"A Chat With Samus"

[Joe Manning 0]

Joe leaned back in the armchair watching the Andorian quicksilver fountain that nearly occupied all of one of the walls in Samus’ office. Joe knew that the silvery liquid issuing from the fountain’s sixteen wide nozzles was not actually mercury, nor that the marble material of the fountain was producing the odd crystalline noise as the water cascaded over the first then the second then the third tier into the basin below. The sound was produced by crystal pellets ricocheting off one another inside the fountain’s concealed water cycling system. The color was produced by a silvery dust that, quite inelegantly, was a byproduct of chemical processes the Andorians used when constructing the outer hulls of their ships, processes meant to conceal the ships from outdated sensors. The water (along with its dust) was perfectly safe to drink and rumors spread (usually among non-Andorians) that it could add years to one’s life. All an illusion, of course.

 

Still, Joe found it relaxing. Finding Samus’ office empty, he had helped himself to a glass of bourbon from the mini-bar. That the bar was next to the fountain was not an accident. This was all part of Samus’ game; seat the client in his office, let him spend a few minutes alone having his mind clouded by the fountain, allow his attention to inevitably drift to the bar, then pounce when his defenses were suitably weakened. The game didn’t work on Joe. He knew it and Samus knew it. Odd, then, that Samus was keeping him waiting.

 

But maybe the game did work on Joe. He barely noticed when Samus strode behind the chair and seated himself on the other side of his desk. Joe rotated the armchair to face him. The broad viewport behind Samus showed almost the entirety of the station. Though Samus’ district was near the edge of the station, he would naturally have a view of all the hollowed out asteroids and the umbilicals that joined them; he‘d want to keep an eye on everything. Normally Andorian inspections disallowed any viewports which showed too much of the station -- many of their tenants desired privacy, not even wanting the traffic of ships to and from their asteroids to be common knowledge. Somehow, Samus got away with such an encompassing view.

 

“Helped yourself, I see,” the young man motioned to Joe’s bourbon glass. He was no longer smiling; that had been a show for the crew. Now he looked slightly annoyed, and slightly tense.

 

Joe finished off the bourbon and set the empty glass down on the desk, not bothering to use one of the foam cradles stacked in both corners on his side of the desk. “I noticed a bottle of Sylvaran Green Wine; very difficult to get something like that shipped out here. And Romulan Ale. Business must be good.”

 

“Always,” Samus answered simply, allowing a brief smile. He clasped his fingers together on top of the desk, tighter than usual, and watched Joe. “What brings you to Andus, Joe?”

 

“Need something you’ve got.” Joe inclined his head slightly. “What are you nervous about, Samus?”

 

Samus visibly tightened, though his expression betrayed nothing. He forced a shrug. “Nervous?”

 

“I know you well enough to see it,” Joe said. “It’s in your eyes, in the way you’re carryin’ yourself. It’s no secret that you and I have never felt completely at ease around each other, but something about this visit has you … more unsettled than usual.”

 

“You must be misreading. What would I have to be nervous about?” Samus forced a smile, but Joe could sense that he was like a spring wound up tightly and ready to pop.

 

“Could it be that stunt your pet bloodhound pulled in the Hydran Expanse?” Joe asked in an even tone.

 

Samus quickly rose from his chair and turned to the viewport, not even giving Joe time to see the reaction on his face. He crossed his arms and stared out the viewport in silence for a few seconds before answering. “When I heard about what happened to Qob in the Expanse, I was mortified. You had people on your crew that I liked; I assure you that hearing about their deaths was not pleasant for me. I was glad that some of you survived and made it back to Tranquility. Believe me when I tell you that Duke was severely reprimanded.”

 

“’Reprimanded?’” Joe repeated scornfully, allowing some anger into his voice now. “What reprimand could make up for the lives of half my crew members? I’d have had his head on Tranquility if the Guardians weren’t around to protect him. And I imagine that if he shows his face here, you‘ll protect him too?”

 

“You know how it works, Joe,” Samus replied, still looking away. “I allow the people who work for me considerable freedom to pursue independent projects and mercenary contracts. They just need to answer to me above anyone if I call on them for jobs and to share a cut of any profits they generate independently.”

 

“I see. So tell me, Samus, how much of the raider bounty did Duke share with you after he finished leaving me and my crew for dead?”

 

Samus turned then and pointed a finger at Joe. “Don’t talk to me that way on my station! How many times have I told you? I call the shots here, and I’m not going to be lectured by you, of all people, on morality.” Joe simply smirked back at him, pleased to have gotten such a reaction. Samus lowered his arm and glared now at Joe. “Like I said, Duke was reprimanded. I’ve put him out of action and under watch for the time being. The raider bounty was turned over to me, and I may just see fit to turn it over to you.”

 

“How generous,” Joe said mockingly.

 

“It just so happens that I may be able to utilize your crew’s help, now that you’re here.” Samus circled around the desk and walked to the mini-bar, trying to appear as if he‘d recomposed himself. “But first, tell me what exactly you want. If you wanted bloody vengeance, you wouldn‘t have taken a vacation on Zoalus first.”

 

Joe shook his head; who had given Samus that nugget of information, he wondered. “No, what went down in the Expanse ain’t the reason I’m here. Well, to be accurate, it’s part of the reason. Qob took extensive damage from the raiders --”

 

“My mechanics are already working on her,” Samus interrupted. He was pouring something out for himself. “I figured that’s where the more recent battle scars came from. You can consider that another form of reparation that will come out of Duke‘s pay.”

 

“Touching. Why don’t you just get rid of his lousy stinkin’ ass?”

 

“Because he’s good at what he does.” Samus slammed a bottle down and returned to his desk holding a full glass. “Why? Do you want him back?”

 

Joe didn’t appreciate the sarcasm. Samus knew full well how Duke’s stint as Qob’s First Mate had ended. “Like I was saying. Among our battle damage were some pretty severe hits to the computer core. There was some major corruption, but we were mostly able to patch it up and get by. Certain … incidents … at Zoalus made matters worse. Our core ended up fried, and there’s something inside it that’s making it difficult to start it back up.”

 

“As I said, my people will look at it,” Samus said, now seated across from Joe again. “But if your engineers can’t do anything … “

 

Joe raised his arm and tapped at his ODRI. The holographic image of an elderly Klingon appeared above its control interface. The Klingon faced Samus. “Do you recognize him?” Joe asked.

 

Samus peered at the image for a few moments, taking a sip of his drink. “I never met him.”

 

“Don’t lie to me, boy,” Joe growled.

 

Samus slammed his glass down on the desk. “What did I just tell you about that, you old bastard?!”

 

Joe ignored him and continued, “I know you have a backup of Qob’s computer core -- everything that was on it before you wiped it and sold the ship to me. I know you wouldn’t have trashed it. Now, I want that backup. It rightfully belonged to me after I bought the ship.”

 

“Oh, no no.” Samus chuckled and wagged a finger at Joe. “I sold you the ship after the core was wiped; you bought Qob with an empty core. -If- a backup existed … you’d have no right to it. Remember, Qob was my ship. Hell, it was the flagship of my fleet. You think I’d want information that was on that core to fall into the wrong hands? Information about my syndicate‘s operations?”

 

“Damn your operations,” Joe snapped. “I don’t care about them. What does he have to do with them?” He pointed at the Klingon.

 

“Like I said … I never met him. But I have seen his face in some old data archives -- -very- old data archives, going back before two or three wipes of Qob’s computer. I’d hazard a guess that your Klingon friend was Qob’s first Captain. Or maybe its last Klingon Captain. What does he have to do with your computer anyway troubles? Any information about him would have been cleared out by the wipes.“

 

“Apparently not. We’ve seen broken fragments of a recorded message or a journal entry or orders being given by this guy. He pops up whenever the few computer functions we’ve got working start acting up. We can’t piece together enough of the message to figure out what he’s saying or how he survived the data wipes. Best guess is that something was rooted deep inside the computer, embedded in the core functions even.”

 

Samus listened to Joe’s explanation, then shrugged. It seemed genuine. “In any event, he predates Qob being a part of this syndicate. I never met him, and I‘m fairly certain my predecessor never met him.”

 

Joe frowned deeply. “What do you want for access to the old computer dumps?”

 

“Now you’re talking in my language,” Samus replied with a wide smile. “As I alluded earlier, it just so happens I have a job for you.”

 

“Don’t be a pain in the ass, Samus,” Joe said. “I just want access to some old computer backups.”

 

“And can you pay me for that access?” Samus asked. “Between your light cargo hold and the long shopping lists your crew is throwing around in my Market, I’d guess your budget is a bit skinny these days. Besides, I’m not trying to bleed you here. Do this job, and I’ll give you access to the backups -and- pay you credits on top of the raider bounty.”

 

“The way I see it, I’m owed that bounty anyway,” Joe argued. “You can take the cost of the backups out of it, give me the rest, then when I’ve got the computer restored, we go our separate ways.”

 

“Sorry, Joe, but that’s not going to work for me.” Samus leaned back in his chair. “The truth is I -am- in need of someone for this job, and you and your crew fit the bill perfectly. I trust you. You usually gather capable hands around yourself. And you don’t work for me officially; anyone on my standard payroll would attract too much attention.”

 

“Even if I was interested, Qob is practically crippled without her computer restored. We--”

 

“You wouldn’t have to leave the station,” Samus interrupted. “I need you to do some work for me right here on Andus. Another district of Andus, but I could get you clearance.”

 

“Somehow I get the feeling this ‘job’ has trouble written all over it,” Joe said. “More trouble for me than for you. I’m not interested. Let’s discuss a price for the computer backups alone. It’s all I need right now.”

 

Samus picked up his glass and started circling the rim with his finger. “The job is a bit troublesome, but when have you ever shied away from trouble. Help me out here, and you get complete access to the computer backups and … how does half a million credits sound?”

 

It took Joe a long moment to answer. Truthfully, it sounded better than the quicksilver fountain. But it was equally unsettling. Despite grievances about the Hydran Expanse debacle being aired, Samus had still appeared nervous throughout the conversation …