Story fragment
Jun. 12th, 2010 06:34 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
Unrelated to anything else, but I wanted to get it out.
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"Tremlett and Bronsky, Cameron Tremlett speaking." Cameron blinked, realised he was on the internal phone. "Oh, hi, Luanne."
"Cam, it's Freedom of Space again. I've got one of them in the lobby."
"Well, tell him--" Cameron broke off. "No, in fact, why don't you send him on in. Let's try this one more time."
Luanne sighed. "Okay, Cam. I'll have the Tylenol ready."
Cameron's office door banged open and a young man in a garish t-shirt and faded jeans swaggered in.
"Well, well," he sneered. "The great Cameron Tremlett at last deigns to admit us to the presence. Should I bang my forehead on the floor the requisite three times, or would you be content with a simple genuflection?"
"What do you want, Zachary?" Cameron said wearily, as the young man slumped, uninvited, into a chair.
"You know what I want. To help. You've got a pretty good ship design in the Corsair II, on the whole, and we think it should be in production."
"So do we, Zachary, so do we."
"So why isn't it?"
"I've told you. We were hit hard by the galactic recession, and we're down to a skeleton staff. We're having to--"
"That's bullshit," Zachary interrupted. "If you're shortstaffed, it's because you're shortsighted. We've offered to come on board and help fix your design flaws--unpaid, even--and you've blanked us completely. That's rude."
Not as rude as answering you would have been, Cameron thought, but there was no help for it. "There are legal complications," he temporised.
"That won't fly," Zachary said flatly. "You've been giving us that excuse for years. Any piddling little legal quibbles could have been all ironed out by now. What's the real reason?"
"Okay," Cameron said. "You want the real reason?"
"That's why I'm here, isn't it?"
"Right then. Let's talk about the Corsair I."
Zachary blinked. "That's old news."
"We designed it for Hagedoern and Sons, couple of years ago. They discontinued it when Neilson brought out the Ten Point Five."
"History."
"Since when you and your colleagues in Freedom For Space have been producing knockoffs from a Corsair I you hacked into, and giving them away to your friends."
"That's no skin off your nose. You don't work for Hagedoern any more."
"Nor are we ever likely to, now, thanks to you." That last was probably uncalled-for, but Zachary's attitude was begging for it.
"Why should that have any effect on us working on the Corsair II? It's a completely new ship. Or it will be, if you let us implement our ideas. It could be huge."
"It's a question of trust, Zachary." Cameron pinched the bridge of his nose. "If you'll do that, what guarantee do we have that you won't do the same to us with the II?"
Zachary looked outraged. "You have our word."
"Like your word on the Corsair I's EULA?"
"This is intolerable." Zachary sprang to his feet. "You've already used several of our suggestions to improve the design."
"Which were offered, to the best of our knowledge, in good faith and without strings, and we accepted them on that basis. If you're going to make an issue of it, we can remove them again."
"And leave your new ship even more crappy than it is?"
"If that's what it takes to get you out of our hair." Cameron tried to be reasonable. "Look, I don't want us to be on opposite sides, Zachary. You and your colleagues have some great talent and some fascinating ideas, and we could use them. But as things stand, there's no way we could enter into any arrangement with your group without compromising our position legally. We don't want you to have to stop what you're doing--strange as it may sound, we agree with your ideals, and your knockoffs are in many ways better than the original design--but as long as you're doing it, we can't put you on our team. Not even as volunteers. Sorry."
"Sorry?" Zachary was livid. "You will be. You wait till I tell the guys. We'll put it all over the data-net, what a dog in the manger you are. Obstructing the freedom of space for the little guy, just to protect your precious intellectual property. Just you wait, Mr High and Mighty Cameron Tremlett!"
And he stalked out, slamming the door behind him.
"That went well," said Luanne, coming in a moment later with the painkillers.
"Again," Cameron agreed, reaching for the glass.
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"Tremlett and Bronsky, Cameron Tremlett speaking." Cameron blinked, realised he was on the internal phone. "Oh, hi, Luanne."
"Cam, it's Freedom of Space again. I've got one of them in the lobby."
"Well, tell him--" Cameron broke off. "No, in fact, why don't you send him on in. Let's try this one more time."
Luanne sighed. "Okay, Cam. I'll have the Tylenol ready."
Cameron's office door banged open and a young man in a garish t-shirt and faded jeans swaggered in.
"Well, well," he sneered. "The great Cameron Tremlett at last deigns to admit us to the presence. Should I bang my forehead on the floor the requisite three times, or would you be content with a simple genuflection?"
"What do you want, Zachary?" Cameron said wearily, as the young man slumped, uninvited, into a chair.
"You know what I want. To help. You've got a pretty good ship design in the Corsair II, on the whole, and we think it should be in production."
"So do we, Zachary, so do we."
"So why isn't it?"
"I've told you. We were hit hard by the galactic recession, and we're down to a skeleton staff. We're having to--"
"That's bullshit," Zachary interrupted. "If you're shortstaffed, it's because you're shortsighted. We've offered to come on board and help fix your design flaws--unpaid, even--and you've blanked us completely. That's rude."
Not as rude as answering you would have been, Cameron thought, but there was no help for it. "There are legal complications," he temporised.
"That won't fly," Zachary said flatly. "You've been giving us that excuse for years. Any piddling little legal quibbles could have been all ironed out by now. What's the real reason?"
"Okay," Cameron said. "You want the real reason?"
"That's why I'm here, isn't it?"
"Right then. Let's talk about the Corsair I."
Zachary blinked. "That's old news."
"We designed it for Hagedoern and Sons, couple of years ago. They discontinued it when Neilson brought out the Ten Point Five."
"History."
"Since when you and your colleagues in Freedom For Space have been producing knockoffs from a Corsair I you hacked into, and giving them away to your friends."
"That's no skin off your nose. You don't work for Hagedoern any more."
"Nor are we ever likely to, now, thanks to you." That last was probably uncalled-for, but Zachary's attitude was begging for it.
"Why should that have any effect on us working on the Corsair II? It's a completely new ship. Or it will be, if you let us implement our ideas. It could be huge."
"It's a question of trust, Zachary." Cameron pinched the bridge of his nose. "If you'll do that, what guarantee do we have that you won't do the same to us with the II?"
Zachary looked outraged. "You have our word."
"Like your word on the Corsair I's EULA?"
"This is intolerable." Zachary sprang to his feet. "You've already used several of our suggestions to improve the design."
"Which were offered, to the best of our knowledge, in good faith and without strings, and we accepted them on that basis. If you're going to make an issue of it, we can remove them again."
"And leave your new ship even more crappy than it is?"
"If that's what it takes to get you out of our hair." Cameron tried to be reasonable. "Look, I don't want us to be on opposite sides, Zachary. You and your colleagues have some great talent and some fascinating ideas, and we could use them. But as things stand, there's no way we could enter into any arrangement with your group without compromising our position legally. We don't want you to have to stop what you're doing--strange as it may sound, we agree with your ideals, and your knockoffs are in many ways better than the original design--but as long as you're doing it, we can't put you on our team. Not even as volunteers. Sorry."
"Sorry?" Zachary was livid. "You will be. You wait till I tell the guys. We'll put it all over the data-net, what a dog in the manger you are. Obstructing the freedom of space for the little guy, just to protect your precious intellectual property. Just you wait, Mr High and Mighty Cameron Tremlett!"
And he stalked out, slamming the door behind him.
"That went well," said Luanne, coming in a moment later with the painkillers.
"Again," Cameron agreed, reaching for the glass.
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no subject
Date: 2010-06-13 10:31 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-06-13 12:56 pm (UTC)