Carlos was getting desperate. He’d been searching around
Cogwork Port for almost a week for the ever elusive niode connecters with very
little to show for it. Both Marvelous Marvin and Antoine Ampsbrige had been
able to sell him ten crates a piece (at an exorbitant price) but he needed much
more.
Finally, after some down time at Maggie’s Iron Knickers
(Major Bourne had given him a hard time about that on the charge account, but
had cooled somewhat when told it was purely for investigative purposes) Carlos
was getting desperate. And when one is desperate, it’s time to go to a Den of
Inequity.
LaSalle’s Den of Inequity, Virtue, and Steam to be exact.
The smoke filled room and 20th Century music set a certain ambiance
when one walked in the door. Low lighting, the smell of stale beer, spice, and
grease invaded one’s senses. The term “comfortably dank” came to mind.
Sitting at the end of one of the Wist tables was Legendary
Pilot Mammoth Jack. Jack had retired to a more suitable job as a purveyor of
hard to get goods in recent years, but still looked like a force to be reckoned
with as he was still more chest than gut in his burly, if not finely adorned countenance.
“Hey Jack, how’re they hangin’! Need a refill?” Carlos
motioned to the waitress as Jack looked at him then his full mug and grunted.
He lifted the beer to his lips and drained it in one well practiced gulp.
“So, if it’s not the pup from the Dragon Clan. Still wet
behind the ears or did they give you a towelette to cure that yet?”
The last time Carlos had encountered Jack, he had ended up
black out drunk, beat up, sprawled in an alley with a small bag of bioptics and
$125 in Illyrian credits stuffed down his shirt that he hadn’t started with.
“Yeah, I’d like to think that some of that wetness has been
wiped away. How about you, few hands of Wist?” The next few hours were spent
talking of carousing, old battles, and Carlos losing a few hundred credits to
Jack in cards.
“Okay, okay, you’ve buttered my bread quite effectively boy,
now how about you let Old Jack in on the real reason you’re here.”
“Well, Jack, I’m trying to get a few Mecha up to specs in
time for the next Clan War and there’s a distinct lack of niode connectors to
be found. I’ve found plenty of everything else, but as you know, those
connectors are key to speedy upgrading.”
“You’re not the first that’s come to me with this problem
although you are one of the more entertaining.” Jack held up four fingers and a
bar maid showed up with four shots of an amber liquid that emitted a coil of translucent
vapor from the top. She handled the glasses with welding gloves.
“Frak. What in the name of Maggie’s drawers are those.”
“Oh these! Just a new little drink fresh on the market
called Ambershard Squeezins. You see, there have been these new little uglies
found on the outskirts of…”
“No. Stop. I know. I’ve seen them. And I suppose this vile
stuff is concocted through the second word in the title. Is there no end to
your depravity Jack?”
Jack let out a short bark of a laugh. “Well, if you want the
treasure, you have to be prepared to run the Gauntlet my young apprentice!”
Jack had a distinct twinkle of glee in his eye as he watched Carlos gulp, shake
his head, then toast with a shot in each hand then down the liquid.
“Okay old man, write down what you know then pin it to my jacket
as I can’t risk not remembering this conversation.”
Jack cackled like a madman then took out a pen and paper. “Shogunate
forces have been in the area recently and have been hoarding back certain
supplies, connectors being one of them, as well as bioptics for some reason.
Here’s the location of one of these temporary depots where you should find what
you need, but go prepared as they have a hefty amount of guards there as well.”
“Thank you Jack, as always you know how to deliverrrrrrrr…..”
The world tilted sideways as vision started to tunnel on
him. Carlos knew that asking for that note was the best idea he’s had all week.
