Negotiations

[Meanken]

Chaff had gotten another call. Another person who wanted to meet him in a cantena to talk in person about a job. Second time this week. Maybe this guy would show up. Least he had a name for this guy. Admiral Cross or something. He remembered the last time he worked for an admiral. That didn't end well. Whatever. These things happen. That's what makes life interesting.

The cantena was one Chaff happened to know well. That was good. Meant he had home field advantage, so to speak. Not that he was really worried about this guy. If he was a fleet guy, then that probably meant he didn't get his hands dirty often. Chaff was sure he could handle the guy if things went south. So he put his feet up on the table, hands behind his head as he waited for the dude to arrive.

[member=Cross Ikon]

 

[Cross Ikon]

Oh, oh. Another meeting with another mercenary in another cantina. I didn't mind, though. Booze, decent food, and sometimes even a pretty woman or two. The man I was looking for was named Chaff. Rogue Mandalorian or some such.

And of course that one guy who put his feet on the table. So inconspicuous, man... I sat down across from him, cocked my slugthrower, and grinned.

"Nice to meet you, Chaff. Before we start, I'm going to need you to put your weapons on the table. Except for those wonderful concealed... blades, are they."

I saw the expression on the guy's face change.

"Ah, so you were expecting a goosestepper when you heard the word 'Admiral'. Don't worry... I'm not an Imperial, or even any sort of governmental official at all. I'm simply a drunken ghost of the galaxy's past. And I'm totally serious. Put the gun on the table."

[member="Meanken"]

 

[Meanken]

Well, dude was right about that. Sure as hell wasn't what he was expecting to walk in. Chaff shrugged when the dude insisted he put the gun on the table. Whatever. Blades were more then capable of killing the guy if it came to that, and as he had already observed, Chaff couldn't remove those if he wanted to. He put the shiny new gun on the table. Saw a few people staring as he did it. Didn't matter. Dudes in charge knew who he was, they remembered what he did last time they tried to kick him out.

"Well, nice to know you're not gonna be annoying about this. You don't gotta worry about me attacking ya. Not unless ya give me a reason to."

Chaff took his feet off the table.

"So, what's the job?"

 

[Cross Ikon]

"It's not a job so much as a command position. I'm in need of well-trained ground commanders, and somebody pointed me your way."

I pulled a bottle of cognac and a couple shot glasses from the inside of my jacket.

"Now, you'd still be able to do your normal business, as long as it doesn't interfere with my people at all. You'd be in permanent command of a squad, and I'd have people to help you on your jobs. Even I indulge in some mercenary work from time to time. Keeps me sharp."

I opened the bottle, and filled the glasses, offering one to the mercenary.

"Think of us as a military-for-hire that lets you take money on the side. I'm in command, but I like to do this kind of stuff. Interact directly with my employees. Shoot stuff. Cause small riots. Just fun."

[member="Meanken"]

 

[Meanken]

Chaff was considering the offer. He didn't usually go for this kind of thing. This Cross dude hadn't been the first PMC that tried to hire him. But the other ones had wanted a full time commitment from him. To Chaff, that was just BORING. Not to mention a waste of his time, since that sort of contract typically involved a lot of sitting around doing jack all while ya waited for the next person to hire em. Not to mention the dudes in charge thought they were Imp drill sergeants. Expecting him to be all 'Sir, yes sir' and such. Chaff did not stand for that at all. But this dude didn't seem to be like that, and the terms were decent. But, regardless of how good the terms of the job were, there was still one very important question. The most important question.

"What's the pay rate?"

[member="Cross Ikon"]

 

[Cross Ikon]

"Oh, something pretty high, I think. My brother is the one who actually throws my money around for me. My face just looks better when we're hiring people."

I drank the shot of cognac.

"Honestly, it's less of an actual salary, and more of a cut of whatever pay we get from that mission. Me and my Vice Admirals are usually the ones who get paid the most... Because we get involved in everything. But you get a pretty big cut if you're involved in the mission, too. The paycheck doesn't really come from me, see?"

[member="Meanken"]

 

[Meanken]

Stupid. What kind of fool lets someone else spend their hard earned money? Chaff didn't care if he was related to the guy, you never give someone else your money unless you're getting something back in return. There's being laid back, then there's just being frigging lazy.

"Do you at least have an idea of how much you make?" Chaff asked with a raised eyebrow. "I get it's not gonna be an exact number, so give me whatever estimate ya got. Or, if that's too much trouble, just tell me who you've done work for. I need some kinda idea how much I might be able to make off of this before I sign on, even if it's a complete guess till I get to your money guy."

[member="Cross Ikon"]

 

[Cross Ikon]

"Oh... Was my feigned ignorance insulting? I actually didn't want you to ask me about the pay anymore, ha ha."

I grinned and took a pull of cognac straight from the bottle.

"I'd say you'd probably make about twenty thousand on a small job, and double that or more on a big job."

I took another pull.

"And it's not nice to ask the boss how much he makes. That implies distrust. Very wise of you."

[member="Meanken"]

 

[Meanken]

Chaff threw the numbers around in his head for a moment, figured 20-40k per job was a good number, and that was on top of whatever he made on the side. It'd work. No idea why this guy was pretending to be a moron. What, this guy think he was just gonna say 'Oh well, who cares about the pay, sign me up'? You don't go into any kinda job till ya know if it's worth the time and effort to do.

"Alright, last question for ya. What kinda armaments ya sporting?"

[member="Cross Ikon"]

 

[Cross Ikon]

"Me personally? Or my ships? Or the crazy custom weapons that my brother makes?"

I took another pull at the bottle. This guy looked like he was mentally questioning my sanity.

[member="Meanken"]

 

[Meanken]

"Your ships." Chaff said. "And anything relevant ya might got in those ships. Ya know, what kinda hardware ya got? Military hardware. Guns. Tanks. The fun stuff."

[member="Cross Ikon"]

 

[Cross Ikon]

"We've got six updated Hapan Battle Dragons, my Duchess, which is a double-sized and refitted Dragon, and fourteen Nova battle Cruisers. Plus a small Star Destroyer and an Action VI interceptor refit. Nothing to sneeze at, I'd say."

[member="Meanken"]

 

[Meanken]

"Na, nothing to sneeze at. alright, I'm satisfied. Count me in." Chaff said as he extended a hand over the table.

[member="Cross Ikon"]