Duncan
|
Posted - 2004.05.13 06:56:00 -
[1]
Edited by: Duncan on 13/05/2004 06:58:48 FND FILE XBX-34 Status:Declassified
Every time I finished a drink, the glass hit the table harder and harder.
I hated waiting.
Patience may be a virtue, but tardiness irritates me. Especially in THIS business.
Waiting for my contacts I was reduced to forming geometric patterns with the glasses on the table. Twelve in the past hour. The Old Terrans called the drink ôCuiba Libre,ö an alcohol and soda mix that buzzed the mouth as well as the brain. Rum, they called it, use to be run around Earth by a Captain Morgan. Old profession, us captainsà
Where the hell are they?
After the Othello incident I had become a little moreàsought after in these circles. If they didnÆt get here soon someone would most definitely take an interest in me sooner or later.
I could hear them down the hallà so much for prudence. FoundationÆs Director of Intelligence would hear about this.
BoBo! BOBOZOBOZOOOOO! DAMMIT, imbeciles!
The fat one with the loud mouth got a quick snap in the mouth. It was enough to keep the second one from making any more sound.
ôYour late, what have you got for me?ö
FoundationÆs Intelligence network had reached a staggering level of informational awareness. With the help of the ISR division (Intelligence, Surveillance & Reconnaissance) we had connections EVERYWHERE, agents and officers from every faction, every region, in our pocket. Solid Information. We could track anyone, any time, any region. The decision to commercialize it was a stroke of brilliance on the part of Foundation Corporate Headquarters.
Information for sale!
I mean people have been doing it secretly for Eons, but selling it to the public? Selling to those who have no access, individuals, noobs. The possibilities were endless. People could track down those who had wronged them, or they could broker the information to others.
All they had to do was contact us.
ôHe is deep within Curse space, good luck getting to him. All the details are within the Reports.ö
He handed me a thin burgundy envelope. It was by no means new. It had probably seen its share of owners and was littered with notes and scribbles. Considering the manÆs profession, the notes may prove to be an added bonus.
It is amazing that how in this century, with our technology, we still use old paper and ink for this kind of information. With the global network and cybernetics being what it is, this is still the only thing that cannot be hacked.
You always go back to the basics.
The envelope contained a neat stack of papers. Headshot, biography, employment history, standings, clones, account history, psychological profile. It was all here, everything you ever cared to know about anyoneàexcept one thing.
ôAnd the tracking frequency?ö
Uxaat was hesitantà fishing for a ransom for the code no doubt.
ôThe frequency was part of our agreement Uxaatà do not test my gratitude.ö
Uxaat handed me the missing sheet without a protest.
ôEverything you want to know is in that cube.ö His eyes darted about as he spoke, the fat one dared not speak
ôAbout ouràrewardö The fat ones interest peaked.
ôYour performance has been satisfactory, you will receive your rewardà.minus 20% for your tardiness and lack of control.ö I always believed in taxing the stupid. ôWe will contact you if we need you again.ö
The beginnings of a protest surfaced, but they were quickly abated by something in my eyes. They got the cue to take their leave.
I wasted no time in getting back to my ship. My trusty Rifter. After the Othello incident, I just had to get another one.
I fired up the MWDs and set course back to Foundation Space. The little silver cube reflected the light from the warp tunnel into the cabin like a cubist disco ball. What a curious material. The techs back at ISR will have a field day with this thing.
This information was destined for great things, to those who could afford it.
----- Report Filed by Bobozobo
|