Chapter 18 : Black Sun's Gambit - Part 1
The message comes through neutral intermediary at 0623 hours: "Meeting. Black Sun leadership. Neutral ground. Terms beneficial to both parties."
R4's analysis is immediate: "Probability of assassination attempt: 67.3%. Probability of legitimate negotiation: 21.8%. Probability of trap with multiple objectives: 10.9%. Recommendation: decline meeting."
"If it's legitimate negotiation, I need to hear it."
"Master's curiosity outweighing survival instinct. Pattern consistent with previous risk-taking behavior."
The meeting location is abandoned manufacturing plant on Level 1456—technically neutral territory, not claimed by any major syndicate. Multiple exits. High ceilings providing vertical escape routes. Good sightlines preventing ambush. Professional choice suggesting serious discussion rather than simple hit.
I arrive at 1400 hours wearing full UNSC armor under civilian clothes, personal shields at maximum, blaster in quick-draw position, emergency beacon active. R4 hovers close, sensors sweeping for threats.
The plant floor is cavernous—empty except for rusted machinery and decades of industrial decay. Zann waits near the center, standing beside support column that provides partial cover. Human, mid-forties, wearing expensive suit that seems ridiculous in this setting. He's alone, hands visible, no obvious weapons.
The Appraisal function triggers:
[ ZANN - BLACK SUN NEGOTIATOR ]
[ RANK: SENIOR LIEUTENANT, DIPLOMATIC OPERATIONS ]
[ STRESS LEVEL: HIGH ]
[ DECEPTION INDICATORS: NONE DETECTED ]
[ ASSESSMENT: GENUINE NEGOTIATION ATTEMPT, DESPERATE SITUATION ]
"Kade Varro." He doesn't move from his position. "Thank you for coming. I know you're cautious—smart given circumstances."
"You have three minutes before I leave."
"Direct. I appreciate that." He activates holographic projector, showing tactical maps. "Red Spire is winning this war because of you. Their casualty rate is 3% while ours is 47%. That's unsustainable. We can't match their weapons through conventional channels."
"So you want me to stop supplying them."
"No. We want you to switch suppliers." He projects financial data. "500,000 credits signing bonus. Immediate payment. Plus ongoing supply contract matching whatever Red Spire pays, with 20% premium."
The numbers are staggering. Half a million upfront. Premium rates ongoing. From pure business perspective, it's optimal choice—Black Sun has deeper pockets, wider territory, better long-term prospects.
"You're offering me more money to betray current client."
"I'm offering you opportunity to profit from both sides of conflict. You've chosen side arbitrarily. We're saying choice can be changed—for appropriate compensation."
R4's calculations flood my peripheral vision:
[ FINANCIAL ANALYSIS ]
[ BLACK SUN OFFER: 500K SIGNING + PREMIUM CONTRACTS ]
[ ESTIMATED ANNUAL REVENUE: 3.2M CREDITS ]
[ RED SPIRE CURRENT: ESTIMATED 1.8M ANNUAL ]
[ DIFFERENCE: +1.4M CREDITS ANNUALLY ]
[ RECOMMENDATION: ACCEPT IF PURELY FINANCIAL DECISION ]
The logic is sound. Maximum profit. Superior client. Better protection given Black Sun's size. Every business principle from my previous life says accept.
But business isn't just profit. It's reputation. Trust. Reliability. The intangibles that determine whether clients come back or competitors destroy you.
"What happens to my reputation if I betray Red Spire mid-conflict?"
Zann's expression shifts—he'd expected different question. "You'd have Black Sun's protection. Reputation doesn't matter when you're backed by largest syndicate on Coruscant."
"It matters when next client wonders if I'll betray them too. Every syndicate, every buyer, every contact sees me as supplier who switches sides for money. That's short-term thinking."
"Short-term?" He laughs, bitter sound. "You're choosing pride over profit."
"I'm choosing sustainable business model over quick score. Red Spire knows I stay loyal. That's worth more than 500,000 credits."
The math surprises me even as I say it. When did reputation become more valuable than immediate payment? But the logic holds—burning Syndicate connection destroys my credibility permanently. Black Sun's money is tempting, but poison long-term.
Zann's demeanor shifts. The negotiator facade drops, revealing something colder underneath. "Then we eliminate you as Red Spire asset. You're too valuable to leave operational."
My hand moves to concealed blaster. "You can try. But I'm expensive to kill, and next supplier won't be as competent. You'll lose the war fighting over my corpse."
Shields activate automatically as threat escalates. The humming becomes audible—barrier between me and violence that's definitely coming now.
Standoff stretches ten seconds. Zann's hand twitches toward concealed weapon. R4's photoreceptor pulses red, targeting systems active. One wrong move triggers shootout I'm not equipped to win.
Then Zann lowers his hand deliberately. "You chose wrong, Varro. Red Spire can't protect you forever. We'll find weakness. Everyone has weakness."
"Noted. Meeting concluded?"
"Concluded." He backs toward exit, maintaining eye contact. "Watch your back. Black Sun doesn't forget."
He disappears through side entrance. I maintain defensive posture for thirty seconds, scanning for backup or ambush that doesn't materialize. R4 confirms: "Zann departed alone. No additional hostile contacts detected. Master survived negotiation."
Thax emerges from upper level catwalks—shadows resolving into armed Weequay with rifle pointed at where Zann stood. He'd been watching entire time. Syndicate protection I didn't know I had.
"You just earned serious respect," Thax says, descending via maintenance ladder. "And serious enemy."
"You were here the whole time?"
"Boss doesn't send valuable assets to neutral meetings without security. Figured you'd either betray us or prove loyalty. You proved loyalty." He approaches, slinging rifle. "500,000 credits is real money. Most dealers would've taken it."
"Most dealers don't think past next quarter. I'm building long-term operation."
"Boss will want to meet you. Officially. Not as supplier—as associate." His expression is approving. "You just made yourself irreplaceable. That's dangerous position but profitable one."
We exit through different routes—security protocol. R4 maintains sensor sweep until we're clear of neutral zone.
"Master refused optimal financial outcome for reputation preservation," the droid observes. "Strategic thinking improved significantly. However, master has now made Black Sun permanent enemy. Probability of assassination attempts: 94.7% within next thirty days."
"At least I'll die with intact reputation."
"Master's gallows humor noted. However, survival requires proactive defense. Recommendation: increase personal security expenditure immediately."
Back in safehouse, I review the decision obsessively. 500,000 credits rejected. Premium contracts refused. For what? Abstract concept of reliability that might not matter if Black Sun kills me before reputation pays dividends.
But the alternative was becoming known as betrayer. Every future client would wonder when I'd switch sides. Every negotiation would include that uncertainty. The reputation damage would be permanent, pervasive, career-ending.
"Did I choose right for right reasons? Or just different flavor of self-interest?"
R4 answers without prompting: "Master's motivation assessment: 73% strategic self-interest, 27% genuine principle. Improvement from previous calculations showing 94% pure self-interest. Master developing ethical framework compatible with criminal operations. Unusual but potentially sustainable."
My datapad pings—Thax: "Boss wants meeting tomorrow. 1600 hours. Secure location. Bring R4 for tactical consultation. You're official associate now. Congratulations on promotion nobody asked for."
Official associate. Not supplier. Not contractor. Full member of Red Spire Syndicate. The kind of promotion that comes with salary, protection, and expectations I can't refuse.
This should feel like achievement. Proof I've succeeded in building criminal empire. Instead, feels like commitment to irreversible path where each choice narrows future options until only violence remains.
I check my balance: 673,595 credits. Enough to flee. Enough to vanish. Enough to try rebuilding somewhere Black Sun doesn't operate.
But fleeing means admitting defeat. Means losing everything built. Means reputation as coward who runs when threatened.
"Forward is still the only direction that makes sense."
I open System catalog and review defensive equipment. If Black Sun is coming—and they are—I need every advantage. Personal shield upgrades. Better armor. Maybe even Titanfall pilot-grade equipment despite cost.
The math is different now. Not profit calculation but survival investment. Because Zann was right about one thing: Black Sun doesn't forget. They'll find weakness. Everyone has weakness.
Mine is that I'm dealer pretending to be warrior, merchant playing at soldier, businessman who chose reputation over escape velocity.
That weakness will get me killed eventually. But at least I'll die as reliable supplier rather than opportunistic betrayer.
R4 projects data on bare walls: "Master's trajectory analysis: fully committed to Red Spire alliance, Black Sun actively hostile, CS investigation ongoing, civilian casualties mounting. Survival probability next thirty days: 34.2%. Master should note: this is lowest survival probability calculated since transmigration."
"Noted. Any recommendations beyond 'flee immediately'?"
"Numerous tactical recommendations available. However, all assume master intends to survive rather than maintain abstract principles. If master prioritizes reputation over life expectancy, recommendations are irrelevant."
"I prioritize both. Give me tactical recommendations."
The droid begins projecting defensive strategies while I listen and calculate exactly how expensive survival has become. The answer is: very expensive, morally complicated, and getting worse daily.
But I chose this. Step by step, compromise by compromise. The path led here. Forward is the only direction left.
Even if forward means Black Sun hunting me, CS investigating me, and civilian casualties I can't ever fully escape.
At least my reputation is intact. That has to count for something in the moral calculus I've been running since Grax died in that warehouse. It has to mean something that I chose loyalty over maximum profit, even if loyalty is to criminal syndicate enabling gang warfare.
The rationalization feels thin. But it's all I have as I prepare for meeting tomorrow where Syndicate officially makes me accomplice rather than supplier.
Progress, I guess. Though R4 would probably calculate the exact percentage of how doomed that makes me.
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