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BARGAINING POSITION Copyright 2010, 2011 by Carl Bussjaeger This work is copyright 2010, 2011 by Carl Bussjaeger, and distributed directly by the author. The author has not been paid for this work by any publisher. Researching, plotting, writing, revising, and proofreading more than 94,000 words involves much work. The author cannot afford to continue producing works for readers' amusement unless he is compensated for his efforts. If you received this manuscript from a source other than the author, and have not provided compensatory payment to the author for this work, the author has not been given any incentive to continue working for your amusement. In polite societies, claiming the right to uncompensated labor of other people is known as "slavery". You may contact the author to provide feedback and payment at: http://www.bussjaeger.org/tipjar.html [email protected] The author suggests just US$5.00 per copy, a price which compares very favorably with Amazon.com ebooks, but even a buck or two will help buy food and pay bills. Thank you. I'd like to publicly thank L. Neil Smith for allowing me to play with some of his literary toys, my publisher for taking three chances on an unknown writer, and Jaq and Nigel who may vaguely recall encouraging me to write 'way back in the Stone Age. Dedication For James P. Hogan June 27, 1941 - July 12, 2010 A true gentleman and great writer who is missed by many. Prologue Roll the bones. Rush The engineer entered the room. Pausing near a console, he glanced at the technician positioned there and gestured. Bowing in compliance the technician rose and glided out of the room, leaving the engineer alone. The engineer addressed the empty room. “Stados, may we speak?” From all about him, another voice sounded. “Certainly. I would enjoy the company. It is not as though I were busy. Did you come to say farewell?” “Yes,” the engineer answered. “And... for reassurance, I think.” “Reassurance, sir?” Stados asked, seemingly in surprise. “I am the one casting myself into the endless darkness; not you.” Its laughter filled the room. The engineer shifted uncomfortably. “Please, Stados. You only make this more difficult for me. This only the second time we have sent a person out on a starprobe. I am still forcing myself to believe that this is proper. If you were to die...” He paused to gather his thoughts. Then, more deliberately, “Stados, your people are new yet to us. We are still learning how to live together. We know so little about you; There is no reason that you should not be immortal. To send you out into the unknown, where you could...” “Where I could see great things,” Stados asserted firmly. “Where I could have adventures, Casso.” He went on, “Yes, we might be immortal. All the better a reason for us to crew the starprobes. The journeys are long.” A sly note tinged the voice as he continued. “And great danger can also mean great opportunity.” Stados paused for emphasis, then moved on. “Casso, you did not force me into this. Recall that I applied for this job. Quite willingly. And I am being very well paid.” Casso indicated doubt. “But still...” Stados interrupted, “Think, Casso. I have been granted the power of a starprobe. I am going out to discover new things. And I am being paid to do it. This is not something for you to regret.” Light laughter echoed. “Unless, of course you wished to go in my place?” he added slyly. Casso's face showed amusement. “Ah, if only I could stay my breathing so long. As you say, your people are better suited to the stars. For now. But you will be out for a long time; my people hope to change that.” “I will look for you in the stars then, Casso. Our people make good partners. We should share all this. Certainly the profit is adequate for all.” The voice changed tone with the abrupt shift of topic. “Have you reviewed last term's profits from the Sciloriad door? My accounts expand rapidly. Given favorable interest during my trip, I could own the homeworld when I return.” Status screens lit, and figures flashed. The engineer watched briefly. With an expression of doubt, Casso said, “I mistrust your investment strategy. It seems more likely that you will have to sell the probe to pay off your debts.” The screens blanked, flashed white, and went black. “Bah, you have no true understanding of my strategy,” Stados objected. “I am leaving my accounts in the hands of my own agent, following a very specific program. I will be rich!” “This agent? A person I know?” Casso inquired. “Ah, No. Merely an expert system of my design. Useful with money; but of no true potential. I wished to be sure my instructions are followed precisely.” Casso laughed. “As is proper; in this way you can only blame yourself when you lose all.” A rude noise sounded from the speakers. “Ha. What do you know? Be reassured. I will be back. I will be rich.” Relaxing somewhat, Casso replied, “Yes. I am reassured somehow. I believe your optimism is affecting myself. Thank you, Stados.” “No,” the voyager countered. “Thank you, Casso. For the chance.” A brief silence, then, “You should go now. It is late for you. Rest. And it is time for me to sleep, as well. The engine fires as we speak.” “Journey well, Stados.” “Oh, I will. You may bet on it.” Casso laughed again. “Ah so. Yes, I heard that you commissioned yet another probability routine. It cost most of your trip bonus. I do not understand why you wanted it now, though.” “Casso, all life is a gamble. I thought it wise to be prepared properly. And there is always profit in careful gambling.” “Perhaps. But with whom will you game?” “With the universe, Casso. It is time; goodbye, friend.” “Goodbye, Stados.” Chapter 1 With a rebel yell, she cried more, more, more. Billy Idol It was an unlikely appearing object. An ungainly bundle of silvery balloons, caged and set atop a framework of girders that terminated in a box sprouting a dozen fins. As the spacecraft backed through deep space, a barely visible haze of plasma jetted out of the fission-heated drive-and-power module. The Improbable was a deep space craft heavily modified – bastardized, Bill once said – for asteroid prospecting and light mining. Deep space indeed, on this run, far from its usual haunts; as it decelerated towards Jupiter's leading Trojan position. A Trojan position is an oddity of gravitational resonance, sixty degrees ahead and behind of a planet in its orbit, that acts almost as if it were itself a gravitationally active body. Objects in a Trojan zone tend to stay there. This quality is useful for keeping things like space stations and and comm relays in place without expending a lot of station-keeping thruster propellent. Jupiter being a massive planet, by Sol system standards, his Trojans should gather up all sorts of interesting things. Or so Bill and his companion Jeannie Hunter hoped. But at the moment, the stocky, prematurely graying man had other things on his mind. “That, my lovely lass,” he sighed happily, stretching his arms before wrapping them around the brown-haired beauty cuddled against him under the retaining sheet, “was a performance worthy of the highest paid artist at Galena's joy house on Pallas.” “Why, 'karisto, sir,” Jeannie murmured back. “I try.” “What, you?” the stocky man retorted. “I was talking about my performance. Damn, I'm good.” As Bill smirked, Jeannie pulled back the sheet and pushed him off the edge of the bed. The Improbable was still under light acceleration, so he hit the floor before sailing very far. “Thwwpt.” She blew him a raspberry, and sat up in the cooling bed. “As I recall, it wasn't you who got the job offer. Lights on.” she finished in a flat tone. The room illuminated itself gradually, allowing the couple's eyes time to adjust, revealing a tidy little room equipped with numerous wall lockers and drawers where necessities could be be stowed safely in free fall The large, comfy bed, equipped with bone-protecting e-field generators, stretchy silken sheets that kept people safely stowed in free fall, sound system, and small fridge, was the sole furnishing in the bedroom, and one of the Hunter's few true luxuries. The couple preferred simple pleasures. The bed was handy. As Jeannie, tall and shapely, attractively athletic without overdoing it, started to stand, an insistent chime sounded. “Whups!” She reached for the headboard and held on lightly as the ship's acceleration ended. “Later than I thought. We be here, “she observed brightly. Her chestnut hair formed a free fall cloud around her face. She preferred to keep short for convenience, but Bill liked to run his fingers through long, silken strands and admire the highlights she had added. Bill, already somewhat distracted by Jeannie's nude form, let himself drift off the floor. As he floated towards what had been the ceiling moments before, he put out an unconcerned hand and stopped his drift. “Ah, microgravity. Weeks at a tenth g were getting tedious,” he declared. From his vantage point he observed another nice thing about free fall Jeannie's generous assets were quite perky when unencumbered by gravity. Bill smiled and wettened his lips. “Hey, babe. I've got an idea. Let's get back in bed and practice so I get the job offer next time.” With that he pushed off and glided to a one point touchdown against the sheets.” He reached over and stroked the woman's firm gluteus, and took advantage of the changing target as Jeannie spun around.

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