Plymouth hastily nodded. “We’ve had similar arrangements with other trading partners. I believe the agreement papers can be drawn up to accommodate that.”
Harris cut into the conversation, pushing Tawn back a step. “Mr. Vontmier, I apologize for my partner’s forward behavior. And if you’re willing to expedite the agreement, I might be willing to shake one of those repeaters loose from its container. Call it a thank-you and a gentleman’s agreement that we would be treated in a preferred manner should we again come to Bella III.”
Plymouth’s demeanor changed from one of fear to a smile. “I’ll have that to you in a few moment’s, Mr. Gruberg.”
The customs agent scowled at Tawn as he walked back to his tracked vehicle, calling into his command.
Tawn shook her head. “You just gave away four or five hundred credits.”
“Call it greasing the skids for future business. Thanks, by the way, for loosening him up. I was half expecting a call to be placed to their local police and a wagon to be sent out to collect us for threatening a government official.”
Tawn looked out at Plymouth Vontmier. “How do you know he’s not doing that right now?”
Harris glanced at the containers of weapons. “What guy doesn’t want a repeating plasma rifle? And I’ll bet he’s willing to pay the forty credit price for a plasma charge for it. Might even buy several.”
“Charges are twenty credits.”
Harris laughed. “I knew slugs were slow, but you’re giving them a bad name.”
Tawn thought. “OK. Got it. We should make him buy five at that price.”
Plymouth returned with his tablet held out. “Tap to accept the agreement. And I reduced the taxable rate to 8 percent. A preferred rate.”
Harris opened a container and retrieved the used repeating plasma rifle. “As we agreed to, unofficially of course. And I’m certain you will be wanting to buy plasma charges for your new weapon. These are full power, military grade, if you will. They’re forty credits apiece. At a quarter power setting, which is preferred for target shooting as well as for most game, you can expect to get a thousand rounds from each charge. How many would you like?”
Plymouth grinned as he held and looked over the ultrapowerful personal weapon. I think five… no… seven. I can make that price back by charging my friends to fire a repeater. Thank you, Mr. Gruberg… and Miss whatever-your-name-is. Thank you both. I’ll send out a taxi for you to take into town. My treat.”
A transfer of two hundred eighty credits was conducted. Plymouth Vontmier stepped down from the Bangor, almost tripping over his own feet as his concentration was centered on his newest acquisition.
Harris turned to face Tawn. “Our first sale. I’ve got a good feeling about this place.”
Tawn nodded sarcastically. “Yeah. A repeater and seven charges for two hundred eighty credits… the way I read it, we’re already swimming in loss.”
Chapter 8
_______________________
Harris closed and locked the container before walking to the door. “Weather looks good. Wonder why Mr. Vontmier drives a tracked truck?”
Tawn replied as she reached for Harris’ arm, “Did you not read any of the climate data on this planet before we got here? And let me see your store. Half those credits are mine.”
Harris pulled back. “Ahh, no. Our agreement stated after costs. Seeing as how you just said this was a loss, I believe you owe me a few credits.”
Tawn scowled. “You’re gonna make this relationship hard, aren’t you?”
Harris laughed. “You have the psychological training to cope with tough situations. I’m sure you can handle it.”
Tawn crossed her arms. “I’m sure I’d snap your stump neck if you actually had one.”
A flying taxi approached, landing up close to the Bangor. A door swung open to its passenger compartment.
An unusually skinny old man said, “Get in if you would. You’re costing me oxygen.”
The two hopped in, and the door closed as the craft lifted.
Harris asked, “Costing you oxygen?”
The old man nodded. “Bella is light on the stuff. Government claims 17 percent. Most say it’s closer to 16. Anyway, all of our vehicles and buildings have oxygen generators so we don’t all end up dumb. Generating costs fuel, which I pay for myself. Where you headed exactly?”
“There a trading post or a gun club or anything similar in town? We have personal firearms for sale and we’re here looking for a market.”
The old man frowned. “Hate to tell you, but we have a regular supplier we’ve been dealing with for several years. Everybody likes him, so you might find business slow here.”
Tawn asked, “You wouldn’t be talking about Cletus Dodger, would you?”
The old man lit up. “Yeah, you know him? He’s a friendly sot… and a good tipper.”
Tawn placed her big hand on the old man’s shoulder, swallowing it in her palm. “Unfortunately, Mr. Dodger is no longer with us. He got caught in the middle of a trade by a NE destroyer. They fired on him, destroying his ship.”
The old man glanced back with a sad look. “No kidding? They got Cletus? That’s a sad day. He was sweet man. And his dog… what a hoot.”
Tawn chuckled. “You talking about Farker?”
The old man nodded. “Yeah. What a sweet animal.”
Tawn gestured back toward the Bangor. “We have him on the ship. Cletus kind of left him to me.”
“Farker? He would never have got rid of that dog. How’d you say you got it again?”
Harris interrupted. “She worked for a trader who was doing a deal with Cletus. They got caught by the NE and just as the ships went to undock the dog ran across to her ship. Cletus didn’t make it out. She couldn’t care for the dog, so she left him with me. I believe she was tired of him humping her leg.”
The old man laughed. “That’s Farker. All part of his friendly programming, you know. Cletus said he was one of a kind. Claims to have found him roaming on… Delin? Deadland? Or something like that. Some uninhabited planet. Said he was hanging around some abandoned building.
“Anyway, I’d love to see Farker when you make a run back to the ship. Give me call, I’ll be happy to take you whenever you’re ready.”
A comm channel was exchanged. The taxi landed in a lot beside a building with a sign showing it to be Bella Sports, Inc. Harris tipped the old man two credits and sent him on his way.
“Miss Freely, may I follow you inside?”
Tawn replied, “You expecting them to be shooting or what?”
Harris smirked. “No. But now that you mention it, I’m gonna be following you a lot.”
Four men and two women were browsing the aisles as Tawn and Harris walked up to an unattended counter.
“He’ll be back in a few minutes. Back in the crapper,” one of the customers yelled.
The store owner, Bonn Herrik, came from the back, fastening his pants. “Sorry, business. How can I help you?”
Harris said, “You familiar with Cletus Dodger?”
Bonn smiled as he looked behind them. “He here? Finally… was expecting him a few weeks ago.”
Tawn leaned on the counter. “I guess we’re the bringers of bad news today. Mr. Dodger passed away. We’re here in hopes up picking up his clients. He left me his dog before he passed.”
Bonn winced. “Farker?”
Harris nodded. “Yes. Farker. And she couldn’t care for him so now he’s mine. Sweet dog.”
Tawn scowled.
Bonn nodded. “Yes. Yes he is. And who are you?”
Harris held out a hand. “Harris Gruberg. This is my associate, Tawn Freely. We’re out here with the hopes of supplying Mr. Dodger’s former clients with personal firearms.”
Bonn replied, “I see. And how exactly did Cletus pass?”
Tawn bumped Harris to the side. “He got caught in a trade for the weapons he planned on delivering here. A New Earth destroyer did him in before he could plead his case or
make a run.”
Bonn frowned as he shook his head. “Same thing happened to his competitor a month before. He always said it was a dangerous business.”
Tawn took a deep breath. “Very. Both the NE and Domicile think traders like us are trying to arm the outer colonies for war. Domicile tends to be a little more judicious should they catch you in the act of not going through the proper channels. It usually results in a fine and possible prison time, at least that’s what I’ve been told. The NE? They just blast you to oblivion.”
Tawn made an explosive gesture with her hand, causing Bonn Herrik to take a step back.
“So you say you have weapons to trade?” Bonn said.
Harris nodded. “Repeaters, Fox-40s, charges for both, and a number of difficult to acquire accessories.”
Bonn tilted his head. “Scopes?”
Tawn again leaned forward on the counter with a smile. “We have a dozen of the latest models.”
Bonn came out from behind the counter. “I recommend an auction. I conducted four such auctions with Cletus and all went very well. The colonists of Bella III are hungry for weapons, whether they be for hunting or sport or self defense. And they are willing to pay a premium.”
Harris grinned. “What kind of premium are we talking? Say… for a repeater?”
“Repeaters, of course we only had two last time around and the bidding got almost out of hand, they went for fifteen hundred credits each. How many do you have?”
Tawn said, “A hundred fifty-one. And two hundred twelve Fox-40s.”
Bonn’s eyes lit up. “Outstanding! And I think we can sell every one! The bidding won’t be fifteen hundred credits, but seven hundred is not out of the question. And the Foxes, I believe we’ll be able to get five hundred each for those. How many charges do you have?”
Tawn replied, “Roughly fifteen hundred. All military grade.”
Bonn rubbed his hands together. “Spectacular!”
Walking back behind the counter, Bonn turned. “I’ll begin organizing the event at once. If you have interest, that is.”
Harris asked, “We have interest. And this auction, can I assume you’ll be taking a cut? If so, how much?”
Bonn rolled his eyes in thought. “I believe a fair cut for an auctioneer is 10 percent. Given the quantity here, I would be willing to go 8. And you won’t have to do anything but provide the items to be sold. I will do all of our marketing to ensure we have the largest available crowd. And I’ll host the event here at the store. Will you be able to provide samples for potential customers to look over?”
Harris nodded. “I think we can do that. When would you want them by?”
“Immediate if possible. Look behind you.”
Harris turned. Each of the customers who had been browsing the store at their arrival was now standing behind them. Listening for details of the upcoming auction.
“And I believe we’ll have the same response from the entire community. We do have our annual competition hunt coming up next month. This could not be better timing.”
Tawn patted Harris on the back. “I think we need go get some samples.”
Harris glanced back at the storekeeper. “Could you call us a taxi back to the spaceport?”
Bonn reached behind his counter, picking up a set of keys. “Are you familiar with a flyerlight?”
Harris replied, “That’s like a flying truck, isn’t it?”
Bonn nodded. “Have you piloted one before?”
“I’ve driven just about everything at one time or another. Military training had us piloting tanks, trucks, ships, scooters, flyers… you name it. Even if I don’t know the model I can figure it out.” Harris replied.
“Behind this building. Please be careful. Repairs out here in the colonies can take months.” Bonn tossed the keys.
Tawn snatched them from the air. “I’ll drive.”
Harris followed her out of the store and around the building. “Seven hundred apiece for the repeaters. Even with his fee we’re gonna come out of this with better than twenty thousand credits to our names. Of course we’ll have to divvy out all the costs before splitting, but I think we’re gonna be in great shape.”
Tawn’s expression turned to one of confusion. “Wait… seven hundred a piece and we have a hundred fifty one to sell? This can’t be right… that’s over a hundred thousand credits!”
Harris laughed. “What? No. That’s…”
Tawn could almost hear gears turning in the stump’s head.
Harris looked out the window and then at his partner as the flyerlight lifted from the ground. “How’d we screw that up? The Foxes are gonna bring in a similar amount. And the charges at least half that again. Are we talking a quarter million credits?”
Tawn nodded with a smug grin on her face. “I think we are, Mr. Gruberg. We could be sitting on over a hundred thousand credits each!”
A half dozen samples were collected and returned to Bonn Herrik at Bella Sports, Inc. Within days a line of prospective buyers wanting a look at the merchandise stretched out the door. Tawn stood at the ready giving demonstrations.
“This is the Saxon Repeating plasma rifle. Model ML-DX2. The same weapon used in the war by yours truly, and by Mr. Gruberg over there. He used this very weapon at the Helm Engagement. Any of you familiar with the Helm Engagement?”
Blank stares and several head shakes of no were returned.
“At the battle for Helm, more than twenty-six thousand soldiers from both sides were dropped in for a fight to claim the planet. Mr. Gruberg there was one of those twenty-six thousand. The fighting was over in about ten days. Thirty-nine DD Marines were the only living beings who walked away from that fight. Mr. Gruberg was one of those thirty-nine. And he was carrying one of these… the Saxon Repeating model ML-DX2.
“This is the weapon that won that fierce battle. It’s ideal for home defense, sport, or on the lowest settings, game hunting. Now, come up and have a look. We have six lines for the six samples. When you’re done there, we have another six lines for the Fox-40s. Take your time at looking them over, but please be courteous, as others want to have a look too.”
Harris said, “You sure you didn’t do sales before? That even had me wanting one.”
Bonn leaned in. “Keep making that speech to each new group. That alone might drive the price up by another hundred credits. Look at them. They are excited. I’m excited.”
Tawn grinned.
Bonn said, “We have close to a million colonists here on Bella. And most of them are outdoors types. I expected a good response, but nothing like this. Those repeaters might fetch a thousand credits each. Even the plasma charges could be bringing in fifty. Is there any way to acquire more of those? The supply we are providing is tight.”
Tawn replied, “It’s not illegal to transport a plasma charge. Don’t know that we’ll be able to get any more of the military grade ones, but standard charges? Those can be had for five credits all day long on Domicile. And that’s retail. We could be back in a day with a full cargo of those. Probably what? Fifty thousand units?”
Harris slowly nodded. “Possibly.”
Bonn asked, “Any way to make that happen before the auction? We could sell out a load like that alongside these weapons.”
Tawn rubbed her chin. “What we gonna do with the weapons in the meantime? Is there an ultrasecure vault around here we could rent?”
Bonn replied, “You could store them right here. I have room. And I’d be willing to provide around the clock security. They’d probably be more secure than they are sitting out there at the spaceport.”
Harris let out a deep breath. “You sure you can keep them safe?”
Bonn nodded. “I’ll see to it myself. Go… bring as many charges as you can. Take the flyerlight to the spaceport right now. I’ll handle the crowd here.”
Harris frowned. “We have one big problem with that scenario. I need jump fuel. A full tank. I have enough to make it home, but not enough credits in my account to purchas
e more. Or to purchase the charges for that matter.”
Bonn asked, “How much is a full tank for your ship?”
“Roughly eighteen hundred credits.”
Bonn held up his account bracelet. “Here’s a three hundred thousand credit advance. You’ll need that for the inventory.”
Harris stared at his account as it filled with more credits than he had ever seen in one place. “Whoa. That’s insane. Almost makes me uncomfortable carrying that much.”
Bonn smiled. “If this goes off as I think it will, you’ll both have that in your accounts when it’s over. Now go. Make this happen!”
***
Harris emerged from the wholesaler on Domicile with a grin on his face. “Three and a half credits each. And we have seventy thousand of them. I tested the quality on a couple, they were decent.”
Tawn said, “I just hope Mr. Herrik can move that many. Might kill off our pricing for the military grade units.”
Harris nodded. “I was thinking the same, but even if we only get ten credits each for these that’s… close to half a million credits. These are the outer colonies, charges will be hard to get. I think we’ll do better than ten.”
The happy duo returned to the city spaceport to await delivery of the goods.
Tawn sat at bar in the terminal, sipping on a premium beverage. “I was just thinking about Bax. She was gonna sell that first batch of weapons for about fifty-five hundred credits. I just did the math basing the cost on what we could have gotten some of those for from the wholesaler here. That cargo should have been close to fifty thousand in cost. Something doesn’t add up. You think they were stolen?”
Harris shrugged. “Couldn’t say. With the wars over and the politicians looking for cash I heard they were auctioning surplus military hardware for ten kilos a credit. Could be somebody lucked into that cache of weapons with a bid and she was moving it for them.”
ARMS War for Eden Page 8
