Men of Business

Cartagena is a cesspool but it is a lovely cesspool of the Abyss, one of the few worth visiting for most people, a symbol that people associated with the Abyss much like Omega with the Terminus and the Citadel with Citadel space. Thus of course it is the essential place to have holdings if one wants to be taken serious out there. Everyone knew this and all the big players of the Abyss thus had holdings there.

Thus it follows that it is an essential place of business and many do their business there. The reaper war might have killed most of interstellar travel and trade but there was still trade to be done. In particular there was a rather big deal being worked on here.

Teroch Alor waited in the Marshal's compound, one Balac Beten and one Jate Vizla at his sides, as he sat on a very fancy chair, a very fancy hat on his head.

Cartagena was a crossroads, a haven, a fortress, and yes, it was a cesspool. But really, it was his kind of cesspool. Here the strong, the clever, and the lucky thrived. Here the weak, the stupid, and the unfortunate were either killed, or plowed under. Titan had a base on the station of course, a modest complex adjacent to the inner hull of Cartagena's massive outer ring. A minor holding as befitting a minor power.

That was another thing about Cartagena, leaping above your station was an excellent way to get cut down. A year ago, Titan might have gone for it, he might have gone for it, expanded aggressively, carved out his own chunk of the station. Of course, a year ago there had been no Reapers, no husks, no grinding, bloody stalemates, crushing defeats, or even bloodier victories. A year ago Titan had been on the rise. A year ago Titan had been whole.

They no longer had such luxuries. What they did have however, was determination, a degree of cold, calculating ruthlessness, and a number of physical assets. Stations. Ships. Soldiers. Minerals. Tech.

And him of course, they still had him.

But still, it was not enough, not nearly enough. They needed to reestablish networks, accumulate contacts, allies, old and new.

The man entered the Marshal's compound flanked by a krogan and an asari, both in sleek, segmented, black and green armor that concealed virtually every feature beyond vague silhouettes. Both moving with the awkward grace of the newly augmented. The man himself was tall, pale, a pair of long scars curling up his cheeks. A long, black coat draped around his shoulders.

This arrangement was crucial enough to merit Nikolai Aleksanders's personal oversight.

The batarian in the chair stood, head held straight and his posture just emanating power. The two fellow batarians at his sides just stood there as still as statues, each tracking the trio that had entered with cold eyes of those long in the business of such things. Welcome Mr. Aleksander, welcome to Cartagena. It doesn't appear to be your first time judging by your entourage. Better then I hoped really.

He held up a hand and then quite suddenly a table appeared along with another very fancy chair carried out by another pair of batarians and Teroch Alor sat once more, Come sit and let us discuss your merchandise. It is something that quite interests me, what you've done with the Theocracy's work on animals. There are not many who would even consider touching anything to do with that damnable group but you, you are emulating them. The man shrugged then, Such is life I guess.

All four eyes blinked then, You know, I remember the days when everyone out here only used a gun and just a gun to kill other people. Now we have so much more from so many sources. Asymmetrical warfare they call it. A pillars damned travesty I call it but one must stay ahead of the curve or die out here. The batarian leaned forward, every movement calculated as his elbows came to rest upon the table, fingers interlacing, The Beast, the expansion of the Big three of the Terminus, the Terminus systems in general, and all those new krogan settlers amongst other things. So many new threats for us all.

There was nary a glance back as Balac stepped forward, placing a datapad on the table. I am sure you have guessed that I wish to acquire some of the beasts you have. Teroch Alor leaned forward a bit more, his gaze hungry, How soon can you have what is on the list ready for me?

Nikolai inclined his head politely to the left, slight but not shallow enough to give offense, deep without being obsequious. The greeting of a professional to a respected colleague. Neither the weak nor the rude lasted long here, and appearing as either to the man before him would have been a grave, grave mistake. The Marshal's had bounced back after the war, their influence stretched across three systems, and the base on Cartagena itself was...substantial.

The businessman quietly sat at the table listening to Alor's greeting, the krogan and asari silently taking up positions on either side of his chair as he studied the Grand Marshal. The man was good, even for a batarian, at manipulating his body language. Attempting to glean any information on that angle would most likely be futile.

Lovely.

Then the datapad. Nikolai reached out, his movements languid, graceful and pulled the slate towards him. "As you said Grand Marshal, we do what we must to survive." He gave a slight shrug, "it's adapt or die, and we have no intention of fading away just yet. New threats or no. As for your request,"

The scarred man scanned the list running calculations in his head. Calamity in the Abyss. Forge on Noveria. Red Forest was still being cleaned out and repaired after its reclamation from certain unsavory elements. Taking into account current stockpiles and the Forge's new expansion.

"Two weeks. Not taking into account possible relay delays."

The hunger in the eyes vanished, the desire satiated for now. He leaned back, relaxing in the chair, now at ease, Two weeks is excellent. I must admit I was expecting a longer time period. His fingers now unlaced, his arms came to rest on the sides of the chair. The location that I wish to have the beasts delivered to is also on the datapad. Will you need any assistance with the delivery?

The scarred man didn't so much as glance down, the target date and time, plus the location had already been quietly memorized and filed away in the vast storeroom of his mind.

"Well," Nikolai smiled slightly as he folded his hands, a dry, humorless twitch of the lips. "We always aim to impress Grand Marshal. And thank you for the offer, but assistance will not be necessary. You have my assurances that your purchase will be delivered on time and without incident."

First rule of these types of dealings. Caution. In all things. Every small side comment betrays some piece of information. Every unconscious tic some clue. Show your counterpart only what you wanted to show them. It went without saying that weakness should not be one of those things. Especially if you were a group like Titan, only maintaining image through the judicious use of smoke and mirrors. Especially if you were dealing with a group like the Marshals, whose word carried the weight of a small nation.

"Now, regarding payment."

Second rule. Everyone wants something. Everyone always wants something. There is no charity in this world, only careful investment.

I can offer payment in a variety of manners. He gestured once more and then a server appeared, carrying a pot of some sort, But before I discuss that I must have a drink. If you want some, I am told it is quite similar to... tea. Teroch Alor patiently poured out his desired quantity of the liquid into one of the two cups brought out as well and after enjoying the aroma of the drink along with a sip, started to speak again, Now, I can of course pay you in just credits if you so desire but lets be honest, such payments are quite dull.

I can offer eezo, untainted of course. Another sip. I can offer people. Specialists in various fields or basic workers, all of looking for ways out of the Abyss. Another sip. Alternatively, I do have quite a few combat ready individuals at my command, all of willing and able to travel. Another sip. I can offer land. I hear the seaside homes on Dorandus are quite beautiful. It's summer all year long and nobody ever attacks that place for have the Marshals have had a stranglehold there for centuries. Another sip. Speak of any other possibilities you might desire and I will consider them Another sip and then he waited.

"Thank you, that would be most appreciated." Taking the pot himself, Nikolai poured a measure out into his own cup. The smell was savory and rich, the taste almost spicy. It was good admittedly, but at the same time, bore an only passing resemblance to a nice cup of Earl Gray. He wrote it off with a mental shrug, the drink was excellent and the Grand Marshal was his host.

Now, onto the matter at hand: The future of the galactic economy and, by extension, the credit was uncertain. Half the experts were of the opinion that they were edging out of the worst of the depression, the other half seemed to think that they were sitting on a bubble that was about to collapse any day now. The average investor was anxious and jumpy. A solid portion of the galactic network was still severed from the relays. No, tangible assets were preferable to credits. Far less risky and he couldn't afford to take chances, especially with Titan in its current state.

Untainted eezo was very very appealing, but the corporation's handful of Abyss mining operations were coming back online, albeit slowly, the Amerigo project with Velactatum Industries had promise for further expansion, and, in any case, as the other transtellar corps pieced themselves back together they brought with them the promise of reestablishing old deals. So no, not the eezo nor any other mineral resources that would come in time.

Additional well armed and well trained troops? Again, appealing, but keeping the glut of troops he currently had supplied, paid, monitored, and busy was eating up an alarmingly large portion of his already strained resources. He loved his men but he was under no illusions, as soon as he ceased to be the most attractive option the defections would start and the corruption would set in. Already there had been a smattering of incidents. Nothing a bit of discipline couldn't fix but still, it was the start of a worrying trend.

A few sorely needed contracts with the Ad'Thoro Pact, the Ta'liat (religious fanatics that they were they still paid well), and one or two warlords looking to augment their forces had managed to halt the downward spiral but the balance was delicate. Another battalion or two could send them crashing back down and he was loathe to terminate the employment of any of his soldiers. They were still his, his men; they had served him faithfully, bravely, and effectively and he would not reward that kind of loyalty by abandoning them. So additional troops were out of the question.

Land, aside from the credits, was perhaps the easiest to turn down. One by one the network of black sites, shipyards, and bases in the Terminus and Abyss were falling back into Titan's hands, most had been abandoned and others had taken up residence in the intervening year, a few had defected to rival corps, warlords, or other powers after the Pulse or had been discovered and taken by force, they would be dealt with in time. The rest were either still empty or had remained loyal. Between those and the Primes (Calamity, the Forge, Port Stormwatch, New Nicaea) he had more than enough to keep him occupied. The acquisition of new property would only further divide his attention, his limited resources, and his funds.

"I do believe that your offer of workers and specialists would suit my interests best." Labor was sorely needed and the Choir swarms could only concentrate their efforts in so many places. To say nothing of the need for experts, doctors, researchers, technicians, engineers. That kind of knowledge was an investment and critical to Titan's continued survival. They needed new products, new breakthroughs, they needed to regain their place on the cutting edge or be plowed under.

And he would not let that happen.

A nod and a very slight tilt to the left, Of course. They will come from a variety of fields. Now the questions are where should I drop off these people and are there any very specific fields you want people in?

The tilt was matched by another from the human. Equal in depth and duration. "If it is no trouble to yourself, I would like to request that precedence be given to ship, vehicle, and weapon designers, and experts in the field of bioaugmentation and genetics. Also, if you could give any members of the Octaveratus Weapons Guild you can find highest priority it would be greatly appreciated. As for the drop off,"

Nikolai paused for a fraction of a second, running down a list of Titan's remaining holdings; cross referencing the convenient with the clandestine before finally arriving at what really was the most obvious choice.

"New Nicaea. Bithynia. Anatolia system. The Redoubt. It's a company colony, and the cluster itself is FTL accessible. Several weeks from Cartagena, less from your own recently acquired holdings if I recall correctly."

Done and done. Teroch Alor, Grand Marshal, leader of the Marshals, raised his drink and smiled, To business Mr. Aleksander. May it last a long time.

Nikolai raised his glass in turn, a razor thin smile on his lips. "To business. May it endure the harshest storms and the darkest depths."

Business.

It was only business.