellis. “I know how it works, because I’ve done three of these deals, and they were all great, big pains in my ass. The only way to get the Union to cough up money is if each Ward puts up matching seed funds, which never happens because Ward chairs are notoriously cheap–”
“A-
hem
.”
“–present company excluded,” I said. “But it’s all pointless, because it’s going to take a few million yuan to get started, and there is no way I can take that out of my Ward’s budget.”
Wash tapped his fingers on the tabletop. “You know, I think we could get a pilot program off the ground for ten K a piece.”
“Which is ten K more than Brushhead could spend,” I said.
“I know,” said Wash, his fingers slowing. “But a little bird told me that
you
have that kind of dosh, and that you’re willing to drop it for a little professional intervention here and there.”
“That little bird’s going to get her badge-faced beak handed to her if she doesn’t learn to shut up,” I said, squeezing my mug.
Wash raised an eyebrow. “What can I say? Soni brings Millie to the Kea Kea every now and then, and she fills me in on your illustrious adventures.” He tapped his glass with a meaty finger. “And I know you’re going to make bank once you’re in charge of Tonggow’s distillery.”
I slammed the cup on the table. “Washington Hightower Lee, you of all people should know how not true that is. Or else, why aren’t
you
living the high life on Chino Cove?”
Wash snorted.
“Why aren’t you?” asked Jilly.
“Because I’m not that good at business,” said Wash. “I can manage this place just fine, but to make it as a distiller? Hell, you know how many of those places go under in a year?”
“No,” said Jilly.
“Most of them,” said Wash. “So, I’d rather take my chances here and collect a nice pension. But you” –he pointed at me–”you have the magical combo of luck and sheer pigheadedness it takes to succeed in business. Plus, you still live in that grotty little flat on Samarkand, so I know you’re saving a packet.”
“Even if I do, why would I pony up?” I said.
Wash nodded at Banks. “I’m pretty sure you need Slots for your books, and I can provide them. For a price.”
“What kind of price?”
“How many Slots?”
“Seventeen.”
Wash laughed. “Christ, Padma, you aren’t making this any easier.”
“You do that, I will cover both our shares of the seed funding.”
Wash stopped laughing. “The whole twenty thousand?”
“Look up my credit rating,” I said, blinking him a link. “You know I’m good for it. You think you’re going to get a better deal from Saarien? One that fixes this place up? One that covers all your people?”