Art of the Deal

Chapter 2

Red Light District, Asteroid Queen Aphalia
Murran Constellation
10 July 2250


         Deafening Thump music pounded throughout the club as lights flashed and swirled, silhouetting the dancers and the dozens of mesmerized onlookers. On top of circular podiums, a pole impaled in the middle of each, naked beauties danced and soared in the low gravity. Men and women alike made their way to the Frontier Rose, and other establishments like it, to be entertained, grab a drink, and try to forget their difficult lives.

         Mariah (that was her stage name, her real name she kept private) gripped the brass pole on her dance floor and launched herself into the air with a thrust of her foot. Those gathered around her cheered as she released the pole and somersaulted in the air, returning to the floor to thrust her moneymaker out and shake it for the patrons. The cheers grew louder as her frilly white top fell away, exposing her supple breasts that seemed to dance on their own (an aspect of zero gravity that she was still dealing with). Mariah pushed her back against the pole and squatted, her hands playing over her soft skinned, tanned and toned body. A sultry lick of her lips and a wink towards a group of younger men and whoops and hollers filled her ears and money filled her cash box. Another successful night.

         Four dances, three private showings, and two hours later and her shift was over. She made her way to the back and into the dancers’ quarters. Stripping herself of all vestiges of clothing she locked herself in one of the zero-G showers and turned the water on hot. As the mist hit her bare, tired body steam filled the chamber. Finally, she was alone, alone with her thoughts and feelings. She was human again, not just some sexual object for the masses.

         Mariah loved dancing. Ever since she was very young she had taken dance lessons and, as she grew older, hit all the dance clubs she could. After leaving Earth a year and a half ago she never imagined she’d find herself stripping to pay the bills. She always reminded herself it could have been worse. Some young women that had immigrated to one of the many small countries in the belt had been forced into prostitution. Their lives were truly miserable. Mariah counted her blessings that the Frontier Rose didn’t cater to the sexually needy.

         So she continued to dance, waiting for the day she could strike out and make a living doing something more important and less degrading. Mariah always dreamed of the possibilities she could find outside of Earth. Perhaps start her own dance school, be an accountant for a major firm (she did have a master’s degree in accounting), or, if she was very lucky, be swept away by the man of her dreams, never having to worry about working again.

         After almost two years of traveling from place to place, those hopes dwindled more and more. People seemed more focused on her looks rather than her mind or her abilities. She was classically beautiful and radiated sexiness. Although it kept food on the table, Mariah thought of it as a curse. Just once she wanted someone to like her for who she was, not just her looks.          

         Her shower finished, Mariah turned off the hot mist and wrapped a white, full body towel around her lean form. Droplets of water streaked off her hair, arms and calves as she picked up her beauty kit and glided to the line of sinks. It was her nightly ritual to shower, remove her make up, and dress in normal clothes, a sort of physical and mental purge to rid herself of the day’s filth. She took her time, using facial pads to lift every bit of eye liner and blush, brushing her perfectly pearl white teeth with care and following up with an attentive flossing. A pair of flannel pants and a tank top replaced her towel. Finally, she was clean.

         A push off of her perch in front of the mirror, and she was headed for her room. Sadly, because she owed so much money from her travels, she was now a rather permanent resident at the Frontier Rose working for its owner, Madame Rose Huntington. Madame Huntington and her husband were kind enough, treating Mariah and all the other girls well and giving them free reign of the kitchen. But Mariah could only leave the property with the express permission of Madame Huntington, and then she would have to carry a tracking node around town. If without it, or it looked like she was trying to escape, she would be hunted down and flogged, or worse, by the Huntingtons’ personal hired muscle. So Mariah spent most of her time in her room reading or sleeping or in the gym provided for the girls. Although not treated poorly by any means, she was not free either, something she longed for. That dream, of the many she had, seemed so far off.

         This particular night (the only notion Mariah had that it was night was the clock by her bed that read 1:00AM) she just wanted to sleep. She would ask for a pass to leave tomorrow to go to the stores and spoil herself with the little bit of money she was actually allowed to keep from that night (ten percent, which meant one hundred dollars tonight). As for now she just needed to rest. The long hours of dancing, and the seemingly high abundance of perverts who did not want to follow the rules that night, had drained her completely. She passed out as soon as she zipped up the zero-G bed and laid her head against the pillow.



Administrative Building, Asteroid Queen Aphalia
Murran Constellation
11 July 2250


         Some things were never as easy as they first looked. Morgan was learning this lesson (again) attempting to negotiate with the governing officials of Queen Aphalia. He offered them protection and open trade with the Hanseatic League at a fair price (a price, in fact, far lower than what he had informed his superiors of). The moment the Murran delegation, seated across the table from him and his consorts, began to speak, he knew they were corrupt. They acted as if they were the ones with the power and that Morgan and his people were here as the ones in need. They worked the talks so that they could pocket money for themselves. Despicable.

         But whether or not they were crooked was not Morgan’s purpose. He was there to make a deal and a profit. So he countered their lies with facts.

         “How long has the population of Queen Aphalia been without fruit and vegetable products?” he asked at length.

         The Governor, a Walter Kendrick, stopped for a moment. He moved his lips as if he was going to speak, but no sounds came out. Morgan shot a sidelong glance at Julius Reimer. His senior NCO had done his work well, and all in the span of a night.

         “We have never been without such goods,” one woman, an assistant administrator of some kind, replied, backing up her superior.

         “Is that so?” Morgan picked his hand-held personal data assistant off the table in front of him and thumbed through several files. “Because, according to the agricultural records and shipment manifests, I would say you have never had them.”

         The Governor recovered and clasped his hands together on top of the table. “Nutrient pills are sufficient for the time being,” he replied.

         “Ah, but my good Governor,” Morgan said, moving in for the kill. “Over two centuries of study show that pills can never fully replace real food, especially when in a low gravity environment. In fact, looking at local hospital medical records, it seems that there have been numerous cases of malnourishment in those areas.”

         The Governor was stunned that this young pup could so quickly and easily undo his shroud of confidence and gather so much information so quickly.

         “Y-yes, that is true, Captain Fathom,” Kendrick replied hesitantly.

         “I know that for any new colony it’s important to keep up appearances to retain funds from the fatherland. And we can help you do this. We will only charge three H-Bills per pound of fresh fruits and vegetables brought to Queen Aphalia by our ships. That is a very fair price when considering that all of these are coming from the four central planets. On top of that we can bring you hydroponic growing systems and seed and, if need be, more dome building materials to expand the settlement and make room for farms.”

         This was it. Morgan had them, dangling the proverbial (and literal) carrot in front of their faces. But he kept his composure, not allowing the smile that wanted to surface to show. What was even better: they knew he had them. If they passed up such a good deal and turned away the only merchant who seemed to take interest in their tiny colony, the people, growing ever closer to the edge of revolting, would have their heads. Morgan had played both their economic and political problems against them.

         “That,” Governor Kendrick said after a long moment. “Would be…acceptable.”

         Morgan allowed himself a small grin. “Excellent, sir.”

         Olivia Mann had made herself useful by warming up the Murranian delegation that morning before Morgan and his people had arrived, and now she sat quietly, writing up the contract on her own PDA, making written, sound, and video notes for Morgan to view later on.

         “Well, ladies and gentlemen, it is nearly noon and you all must be famished.” Looking at his watch, Morgan turned back to the Governor. “Let us take a break for lunch and meet back here at 1400 hours.”

         The meeting finished for a while, Morgan could finally relax. The smile he was withholding now made its presence known, his bright white teeth bared in a wolfish grin. Julius and Udo, on the other hand, strapped into their seats on the maglev and immediately fell asleep. Both soldiers had been up all night scouring the colony for any and all information that could aid Morgan in his dealings. Taking newspapers offered by a train attendant, Morgan and Felix sat and began to skim the headlines and thumb through the pages.

         “I think things went rather well,” Olivia commented as she took a sip of tea.

         “You think things went rather well?” Alicia Weber inquired surprisingly. “The Hauptmann had them by the balls! I’m surprised the first round of negotiations took that long.”

         Morgan’s smile grew wider as he flipped another page.

         “You have to let them think they’re in control, at first. Or, at the very least, make them feel comfortable. Strike too fast and they could get wet feet and pull out then and there.”

         “Have you used this tactic much in gaining trade for the League?” Olivia asked over her sealed cup of tea.

         “Yes,” Morgan said confidently. “Several times. It works the best because each time you lure them in with the feeling of superiority and control, and then sweep it all out from under them with the knowledge you have gathered.”

         Olivia quickly shut up. Whether she was trying to make Morgan feel bad for duping so many people or just asking a simple question, Morgan didn’t care. He knew that the well to do in society always had more liberal, unrealistic views of the world. He let it slide off of him like rain on gortex. She was nothing, and he was the power behind this whole operation.

         “So, where to, ladies?” Morgan asked after a while.

         “I’d like to freshen up on the ship first, then hit the town, check the restaurants and such,” Alicia replied giddily. “And, of coarse, shop.”

         Morgan just smiled at that and kept reading the paper. Olivia, on the other hand, decided to open her mouth.

         “Now you know the League doesn’t cover luxury purchases on duties like this.”

         Alicia, Felix, and Morgan looked at Olivia, their eyes incredulous.

         “I’m sure a bit of shopping with her own money will be just fine, Fraulein Mann,” Morgan said, ending any confrontation that would have arisen. “If you so choose not to enjoy a few frivolities while we are here, then that is your choice. You can keep the ship warm for us.”

         Alicia stifled a laugh. Olivia just stewed, taking another sip of tea and staring at the maglev car wall.

         Downtown Queen Aphalia, was, for the most part, very elegant. Many of the buildings were made of red brick, giving the growing city a late-nineteenth-early twentieth-century feel. The roads were paved, and some thick green moss grew where grass would grow in cities with some actual gravity. Morgan could only guess that the paved streets were for aesthetics more than anything. Without any gravity people could just as well glide around the colony, and the only vehicular transportation Morgan had witnessed was the city-spanning maglev.

         Restaurants and new stores filled the multi-story buildings, and all were bustling with activity. New colonists in from the other inhabited asteroids in the Murranian Constellation flocked to the department stores to buy those things that made life on this little part of hell more comfortable. Although relatively isolated from the rest of the Constellation, Queen Aphalia actually had a very good local economy. Whoever had planned the settlement had been smart, ensuring that both industrial and commercial needs were taken care of before the bulk of colonists arrived.

But local business and trade within the Murranian Constellation was just not enough, and Morgan could tell. The restaurant they ate at, called Taste of Murray, named to make it sound like it came from the “civilized” capital of their little junta, served excellent sandwiches, cuts of steak, and several fine wines and desserts. But the meal lacked any produce or dairy products. It seemed even powdered milk was hard to come by on this rock. Colorful pills and elegantly decorated nutrient bars placed on bright, white china attempted to make up the shortfall (with little success). Alicia Weber encountered the same problem when she went shopping afterwards. All of the clothing and shoe stores seemed to be selling variations of the same thing.

Alicia’s shopping spree finished, Morgan looked at his watch with a sigh.

“We had better get back to the ship and pick up Julius and Udo,” he said at length.

Felix scratched the back of his head and gave a loud yawn. “I think I would do well with some coffee first.”

“I could use a bit of a boost myself,” Morgan agreed. “Ladies?”

Both Alicia and Olivia agreed, and the four of them pushed off, gliding to find the nearest coffee shop.

The tracking node that Mariah was required to where when she left the Huntington place was actually quite fashionable, a thick, silver disk with a red jewel on a silver chain around her neck. Anyone not looking close enough would think it was just another piece of jewelry. She could move about the colony without any problems.

Today Mariah wore a simple baby blue t-shirt, blue jeans, and sneakers. Having to wear skimpy clothing every night had pushed Mariah to wearing normal, more modest clothing during the day, especially when she was out in public. When away from the house she wanted to be as normal as possible. And today she was heading as far away from the red light district as possible, into Queen Aphalia’s ever growing commercial district surrounding the capital building.

It was the same clothes in the windows and on the shelves every week. Very little changed, even with the imports from the other settlements in the Murranian Constellation. But Mariah loved to try things on and buy them anyway. She would always hit the more expensive stores first, touching her fair skin to cashmere, silk, and rare furs from Earth and Mars. They were all too highly priced for her, and she had gotten used to apologizing for not being able to afford anything.

The day wound on, and eventually she would make her way to the shops where clothing was more in her price range, though not as nice as what she started out looking at. The highlight of her day came when, walking into Fairfield’s Clothing, she passed four foreigners, all well dressed, three of them in charcoal gray military uniforms. The man leading them, a tall, dark figure with a confident look and a handsome face, made eye contact with her for a split second before moving on. For that moment her heart sang. Foreigners visiting Queen Aphalia, and one of them a successful warrior! Oh how she hoped against hope that he’d be the one.

But the thought was fleeting, and she moved on through the town, the four outsiders quickly forgotten. Her day coming to a close, she bought a few shirts, a nice pair of black stiletto shoes (to go with the sexy black dress she had bought the month before, but would probably never wear), and then made her way to Vickie’s Saloon.

Vickie Rosario and her Husband, Craig, were Mariah’s only real friends here on Queen Aphalia (although she had never told them her real name). Every week she would come to visit Vickie and the two would chat and gossip while Craig made sure the store was still running. Today was no different, and Vickie was waiting outside to great her friend.

“Mariah! Foreigners!” was all Vickie could say after the two had hugged.

“What?”

“There are foreigners in my store buying drinks! And they’re paying with H-Bills! Worth five times more than Murranian notes. My husband was talking to them, and they said they were merchants from the Hanseatic League! Can you believe it?”

Mariah just stood there. “Are they still here?”

“Yes! They just sat down, and two more of them are coming from their ship!”

“Do they have gray uniforms on?”

“Three of them do. One woman is wearing a smart gray dress. She said she got it from le Chic on Mars! Just think of it: clothes like that, here!” Vickie gave her friend a wink. “And I think the young man in there is single!”

Mariah laughed and patted her friend on the hand. “With my luck, he’s probably got a girl back home.”

Vickie put her hands on her hips and frowned at her friend. “Mariah, you get your skinny ass in there and show yourself off!”

Mariah squeeled as Vickie shoved her towards the door and gave her a smack on the bottom.

“Showing me off like a common whore, for shame!” Mariah retorted, laughing at her friend’s antics.

“Mariah, you’re a beautiful, smart girl who deserves better than this trash hole. If you bag a man like that you can have whatever you want, live wherever you want, and not have to worry about getting enough food, or even working for that matter.”

Just as the two were moving into the shop, the four foreigners were leaving. Mariah slammed into one of them and began cart wheeling backwards. She tried to stop herself, grabbing for chairs bolted to the ground or light posts along the street, but her hands merely grasped air and she continued on her erratic course. Just as she thought she was going to spin on for eternity (or until she hit a building or the dome itself) two powerful arms wrapped themselves around her waist. A quick shove off of some surface, and they were headed back down to ground level. Looking up she met the eyes of her rescuer. It was the handsome young warrior, his ice cold sapphire eyes piercing deep into her vixen jades. The feeling she felt, curled up in his arms, pressed against his strong body, was the most amazing thing she had felt in years.

And as soon as it had begun it was over. The man halted their descent by grabbing onto a chair near the saloon (one she had so helplessly grasped for before) and set her on it.

“Are you alright, kleine fraulein?” he asked in a deep, soothing voice.

All she could do is look into those deep pools of power that were his eyes. Neither words nor thoughts formed in her head. He was all that was in her world.

Vickie quickly snapped her out of it by putting her hands on Mariah’s shoulders.

“Mariah! Are you alright?”

“Y-yes. I-I’m fine.” She turned to the dashing young soldier that had saved her. “Thank you, and I’m sorry.”

He bowed his head and waved her apologies off.

“Nein, it was my fault. I was not watching where I was going.”

“So,” Vickie cut in. “Where are you four headed off to?”

“Business with your government,” the man said. “We wish to open trade between the Hanseatic League and the Queen Aphalia colony. Hopefully our work will be fruitful and we can see your colony grow and prosper with the help of the League.”

“That would be wonderful,” Vickie said in mock interest. Her goal focused on something else. “So, how long will you be here?”

“The talks should last the rest of the week,” he said. “And, if all goes well, I will be staying here for another eight standard months to a year.”

“Well, isn’t that wonderful,” Vickie replied, squeezing Mariah’s shoulders a bit.

Mariah looked up at her friend quizzically, but only received an innocent smile in return.
At that moment two more soldiers in dress grays glided in, hooking their feet under bars cemented into the ground to halt their movement. The young warrior-merchant turned back to Mariah and Vickie and bowed.

“It was nice meeting both of you, but now we must leave.”

“Well, I’m Vickie, and this is my good friend Mariah. It was nice meeting you all, but we never caught your name.”

“Hauptmann Morgan Fathom.” Before turning to leave he met Mariah’s gaze once more. “Hopefully we shall see more of each other, Mariah, only I hope that we can talk and that I won’t be saving you every time.”

With that the group left, and Mariah was left speechless. Vickie on the other hand would not shut up.

“Hopefully we shall see more of each other,” she cooed. “I told you going in to talk was a good idea.”

“Yeah, but I almost flew out of the city and into space,” Mariah retorted. “And if he had tried anything…”

She was cut off by a laugh from Vickie.

“Oh hush. If he had tried anything you would have gone along wanting it more than he did. You were in your own little world from the time he caught you until the time he left.”

         Mariah tried to argue back, but she couldn’t find any words to defend herself with. Vickie was right. Had Morgan Fathom gone for the sweet spot she would have welcomed him with open arms (and legs). She was totally and completely intrigued by this merchant from the core planets. Sitting there with her friend Mariah wondered if she really would ever see him again.


         The day had ended well for Morgan and his delegation. Two more points of trade were agreed upon and Morgan left the table feeling more confident than he had that morning. He had had to make some concessions, lower prices and increase a few benefits here and there, but nothing that would hurt the final deal. Dairy products and some of the latest zero gravity construction equipment would arrive at Queen Aphalia several months after the signing of the contract. Morgan could almost feel the cash already in his pockets.

         Strapping himself in on the maglev, Morgan slid through the files on his PDA. The next six days would bring mining equipment, animals, water extractors, and consumer goods into the ever growing contract. His heart began to race as he scanned them all over and over again. The last item on the list was his ace in the pocket: defense. According to his superiors the League wished to maintain a permanent presence on Queen Aphalia and a defense contract like this would keep Hansa interests in tact. Although the Governor and his aides would balk at the prospect of a battalion’s worth of Hanseatic League Security Force personnel and ships stationed in and around the colony, in the end they really had no choice if they were to secure this trade agreement and keep their settlement secure and growing.

         Morgan hadn’t noticed his right hand man strap in next to him as his thoughts circled around the deal like sharks circling a wounded animal.

         “Excellent show today, Morgan,” Felix commented as he reached for a cup of chai. “If things continue on like this we may be able to sign off on an agreement ahead of schedule.”

         “Perhaps.”

         “Thinking about the defense clause?”

         Before Morgan could answer, his executive officer chimed in.

         “No, he’s thinking about that cute girl he saved today at the saloon,” Alicia said, poking fun at her commanding officer.

         Morgan stopped for a second. He had obviously been caught off guard by the comment, regardless of whether or not it was true, and Felix, Julius, and Udo took delight in taking advantage of it.

         “Oh, Herr Hauptmann, is that your new girlfriend?” Julius joined in. “We’re here one day and he already has a line of women waiting on him.”

         “Do you think we could start planning for the wedding already?” Udo said, making the rare joke at his CO’s expense.

         “Unteroffizier Berger has a point,” Felix replied. “We’ll need to get a cake, and we all still have to meet her parents. We can tell stories of young Leutnant Fathom on his first duty assignment.”

         They all laughed uproariously. All except Morgan who still hadn’t regained his mental balance.

         “Uh…” was all he managed to work out.

         Another bout of laughter.

         “C’mon, sir, don’t be so reserved,” Julius said, slapping Morgan’s arm. “Tell us about her. Is she a screamer?”

         “I don’t think that’s something we want to hear,” Alicia piped up.

         “Yes it is,” Julius, Felix, and Udo all replied in unison.

         Morgan cleared his throat, collecting himself and regaining his composure.

         “Very funny,” he said, cocking an eyebrow as he glanced at his four subordinates. “But truthfully I’ve never met her before today. My mind, as always, was on money.”

         Sneers and jeers were thrown his way as his soldiers and friends belittled him.

         “Oh, Morgan,” Felix said. “You will find one day that there is more to life than the tasks of a warrior-merchant.”

         “Ja, mein Herr,” Julius cut in. “Enjoy life a little while you’re here. Find a good woman to have some fun with. Or, hell, a few good women! I’m sure there are plenty here. Little Udo here is going to, aren’t you, boy?”

         Udo straightened his back in the harness, a grin splashed across his young face.

         “Ofcoarse. In fact, if he doesn’t claim her, I’m going for the girl Hauptmann Fathom met this afternoon.”

         Felix and Julius laughed, their sides beginning to hurt. Alicia had somewhat fallen off the conversation as it flowed into liaisons with women, but paid attention to what was going on and laughed at the jokes.

         “Or I could have you stuck in your quarters for the rest of the time we’re here,” Morgan retorted.

         Now the group was laughing at Udo who’s face turned red in distress.

         “Besides,” he went on. “Having more money means I can have more fun.”

         “Not always, sir,” Alicia replied with a smile. “Sometimes the most fun you can have doesn’t cost a thing.”

         He didn’t know what she meant by that, but Morgan chose to ignore it. He quickly changed the subject to relieve himself of his discomfort.

         “Alright, so, our focus for tomorrow…”


Christopher Meyer
Writer of Fortune