The Hollow Tavern was always busy on Fridays. Automatic payrolls filled the accounts of employees from businesses the previous night at eleven, and getting drunk with the women of negotiable virtue who frequented the Hallow Tavern was the perfect way to end a long, hard week. Generally assumed to be that type of woman, Javin was telling the third man of the night that she was not interested in looking at all of his tattoos. As she watched him walk away, she noticed a shiny ring on his finger and laughed at a joke she once heard about fidelity. How did it go? She took a rubber band out of her jacket pocket and tied her dark hair back in a ponytail, thinking about her own lessons in fidelity, or lack thereof, learned from her boyfriend of six years. Gerardo was a great guy. She loved bringing him out with her friends because he was definitely the life of the party. During those tender moments, the things he confided in her made her feel both special for being his confidante, and protective of him because life had not smiled on him. His father left him when he was a baby, and he was raised by a mother who cared more for her dogs than for him.
Javin sat at her table in the far corner of the Hallow Tavern waiting to speak to Mr. Hughes, the leading authority in the Criminal Syndicate. The government of Myna always sought to replicate the governments of Fiera and Vialta, which were the richest and most successful countries in the world with as fine a culture as it had an economy. In those countries, laws restricted companies from exploiting their workers, and taxes were low enough that companies could afford to hire more workers. This generated revenue that propelled the two countries into a competitive, yet friendly, race to develop the best forms of technology. Both countries had machines doing the majority of the tedious manual labor, leaving the citizens to expand their horizons in art, music, and literature. The government of Myna, however, wanted to skip all the hard work it had taken Fiera and Vialta to achieve their state of efficiency and just copy each law nearly verbatim. This methodology proved to be a failure, and they abandoned the laws which lowered taxes because government revenue was just not enough to counter its spending. The current state of affairs in Myna was that taxes were high and regulations on private businesses were too strict to make it worth hiring a full-time labor force. Because of those reasons, most of its population was unemployed. Myna was not, however, a poor country. Organized crime came to the rescue of this country, unofficially replacing the government. Almost twenty years ago, Colt Hughes, an extremely successful computer programmer from Vialta, moved to Myna and invested in the local gangs looking for stability. In exchange for his money, he demanded a cut of future profits and an agreement that they would only take new work from him instead of the usual private businesses. It had started out as a collection of fractured gangs and turned into the Syndicate, which consisted of Hughes at the top, distributing jobs to his lieutenants. His lieutenants were the former gang leaders, who still controlled their former territories and continued life as normal while the Syndicate took a cut from the top of the profits. It worked well for them because they saw a dramatic increase in workload, so profitability made up for the new hierarchy.
Hughes had used his background in technology to find high-tech ways around the legal system. The security forces of Myna were all computerized so as to prevent a police officer from showing up at the time of one of the Syndicate’s “shipments” at Riverhead or to prevent Port Marr Bayside patrol from stumbling on Syndicate pirates stealing from Vialtan ships. In fact, standard shipping to Myna, Bragar, and Eldeese would guarantee a pirate attack, and causing harm to the people aboard was secondary to taking its cargo. The only safe shipping method was by using Syndicate smugglers, of whom Javin was the best. She had the fastest ship in the world, and it was rumored to be heavily armed as well.
Patience made Javin the best smuggler in the Syndicate. She knew she was being watched and, most likely, something at her table was bugged, so she kept silent and nursed her mug of ale while fending off drunken dock workers. She also knew how to play her hand well enough to get what she wanted, and Javin was here because she wanted to ask Hughes if she could be an independent smuggler. No longer the innocent little kid begging for a chance to join a smugglers’ crew, she knew she had to do it now before beauty was no longer in her repertoire of manipulation techniques.
When she started, she had provided special services to the members of the Syndicate who could get her the furthest in her career. As she thought to herself, doubt started creeping into her mind and while it was hard for her to admit it, she did not always know what it was she wanted. Javin pushed back all of those demeaning memories and took another swig of her drink. Still, memories of limping away from laughing sailors near dawn would not stay back. Guilt kept reminding her that although she had taken the cowardly route, which other girls she had known very well did not, at least she was able to limp away. The dead cannot learn the lessons taught to the living. A solitary tear ran down her cheek, which she wiped away and focused on her impending interview. Was she going to have to provide those services again? Why bother asking a question to which you already know the answer, Javin, she thought.
Javin always knew when her opponent was bluffing and after waiting as long as she had in the tavern, she decided it was time to get the check and leave. With one gulp, she downed the rest of her ale and signaled for the check. A bubbly young waitress with short blonde hair dropped the bill on her table and then quickly went to serve a rowdy bunch of sailors. Looking around to see who might be watching, she reached into her pocket for the five grings she knew her drinks to cost.
Grings were the planetary currency agreed upon by governments of Myna, Eldeese, and Fiera and Vialta ages ago. This was necessary because rogue Jaadugar would conjure gold, spices or precious gems out of nowhere. Grings were magic-resistant and could not be conjured. The High Council of the Jaadugar provided the proper formula to create the small metal coins, so no Jaadugar had the ability to just make him- or herself wealthy at the merest whim.
“Not a single pair of eyes watching me,” she muttered to herself.
Still eyeing the crowd, she opened the leather book holding her bill, and a pair of keys fell down on the table.
Smooth, she thought.
The bill was a sheet of paper telling her to go to the Employees Only entrance just past the bar. Inside, she knew, Mr. Hughes’ henchmen would be waiting for her. What the key was for, she had no idea. Javin grabbed her black denim vest and put it on while she walked around a corral of round tables and brushed passed the groping hands from the patrons at the bar.
Through the door, she found a blaster pistol pointing right at her. A blaster pistol belonging to a large young man with the blondest hair she had ever seen. He also appeared to have just enough intelligence to pull the trigger and little room for thought about anything else.
“Take your key out slowly,” said the blaster pistol. As she took out the key and held it out to her side he told her to go try to unlock the door on the other side of the room.
“Here’s how it works, my lovely. If Mr. Hughes wants to see you then the key will turn.” He spoke slowly, as if he had memorized this line while she waited at the bar. He followed her with the barrel of the pistol. “If it doesn’t turn, sweetie, you won’t be around to find out why Mr. Hughes wanted you dead. After all, there is a reason he chose not to ignore you sitting in his bar for the last few hours.”
As nervous as she was, she could only think to roll her eyes and mock the threat. She slipped the key into the lock and could feel the lock begin to give way when she stopped.
“Well,” she said. “Here goes…”
A part of her wanted to do something sarcastic like pretend the key wouldn’t turn, but the genius with the gun would probably not understand sarcasm and kill her. She turned the key, and the door unlocked. Her forehead began to bead sweat, but Javin was all about portraying coolness, so she just shrugged and gave a cute smile.
“Thanks for your lovely welcome, tall, blonde, and stupid. It looks like Mr. Hughes wants to see me after all.” Sarcasm fell from her full lips. “Now go sit down before you fall down.”
Such an oaf, she thought.
As she walked into the room, she saw Mr. Hughes talking to two of his men through built-in monitors on his desk. The room was dark but for the bluish glow of the monitors on his face. He was a middle-aged man way too thin and puny to be the leader of organized crime across the country. He was known for his abilities with computers and was a well known programmer in Vialta before taking his billions over to Myna to give direction to the divided crime industry. His dark, graying hair had already receded, and his glasses showed tiny reflections of the monitors.
“Hi Javin,” he said with only a brief glance towards her. “Sit, sit, sit. I’ll be with you in a minute.”
As she sat, she overheard one of the men tell Mr. Hughes he had to cut short their meeting. He made it known that the new arrival should have waited until the meeting was over.
“Yes, yes, Mercer. I understand. What can I say? She’s a pushy girl, right Javin?” Hughes said and she returned a shy smile. “You go finish your business in Hollis, and I’ll see you at the meeting.”
One of the screens went blank. The other screen was out of her sight, but when Hughes mentioned his name was Isa, she knew right away that it was his second in command. Hughes seemed to prefer innovative and smart people to the typical seniority levels that were inherent in organized crime. Loyalty meant nothing to him if you were not progressive enough to offer up ideas and new ways to make the business grow. On the other hand, once your great ideas ran out, you faded into obscurity. That is, unless you were still ambitious, in which case, you wound up dead. She knew she could not push her luck with Hughes, but she had been itching to become an independent smuggler and asking her current boss was not getting it done.
“I’d better get going too, Mr. Hughes,” said Isa. “Mercer might be offended by this young lady’s intrusion, but the war is over now and the next phase can stand to wait a couple of weeks until the meeting.”
“Thank you, Isa. Don’t mind Mercer’s impatience. He’s the least popular man in Alorya right now,” responded Hughes. “The war is blamed on him and his band of Jaadugar. He’s anxious to get his profits and take over command of Eldeese.”
Even in business and political arenas, Mercer was known for falling in with whichever group served his purposes. It was a mystery to everyone as to what motivated him. When the Jaadugar declared war on the ULO, Mercer returned to his master in what appeared to be a submission to guilt on his part. Samajhdaar took him back in for some reason which was an equal mystery to the ULO. The only thing for certain was that Mercer had worn out his welcome everywhere.
“He is a fool. He will never live that long with the new materials we’re designing for the ULO. We should sever ties with him and let the Alliance finish him,” Isa responded.
“No, no, no, Isa, then the ULO would follow the money trail he would leave behind back to us. They won’t kill him. They need him to be the villain for the war until the public responds more favorably to their droid army. No, he’s going to have to be killed along with the rest of our wartime alliances. We have to continue to build this business or we’ll be passed by younger, more ambitious hoodlums,” Hughes finished with a chuckle. “We’ll talk more at the meeting.”
He flicked a switch on his wrist computer, and the screen went blank. His desk then folded down the computer screen, and a blotter returned in its place. He wrote something Javin could not see in the date he and Isa were probably talking about earlier. He then smiled and looked up at her.
“What can I do for you, buddy?” he asked.
“I brought these for you,” Javin handed him a box of cigars.
“Thank you, thank you very much,” he said as he put them in his upper left drawer. The desk was beautiful mahogany, but it was probably more computer than wood. “I hope they aren’t made with Fieran tobacco. You know about my allergies.”
He was allergic to everything. She knew he would probably throw out the cigars, but it was better not to come in empty handed when you’re trying not to leave empty handed.
“I came to ask about going private?” she asked.
“You want to ask about you taking that magnificent boat of yours and becoming a competitor?” Hughes asked while reclining back in his imitation leather chair and folded his hands down low on his lap. “I’m sorry, how is this going to help the Syndicate?”
As long as he’s asking questions, he is willing to negotiate. Javin was going to start off low and work her way up.
“The Syndicate will work out fine because I’ll be doing their private shipments at half my usual rate. Also, I’ll pay a monthly operational fee of one thousand grings,” Javin said as she paused to consider her next thought. “I’ll also fall under your direct supervision.”
“A lieutenant?” he barked. “You’ve only been working for me for two years and you want to be a lieutenant?”
“Not exactly a lieutenant, sir,” she added.
“A lieutenant who operates her own equipment and takes a bigger cut of the profits than anyone else,” Hughes interjected. “I’ve got guys working here for thirty years who don’t make that much.”
“With all due respect, sir—”
“Watch it, Javin,” Hughes warned, wagging a finger at her.
“Yes sir. But I paid for my boat with my own money. I do all my own repairs, and I’m not a financial burden in any way. The other lieutenants also have twenty, thirty guys working for them. I’d be independent; just me and my boat.”
Hughes swiveled his chair and faced the window looking out over the city. He was tempted to tell her his life story in the Syndicate but knew she probably would not be interested. He kept his lieutenants in line with exorbitant salaries and enough power to keep them from getting ambitious. This one seemed, he thought, to like her freedom more than the money or power.
“You just lost your boat Javin,” he said casually. “I’ve got a dozen armed men around it now, ready to kill anyone who comes near it.”
She had overstepped her bounds, and Javin was getting worried. He probably set his men after the boat the moment she left it docked. Hughes probably had artificial intelligence working closely with him, and for all she knew, his desk could be a death-dealing robot, armed and operational.
“Today is your lucky day, though.” He walked behind her and started massaging her shoulders. She quivered with fear. “I’m going to let you buy it back from me. I accept your offer and for an extra thousand grings a month, I’ll let you gradually pay off your debt owed to me for the boat. In five years, she’s going to be all yours.”
He stopped the massage and walked behind his desk and sat in his chair. They held each other’s gaze for a moment, and then he activated a comm link on his desk.
Javin put her head in her hands and let out a deep breath she seemed to be holding since she walked in. She was going independent, but she would be under his direct command for the next five years. It was his way of giving her what she wanted while he still kept an eye on his best smuggler. She listened to him telling those men guarding her boat to stand down for Javin only.
“I’m going to let my lieutenants know what’s going on and that should be that,” he said with a warm smile. “We’ve got a war to clean up after so the profits should be extraordinary. No one will mind from this level. People down on your level aren’t going to be too happy with you though. Young upstart jumping the line. You’d better watch your back.”
“Thanks,” she said walking towards the door. “I’m heading over to Fiera now to test that theory. How do you think I should handle it?”
“Just keep your mouth shut and smile that pretty smile you have.”
Moments later, as she walked down the dock, she stopped to look at the Sea Charger. It had started out as luxury cruiser fifteen years ago when she bought it. By now, they had many newer and faster models to replace it, but Javin put every dime she had made towards making the ship fast enough to overcome the magical currents that currently prevented lesser boats from surviving tumultuous oceans and seas. She also armed the Sea Charger with military-grade armor and weaponry. Two years ago, she came onto the smuggling stage like a firecracker and generally made more than double the profits of the next best smuggler. The Syndicate had her smuggle small arms to both sides of the previous war, which was the most profitable cargo on the planet. The Sea Charger was as much a part of her as her clothes or her hair. This was going to be uplifting. For the first time, the boat was no longer hers. But, for the first time, her life was.
