"That is a muchos fascinating story, senor" Valeria had collected herself a modest plate of various vegetables and fruit and nodded. "When you speak of the nebula and watching the shield effects on the station you make it sound very beautiful. It is too bad it is such a cardamine infested place."
Cardamine. The cause of all the pain. And those mutated semi-human scum that peddled it. Francisco's blood boiled. Did the businessman at their table have his snout in the trough too, or did he merely tolerate it happening around him?
"You're a smuggler of some distinction Senor, and we're certainly not your only clients.”
Ronaldo and Trueno shot a glance across the table towards Francisco that screamed "Shut up", but Francisco carried on, unabated. Pulse quickening, voice dangerously quiet, he enquired.
"That's not a reputation you get from smuggling tea. So tell me, do you move Slaves and Cardamine Senor, or just merely tolerate the odd shipment?”
The hairs on the back of Truenos neck zinged as he heard the rude and open questioning of Eddie at the hands of Francisco.
"Ai caramba, everyone is sober and the insults already fly? Surely Francisco was no businessman!" Trueno thought to himself, then he picks up his glass and pretends to drink to hide his smile. "Now, now, at least he has the cojones to ask what everyone wants to know, this will be interesting..."
As he sees that the cook enters to bring some new dish in which might destroy the tension he gives him a sharp look so he would wait with that plate till asked to serve.
"Eddie, Eddie, Eddie...one false word and you might end up dead or buying at quite a nasty new price" Trueno already starts to calculate new prices and plots in his mind, still waiting what will happen.
Brisbane had been expecting this topic to arise, though the sheer directness of the question caught him unawares. Putting down his wine glass and turned to face Franco, looking him directly in the eye.
"I appreciate your directness Senor Franco and naturally you are correct, our reputation was earned working for anyone willing to pay which includes the Outcasts. I admit we do carry cardamine despite my personal revulsion to the drug."
His face began to tighten, the kind look and charming smile had given way to a sterner, colder visage. The eloquence faded into blunt impassioned words.
"But I have never, nor will I ever, carry living cargo. The practice is barbaric and shameful to the entire Human race. I am no saint Senor, I am aware that I carry tools of destruction and decay on a daily basis so long as they are tools that must be used, consciously, physically, by someone, by choice, I sleep soundly. I will not allow any pilot under my banner to carry Slaves, nor Wildlife. I don't even permit them to carry Furs, nothing that requires the harming of a living creature will grace the holds stamped with my logo so do not insult me by insinuating that I am sub-Human trader of flesh."
Brisbane broke eye contact for a moment, taking a slow deep breath to compose himself he met Franco's eyes once more with a kinder face and eloquent tongue.
"I apologise Senor, it is a valid question though one that causes me a great deal anguish. Others of my trade have no issue with transporting Slaves, they see them no differently than crates of ore, as simply another commodity to sell. I cannot abide by that, in fact I seek to cease the practice altogether, a little naive perhaps given my rationale but it is my goal nonetheless."
He gazed around at the table looking slightly distraught but wearing an honest smile.
"It's quite ridiculous really, a smuggler trying to abolish slavery."
Chuckling despite of himself he sipped at the wine hoping his little joke had lightened the mood. Just in case he ran through the floor plan of the villa in his head and prepared to run for his life.
Valeria had stopped and blinked at Franco's question. Her eyes turned over to the corsair and then to senor Brimsbane. However at his response of his absolute disdain of slavery, Valeria's eyes showed some relief and a keen observer could see she would definitely like to ask him if he would consider giving some info on those slave-traders.
Seeing Trueno and the others, especially even the waiting cook, she knew better than to pour oil into a small fire and thusly kept herself quiet, moving a half-filled glass to her lips.
Playing around with the fiery rum in his mouth Trueno listens to Brisbanes explanations "well, at least he tries to be diplomatic... bueno bueno"
He swallows the rest and puts his glass back down.
He sets up his broadest and most friendly smile available while trying to "help": "Now now, hermanos- our dear señor Brisbane is here after all to seek business so he no longer has to stain his hands with the handling of direct products of slavery, isn't that so?'"
Ronaldo smiles at the fiery discussion taking place at the table.
"Ah yes, true corsairs, tongues sharp as swords yet quick to make calls. Mi hermanos, don't you think that I have not looked into his operation before talking to him? In comparision to some of the other people we've worked with this senor is cleaner si?
Now I believe its time for desert. Flaming Caprihnas!"
There used to be pictures here
once known as Richard Farbridge, OBE and Ronaldo Benitez
Brisbane nodded towards Trueno, feeling more at ease with the situation.
"Indeed, though professionally I must show no bias towards any business partner. For the sake of appearances and to maintain the fragile balance of black market commerce I play the devil's advocate, loyal only to those under contract and swayed by lust for credits."
He relaxed further upon hearing Ronaldo's vote of confidence, though the thought of having his company checked out caused an unsettling feeling in the pit of his stomach.
"Ah desert, my favourite part of a meal. I must admit I do have quite the sweet tooth..."
Ronaldo nodded towards one of the servers. Almost immidiatly the doors from the kitchen swung open. A large platter full of a variety of desserts and fresh fruits was offered to mr Brisbane and the rest of the Benitez. A second server walked in with a platter full with flaming tumbler glasses.
" Our Resident sommelier also has a great touch with stronger beverages and cocktails. He developed this one specifically for the family. Flaming Caipirinha's! Take care not to sniff the fumes coming off of them untill the flame dies or we might need to get a doctor, si! "
The group finished their deserts and cocktails. Conversation continued about the economic state of the omegas and the sigmas. The night grew older and the get togheter was moved to one of the terraces with a great view of the City of Europa.
" I think its time for bed mi hermanos, our guest and I have to visit the artifact quarries tomorrow"
All the Benitez and mr Brisbane went for their respective rooms.
There used to be pictures here
once known as Richard Farbridge, OBE and Ronaldo Benitez
Edward awakened the next morning with his head still buzzing, last nights dinner had gone by in a blur. He recalled a tense moment with Franco then a round of drinks accompanied by desert. What ever the Benitez called strong drinks obviously meant starship fuel with a slice of lemon.
He bullied his brain into recalling what happened afterwards...A view of a city...And Trueno handing him drinks. Economics...A bit of laughter...Then back to his room.
Aside from Trueno trying to get him drunk, thankfully nothing stood out as stupid or disrespectful.
After rousing himself fully Brisbane donned his suit from the previous night and headed to the kitchens for a spot of breakfast. Much to his delight the kitchens had Bretonian tea, he requested a large strong cup and some toast, accepting the chefs advice about Cretan apricot jam. Admittedly the chef seemed surprised at the simpleness of the order.
"Gracias, thank you very much. Could you tell Ronaldo I'll be in the courtyard if he comes looking for me please. Thank you again."
He found a stone table over looking the gardens which suited him nicely. Relaxing in the cool morning sun, he prepared himself for the tour of the quarry and the final leg of the negotiations.
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