Book One - Chapter One: iii

As Cillian drifted off to sleep, a dream coalesced before his mind’s eye. The objects of the dream world materialised below his disembodied awareness, the shapes gradually coming into sharp focus. He found he was looking down at a large showroom filled with ships and bustling crowds.

His awareness descended closer to the ground and honed in on a group of four individuals standing before a ship. Two MUD humans appeared to be engaged in a lively debate with a Mierese, whilst an impassive Ustur watched on. Cillian recognised two of the human figures; the dream projection of himself and his friend Toal.

“Are you insane?” yelled Cillian. “You want six thousand Atlas for this pile of junk? I’ve seen Jorvik Pirate ships with fewer holes in them.” Cillian gestured towards the rather battered Fimbul Mamba that was parked behind the Mierese trader.

“Take it or leave it,” said Miisel in a bored tone of voice. Miisel was a Mierese ship trader and Cillian had been haggling with her for the past five minutes. “It’s a good ship, never seen battle before. It’s a steal at this price.”

“It certainly is stealing. Stealing of our money,” growled Toal. He crossed his burly arms across his chest and sneered at Miisel. “That rust bucket excuse for a ship wouldn’t even be able to achieve warp speed without being torn apart. Cillian, I am going over for a closer inspection.”

Toal left the small group and headed towards the ship.

“We live in a time of peace, my friend,” said Miisel as she rested a hand upon Cillian’s arm in a reassuring manner. Cillian could see she was switching tactics. “And as a result of this long period of peace, this ship has never seen battle. Not even a skirmish.” But her unctuous smile and suddenly sycophantic behaviour was betrayed by the light of greed that shone within her eyes.

“What nonsense,” scoffed Cillian as he disengaged his arm from hers. “How do you explain all the blast marks on the side panels? Or the countless tiny indentations in the hull from bullet strafing? Or the —“

“Okay, okay,” snapped Miisel. “So it has seen a bit of fighting in its time. Fine! I will take it down to five thousand eight hundred Atlas on account of that. But,” and she lifted a finger up in the air to reinforce her point, “it is structurally and mechanically sound, even if it has some superficial damage.”

“Well, we will see about that. But the price is still too high,” said Cillian as he unstoppered a hip flask he had produced from a back pocket. He took a quick swig from it. “You see, I have very little money and can only afford to pay… three thousand Atlas at the most.” Cillian smiled widely, his white teeth shining brilliantly.

“Three thousand Atlas?” cried Miisel in mock offence. “Oh no, I can’t possibly sell such a fine ship for so little.” She turned to her Ustur companion. “Eugene.eldr, how much does a second-hand Fimbul Mamba in good condition typically sell for on the Galactic Marketplace?”

Eugene.eldr quickly referred to a handheld device before responding in a deadpan tone of voice. “Approximately three thousand Atlas.”

Miisel’s light purple skin paled, and her enormous eyes widened in alarm. “You fool! We discussed this already,” shrieked Miisel shrilly. “You were supposed to say six thousand Atlas.”

“I apologise. I thought you were requesting a factual response to your question.” Eugene.eldr then turned towards Cillian before saying, “Whilst the market value of this ship is in fact only three thousand Atlas, I must advise you that this ship is being sold for six thousand Atlas.”

Miisel let out a groan.

“Fantastic,” said Cillian. “So we are all agreed upon three thousand Atlas? Absolutely splendid. It looks as if my colleague has just now completed his inspection of the ship’s exterior.”

Miisel opened her mouth to respond, but Cillian had already departed towards the open hatch of the ship.

As Cillian neared the boarding ramp, Toal put out a hand to stop him.

“It’s done,” whispered Toal excitedly as he gave his overall pockets a shake. Cillian could hear the jingling sounds of metal bolts clinking against each other.

Moments later Miisel caught up with Cillian and rushed past him, her boots clanging loudly as she ascended the boarding ramp. Mid-way up her ascent, the boarding ramp groaned ominously before suddenly giving way entirely, and the metal platform came crashing down to the showroom floor in a shower of sparks.

“Hmm… maybe we need to re-negotiate the price,” said Toal as he stroked his braided beard. “Doesn’t look to me like the ship is structurally sound after all.”

A dazed Miisel looked up at the two MUD humans. She had lost her footing during the fall and was presently sitting on her backside.

“This is truly an anomalous occurrence,” interjected Eugen.eldr. “I conducted a thorough inspection of this ship only the day before yesterday and found no issues with the boarding ramp. For such a catastrophic failure to occur can only mean one thing, someone has tampered with —“ but Eugen.eldr got no further as Toal cut them off mid sentence.

“Well now,” said Toal loudly. “This is very disappointing. I wonder what other structural issues we will find.”

By this stage, a small crowd of people had gathered around the ship, no doubt attracted by the deafening sound of the collapsing boarding ramp. Toal strolled over to the left landing strut and give it a kick. A metal panel fell off.

“Oh my,” said Cillian. “This ship is literally falling apart.” He was now speaking to the crowd. “What shameful business practices is this deceitful Mierese ship trader involved in? No, I think three thousand Atlas is far too much. What do you all think?”

“Far too much,” said a Punaab from the crowd. “You should be ashamed of yourself, Miisel.”

“Indeed, she should,” said Cillian as he walked over to the flabbergasted Miisel. “Mmm… I think I will take this ship off your hands for two thousand Atlas. And you should be grateful, because I guarantee no one else will buy this ship after what was witnessed today. So, we have a deal?” As Cillian said this, he extended out his hand in what looked like a gesture to help Miisel to her feet. Miisel reflexively took his outstretched hand without thinking, but before she could even begin to stand, Cillian had already begun to vigorously shake her hand.

“Fantastic. Well, now that we have shaken on it,” said Cillian as he continued to shake her hand. “And all here are witnesses of said handshake, then our business dealings are now concluded. Two thousand Atlas have now been transferred to your account. I have enjoyed this trade thoroughly.”

Miisel simply sat there with a stupid look on her face. It was universally accepted that a handshake was tantamount to an official approval of a business deal. She had been beaten, and she knew it.

Cillian breathed in deeply and smiled before saying, “I love living in this time of peace, don’t you?”

Miisel glared daggers at Cillian.