Fic: Fair Warning (Kaldor City)
Title: Fair Warning
Author: lost_spook
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1715
Characters/Pairings: Kiy Uvanov/Ander Poul
Notes/Warnings: Set shortly before Occam’s Razor (and after Corpse Marker). Kissing for devious reasons; Uvanov being insensitive about robophobia/Poul's mental state etc.
Summary: Uvanov’s not sure what Poul wants. He just wishes he’d shut up and go away...
For liadtbunny in the 500 Prompts Meme - Prompt 52: the hand of fate - Uvanov/Poul.
***
“Well? What did you want? I’m a busy man, you know,” Uvanov snapped as he edged himself in the narrow space between the bench seat and the table of the refreshment arcade - if you could even call it that. The place was shabby, the décor dingy and well past time for a refurbishment. It wasn’t the sort of establishment the Company Chairholder usually frequented. He had security with him and waiting out of earshot, of course, but he was outside of his customary sphere and more irritable than ever as a result.
Still, at least the message hadn’t been a fake, since it was Poul who was sitting in front of him and, while he never knew what to expect from Poul, at least he could be reasonably sure he wasn’t working for Landerchild. Reasonably sure, at any rate. Not that he couldn’t be working with or for someone else who wanted to get rid of Uvanov. Being one of the most powerful man in Kaldor City generated a lot of envy and people out to get him. Of course, Uvanov had always felt everyone had it in for him. The difference these days was that he was usually right.
Poul raised an eyebrow at the abrupt greeting. He was slouched back in the opposite chair. “Uvanov. As charming as ever, I see.”
“I haven’t got all day,” Uvanov said. “I don’t even know why I bothered coming. Wouldn’t have done if the board hadn’t cancelled our last meeting.”
“Yes,” said Poul, his tone faintly mocking. “I’m sure Company Chairholder is quite the responsibility.”
Uvanov gave him a sharp look. He wondered first - as he did about everyone - what Poul was up to, but then found himself also wondering exactly how Poul was these days, or his state of mind, at any rate. Even Uvanov couldn’t be tactless enough to ask that outright, though. The man looked calm enough, if detached, which might be a bad sign, or it might just be Poul being Poul. Hard to tell, really.
“Yes, it is - and I certainly haven’t got time to sit around chatting about old times, so come on. You must want something!”
“If you haven’t got the time, then what is the point?” Poul asked, sitting upright, a lift in his voice betraying genuine curiosity. It was the first moment that his voice had held any real expression. “You might well be the most powerful man in Kaldor City, and one of the richest, but you haven’t got any time to spend with an old friend?”
“You’re not -” said Uvanov, and then gave an irritated shrug, and stopped.
Poul gave an ironic smile. “I didn’t say I was, did I?”
“Anyway, power is the point,” said Uvanov. “I don’t have to explain myself to you. What is it? Fed up with life in the Sewer Pits and you want a hand out, a post - is that it?”
Poul look back at him for a while before speaking, a slight curl to his lips in distaste. “No. Although, thank you, Uvanov. It’s kind of you to offer.”
“I wasn’t!”
“Oh, well, then it isn’t, I suppose.”
Uvanov was about to snap again, but was interrupted by a young man bringing their drinks across. What sort of shoddy excuse for a refreshment arcade didn’t even have a few robots to do the serving? Then he grimaced to himself. Stupid question, of course. A grubby, low-class place on the edge of the Sewer Pits, exactly like this one, naturally. The sort of place someone like Poul might prefer for obvious reasons. Uvanov shunted aside the thought that he also didn’t mind being free of the dratted things for an hour or so. That wasn’t robophobia; it was perfectly rational and had everything to do with the number of times a bloody robot had tried to kill him.
“Thank you,” said Poul to the server, while Uvanov was still busy inwardly fuming at himself for even coming here.
Uvanov waited until the man had gone and then gave an impatient sigh. “Look, if you did want - that is, I could find you something. That was what we were going to do, wasn’t it? And I could use a few people around who aren’t Founding Family idiots, or spies for Landerchild. At least you’d actually be working for me.”
“I don’t think I’d be much use.”
So, concluded Uvanov, not better, then. He wasn’t surprised. Therapy was available, but by and large, it tended to be given via MedVocs, and that was a bit of contradiction in terms in Poul’s case. And the last attempt had been deliberately sabotaged by Carnell and turned into an exercise in worsening Poul’s condition. Uvanov could see how that kind of thing would put a man off the whole idea.
“Then what is this about? Get to the point, can’t you?”
Poul gave a slight laugh. “Lean forward and I’ll tell you.”
“Lean forward?”
“Well, yes. You do understand the concept, don’t you?” Then as Uvanov still frowned at him, Poul said, more impatiently, “I don’t particularly want anyone else to hear, so if you wouldn’t mind -”
“It’s more likely to attract attention than - oh, all right, all right!” Uvanov leant forward across the table.
Poul did the same and then, just as Uvanov was waiting to finally hear what this whole damn stupid charade had been about, Poul didn’t say anything. He kissed him instead.
Uvanov pulled back in outrage, as soon as the moment of frozen shock passed. “What the hell do you think you’re doing? Are you out of your mind?”
“I thought we’d established that years ago,” said Poul.
Uvanov glared at him. “Never mind that. I didn’t come all the way out from Company Central to be slobbered over!”
Poul raised both eyebrows, but ignored him. “One of my people is over there -”
“Your people?”
“Yes. Recording our, ah, conversation.”
“You’re going to blackmail me? With this? It’s not exactly anything that’d cause a -”
“No, not blackmail,” said Poul. “Insurance. Uvanov, will you just sit there for a few minutes and let me explain? Ironically, I’m here to help you, not the other way around. I merely needed some assurance that you won’t mention this conversation to anyone else.”
“At the moment, I can guarantee it,” said Uvanov, his voice sour. “Anyway, your people? You mean - you stayed with that rabble? They let you? And if that’s true, I’d have thought you stood more to lose from a relationship with a Company Firstmaster than the other way around. Not exactly good Tarenist behaviour is it, hobnobbing with the Chairholder?”
“Yes, but I was the one who asked them to record the meeting,” Poul reminded him. “And that’s the point - I’m sure that your enemies would have something to say about you meeting with an anti-robot activist. Or don’t you think so?”
“Get on with it!” It was a fair point, although still not all that convincing. Landerchild or one of the others would make an issue out of anything Uvanov did if they could - and they usually could. Uvanov would deal with this as he did all the rest of his opponents’ games.
Poul nodded, and leant forward again. Uvanov kept well back and glared at him.
“Leave Kaldor.”
“What?”
“You do seem singularly obtuse today, Uvanov. Even for you.”
“I’m finally Company Chairholder, right where I’ve always wanted to be and you think I should bugger off and leave everything to Landerchild. Wonderful. I’m sure he’d be delighted. I take it back. How much did he pay you?”
Poul ignored his heavy-handed irony. “I said, leave. It isn’t going to be safe any more, especially not at Company Central. Something is coming -”
“Is this a what - a bomb warning? You’re actually working with them?”
Poul gripped Uvanov’s hand on the table. “Will you shut up and listen to me? No, it isn’t. Something’s coming. Something that will change everything. And you may be callous and objectionable, but -”
“I’ve saved your sorry life twice?”
“Well, I’m not sure that’s strictly true,” said Poul, “but that’s the general direction I was heading towards.”
“And so I should just run off into the Blind Heart or somewhere because something’s coming?”
“Yes.”
“You are mad.” Uvanov felt an unaccustomed twinge of guilt, because he could have asked where Poul had got to before this. He’d taken his testimony and used it against the rest of the Company, after that business with the prototype robots rampaging about, and then - well, then things had got busy, hadn’t they?
“And you’re sane?” Poul countered, mocking again now.
It was a fair question. Uvanov didn’t know exactly where his paranoia and ambition would put him, but he didn’t care. It kept him alive, didn’t it? Alive and - incidentally - filthy rich and finally powerful to make Founding Family members do whatever he asked them to. “Enough, yes.”
“Well, you’ve been warned,” said Poul. “The rest is up to you. And remember - one word of this to any one -”
“There won’t be. I can assure you, I certainly never had this ridiculous conversation.”
Poul slid out of the seat oppose. “Then goodbye, Uvanov.”
Uvanov shifted uncomfortably in his seat, all the more irritated because of the odd feeling of regret that he hadn’t done something. There probably hadn’t ever been anything he could do, he reminded himself. Man was a nutter, a twitchy, always had been. The ironic thing was, given Uvanov’s constant state of conviction that nobody could be trusted, Poul was the first person who’d got close enough to kiss him in a long time. It’d be laughable, except it wasn’t, really.
“Is that where you’re off to now? To get away from this - this terrible oncoming thing of yours?”
“Oh, no,” said Poul, sounding calm and detached again. “I said something was coming, and it is. But I don’t have to run away from it - it wants me. I’m in the hand of fate now. But you - you should go, Uvanov.”
Uvanov watched him go with a scowl. “Man’s completely insane,” he muttered, and then got up to leave. What was worse, he’d put in him a bad mood and he’d almost been having a good day until now.
***
Crossposted from Dreamwidth -- Comments there:
Author: lost_spook
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1715
Characters/Pairings: Kiy Uvanov/Ander Poul
Notes/Warnings: Set shortly before Occam’s Razor (and after Corpse Marker). Kissing for devious reasons; Uvanov being insensitive about robophobia/Poul's mental state etc.
Summary: Uvanov’s not sure what Poul wants. He just wishes he’d shut up and go away...
For liadtbunny in the 500 Prompts Meme - Prompt 52: the hand of fate - Uvanov/Poul.
***
“Well? What did you want? I’m a busy man, you know,” Uvanov snapped as he edged himself in the narrow space between the bench seat and the table of the refreshment arcade - if you could even call it that. The place was shabby, the décor dingy and well past time for a refurbishment. It wasn’t the sort of establishment the Company Chairholder usually frequented. He had security with him and waiting out of earshot, of course, but he was outside of his customary sphere and more irritable than ever as a result.
Still, at least the message hadn’t been a fake, since it was Poul who was sitting in front of him and, while he never knew what to expect from Poul, at least he could be reasonably sure he wasn’t working for Landerchild. Reasonably sure, at any rate. Not that he couldn’t be working with or for someone else who wanted to get rid of Uvanov. Being one of the most powerful man in Kaldor City generated a lot of envy and people out to get him. Of course, Uvanov had always felt everyone had it in for him. The difference these days was that he was usually right.
Poul raised an eyebrow at the abrupt greeting. He was slouched back in the opposite chair. “Uvanov. As charming as ever, I see.”
“I haven’t got all day,” Uvanov said. “I don’t even know why I bothered coming. Wouldn’t have done if the board hadn’t cancelled our last meeting.”
“Yes,” said Poul, his tone faintly mocking. “I’m sure Company Chairholder is quite the responsibility.”
Uvanov gave him a sharp look. He wondered first - as he did about everyone - what Poul was up to, but then found himself also wondering exactly how Poul was these days, or his state of mind, at any rate. Even Uvanov couldn’t be tactless enough to ask that outright, though. The man looked calm enough, if detached, which might be a bad sign, or it might just be Poul being Poul. Hard to tell, really.
“Yes, it is - and I certainly haven’t got time to sit around chatting about old times, so come on. You must want something!”
“If you haven’t got the time, then what is the point?” Poul asked, sitting upright, a lift in his voice betraying genuine curiosity. It was the first moment that his voice had held any real expression. “You might well be the most powerful man in Kaldor City, and one of the richest, but you haven’t got any time to spend with an old friend?”
“You’re not -” said Uvanov, and then gave an irritated shrug, and stopped.
Poul gave an ironic smile. “I didn’t say I was, did I?”
“Anyway, power is the point,” said Uvanov. “I don’t have to explain myself to you. What is it? Fed up with life in the Sewer Pits and you want a hand out, a post - is that it?”
Poul look back at him for a while before speaking, a slight curl to his lips in distaste. “No. Although, thank you, Uvanov. It’s kind of you to offer.”
“I wasn’t!”
“Oh, well, then it isn’t, I suppose.”
Uvanov was about to snap again, but was interrupted by a young man bringing their drinks across. What sort of shoddy excuse for a refreshment arcade didn’t even have a few robots to do the serving? Then he grimaced to himself. Stupid question, of course. A grubby, low-class place on the edge of the Sewer Pits, exactly like this one, naturally. The sort of place someone like Poul might prefer for obvious reasons. Uvanov shunted aside the thought that he also didn’t mind being free of the dratted things for an hour or so. That wasn’t robophobia; it was perfectly rational and had everything to do with the number of times a bloody robot had tried to kill him.
“Thank you,” said Poul to the server, while Uvanov was still busy inwardly fuming at himself for even coming here.
Uvanov waited until the man had gone and then gave an impatient sigh. “Look, if you did want - that is, I could find you something. That was what we were going to do, wasn’t it? And I could use a few people around who aren’t Founding Family idiots, or spies for Landerchild. At least you’d actually be working for me.”
“I don’t think I’d be much use.”
So, concluded Uvanov, not better, then. He wasn’t surprised. Therapy was available, but by and large, it tended to be given via MedVocs, and that was a bit of contradiction in terms in Poul’s case. And the last attempt had been deliberately sabotaged by Carnell and turned into an exercise in worsening Poul’s condition. Uvanov could see how that kind of thing would put a man off the whole idea.
“Then what is this about? Get to the point, can’t you?”
Poul gave a slight laugh. “Lean forward and I’ll tell you.”
“Lean forward?”
“Well, yes. You do understand the concept, don’t you?” Then as Uvanov still frowned at him, Poul said, more impatiently, “I don’t particularly want anyone else to hear, so if you wouldn’t mind -”
“It’s more likely to attract attention than - oh, all right, all right!” Uvanov leant forward across the table.
Poul did the same and then, just as Uvanov was waiting to finally hear what this whole damn stupid charade had been about, Poul didn’t say anything. He kissed him instead.
Uvanov pulled back in outrage, as soon as the moment of frozen shock passed. “What the hell do you think you’re doing? Are you out of your mind?”
“I thought we’d established that years ago,” said Poul.
Uvanov glared at him. “Never mind that. I didn’t come all the way out from Company Central to be slobbered over!”
Poul raised both eyebrows, but ignored him. “One of my people is over there -”
“Your people?”
“Yes. Recording our, ah, conversation.”
“You’re going to blackmail me? With this? It’s not exactly anything that’d cause a -”
“No, not blackmail,” said Poul. “Insurance. Uvanov, will you just sit there for a few minutes and let me explain? Ironically, I’m here to help you, not the other way around. I merely needed some assurance that you won’t mention this conversation to anyone else.”
“At the moment, I can guarantee it,” said Uvanov, his voice sour. “Anyway, your people? You mean - you stayed with that rabble? They let you? And if that’s true, I’d have thought you stood more to lose from a relationship with a Company Firstmaster than the other way around. Not exactly good Tarenist behaviour is it, hobnobbing with the Chairholder?”
“Yes, but I was the one who asked them to record the meeting,” Poul reminded him. “And that’s the point - I’m sure that your enemies would have something to say about you meeting with an anti-robot activist. Or don’t you think so?”
“Get on with it!” It was a fair point, although still not all that convincing. Landerchild or one of the others would make an issue out of anything Uvanov did if they could - and they usually could. Uvanov would deal with this as he did all the rest of his opponents’ games.
Poul nodded, and leant forward again. Uvanov kept well back and glared at him.
“Leave Kaldor.”
“What?”
“You do seem singularly obtuse today, Uvanov. Even for you.”
“I’m finally Company Chairholder, right where I’ve always wanted to be and you think I should bugger off and leave everything to Landerchild. Wonderful. I’m sure he’d be delighted. I take it back. How much did he pay you?”
Poul ignored his heavy-handed irony. “I said, leave. It isn’t going to be safe any more, especially not at Company Central. Something is coming -”
“Is this a what - a bomb warning? You’re actually working with them?”
Poul gripped Uvanov’s hand on the table. “Will you shut up and listen to me? No, it isn’t. Something’s coming. Something that will change everything. And you may be callous and objectionable, but -”
“I’ve saved your sorry life twice?”
“Well, I’m not sure that’s strictly true,” said Poul, “but that’s the general direction I was heading towards.”
“And so I should just run off into the Blind Heart or somewhere because something’s coming?”
“Yes.”
“You are mad.” Uvanov felt an unaccustomed twinge of guilt, because he could have asked where Poul had got to before this. He’d taken his testimony and used it against the rest of the Company, after that business with the prototype robots rampaging about, and then - well, then things had got busy, hadn’t they?
“And you’re sane?” Poul countered, mocking again now.
It was a fair question. Uvanov didn’t know exactly where his paranoia and ambition would put him, but he didn’t care. It kept him alive, didn’t it? Alive and - incidentally - filthy rich and finally powerful to make Founding Family members do whatever he asked them to. “Enough, yes.”
“Well, you’ve been warned,” said Poul. “The rest is up to you. And remember - one word of this to any one -”
“There won’t be. I can assure you, I certainly never had this ridiculous conversation.”
Poul slid out of the seat oppose. “Then goodbye, Uvanov.”
Uvanov shifted uncomfortably in his seat, all the more irritated because of the odd feeling of regret that he hadn’t done something. There probably hadn’t ever been anything he could do, he reminded himself. Man was a nutter, a twitchy, always had been. The ironic thing was, given Uvanov’s constant state of conviction that nobody could be trusted, Poul was the first person who’d got close enough to kiss him in a long time. It’d be laughable, except it wasn’t, really.
“Is that where you’re off to now? To get away from this - this terrible oncoming thing of yours?”
“Oh, no,” said Poul, sounding calm and detached again. “I said something was coming, and it is. But I don’t have to run away from it - it wants me. I’m in the hand of fate now. But you - you should go, Uvanov.”
Uvanov watched him go with a scowl. “Man’s completely insane,” he muttered, and then got up to leave. What was worse, he’d put in him a bad mood and he’d almost been having a good day until now.
***
Crossposted from Dreamwidth -- Comments there: