hand into a fist. He stepped toward her, eyes locked on hers. "I could have messaged you this information. Instead, I came to see you in person, to converse in real-time. And you're complaining?"
"You're not actually telling me anything."
"What good does it do to load you up with incomplete, unverified intel? How about you back off and trust me to fill you in once it actually makes sense to do so?"
Their faces were separated by no more than a foot, but Rada didn't shift back. "Are you coming at me because I'm wrong? Or because you're pissed about how the negotiations are going?"
He glared. His eyes softened first, then his entire expression cracked. He sighed, strolling toward the window and its postcard beauty.
"You're right. I am finding Earth's governments less than useful. I'm presenting them with a completed model, right? FinnTech got the Motion Arrestor technology from the Swimmers; Valiant helped them cover that up; Valiant and FinnTech are now merging. When you look at it as a whole, they're forming a power bloc that's proving to be dangerously lacking in scruples.
"But these politicians are too greedy for the MAs to look at the whole. They'll only look at one part at a time. And when they do that , the conclusion is, 'Well, this is a gray area. Besides, even if we wanted to do something about this merger, we don't really have the authority.'"
MacAdams honked with laughter. "Since when did politicians start admitting there are some areas outside their authority?"
Toman nodded sharply. "You'd think someone would at least try. Earth governments have been trying to get a grasp on the business of space for years . One of the major reasons they haven't been able to is because there was no compelling public interest to justify their involvement. Now, FinnTech's doing business with the Swimmers—who, just in case you've forgotten, nearly drove us extinct —and the response is a collective shrug?"
"Maybe the problem is you," Webber said.
"I think you've spent too much time among the outlaws, Mr. Webber. You can't tell someone they're blowing it and then not explain why."
"I don't mean you're screwing it up. I mean it's a lot easier to brush you off because you're their biggest competitor. Everything you say is tainted by visions of gold coins vanishing from your hoard."
"I'm not so sure about that. Government and business have a rich heritage of reaching down the front of each other's pants with a smile. If they don't want to get with me, maybe it's because they're already feeling up FinnTech."
"I'm starting to wish you had messaged," Rada said.
Toman winked. "Sit tight. I'm waiting for the last piece to fall into place. Then you're off on your next adventure."
While Webber and MacAdams competed to run up the largest room service tab ordering non-dispensed whole foods and drinks in bottles, Rada dug into the rapidly expanding universe of discussion and theories around the Locker. Over the course of the last week, this had exploded into a new industry. On the net, pontificates cranked out convoluted pet theories based on the most minute details, amassed legions of followers to their cause, then unleashed those legions on their competing theorists.
The drama around it was completely detached from reality and repulsively trivial—a Great Red Spot of superheated emotion, with nothing at its center—but it was also appallingly addictive. Rada got lost in it for the two days prior to Toman's next visit.
"I have news," he declared. "You're heading on an all-expenses-paid trip to Absolution."
Rada scrunched her brow. "I wasn't aware I was a sinner."
"You're so provincial, Rada. I'm not talking about a state of a grace. Absolution is a city. You can think of it as a sort of game preserve for the chronically delusional."
"That doesn't help explain it in the slightest."
Toman continued to hold the hotel room door open. "You have a flight to catch. You can read up on the details en route. For now, here's the gist:
"You're not actually telling me anything."
"What good does it do to load you up with incomplete, unverified intel? How about you back off and trust me to fill you in once it actually makes sense to do so?"
Their faces were separated by no more than a foot, but Rada didn't shift back. "Are you coming at me because I'm wrong? Or because you're pissed about how the negotiations are going?"
He glared. His eyes softened first, then his entire expression cracked. He sighed, strolling toward the window and its postcard beauty.
"You're right. I am finding Earth's governments less than useful. I'm presenting them with a completed model, right? FinnTech got the Motion Arrestor technology from the Swimmers; Valiant helped them cover that up; Valiant and FinnTech are now merging. When you look at it as a whole, they're forming a power bloc that's proving to be dangerously lacking in scruples.
"But these politicians are too greedy for the MAs to look at the whole. They'll only look at one part at a time. And when they do that , the conclusion is, 'Well, this is a gray area. Besides, even if we wanted to do something about this merger, we don't really have the authority.'"
MacAdams honked with laughter. "Since when did politicians start admitting there are some areas outside their authority?"
Toman nodded sharply. "You'd think someone would at least try. Earth governments have been trying to get a grasp on the business of space for years . One of the major reasons they haven't been able to is because there was no compelling public interest to justify their involvement. Now, FinnTech's doing business with the Swimmers—who, just in case you've forgotten, nearly drove us extinct —and the response is a collective shrug?"
"Maybe the problem is you," Webber said.
"I think you've spent too much time among the outlaws, Mr. Webber. You can't tell someone they're blowing it and then not explain why."
"I don't mean you're screwing it up. I mean it's a lot easier to brush you off because you're their biggest competitor. Everything you say is tainted by visions of gold coins vanishing from your hoard."
"I'm not so sure about that. Government and business have a rich heritage of reaching down the front of each other's pants with a smile. If they don't want to get with me, maybe it's because they're already feeling up FinnTech."
"I'm starting to wish you had messaged," Rada said.
Toman winked. "Sit tight. I'm waiting for the last piece to fall into place. Then you're off on your next adventure."
While Webber and MacAdams competed to run up the largest room service tab ordering non-dispensed whole foods and drinks in bottles, Rada dug into the rapidly expanding universe of discussion and theories around the Locker. Over the course of the last week, this had exploded into a new industry. On the net, pontificates cranked out convoluted pet theories based on the most minute details, amassed legions of followers to their cause, then unleashed those legions on their competing theorists.
The drama around it was completely detached from reality and repulsively trivial—a Great Red Spot of superheated emotion, with nothing at its center—but it was also appallingly addictive. Rada got lost in it for the two days prior to Toman's next visit.
"I have news," he declared. "You're heading on an all-expenses-paid trip to Absolution."
Rada scrunched her brow. "I wasn't aware I was a sinner."
"You're so provincial, Rada. I'm not talking about a state of a grace. Absolution is a city. You can think of it as a sort of game preserve for the chronically delusional."
"That doesn't help explain it in the slightest."
Toman continued to hold the hotel room door open. "You have a flight to catch. You can read up on the details en route. For now, here's the gist:
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