Sylpheed paced his quarters on FP9. Been a while since he'd seen space and he needed to get out more. But there were still preparations to be made. Preparations begun when he'd walked off Buffalo with no intention of returning any time soon. Sylpheed smiled as the buzzer for his quarters rang.
"Enter."
"Mr. Ryans is it?" the speaker was a smooth dressed man in a pin stripe suit and tie, if he noticed the size of the man he was addressing he didn't show it, nor did he make any reference to the decor of the room, smart oak paneling, leather chairs and other delights of the decadently rich. There was even a faux fire burning in an approximation of a fireplace.
"That'll be me" Sylpheed motioned the man to one of the chairs, "brandy?"
The smooth man smiled and nodded his assent, Sylpheed poured him a glass and handed it to him. "Don't worry it ain't poisoned. Need you alive for what you can do. Not dead for a whim."
The man simply looked at him "And what is it you require?"
"Your skills against certain targets, broad spectrum really. Because I require money, vast quantities and I need it with as little fuss as possible. I ain't go the means to get it legally and I got no stomach for trading. So you are going to steal it for me."
Sylpheed sat down with his glass and sipped from it.
"Can you do it?"
"Can you pay, is more the question. If you can then it can be done, a credit here and a credit there, it will soon stack up to a wad of cash you cannot imagine." The man drank his brandy. " Of course if you cannot pay then I walk away right now."
"How about 25% of everything you take?"
"How about 50%? I feel this is fairer given it is I taking all the risk."
Sylpheed stood up. "Look I need money and if you can't accept a reasonable deal then I will find someone else. I'll give you 40% even that'll see you enough to retire if you feel like it."
"Reasonable, eh? I see. That will prove sufficient. Money will be deposited into the following account," he handed over a infopad. "Every 30 days. Less, of course, my cut."
Sylpheed nodded his agreement, 40% was always going to be the final outcome, and he was happy with it. Sylpheed showed him to the door. Returning to his chair he smiled. Life was looking up.
Saint Del is considered a holy healer of diseases of children, but also as a protector of cattle.
Floating alone in the cold of space, Syn pondered the emotions he was feeling. Fear it seemed, fear that this ship would be his tomb, fear that the gods had died and left him alone in a universe that despised him.
He had walked tall, feasting on whoever crossed his path, relishing in the delightful slaughter of innocents. He had lived with folks depraved as himself, all looking for a way to worship the gods. The gods had left, long ago and now it seemed all their power had gone too. Nothing worked, the engines were dead, the guns lifeless. The life support was barely functional as well. This ship might as well be made of stone for all the good it would do him.
He turned off everything about himself he would not need, motor functions, higher brain functions, everything except the ability to be roused should his ship ever encounter another living soul. One last thought entered his mind before he went under.
"Hunger."
Saint Del is considered a holy healer of diseases of children, but also as a protector of cattle.
"Gentlemen please, the items you have delivered are sub-par at best, you can't expect me to pay full price for this crap. I mean this regulator mechanism has a fracking blast hole in it. It'll be a week before I can fix the damn thing. I'll give you half what we agreed and no more."
"Half? The hell with you. If you don't want it, maybe we should take our business elsewhere?"
"I didn't say I didn't want it, I said it wasn't worth much beyond scrap. And scrap prices is what I'll give you."
"Frack you, we should smoke you here and now."
Sylpheed thumped the wall as the two "businessmen" left. He needed those parts to fix a ship, and for all that this was a part of space people where people weren't too fond of the law, this was also a part of space where good components were hard to get. He needed a ship, stuck out here on the arse end of nowhere wasn't doing him much good. Certainly wasn't getting him closer to Liberty, closer to getting things done.
Sylpheed used the freeport's computer system to check if the businessmen's ship was still docked. It was. Sylpheed smiled, grabbed a dufflebag containing his few possessions, and left his room.
Saint Del is considered a holy healer of diseases of children, but also as a protector of cattle.
![[Image: Del1.png]](http://i14.photobucket.com/albums/a344/Spiderjerusalem1979/Del1.png)