16
The shabby little transport was clean, no trace of the log in the system or on hard copy. It would have made things a lot easier, of course, but Briggs wasn’t particularly disappointed. He was a negotiator, not some Company thug. Without a challenge, what was the point?
Not that there will be much challenge here . . .
He could see how easy his job would be from outside as he’d watched his guards finish their search, Vincent watching over them anxiously. The three people he’d come to see were in terrible shape, grubby and tired-looking, not to mention rather fragrant. Even outside, the warm Bunda air pressing down from a cloudless night sky, he caught the unpleasant scent of their nervous sweat and unwashed bodies . . .
. . . and that horrible musky smell . . . That seemed to be coming from the dark wilderness far below, where unseen creatures shuffled randomly through the undergrowth. He hoped his runners would cave quickly; Bunda was one of those stinking Company murkholes that wouldn’t be livable until they
cleared the green, hooked up a compressor, and paved it over with plasticrete.
It shouldn’t take long; the trio backed against the wall inside had the helpless look of the desperately unprepared, and would probably give up the data before he could even finish his pitch. It was anticlimactic, really.
Assume nothing. Be ready, be sincere, don’t forget what’s at stake.
Briggs breathed deeply, realizing that he was a little nervous himself; he tended toward overconfidence when he was uncertain. If they didn’t have the log, it was all for nothing . . .
No. They had it. Positive thinking.
When Nirasawa called the shuttle empty, Briggs stepped aboard, silently reaffirming the names with the faces as he motioned his men to move back, give him some room. They did the best they could, looking strangely dwarfed by the MAX at the back wall. Vincent made no move to leave, leaning against one of the pilot seats, although his man Cabot had already disappeared. Briggs thought about asking the botanist to do the same, but decided it didn’t matter; he would know better than to open his mouth—and if he didn’t, or if things got out of hand, one less paper-pushing biotech was no great loss.
He smiled gently at the ragged trio, remembering the psych profiles, open conversation to begin, see which way they’re already leaning . . .
“My name is Lucas Briggs,” he said, letting the little smile fade, letting his face take on the sadness that their drama inspired. “As a Weyland/Yutani representative, please allow me to express our deepest sympathies to you for what you must have experienced on DS 949. I’m not sure if you’re aware, but there’s a possibility that one of our executives may have been involved in perpetuating this tragedy. I want to assure you that the matter will be thoroughly investigated.”
No one spoke, although Briggs saw that they were
listening very carefully. He looked down, a touch of embarrassment in his gaze when he raised his head
again.
“On a more personal note, I’d like to apologize for keeping you here all day, it’s entirely my fault. I’d asked Mr. Vincent to hold you until I arrived, and there were some mechanical problems on my ship, a connection break … in any case, I meant to be here hours ago and was unable to send a message to tell him I was delayed. I’m truly sorry, and if you’d like to take showers or eat before we talk, stretch your legs, perhaps, I’d understand.”
It was Katherine Lara who shook her head, taking the lead. “No, thank you. We’re fine.”
Briggs nodded, relief in his eyes, that’s what you think, you people need to bathe, smiling a little. “Well, that’s good. I won’t keep you any longer than necessary.”
So far, not much of a read. Lara was nervous, but obviously still the one to negotiate with. The convict, Jess, held so very still that Briggs decided he was probably struggling to hold his temper; his profile suggested anger problems. And Ellis seemed—tired, perhaps. Dazed. Briggs couldn’t see his alleged injury and decided that it was probably some sort of head trauma. They were all still listening, that was the important thing; the bit about a Company exec being involved should have erased any doubts they had about his honesty, and his apology for keeping them waiting had established his sincerity.
Now, then. They’re as ready as they’re going to be.
Briggs clasped his hands in front of him, as if pleased and excited about what he was going to say next. Nice, not to have to fake all of it.
The suit was so full of shit, he squeaked. Jess had been a little surprised at the admission of Company involvement, but it was as carefully designed as the rest of his patronizing little act.
“Trust me, I’m your friend”—the windup, and . . . here’s the pitch!
“The Company has authorized me to make retribution to you, for the terrible losses you’ve suffered,” Briggs said, his black eyes shining as though he were about to give them some incredible gift. “Substantial retribution. Not only will you receive the Nemesis’s full bonus, we want to make certain that all of you feel that your futures are secure with Weyland/Yutani.”
Arrogant, lying, backstabbing bastard—
“Whether or not you decide to continue with the Company, we’ll see to it that your contracts are renegotiated to bring you the financial gain and freedom that you deserve, for having been the unfortunate victims in this matter. Whether or not a Company employee was involved, the incident at 949 never should have happened.”
Briggs finally paused, apparently having shoveled enough for the moment. The twin muscle boys hovered in the background, arms crossed, their faces unreadable. Kevin Vincent, the asshole who’d kept them stuck on the shuttle all day, was the only one with any expression at all—and he looked mildly terrified.
Jess wanted to spit in the suit’s eye, but kept his face as blank as the threatening bookends that flanked the Max; he’d promised to keep cool, Lara was calling this one and he wasn’t going to blow it.
“We—appreciate this, Mr. Briggs,” Lara said, “really. But all we want is to get back to Earth, try to put all this behind us.”
Briggs nodded, smiling even wider, and for the first time since he’d come aboard, Jess saw the thread of steel buried beneath the layers of plastic.
Will the real Lucas Briggs, please stand up . . .
“Whatever you want. I’ll make the arrangements tonight.” The grin sharpened, glittering as brightly as Ms eyes. “Although there are a few final details that I need to get confirmation on, before we conclude our
business. Specifically, there was a ship’s log that was supposed to be downloaded to the Nemesis, from a Company transport on board the DS station. The Trader?”
Lara had this one nailed. He’s good, but not as good as he thinks.
Lara nodded slowly. “We downloaded it.”
Briggs was dancing inside, Jess could see it. He shot a glance at Ellis, but the kid didn’t seem to be tuned in, he was watching the bodyguards. Or maybe the Max.
“To Nemesis?” Briggs asked, too quickly.
Lara shook her head. “No. Well, originally to the Nemesis, but there were some problems with the initial transfer, so we backed it up. I sent a locked copy to one of Pop’s—Commander Izzard’s—personal channels. He had a few accounts that weren’t on Company file.”
She smiled weakly before pushing on, a sheepish look on her face. Jess was impressed.
“I know it’s not reg, but he seemed to think it was important to have a duplicate—and it was an order. And since the Nemesis was destroyed …”
Briggs tried to put on a look of admonishment, but couldn’t quite pull it off. “You’re right, it wasn’t regulation. Personal transfers of Company information is not only unethical, it’s illegal.” A pause, a conspiratorial look that made Jess grind his teeth. “But, since you’ve admitted it openly and you were following his orders, I see no reason for any disciplinary action . . .”
He smiled, the all-forgiving suit once again. “. . . and to be honest, that log is important to Wey-land/Yutani. I’m just glad it survived the, ah, tragedy.” • You used that one already, Briggs, how ’bout “catastrophe,” or maybe “misadventure”? Jess hated him and what he stood for, he was a liar and a front man for liars, for murderers, keep it together, Jess, don’t give in—
Another shark’s smile, and a nod to one of his guards. “So . . . account number?”
Lara met his gaze evenly. “I’d like some insurance first, Mr. Briggs. That we’ll have safe passage back to
Earth. In fact, I’d like to get to Earth before we turn that information over to you.”