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Grass Eaters 3 | 36 | Negotiations II
🕑 Added 2025-01-15 16:47:01 +0000 UTCCoalition Naval Shipyard Datsot, Datsot (18,000 Ls)
POV: Eupprio, Malgeir (Executive)
“What is this?” the head representative from Stoers asked gruffly.
Eupprio traced his paw to her Terran pilot seated next to her in her conference room. She turned back to him with a smile. “Representative Umvinto, that is my personal shuttle pilot, Abe from Terra. Abe, this is Umvinto from Stoers.”
Abe gave Umvinto a mild bow of his head in the traditional Malgeir greeting. “Nice to meet you, too, Representative Umvinto.”
Umvinto rolled his eyes. “I know where their kind comes from. We get Federation Channel One in Stoers too. I’m asking what this one is doing here. In this meeting.”
That was not unusual either. Abe had that effect on people. Sensing the hostility, Abe stood up and made to leave. Standing 1.8 meters tall, he was a couple heads taller than the average Malgeir. Possibly three heads in this case. Umvinto was slightly below average in height.
“Take a seat, Abe.” Eupprio fixed her stare on him, and he complied with a light shrug. After all, his unnerving presence was precisely why she had him sit in on the meeting. Ultimately, she didn’t believe in these petty power plays, but she was sure her opposite did. By how rattled he looked in the moment, it would appear that she was right. Eupprio smiled sweetly at Umvinto. “He is one of my personal advisors as well, and he should be kept up to date. If you are scared of his species, or simply bigoted, perhaps we can adjourn for now and arrange for your replacement—”
Umvinto sized the larger Terran up with a long stare. “I am not scared of some oversized Grass Eater,” he decided as he retracted the bristling fur on his back with obvious effort and took his seat. He didn’t take his eyes off the Terran until Abe was properly seated again, smiling thinly back at him. “And he is not the first one I’ve met. I have dealt with one of their sales representatives on another matter.” Umvinto turned to address Abe. “Do you know James?”
“James… What’s his last name?”
“James… Smiss, I think.”
“James Smith?”
“Yes! Do you know him?”
“No, it’s just a rather common name. Where is he from?”
“Mars.”
Through her familiarity of Terran body language, Eupprio could tell from a glance that Abe was struggling not to laugh. Instead, he asked politely, “Where on Mars? Three billion people live on Mars.”
“How am I supposed to know all your Grass Eater names?” Umvinto sighed in exasperation.
“Looks like you don’t know them as well as you think you do then,” Eupprio commented snidely.
“No, it’s— I have dealt with their kind before.”
“Oh? Have you seen many of them in Stoers?” she asked politely. She knew the answer…
“Our company has a deal with the Stoers Employment Board to only hire locals without approval, and they have not yet granted our permits to import Grass Eater workers despite our incentives program.”
Eupprio knew about their so-called incentives program — a thinly veiled bribe to the local hiring authorities that controlled the process relating to the employment of non-Stoers residents. Normally, a few extra credits per head to grease the right paws would have been enough for such a formality. After all, Stoers Shipyard had plenty of Granti and Schprissian workers, not to mention millions of Malgeir laborers from outside the system. But normally, their procedures didn’t have to deal with Eupprio Tech lawyers and investigators deliberately jamming up their bureaucracy and handing out their own incentives to bog down the approvals with inexplicable delay after delay.
Underhanded? Yes. Cutthroat? Yes. But business as usual? Also yes. While the annoyed Stoers Group had privately threatened retaliation, it was obvious from the lack of urgency they were dealing with the matter that… they didn’t truly understand the advantages her new allies brought to her research and development division. And if they didn’t understand their value, then those Terran experts would be more useful elsewhere… like her own shipyard.
Hell, the Terran Republic had gifted Stoers Shipyard the exact construction blueprints and software for a thermonuclear space mine last year — for free — and as far as she knew, they hadn’t even begun production on that…
At least that was how Eupprio justified it to herself.
“Too bad.” Eupprio shrugged. “Our company has some experience with the hiring process for Republic citizens. If your group needs some assistance, that could be arranged, with a small fee—”
“That will be unnecessary.” Umvinto rolled his eyes again. “And that is not what we are here for.”
“What is it then?”
“I will cut straight to it. We’ve been getting rumblings of a new ship contract out of Malgeiru. Our sources inside the Ministry call it the… Joint Strike Destroyer.”
“Strange name,” Eupprio said, keeping a grin off her face. She had been surprised when Martina had revealed to her that the Republic was designing a whole new class of ships. After all, their Navy had just gotten new ships and they’d been used in no more than three battles! But the sense of urgency in Atlas after the Battle of Sol had greased palms, opened doors, and freed up resources…
“Yes, yes. Another one of those Coalition contracts your company keeps getting. Next generation this. Next generation that. Now it’s joint this and joint that. We know these nonsensical names and requirements are the work of your new Grass Eater friends,” he said, giving a side-eye to Abe as if he was in charge of all Republic policy.
“Well, sure, we had a paw in helping craft that request for proposal,” she admitted. “Low-rate production for a squadron of prototypes for now with the option—”
“It’s a sole source contract.”
“Yes?”
“And you are the sole source.”
“Sure. What about it?”
“That is illegal under Federation procurement law.”
Eupprio snorted in disbelief. “Nonsense. You guys get sole source contracts all the time.”
“Under the contract value limit, yes. But the value of this contract exceeds the total allowable limit for sole source contracts without additional approval from a full snout-count referendum across the whole Federation.”
“It is not,” she contested. “We calculated the precise value of the prototype squadron contract. It is precisely under the limit.”
Umvinto shook his ears. “The value of the initial delivery might be, but our analysis of the contract shows that one of the options under its fine print would give you the right to define some requirements for the full-rate production run of the new ships. Our accountants calculated that the market value of that option causes the value of the contract to exceed the allowable limit.”
Eupprio blinked in surprise. She’d done her homework — some of it, at least, but she hadn’t expected this line of sophistry from the representative. And she hadn’t known about that clause. Her negotiators must have snuck that one in somehow. She wished Fleguipu was here; at least she knew the least bit about the law and how it worked.
Then again, she had the next best thing. Or perhaps better. Eupprio flicked a claw in her paw in a familiar pattern under the table, and blue and white lines appeared in the edge of her vision.
Her implant switched on.
Hello, Eupprio.
She repeated his claim out loud, as if clarifying, “Representative, you are claiming that the added value of defining the requirements for the full rate production run of the Joint Strike Missile Destroyers causes the contract to exceed the legal allowable limit for sole source contracts without a High Council approved Federation referendum?”
“Yes,” he said, looking annoyed. “That is what I just said. Are you mocking me—”
Her implant heard it exactly as it was intended.
Bullshit. The full-rate production run contract has not yet been defined or bid on. Therefore, defining its requirements cannot possibly be valued. And by precedent, that value is not calculated in the allowable limit.
“Ridiculous. The full-rate production run contract has not yet been defined or bid on. Therefore, defining its requirements cannot possibly be valued. And by precedent, that value is not calculated in the allowable limit.”
Umvinto immediately replied, “We found a case where the judge found otherwise—”
Yes, there is such a case, 832 years ago. However, that precedent has been superseded by multiple other cases since then.
“800 years ago, yes, but let’s not pretend you have a rock-solid case here, Umvinto.”
He looked surprised she knew about that, and immediately coughed to cover it up. “Well, that is your own personal opinion—”
Her implant didn’t miss a thing. After a few months in her possession, it had already fully familiarized itself with Malgeir mannerisms.
He is surprised we knew about the case. Tell him that several of those cases involve Stoers Group.
“And several of those contradicting precedents involve your own organization,” Eupprio said triumphantly.
Including one of their current, disputed contracts for production of MAB-11 ejection pods.
“Including one of your current contracts for ejection pods,” she added. “Hang on a minute, are those the same ejection pods that failed to properly ignite at that Terran-sponsored equipment acceptance test just last month—”
“That can’t be right,” he said, hesitating as he hedged. “I think I’d remember seeing that case…”
Printing list of precedents…
Brrrrrrrrr.
Her new copy machine activated on the small table behind her, spitting out sixteen pages of dense text. Abe reached out with his arms, grabbed the fresh papers from the print-out tray, and placed them in front of her.
“What is that?” Umvinto asked suspiciously.
Eupprio gave one of them a quick inspection and slid the pile over to him on the table. “List and summaries of precedents for why your claim is ridiculous.”
He gave it a read, his frowning deepening with each paragraph and page.
“That’s not…” he harumphed. “We’ll see if a Federation judge sees it your way.”
He is implying that they can simply bribe the judge. But that is not a problem—
Eupprio rolled her eyes. “Sure, and we’ll find out what they think once the case makes its way through the court system in twenty years.”
“Not if we file for an injunction to stop the contract payout now,” he countered.
She didn’t even need the implant for that one. “And pause the production of warships until then? During the war? Good luck explaining that to the High Council when they haul you in for questioning. Even your Home Fleet friends aren’t going to be happy about that.”
“It will be embarrassing for both of our companies,” Umvinto said, refusing to concede defeat. “Surely that is worth something.”
He is correct. It is worth about the price of an untraceable assassin drone on the Red Zone Exchange—
“What are you suggesting, representative?” Eupprio asked.
Umvinto hemmed and hawed for a moment, as if pretending to consider it. “Hm… We could consider going in on the full-rate production contract with you when that comes out. We will manufacture the engines and reactors at Stoers—”
Tell him to go jump out of an airlock. Politely.
“Go jump out of an airlock! Were you dropped as a cub?! We’re not splitting that contract with your substandard manufacturing line when we’ve already gone through the whole development and testing phase on the prototype!”
Umvinto waved his paw to stop her. “What about a compromise? Joint production of those two components at Stoers, but we’ll help you fluff up the value of the contract when—”
Still not worth it. Even with Raytech help and full cooperation, they will likely delay contract delivery at least eight months, if not more. There is an amount they can offer to offset that cost, but your policy on—
“Nope.” Eupprio shook her ears. “Not interested at all. You’re just trying to insert yourself into our process after squandering years of competitive advantage. Stagnant, rent-seeking enterprises like yours are exactly why I started my company in the first place, you parasitic—”
“We’ll see you in court then,” he said angrily. “You won’t get away with your illegal contract bidding practices.”
Eupprio looked him in the eye. “If you’re going to insist on playing dirty…”
Ask him about his cubs.
“How uh— how are your cubs doing, Umvinto?”
He narrowed his eyes at her. “What?! What is this? What does that mean? What do you want?”
He has a mistress on the side that he doesn’t want his mate to know about. The mistress has recently given birth to a litter of four. They probably belong to him. Your call.
Eupprio considered it for a moment and took the option. “How many cubs did you have again? Three? Or was it seven?”
Umvinto paled at the naked implication. “How— how did you know?”
Her online shopping habits and purchases of several items relating to cub-care with a payment chip processed by Eupprio Tech.
“You have your sources. We have ours.”
The adulterous representative shook his ears after a moment. He opened his paws at her helplessly. “I can’t do anything for you. I am just a representative for my group. I’m not in charge of the kind of decisions—”
Lies. His sire-in-law is one of the majority owners of the shipyard. That is why he is so afraid of his mate knowing about the affair… Your people are so much like the Terrans.
“I’m sure you can figure something out… now that you have the proper motivation. Have a safe trip back to Stoers,” Eupprio said, smiling thinly. “And please… do stop by our shipyard’s food court on your way out. Our restaurants here are without parallel outside of Sol.”
++++++++++++++++++++++++
“I thought I told you to just tell them what they want to hear for now! You… threatened him?!” Fleguipu asked in half-horror and half-fascination.
“Yes, a little counter-extortion of my own to counter their disgusting extortion scheme!” Eupprio exclaimed.
“Well, what they did — and you too, by the way! — this is technically blackmail, not extortion. You need the threat of violence for extortion. Anyway, it’s the Stoers Group! They can put up many obstacles for us in Malgeiru if they really have it in for us!”
“He— well it looked like he— My implant made me do it!”
Fleguipu rolled her eyes. “I’d like to see that excuse hold up in court. Did it at least work?”
“I think so. He seemed shaken enough. We’ll see. What’s next?”
Fleguipu checked her tablet. “Martina called just now. She’s waiting on the encrypted FTL line for you.”
Eupprio swiped her paw on her screen. “Hello? This is Eupprio.”
A moment later, the face of the familiar Terran woman appeared on her screen. “Hello, Eupprio. How are things going on your end?”
“Things are progressing as we expect,” she said, wondering how much the woman knew.
“I hear you guys had a bit of a nasty business with one of your competitors.”
Eupprio grinned. “News travels fast around here, huh?”
“It sure does. Look. If you need our help taking care of the problem, we’ve got a couple of legal options and…” Martina left the other part unsaid.
“That will be unnecessary,” she quickly reassured the human. Martina’s emphasis on the word legal… Eupprio knew from working with them that while the humans were often known as paranoid sticklers for rules in the Federation press, there was a reason those rules and their punishments existed. And from what she’d gleaned from other humans, Martina’s company was responsible for the codification of a chunk of those rules. “And besides, once we start production on the new ships, the project will become politically untouchable in Malgeirgam anyway. Too many paws have already been greased for this contract.”
“Good, good. I’ll see about helping you speed up the activation of the Raptor docks. I think one of the reserve docks had a few extra fabricators we can move over for now…”
Eupprio nodded her appreciation, then asked curiously, “Have your people decided on the names of the new ship class? For when it comes out?”
“We’re holding an online poll,” Martina grinned. “Or as your people put it, snout-counting.”
“An online poll?” she asked nervously. “Haha?”
“Heh. Rabbitkiller came back up again. The Navy vetoed it. Again. My personal favorite on the list was the McBun Machine. That got vetoed too. Of the names on the list that the Republic Navy allowed, it’s pretty much down to the Jackal-class and the Phobos-class. What about you guys? Going to keep calling it the Next Generation Delta-class?” Martina chuckled.
“No idea. Maybe something that will strike fear into the hearts of our enemies.” Eupprio shrugged and thought for a moment. “Maybe we’ll name it after you guys.”
“After us?!”
“Sure. Terran-class. Or Great Predator-class. The Znosians will piss themselves when they see one of them coming.”
“Oh, I’m sure it won’t just be the name that does that…”
Comments
Spooker
It’s mentioned to be text, like a corneal implant. No reason why the implant can’t help you process that information faster though. It’s like every other piece of technology. At first, you’re unfamiliar. After a while, it’s only occasionally annoying. Pretty soon, you can’t live without it.
Valdis Trautmanis
I think it's like an HUD or augmented reality with text and data projected inside the eye
DeWhit
Personally, I kinda figured she was hearing it like you mentioned, but I like your idea that the information is transferred instantaneously better
TheArchivist
So how is the implant working during this scene? If it’s text flowing across her eyes, maybe? If she’s hearing it, the dialogue implies that Umvinto is being interrupted while she recites what she hears in real time, which has to be a bit distracting Third option: the information is transferred into the brain from the implant at or near-instantaneously, allowing for the smooth interruptions
