"Si, the engineers have added a programmable reusable detonator. Nothing fancy, simply radionics with a standard-e range."
"But the best part is the dead man's switch they added in. Very useful, I always have one on me myself. There are twenty units in the case and four detonators."
Ezio held out his hand for the artefact.
Conrad turned over the artefact and returned the spectroscope to his jacket.
"Quite wonderful, exactly what I needed. What is the price for the case, and, ah....how is the other business deal progressing?"
"Fifty thousand credits for the case, and as for that....the engineers are progressing, but there are problems with creating a long-term energy supply that is also undetectable. We can isolate the circuitry and the transceiver and the bug easy enough, and secure them, but they cannot be powered from the ship without compromising security. We will finish them on time and under budget, and they will work as planned, but the duration of the bug's life will be somewhat less than infinite. My associate will contact you once we have all the kinks worked out, of course."
Conrad nodded and took a stack of credit chits from his bag.
"This should suffice. I look forward to our next meeting, mi amice."
And with that, he rose and left.
Tobias and a few burly construction workers stroll through the now deserted bar, examining the renovation work. A few of the men poke and prod and the various bits and pieces, checking for stability and whatever else.
“This should be a piece o’ cake, half the work is already done for ya. Now I don’t wanna hear any more excuses, I have a deadline ta meet.” Says Tobias, unfurling blueprints across the bar. “The security scanners at the doors cost more than you lot combined, so don’t screw ‘em up! If just one fella strolls in with a blaster, explosive or anythin’ else wit’out settin’ off every bloody alarm in this place, I could be floatin’ outta ‘ere.”
“Don’t worry Mr. Banks, my men are the best in the business. We’ll have this place up and running in no time.” Says the foreman, adjusting his toolbelt and probably cursing his boss under his breath.
“And one more thing. If I catch you or any of your lads going through any of the crates labeled ‘stock’, I’ll ‘ave ya. Nothin’ short of theft, so get ‘em to mind their own business. Now, chop chop. We don’t 'ave all day. I’ll be in me room if somethin’ crops up.”
Banks strolls towards the exit, stopping for a moment to stare down one of the workers before hanging up a sign and exiting.
-=UNDER NEW MANAGEMENT=-
Entrance to the construction site is permitted for authorized personnel only. Opening soon!
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After a long trip back from the Omicrons, Chris DeGarmo sat at a table, exhausted from his trip. Over a glass of Coalition Vodka, he read up on recent events.
He began to snicker when he read of the 10k no fly zone around Sprague. His snicker grew to laughter.
"Oh yes," he said out loud with a laugh, "like that will work coming from people who ignore a Zoner no fire zone. That's rich!"
He picked up his vodka and shotgunned it. As another arrived, he ran his hand through his hair as he calmed himself.
A young woman walked into the the place called McCool's and looked around for a moment, looking out if there is someone she knew. As nobody seemed to be familiar to her, she sat down on a stool infront of the counter, grinning as she caught the barkeepers attention.
"One bottle of scotch, please. And a few more glasses as well, 'kay? Have to celebrate something!"
Not much time later, the bartender placed the ordered bottled on the counter, together with five glasses. The girl grinned again, taking another look around. It was a good day, she thought. And the evening was still young.
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He sat at a table with a tall glass of a blueish fluid, tuning a guitar on his lap, humming to each note that he tuned. It wasn't his first trip to Freeport 1 nor would it be his last. He found himself a bit of a loner even amongst his own people, going about the Omegas and Omicrons as a liaison to his people. Still, he loved his music more than anything.
He took a sip of his drink. As he did, he noticed the young woman who had just entered. His eye contact with her was brief but enough for him to gently smile at her. Still, he continued tuning his guitar. Once done, he went into the beginnings of a song. Once done, he finished his drink and ordered another.
The girl heard that one man order another drink and took a look at the direction the voice was coming from. She eventually smirked and lifted a glass in his direction, throwing an inviting look at him. She then emptied her glass with the scotch in one go and turned around again in a teasing manner.
She filled all five glasses with the scotch, looking at the bartender.
"You've got a nice place here! Might come here again after I am done celebrating!"
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He finished the final tuning of his instrument and placed it in a stand. Before he would pick up another, he accepted the smiling invite. He wasn't committed so meeting new people of the female persuasion was always welcome.
"Miss," he said politely, "it's a pleasure. Call me Chris."
He then turned to the bartender, "put her on my tab."