David Edelman - Infoquake

"'Third party'?" said Brone mockingly, his gaze suddenly focused on the engineer. "Your master and I are business partners now, Horvil. Surely you know that already. Natch needs some quick cash to get in on Margaret Surina's game. He goes looking for all those business associates who like him and trust him enough to make this kind of investment-and he can't come up with a single name. Certainly a mathematician like you can see the inevitable approach of consequence."

The engineer gave his master a wounded look. "You could have come to me."

Brone walked over and regarded Horvil with an otherworldly stare. The engineer flinched out of reflex. "Be realistic, Horvil. What would your Aunt Berilla think? She'd start moralizing. Or worse, she'd start asking for shares. No, Natch would rather go to a faceless organization like Creed Thassel, where he can work strictly on a cash basis." Brone knelt slowly on the floor and leaned forward until he was close enough to kiss Horvil's nose. "And do you know why?"

The engineer was trembling. "Why?"

"Because he wants MultiReal all for himself," he rasped. "And he doesn't want anybody to get a piece of it-especially his old friend Horvil, who will understand how it works much better than he does."

Natch had had enough. He stalked around the workbench and stood toe to toe with his old rival, causing Horvil to scurry across the room for cover. Brone was at least ten centimeters taller than the fiefcorp master, but the ferocity in Natch's eyes lent him a presence that dominated the room. "All right, this little business arrangement ends right here," he hissed.

The bodhisattva arched an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

"I mean I'm ready to pay off your loan in full, right here, right now. And then you can get the fuck out of my apartment and never set foot in here again."

Brone pursed his lips like a proctor considering the request of a dim-witted pupil, then sidestepped Natch's glare and took a seat in the chair that Horvil had so recently vacated. Within seconds, he had retreated back into his detached emotional fortress. "Margaret Surina's money."

"Of course."

"I predicted you would do this," said Brone, crossing one leg over the other. "But I will admit I did not expect you to hit Margaret up for money to pay me off so soon. I thought you would be smart enough to let bygones be bygones and recognize a potential alliance when you saw one."

"You really think I'm going to stay in debt to you one minute longer than I have to?"

Brone shook his head in that maddeningly supercilious way of his. Natch suddenly wished the man were here in the flesh so he could muscle him outside and toss him over the balcony. "Where is the mind I used to respect so? Where is the killer intellect Figaro Fi used to speak of? Natch, that pittance of a loan I gave you was an act of trust. It was a foundation on which to build.

"Think, Natch! You know how much trouble you had finding investors. The drudges despise you across the board, and you can certainly imagine what the Defense and Wellness Council thinks of you right now. What happens when Margaret Surina grows tired of you, as she surely will? Who will you turn to then? Or are you naive enough to think you can do all this alone?"

Natch had retreated back to the safe fortification of his workbench, where he stood silently and wondered how much of this he could take before he severed Brone's multi connection. Why hadn't he done so already? Horvil stood in the corner and watched their tete-a-tete with a miserable look on his face.

"Natch, when are you going to realize that you're in over your head?" continued Brone in a completely even tone of voice. "You must know by now that Margaret isn't dealing with you in good faith. I can see it in your eyes. You don't know what she's up to, do you? What makes you think you're not being made a fool of?

"And here sits Brone, the man whom you wronged all those years ago. He is angry. Yes. He hates you and would love to see you dead. Yes. Indisputable facts. But when you get into a tight spot, Brone shows up with Creed Thassel money to bail you out, and offers you a loan at Vault standard rates. He may insult you, but at least he puts all his cards on the table.

"I cannot be any more forthcoming, Natch. I want to throw the past aside and start a new business. You should be asking yourself one question now: Why trust your fate to a woman whose motivations you don't know, instead of trusting your fate to an old enemy whose intentions are written all over his face?"

Natch tightened his grip on the metal bar and slowly advanced towards his old enemy. A miasma of fury was radiating from his every pore, clouding his vision and blocking out the sound of Horvil's whimpers from the corner. "I don't trust my fate to anyone but me," he said.

He reached the chair and took a crushing swing at it with his bio/logic programming bar. But it was too late; Brone had already cut his multi connection and vanished.

"You lied to me," Natch growled like a hunted tiger.

"I was planning to tell you about it when things calmed down," replied Margaret.

The words Brone had spoken a little over an hour ago still burned in the pit of his stomach. What makes you think you're not being made a fool of? "Don't split hairs with me, Margaret. You should have told me everything from the start."

The bodhisattva merely yawned and continued sorting through her notes for the presentation she was about to give to Creed Surina. The presentation had nothing to do with MultiReal or business mergers or bio/logics; it bore the aggressively mundane title Revised 4th Quarter Budget for Diss Technology Distribution Program. Even a fleeting glance over Margaret's shoulder at the formation of integers lining the spreadsheet columns was enough to make Natch drowsy. He looked out into the audience of the small auditorium, where a few sluggish creed bureaucrats had begun to take up residence. In the fifth row sat an old woman who had dozed through the ending of the last meeting and looked like she might snore through this one too. Margaret was handing control of MultiReal over to Natch so she could conduct tedious seminars like this?

"I'm waiting for an answer," said Natch.

Margaret frowned. "An answer to what? Would it have made the least bit of difference if I had told you all about the Patel Brothers' license in the first place? No, it would not have. If you hadn't reacted so strongly to Len Borda's involvement, I might have told you at the beginning." She tapped on a header in the spreadsheet and then craned her neck as a video clip of a lethargic diss child filled the viewscreen behind her.

"The least you could do," he said under his breath, "is tell me the details of your agreement."

"Frederic and Petrucio have a limited license. They can release MultiReal products, but they will be subordinate to yours."

"Subordinate how?"

"The Patel products will have a limited number of choice cycles, whereas yours will be infinite."

"And exactly what is a `choice cycle'?"

Margaret sputtered out a sigh and rubbed her forehead. "It's complicated. Quell will explain everything to you."

Natch crossed his arms petulantly over his chest. He paced to the edge of the stage from which Margaret would be delivering her soporific report in half an hour. Everyone from here to 49th Heaven was discussing this mighty new technology and speculating about the kinds of secrets Margaret and Natch were exchanging; in reality, however, Natch could barely catch her attention.

"So you didn't tell me because you thought I would back off," he grunted.

"It occurred to me, yes."

"That means you basically lured me into this deal on false pretenses, knowing I wouldn't say no, that I would have to jump at this kind of opportunity. And now that the word is out, you know I won't back down."