have handled them.”
The pain in Sabor’s arm suddenly disappeared. The four hardbodies moved before his brain could adjust to the change in his situation. Choy tried to defend Purvali and a hardbody stepped behind him.
Colonel Jina smiled out of Sabor’s display. “Good afternoon, Honored Sabor. We seem to have a change in the fortunes of war. Possessor Dobryami has occupied Possessor Khan’s personal abode. It is now obvious Possessor Khan can no longer fulfill his contractual obligations.”
“You’ve been a formidable opponent, Colonel. I’ll be certain to recommend your services in the future.”
“Your associate destroyed one of my most valuable capital assets. In spite of our agreement not to exceed certain limits.”
“I’m afraid she has a tendency to become overzealous.”
“I understand, Honored Sabor. Our relationships with the other sex can become difficult to control, in spite of our best efforts. But I think I’m entitled to some reasonable compensation.”
“How much did you have in mind?”
Purvali straightened up. “Don’t be a fool, Sabor! Pay him a ransom and you’ll have to defend me against every hoodlum on the planet.”
“We’re not discussing a ransom,” Sabor said. “He’s asking me for compensation for the soldier you killed.”
“He was trying to destroy you. They would have succeeded if I hadn’t done that.”
“She managed to destroy my asset because we were exercising restraint,” Colonel Jina said. “We would have killed her before that if we hadn’t accepted your bargain.”
Data flowed across Sabor’s vision. A hardbody could be replaced in approximately eleven standard years at a total cost of four hundred and sixty thousand Fernheim neils. Colonel Jina’s estimated cash flow indicated each hardbody generated approximately fifty-four thousand neils per standard year. The lifetime of the hardbody was, of course, unknown, but one could estimate the cost of the maintenance required over an eleven year period and that, obviously, should be subtracted from the total cash flow.…
“I can offer you one million, four thousand neils,” Sabor said.
“I believe you are underestimating the loss of business I may suffer. Every contract requires a carefully calculated number of personnel. If I need five hardbodies for one assignment, for example, and three for another, and I only have seven, I may be forced to refuse one of the assignments. According to my figures, I should ask you for at least one million, two hundred and fifty thousand.”
Sabor studied the numbers the colonel presented him. “I really must point out that you’re overlooking the interest you’ll be earning each year on the unused portion. Your figure for lost employment seems a bit inflated, too, if you don’t mind my saying so. But I’ll offer you another hundred thousand anyway.”
The colonel frowned. Sabor concentrated on the colonel’s calculations and carefully avoided looking at Purvali.
“One million, one hundred and seventy-five,” the colonel said.
Sabor hesitated. It was a large sum. His mother would have haggled for another hour just to keep a few more thousand.
“It’s getting late,” Sabor said. “If you’ll agree to keep the whole sum in your account with my institution until it’s paid out, I’ll consider the extra hundred and seventy-thousand a small honorarium to a valued customer.”
The hardbodies released Purvali and stepped back. Sabor gave his system a signal and one million, one hundred and seventy-five thousand neils jumped into Colonel Jina’s account.
Colonel Jina beamed. “What other bank would I patronize?”
Sabor crossed the distance that separated him from his concubine. He put his arms around Purvali and felt her soften at his touch.
“You’re a fool, Sabor.”
She said the same thing again after they had struggled back to the guest quarters in the Galawar Commune and he had proved to his satisfaction (and hers, by all the signs) that he had successfully discarded his warrior mode.
“Is there any possibility,” Sabor responded, “just the slightest possibility, you will ever realize you mean just as much to me as I mean to you? That you ignite—in me—exactly the same kind of feelings I provoke in you?”
“But I was designed to feel that way, Sabor. You have choices.”
“Somehow, my dove, I never seem to feel I have a choice. And I am quite confident—annoyingly confident—I can offer you some assurance I never will feel I have a choice. Never. Not ever.”
She would never fully believe him, of course. He could glance at her face and see that. But she was there. She was alive. His hand was resting on her stomach. His display was running projections of the demand/profit curve for the line of crabs the Galawar Commune was bidding on, assuming the most plausible ranges of the six most relevant variables. Sabor Haveri was focusing his attention on his two major interests.
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