Javier grinned as the woman sat down heavily across from him. Dr. Harvison was at the head of the table, trying desperately to project the sort of bonhomie that separated rich fools from big endowment checks.
It was all a game. Javier decided to play.
“I’ve followed your research extensively over the last few years, Dr. St. Kitts,” Javier began.
He found it interesting, playing the role of himself, with someone who only knew him as Navarre. The poor woman was obviously expecting something horrible to occur, now that the dread pirate warlord had suddenly returned to her life. Although, truth be told, what he had in mind might be worse.
Who likes finding out their grand heroes and villains are just ordinary people?
“Thank you, Dr. Aritza,” she replied mechanically.
“Please,” he said. “Call me Javier.”
“The Khatum of Altai herself has endowed an exploration and trade mission,” Dr. Harvison practically beamed with happiness.
“I see,” she responded with more of a placeholder than any enthusiasm. “I’m not sure I understand.”
That last bit directed at him. Javier’s grin broadened.
“King’s College is sending out a diplomatic mission to establish academic connections with some of the lesser-known sectors of space on the far side of things from the Concord,” Javier offered. “Trade and exploration fall under that heading as well. The Khatum has tapped me to be her ambassador, so I will not be able to fulfill my original, planned role as staff botanist.”
The look in her eyes was something Javier would have expected from someone about to walk to the gallows, but he had expected that. She hadn’t been the most effervescent person back when he had rescued her on Svalbard, as part of his war with Walvisbaai Industrial and Valko Slavkov. That jolly elf, Alex Mornan, had happily done most of the talking.
“And?” she replied.
On anyone else, it would have come across as exceptionally rude, but Javier had done his homework on the woman.
“And the ship has a full botanical lab in place,” Javier said calmly. “Plus, we’re installing a test facility to grow several varieties of wheat and rye, to go with my ongoing experiments with breeding gooseberries for a variety of climates.”
“Wheat?” she asked, obviously shocked. “On a spaceship?”
“It’s not a rinky-dink, little pirate tub, or a yacht like Calypso,” Javier grinned, reminding her again of Svalbard, and the Strike Corvette Storm Gauntlet that had rescued her from whatever those other pirates had originally planned. “We have a First-Rate-Galleon, and are in the process of converting one of the cargo decks into a botanical station. We will be able to grow a reasonable amount of wheat and rye, partly for science, but mostly for the French Restaurant we’re installing for the crew.”
“How much space could you possibly dedicate to grains?” she pursued him relentlessly, having apparently touched on a raw nerve with the woman.
“One point five hectares,” he fired back. “As a start.”
She mouthed the word hectares, but no sound came out. It was like watching a fish’s mouth in a bowl. Open. Close. Open. Close.
“I think it would be a marvelous entry on your curriculum vitae, Rainier,” the smooth-talking insurance salesman said, grappling his way back into the conversation.
Javier had looked the man up as well. Javier’s dear grandmother who had raised him would have referred to MacWilliam Harvison as a sociopathic, serial climber, if she were to ever meet him in the flesh.
He practically oozed charm, but it was like a bad cologne. You wanted to wash yourself and all your clothes after spending any time around the man.
“What would?” she nearly snarled back at her boss.
Javier liked her more and more.
“Dr. St. Kitts,” Javier interjected before she got too wound up. “We would like to hire you for a year as part of our expedition. In addition, the Khatum is prepared to make a significant cash gift to the university, so that they can both hire a temporary replacement for you, as well as upgrade some of the facilities. In addition, your name will appear on all scientific studies published as a result of our voyage, as the lead investigator.”
He could see her think about nibbling on the bait he dangled.
Javier had done his research on the woman. At least as well as he could at a distance. Rainier St. Kitts already had tenure here, so her job was largely protected against encroachments by the university. At the same time, the school was destitute. Flat broke and having to contemplate laying off janitors and secretaries next year, since tenured faculty could not be fired without a serious fight.
So her career had kind of stalled here, as a result. And having her name on big research papers would stand her well, if she decided to move on to another institute. Hell, King’s College on Altai might look on the year as an extended job interview. And they had lots of money. Plus, he knew a few people on Altai he could chat up, if that was the direction she wanted to take.
“Why me?” she finally asked, opening Pandora’s Box from the look in her eyes.
“I’ve read the reports of your encounters with the pirates on Svalbard, Dr. St. Kitts,” Javier said carefully. “According to everyone, you held yourself to the highest professional standards, in what must have been an exceptionally trying situation. There is some danger associated with a diplomatic mission such as ours, so having that experience helps. In addition, I want to tap your expertise in breeding my gooseberries into five, stable daughter species. The current generation is rather fragile, and I want to make it hardy enough that I can bomb random planets with little packets of seeds, soil, and fertilizer, selected for the environment, and improve the lives of the people and animals below.”
“That’s an invasive species, Javier,” she snapped at him automatically.
“These worlds are the product of human terraforming, Dr. St. Kitts,” he fired back. “Everything is an invasive species, including the people.”
He paused, leaning back because he found himself leaning forward. The woman was a little squishier than he liked them, but the brunette pageboy haircut hadn’t changed, and brains were still far sexier than butts.
She leaned back as well, as if some spell between them had just broken.
Javier found the two portfolios he had prepared, still sitting on the table where he had forgotten them after he walked in. Top one went to the used car salesman-type president. Bottom one went to the botanist.
“I have prepared a detailed contract offer,” Javier said. “The one for Dr. St. Kitts goes deeper into the botanical details, while the one for Dr. Harvison is focused on the financials. I would appreciate you spending some time reviewing them and getting back to me. My contact information is inside, and I plan to be here for at least a week, taking in sights.”
Javier slid his chair back and rose. Harvison was up quickly and shaking his hand, with drachma signs in his eyes. The woman was slower to acknowledge him, moving more on autopilot and taking his hand mechanically.
At least she hadn’t come unhinged and started accusing him of being a pirate at the top of her lungs. Or referred to him as Navarre in front of the president. Things might have gotten sticky, if she had.
He still expected that confrontation to occur. Happily, he had brought Hadiiye along to the planetary surface as a bodyguard, currently downstairs enjoying a cup of tea or something. It would be just like old times.
After all, he wasn’t a wanted criminal on this planet.