In the end, it became clear that Jonah really did have absolutely no compunctions regarding the tech’s origin, and given that it was in good condition, would be happy to buy it from them.
He was offering 10k for the lot of 7 adrenobytes, an additional 5k for the Reactimax analogue, and an eye-popping 50k for the Party Array.
“I admit,” he exclaimed, as though he were sharing a secret he simply could not wait to spill, “I have no idea why the list price for that one is so high! Useless without Receiver Arrays, and with so few of Tyrinno’s citizenry being [System Integrated] worse than useless to them!”
This was all delivered with the same, gleaming, salesman’s smile Jonah had worn since they entered, implying that he didn’t feel strongly either way about this fact.
If he feels at all…
HE DOES! KINDA FUCKED UP, TBH, BUT I DIDN’T CODE HIM!
“I’d like to keep that one,” Cora said, drawing surprised looks from all present. “What? We are not a big group, guys, even if we add some manpower, we need to be able to keep track of each other. Like you said, Hawk, this would have saved your ass. I don’t know why it didn’t work for the others, but I have a hunch it’ll work for me.”
DING DING DING DING! CORRECT, CORA! THOSE RANDOM MOOKS WERE NOT [SYSTEM INTEGRATED] BECAUSE I SHUT THAT THE FUCK OFF FOR MOST OF THIS WORLD! YOU ARE!
Thought it’d be something like that.
[BIG SYS], any way I can do that with my companions here? Would probably go a long way towards goodwill and maybe even convincing them I’m not Linnea.
YOU’RE ALREADY ON YOUR WAY! KEEP WORKING WITH JOCASTA!
....right, thanks.
“Jonah, does this work both ways?” Kyra asked, “or is it just a way for this bitch to keep track of us?”
“Both ways, dear girl, both ways,” Jonah answered placatively. “A Receiver Array provides all the same informational benefits as the Party Array, up to a party size of 5, leader inclusive, along with 3 support slots.”
Hmm, not exactly enterprise software, but a gooood way to establish an inner circle.
“How much are Receiver Arrays?” Cora asked.
“Much cheaper!” Jonah exclaimed with his characteristic verve, “A mere five thousand apiece!”
Cora grimaced. That was still just out of immediate price range, even with the extra cash from the other implants.
“Right, well, this won’t be useful till I can afford those, and I can’t, so I’ll hold off on you popping that in my head, if that’s alright,” Cora sighed. “Hawk, how long do those Microsomes keep these things stable?”
“Honestly? No idea. Pretty much always ripped shit then sold it same day,” the big girl answered, scratching at the back of her neck in thought.
“May I examine the Microsome in question?” Jonah asked, and Hawk handed it over. Cora noticed the unquestioning trust this band of intensely distrustful people had for the Techgraft, and had to admit, she found it odd. Jonah, while surface-level pleasant, got more off-putting every moment she spent in his presence.
His monocle whirred and spun as he turned over the tiny box in his immensely dextrous hands. Cora got a little nauseous when one wrist did a slow 360 degree rotation as he examined the entirety of some axis or another.
“Hmmm, well, Miss Tagliari, given your previous profession, this unit was well fit to purpose. However, for long term storage, you would begin to see deterioration in item quality within days,” Jonah explained, giving the box back to Hawk with a sympathetic pat on the back of her hand.
Tina Tagliari, huh? Cora thought, once more finding higher interest in Hawk than the goings on around her. Yeah. Gotta admit, doesn’t really suit her. I’d try and get a nickname going too. Nice that with SAG there was an easy way to make my own official.
“I can offer you a much higher quality model, that should store such a delicate piece of tech indefinitely, however. Half price, as a thank you for acquiring such a wealth of merchandise for me, a mere 1k Patrician!” Jonah exclaimed, all enthusiasm once again.
Cora nudged Hawk.
“Patrician?” she asked, unsure why she’d picked the giantess to ask. A moment of soul searching instantly revealed it had simply given her a good excuse to touch her.
“Money, Linnea,” Hawk answered, not even bothering to give Cora the ‘are you an idiot?’ look she’d gotten so many times today. Apparently people were getting as tired of giving it as she was receiving it.
Right, duh, Cora thought.
“I’ll take it,” Cora announced, “just subtract it from the profits from the other tech. Means you owe us what, 15k?”
“14, Miss Light, 14,” Jonah replied, with the kind of indulgent chuckle you’d give a mischievous child. “A steel trap this head is, and my prices are my prices.”
As he spoke, he reached behind his back, and somehow came out with a stack of bills, flourishing them like a deck of cards between his hands. He presented the fat stack to Cora, and she counted 140 bills, in 100P denominations. In addition, 1 50P bill and 2 10P. She almost pointed that out to Jonah before she remembered {Money Maker}.
Wonder if there’s any limit to this? I know hedge fund managers that would sacrifice newborns for a guaranteed 5% flat profit.
“A pleasure doing business, Jonah,” Cora lied, as the odd, mechanical man handed her a slightly shinier version of the Microsome Hawk had shown him earlier. Cora cracked its lid, confirming it contained the sparkling neural net they’d given him for appraisal.
“And you as well, Miss Light!” He said, with that everpresent smile, “I look forward to seeing you again, to install that dashing piece of kit!”
Cora kept up her brightest smile as she waved goodbye, inwardly dreading what that might entail.
Only plastic surgery I was considering back home was a bit of jawline tightening, now I’m actually planning to get a net put in my brain. Needs must, I guess.
The bell tinkled again as the group stepped back out into the street, only to find it much changed.
The flow of humanity had ceased along this particular thoroughfare, and in fact, the street was almost empty. Even the stands were deserted, though Cora could pick out a few occupied windows in the buildings behind them as their previous occupants waited to see the showdown would play out.
In place of the hundreds of bustling people that had filled it an hour prior, there stood maybe a dozen men wearing the colors and accoutrements Cora was quickly beginning to realize marked someone as a Link in the Chains.
“Tinny, Berg, back inside with ye,” Iain commanded, voice calm as he looked over the waiting enemies. The non-combatants scurried back into the relative safety of the Techgraft’s office.
The man in the center of the Link’s rough semi-circle chuckled, and stepped forward.
“Don’t suppose you still have our compatriot’s tech on you, hmm?” he asked, the largest of the men, bald head crisscrossed with chain tattoos that ran all the way across his face. It said something about how bad they looked, that Cora noticed those before she saw the knife he lazily twirled between his fingers.
“One piece,” Cora responded, falling into Cadey. If she could stare down a possessed billionaire after he’d killed all her friends, she could stare down this walking brand risk with some pointy metal. “But I’ve got that one dog eared for myself, unfortunately.”
“A shame,” Chain-head responded, “Clanker in there sells for a lot more’n he buys. Cost us people and money now, you have. Bet a nice noble lady and her fancy slaves have some good kit on ‘em though, so all’s well that ends well. Why don’t you come out in the street here, let us get a better look at you?”
“Not my slaves,” Cora growled. She looked over her companions. None had moved, though Hawk’s fists clenched and unclenched with an excited energy.
Why haven’t they charged us? I think we’d win, but they outnumber us big time, that counts for more in a brawl than it does in a gunfight.
“Iain?” She asked, question implicit.
“Eh, could try’n wait 'em out, lass, they won’t be tryin’ anythin’ ‘neath this canopy, less they fancy a messy end,” he said, scratching at his chin, never taking his eyes off the Links. “But I’m of a bit of a mind ter just take this lot. Thinkin’ mayhap you’re onto something with that Party Array, thinkin’ mayhap we pull enough loot out of these idiots to see what ol’ Jonah can do with that.”
In Cora’s peripheral vision, something had changed. She glanced over at Hawk, realizing that the change was more of an absence of motion than anything else. The woman had frozen, hands stopped mid clench, only moving parts of her were eyes that twitched frantically with fury.
“YOU!” she roared, and in an instant, she’d crashed through the barricade, arms outstretched, and into the fray.