Free Parabolis by Eddie Han Page A

he works directly with the prime minister.”
    “Good for him.”
    “And you remember Beryl Davies?”
    “No.”
    “She’s the one that sat behind Gordon Hemlock in science.”
    “The blonde?”
    “Yeah! That’s the one. You think she was a looker back then—” he sucked air through his teeth before continuing. “She grew into one fine woman. It’s a shame that one got away. And not for the lack of effort on my part. But that’s another story. Anyway, she ran around with some famous bard or playwright or something like that for a few years, then separated, and then became a physician’s assistant. She finally settled down, if you can call it that, with a humanitarian.” Arturo paused to track the barkeep making his rounds. “Last I heard, she’s somewhere in Loreland running an orphanage or hospital or something. A beautiful girl with a golden heart. Who would’ve thought? Right up there with unicorns and flying pigs.”
    Dale drank and nodded as if he were disinterested. But he was attentive in the same way one would carefully listen to unpleasant news. His peers had gone on to greater things and greater successes while he was back where he’d started. Stagnant.
    “So anyway, what’re you up to if not soldiering? You back for good?”
    “Yeah, just figuring some things out,” Dale replied.
    “You got a job at least?”
    “Sort of. I’m trying to run a business.”
    “No kidding. A businessman, huh? That’s a jump from the Guard, isn’t it?” Arturo took a sip of his ale. He did not bother to wait for an answer and just kept going. “I’ll tell you a secret. Business is all about making the right connections. Networking. You don’t have to be very bright or possess any particular skill, really. You just need to know how to butter people up and sell them the same lies you’re selling yourself. Eventually, if enough people start believing it, it becomes true.”
    “I guess that’s one way of looking at it.”
    “Well, it’s true in my business.”
    “What business is that?”
    “I’m a fixer.”
    “A what?”
    “A fixer. I work with clients who are in need of very specialized services. I connect them to those specialists who can service them. Introduce them to the right people, the right products. I’m basically the guy who gets you whatever you want whenever you want it. And depending on the client and what they’re looking for, it can be a lucrative line of work.”
    “How’d you get into that?”
    “I used to be a sea merchant, so I got around a lot. Got to know pretty much everyone that’s worth knowing. And every now and then, someone would ask me if I knew someone that could get them this or help them out with that. Pretty soon, word got out that I was the go-to guy. Next thing I know, I’m making enough to quit my merchant trade and the rest is history.” Arturo paused and glanced over at the barkeep. When he was out of earshot, he quickly put out his smoke and leaned in. “Hey, so how much are you pulling in a week, anyway?”
    “What?
    “How much do you make?”
    “Not much.”
    “How much? Give me a figure.”
    “Why?”
    “Amuse me.”
    Dale shrugged. “Right now, about four hundred maybe,” he replied. “And I’m sitting on another three in inventory.”
    Arturo scoffed.
    “What if I told you I could set you up with someone who would be willing to pay you up to two thousand Republican marks in one night?”
    Dale looked at him, more skeptical than impressed. “I’d ask you for what?”
    “It’s all about making the
right
connections.” Arturo did another scan around the room and continued in a hushed voice. “All the guy needs is a safe place to dock a ship for an hour. Maybe not even an hour.”
    “What’s he smuggling?”
    “
Shh
. No, no. Look, it’s not like that.”
    “Then what do you mean by ‘a safe place to dock?’”
    “It’s a simple transport.”
    “If it’s so simple, why doesn’t he just use the harbor like everyone