affaires …” murmured the Cajun, marking the next item on
the agenda.
Saul remained with his sights set over the Sodom skyline.
“The contract pays fifty-million dimitars,” said Malachi. “Ten million to the
guild Underclasses, ten to Overs, twenty to the Lower-Elites. That leaves ten
million to divide between us.”
He took the last drag from his cigarette.
“Well,’ said Malachi; ‘what are your demands?”
After a long pause, he exhaled the last draw of smoke and turned. His jaded
stare wandered curiously over Celyn, who stared back at him through narrow
eyes. “I do not want your money.”
Malachi’s head tilted back and surveyed him through downturned eyes. “What now?”
He dropped the burnt butt into a half-empty glass of Snake Venom ambrosia. “You
can keep the money,” he reiterated.
“ Quoi faire? ” The Cajun’s head lolled over with a leery goggle
“I have no need for money.”
“Is that right?” There was a sudden air of misgiving in Malachi’s voice as he
stepped forward. “Doesn’t look like it to me...”
“Eli...”
“Not now, Celle.”
Celyn sighed and looked away.
“Why do I get the feeling there’s a catch here?”
“I will lead your men to battle and you will win,” Saul stated, categorically.
“It is what I do. You will also keep all the spoils.”
“ Mais …” prodded the Cajun.
There was a long silence among them.
“I have two conditions,” he said.
“What conditions?” Malachi demanded rapidly.
“We do this my way.”
“Which means?”
“I never fire on civilians...”
There was a momentary silence.
“What’s condition two?” asked Malachi.
Saul looked back at him.
“After we complete the assignment and take the sector…” He paused. “I leave.”
“…Leave?”
“Yes.”
“Where will you go?” asked Celyn.
“That does not concern any of you,” he said, brushing Malachi’s shoulder as he
walked past. He lifted his coat off the back of the chair and filled the
sleeves with his arms. “When you get back to Sodom, you will give the
Commission the final assignment report. You will tell them I was killed in
action and that my body could not be recovered.”
“You’re going rogue and you want us to cover for you,” said Malachi. “Is that
what you’re telling us?”
“ Bioque ,” growled the Cajun.
Malachi glowered. “If the Commission finds out...”
“They will not find out,” he interjected.
“They always find out.”
When he straightened out his coat, he took out another cigarette and raised it
to his lips.
“Why the hell are you doing this?”
“Explaining my reasons to you will make no difference.”
“We want you to be one of us... Name your terms.”
“There is nothing you can offer me,” he said, making his way toward the door. “Those
are my terms. This meeting is over.”
“No one ever leaves the martial world once they cross over,” Malachi stated,
categorically. “ No one . Especially men like you. You’re just going to
walk out into the middle of a warzone? And what do you think will happen when
you cross the Civil Border? You’re a martial. Wherever you go, sooner or
later they’ll find you...”
“It is a chance I will have to take,” he said.
The conversation came to a stop and another protracted silence hung between
them. He could already sense the first and most obvious consideration emerge
amid their silence: whether or not it might be a better idea at that point to cancel
the contract and, having reckoned everything in advance, he knew -- as Malachi
knew -- that that would be bound to irritate their clients at the European Defence
Section. He could almost hear the soundless deliberation
the agenda.
Saul remained with his sights set over the Sodom skyline.
“The contract pays fifty-million dimitars,” said Malachi. “Ten million to the
guild Underclasses, ten to Overs, twenty to the Lower-Elites. That leaves ten
million to divide between us.”
He took the last drag from his cigarette.
“Well,’ said Malachi; ‘what are your demands?”
After a long pause, he exhaled the last draw of smoke and turned. His jaded
stare wandered curiously over Celyn, who stared back at him through narrow
eyes. “I do not want your money.”
Malachi’s head tilted back and surveyed him through downturned eyes. “What now?”
He dropped the burnt butt into a half-empty glass of Snake Venom ambrosia. “You
can keep the money,” he reiterated.
“ Quoi faire? ” The Cajun’s head lolled over with a leery goggle
“I have no need for money.”
“Is that right?” There was a sudden air of misgiving in Malachi’s voice as he
stepped forward. “Doesn’t look like it to me...”
“Eli...”
“Not now, Celle.”
Celyn sighed and looked away.
“Why do I get the feeling there’s a catch here?”
“I will lead your men to battle and you will win,” Saul stated, categorically.
“It is what I do. You will also keep all the spoils.”
“ Mais …” prodded the Cajun.
There was a long silence among them.
“I have two conditions,” he said.
“What conditions?” Malachi demanded rapidly.
“We do this my way.”
“Which means?”
“I never fire on civilians...”
There was a momentary silence.
“What’s condition two?” asked Malachi.
Saul looked back at him.
“After we complete the assignment and take the sector…” He paused. “I leave.”
“…Leave?”
“Yes.”
“Where will you go?” asked Celyn.
“That does not concern any of you,” he said, brushing Malachi’s shoulder as he
walked past. He lifted his coat off the back of the chair and filled the
sleeves with his arms. “When you get back to Sodom, you will give the
Commission the final assignment report. You will tell them I was killed in
action and that my body could not be recovered.”
“You’re going rogue and you want us to cover for you,” said Malachi. “Is that
what you’re telling us?”
“ Bioque ,” growled the Cajun.
Malachi glowered. “If the Commission finds out...”
“They will not find out,” he interjected.
“They always find out.”
When he straightened out his coat, he took out another cigarette and raised it
to his lips.
“Why the hell are you doing this?”
“Explaining my reasons to you will make no difference.”
“We want you to be one of us... Name your terms.”
“There is nothing you can offer me,” he said, making his way toward the door. “Those
are my terms. This meeting is over.”
“No one ever leaves the martial world once they cross over,” Malachi stated,
categorically. “ No one . Especially men like you. You’re just going to
walk out into the middle of a warzone? And what do you think will happen when
you cross the Civil Border? You’re a martial. Wherever you go, sooner or
later they’ll find you...”
“It is a chance I will have to take,” he said.
The conversation came to a stop and another protracted silence hung between
them. He could already sense the first and most obvious consideration emerge
amid their silence: whether or not it might be a better idea at that point to cancel
the contract and, having reckoned everything in advance, he knew -- as Malachi
knew -- that that would be bound to irritate their clients at the European Defence
Section. He could almost hear the soundless deliberation
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