Open Negotiations on Farana's Future: Corporate Backroom Deals

[Cuvran Kitras]

Negotiations on Farana: Corporate Backroom Deals

Farana
The Industrial Advancement Project Complex, or IAPC
Central Negotiation Room on the 27th Floor.
Noon, Misty, and Overcast.
Muse Music | OOC Thread​

White polished floors, clean and practical with a noticeable squeak of footsteps. There was a rigid efficiency to corporate dealings, some would call it stale, Cuvran would call it practical or to the point. Occasional corporate security or droids stood against the walls, emotionless and probably bored. The Office for Industrial Advancement had been a CSA-sponsored building on Farana, which fittingly happened to be Cuvran’s homeworld, so his connections here were not insubstantial. Though his influence within the CSA was still minimal, his family's money helped, and with some prodding, his superiors had selected him due to his knowledge of this world, a first real test for the Junior Liason of the CSA.

Somewhere on the 27th floor of a large sleek central structure, a single light grey circular table sat in the center of the room, with a large holoprojector at its center, sitting five almost comfortable seats around it. The central projector was free for anyone to use. Beside them, a window looked out onto a cloudy drizzly world. Like the world, the lighting was dim, but warm illumination was provided around the doors and table so people could navigate, and read documents or datapads. Four or Five parties were arriving for the negotiations on how to best direct the re-industrialization of Farana, where the contracts for this should go, where the cost would be paid from, and just what exactly the plans for the future were. It was a meeting of opportunity, for alliances and competitors.

Seat 1: The Farana Governing Authority, represented by a chubby male Mon Calamari named Trejo Pon.
Seat 2: The CSA, represented by Cuvran Kitras
Seat 3: The Rimworld Corporate Collective or RCC, a minor group of competing corporate interests, represented by a female Arkanian named Amisse Arra.
Seat 4: Param Vour
Seat 5: TBD

The Fourth Seat remained for the taking, with a fifth seat spare just in case of a late arrival or duo. Other chairs could be provided for unexpected guests, or used for personal assistants if required. The meeting was not exactly galactic news, but a few messages and feelers had been sent out.

None of the profiles of those present were a secret for those arriving if they’d done their research, but they were also not well known in wider circles beyond a file on a datapad or computer. Amisse was known for her cold calculating behavior, she was intelligent and like many of her race had a sense of superiority beneath her words. Trejo was known for a certain level of greed and healthy self-interest, but more standoffish pragmatism. Curvan’s file would likely highlight his inexperience, connections to the planet, family wealth, and educational background in infrastructure, supply chains, and communications.

Cuvran adjusted his seat, pulling a large green briefcase that doubled as a holoscreen onto the table, and opened it up. He could swear these chairs were designed to not quite let you rest or get comfortable, and keep you sharp. The angular pale grey face of Amisse peered at the others trying to take the measure of them, while Trejo Pon cleared his throat and mumbled something about wanting water or a drink provided. Waiting was an uncomfortable silence, but before Cuvran could turn on any charm, the remaining parties arrived and so the Mon Calamari began without delay.

”Welcome distinguished guests, as you know Farana sits on a precipice of change. We are opening ourselves up to the wider galaxy like never before. As we've invited you to do, we’d like to hear your proposals on how we can better connect our industries and civilian sectors to the many opportunities present within the galaxy, and how these might be practically funded both now and in the future.” The Mon Calamari cleared his throat again, as someone finally passed the fish man some water. The stage was set for anyone who can see opportunity or alliances, whether they choose to speak or listen.

OOC NPCs

Spoiler

Use the two NPCS as you like in your posts to keep the dialogue rolling.

 

[Param Vour]

Param was out of place in a building like this. Where everyone wore coats, she wore a tan, hooded poncho. Where they wore dress shirts and pants or skirts, she wore a black long-sleeve shirt and a pair of tight fitting, brown trousers with black boots that came up along her shins. Her hair, dyed brown but with silver streaks showing through, was left to fall around her shoulders and down her back. The silver streaks and her silver eyes the only things showing the tanned woman as Echani.

Knowing they'd never be allowed, she left her weapons on her ship with Vee. She doubted she would need them. Business meetings in places like this rarely turned to violence, and also rarely encountered a Master level Force user. There was always a chance though, with the reason Param had come to the building. Whispers of a planet's future hanging in the balance, and a secret slave trade funneling free labor into it. Few things made Param angry these days, but outwardly condemning the slave trade while actively participating it behind closed doors was one.

Security finished making sure Param hadn't brought any weapons. They were a little concerned with the fact that she looked like a wanderer off the streets, and in a way she was. Concerned third parties were welcome, however, so they let her through. It helped that she was all warm smiles and gentle "thank yous". Even in the turbolift, and when the doors opened and she began walking around the negotiation table, the warm smile stayed on her delicate features.

Param sat down in the fourth seat without a word or sound, resting her hands in her lap. Her gaze shifted from one negotiator to the next. The pale woman and the Mon Calamari bore daggers at her, but that was okay with Param. "I didn't know they let vagabonds into business meetings, now," the pale woman spat. Param turned a calm, smiling gaze to her.

"I prefer wanderer," Param said. "Concerned third parties are welcome, and I am a concerned third party."

"Out for a free meal, most likely," the Mon Calamari added.

"I can cook my own food just fine, thank you. Please, continue with the meeting." Param was here to assess who was who, and where allegiances lay. It was a business meeting of serpents, not a nest of slavers.

@Blue Oakwood

 

[Cuvran Kitras]

Unknowing who was approaching, Kitras stood to his feet, in politics it paid not to judge by appearances, at least he wished he’d get that treatment one day, considering it unlikely. The Kiffar nodded before retaking his seat as the newcomer did. This woman could be a hugely powerful influence, he had no way of knowing, and she could be a key piece to the puzzle. He also gave little away to Param, except that polite nod, placing his fingertips together in his lap and listening.

The Mon Calamari was a shrewd one, he laid this out to put the ball squarely in his court. How everyone can help him, offering little give and all take. So Cuvran didn’t initially answer, he wasn’t walking into that one-sided proposal blind.

Amisse Arra raised her chin, “The RCC represents many exclusive small businesses and skilled independent traders, we can offer Farana membership tomorrow, and the status alone would surely be worth a great deal to your local enterprises. Naturally, you would be well compensated Representative Pon for allowing our superior industrial concerns a place within your welcoming planet. Our diverse independent connections leave…. a wide variety of potentially untapped markets that you will find interesting.” Ominous words at the end.

The sense of greed within the Mon Calamari caught wind of that and his fishy chops mulled it over, there was little law on the rim to hinder any kind of market from being established. Cuvran thought it a weak proposal, but a starting point, he considered Amisse was saving plenty in reserve to match his own.

Exhaling and tapping his fingers together the young Kiffar diplomat chose his words carefully. “Why play games with token offers.” Letting the Mon Calamari wait and stew a moment on the silence. Just when he was about to ask Cuvran what he meant, “this building is the start of the CSA and Farana cooperating to reach a much wider galaxy. Our connections extend from here to the core, if you want Farana to be the giant you can be, with good representation in the senate we have the means to facilitate it by mutual cooperation.” Now came the crux, “Status? Both person and professional, with the CSA you’re status will be tenfold increased. We have the major corporations, the major players, and the major credits.”

Credits, he highlighted that word. The Kiffar left plenty in reserve, this was an appeal to his self-interest, the initial opening position and practicalities would come later when he knew what the others were offering. This might just come down to who had the most in reserve, he believed he was going to win that, but he had a hunch Amisse wasn’t going to play fair. He also wondered what the newcomer would offer to the balance of the negotiations, and turned to watch who broke the silence first.

"What must be considered is who might pay for our mutual development here, and how that can be appropriately funded." Trejo Pon didn't budge far from his opening statement.

@TheDudeMike

 

[Param Vour]

Param listened intently, shifting her silver gaze from speaker to speaker. The inner workings of Furana were not something she was well versed in, but she didn’t need to be. Industrial complexes were something she had played a part in a long time ago. She had run the spice mines on Troiken, and a tea shop that had a legal front end while selling tea laced with spice, marcana, and drugs that would bring entire planets to their knees to the black market; she knew how to run a business, and knew the tells when things were being hush-hush.

“Independent connections and untapped markets,” Param repeated after everyone had spoken. Snakes, all of them. Their words held meaning yet no meaning at the same time, and none of them, across the galaxy, seemed to just say what they meant. There always had to be something behind the words, and Param hated it. “Why don’t you speak plainly?”

“I would advise against such independent connections and untapped markets,” Param said, not allowing the woman to respond yet. Her gaze shifted across the table again. “It may take longer to develop, but you won’t have to worry about these… independent connections wanting a piece of it all.” She had worked with mercenaries, pirates, and the Cartel before. She knew how the game was played. These people were playing with fire- and lives.

Param turned to the Kiffar who’d stood up when she had entered. She kept her words to herself for him. He was playing in an arena of giants. Whispers in the trade lanes mentioned talks of replacing the Corporate Sector Authority with Apex, and Param had first hand experience in seeing them work. The status the man spoke of would mean little. Param frowned, turning away. Her mission here was not to keep people from making deals that wouldn't bear fruit- her mission was these independent connections and untapped markets- particularly the slave trade.

@Blue Oakwood