Max led the group to the rooms he had picked for them, halfway up the Cruise Ship area, and well away from where the others were staying, just in case there was an incident or the negotiations fell through at the Black Wolf end.
The last thing that he wanted was for one of their visitors from the Alliance to be injured or killed. It would ruin not only their reputation but the reputations of all humans in the eyes of the Alliance arbiters, even if the Illithid spoke on their behalf.
Some barriers could be deployed all over the ship to stop a violent rampage, but even one casualty was too many at this point, and it was making even the most basic of hospitality seem stressful to Max. Mercenaries, like the Reavers themselves, viewed it as rude and a sign of distrust to ask them to leave their sidearms behind, so he couldn't even do that much to ensure the safety of his guests.
The Black Wolf Company wasn't likely to start any trouble, though, and they were getting along very well with the Innu Technician who had joined them for the walk. She was happy to discuss the technical aspects of the things they saw along the way, like the Gravity slides, which the Mercenaries didn't quite understand until they saw an off-duty pilot come gliding out the end of a tunnel and into a pool.
"So, you're saying that you built a giant waterslide network through the entire public portion of the ship? Exactly how many disposable resources do the Reavers have?" One of the Mercenary representatives asked.
"Oh, this is nothing. The water can be filtered and recycled, so we don't lose much of it, and Terminus carries enough resources to be self-sufficient for decades, assuming minimal casualties among the Mecha forces." Nico offered.
"You have a strong Mecha force? Most Reaver vessels don't. They prefer ship-to-ship combat and trade missions, with fewer rescues. That's what we usually do." The Station Captain asked.
"Terminus is an emergency response vessel, thanks to her unique technologies. We carry a full Heavy Mecha Regiment with some special surprises." Max informed them with a wink.
That earned them a lot of respect from the Mercenary Company, who were quite eager to learn about the defensive capability of Terminus, which was the only vessel of the Trade Group that they were planning to join that was in the region around their base.
"Are they the new patterns that we have heard the Reavers are making in the Rae 5 system? I have seen some photos of them from our informants, and they look quite impressive." One of the Mercenaries, a big man with a scar running from his mouth to the back of his head, commented.
"That's right. We were the test fleet for them, so our entire force is new pattern mecha made by the Reavers. We poached some top talents in the chaos, and I can say for certain that they are not inferior to current-generation Kepler or Cygnus Mecha.
Once you are firmly dedicated to the Trade Group, they will be made available to you as well. The Reaver Captains only agreed to hold back until we are sure that they won't be going to double agents who want to get their hands on more firepower before breaking the terms and attacking their neighbors."
The Station Captain looked intrigued by the answer and followed up with a simple question. "Why are the Reavers of all people so dedicated to nonaggression between solar systems? In the past, they kept neutral and served everyone equally. This could hurt their customer base and trust."
"The Alliance that these alien species come from is a large part of the driving force. They have incredible technologies to improve humanity's standards of living, and we want access to them. The Reavers will continue to service anyone who isn't attacking a member of their group, so that much won't change, but if we can convince all of humanity to keep it in their pants for a couple of generations, we can earn ourselves some intergalactic trust and start working toward opening up trade to other galaxies."
"So, the Reavers are playing the long game to open up some new markets?" One of the Mercenaries asked.
"Not just some. The market share is roughly ten thousand times the size of the entire human population, spread over thousands of Galaxies. If we could sell our specialties to them, we would never run out of customers, and we simply aren't capable of producing enough to overcome demand. The Galaxy doesn't have the logistics or manpower." Max explained, and the Mercenaries stared at him with awe.
"What about the ones who just love a good fight? Even if it isn't a war, some folk need to fight." The scar-faced man asked.
"There's still the Klem, the Narsians, and hundreds more increasingly dangerous species. We already met a group calling themselves the Hunters, which uses a Biomechanical Mecha technology to hunt beasts that make the Klem look like angry puppies." Nico informed him.
The two shared an overjoyed look, reveling in the potential for intergalactic hunting missions to replace the mundane reality of war, and Max realized that actually gaining membership in the Alliance was not something that was going to happen in a single generation or likely even ten. They might have a chance at becoming trade partners like the Hunters, though.
"Here we are, the seventh floor. You might as well take the luxury suites since the ship is almost empty at the moment. We just have some members of a plant species and the Innu staying here right now." Max offered.
The Mercenaries hesitated, wondering what was included in a luxury suite and if the Reavers were trying to bribe them with something illicit. The Reavers had killed entire planets over human trafficking rings in the past, though, so that wasn't their major concern. But the Station Captain knew that a supply of illicit drugs, which the Reavers had no problems delivering as long as they weren't too addictive, could sway some of his team.
"Don't worry. It's just the basic stuff you would expect on a high-end cruise. Comfortable beds, hot tubs in the rooms, holographic theaters, and ensuite replicators in case you need a snack or an off-schedule meal.
There are restaurants all over the area, with the majority of the ones closest to you being on floor five. That's where most of our crew goes to party and relax when they are off duty, so you will find the closest thing we have to a crowd there if you feel like socializing." Max explained after hearing their thoughts.
"Now we're talking. Do you have dancers? Live bands?" One of the men on the mercenary team asked.
"The dancers are holograms, sorry. But we have live bands. Since we don't have to worry so much about storage as a smaller ship does, we have a couple of talented and fully equipped musical groups in the crew."
Max opened the door to the first suite, and the Mercenaries stopped in their tracks. It was just a single-bedroom suite, very similar to the one Max stayed in, though without the extra rooms attached and a smaller living room, but compared to the rough and simple decor of a Mercenary station, it was practically a royal palace.
"This whole section is the same. Pick the rooms you want, and the door locks will register your fingerprints when you enter for the first time. The red light on the door means it is assigned to someone else."
