Three figures sat in the room, behind a table. The only illumination in the room came from the LCD displays of the figure's tablets. The figure on the right, aptly dubbed "Mr. Right" by people who dealt with the Acquisitions Triad frequently, motioned for Clara to sit down. Mr. Middle tapped his fingers on his tablet. A synthesized voice said from all directions, "Wel-come cap-tain Nguyen. A ple-sure as al-ways. What brings you here?"

Clara sat down in the offered chair, and took off her glasses. The light was low enough that she didn't need them. She cleared her throat, and explained, "Five weeks ago we intercepted a shipment of tech. Newly made in TrelaClair. I thought you might be interested." She motioned to Smith and the others, who carried the chest over to the table and set it down. They pried off the lid, revealing a large amount of haphazardly stacked circuit boards, capacitors, LCD displays, and strange electronic devices. A whirring noise filled the room as the assorted cameras zoomed in on the box. The Acquisitions Triad examined their tablets.

Clara waited patiently while the Triad tapped on their tablets, calculating and arguing with one another via a chat system. After you dealt with the Acquisitions Triad a few times, you learned to be patient. They took a long time to decide on anything.

A few minutes later, Mr. Left cleared his throat. Mr Left was the spokesman of the Triad, an odd position for one who never spoke, even electronically. He slid his tablet across the table. It displayed a rather large figure, nearly 1500 marks per person on the Red Dragon's crew, and two words: "Only Offer".

Clara disliked the Underground. They didn't haggle. They were secretive. And they were better than her at anything involving technology. But they paid well. She nodded to Mr. Left. He took his tablet back, pushed a few buttons, and returned it. It read, "Address?" and had a keyboard on the screen. Clara typed out the pier number that the Dragon was docked at, and moved to go. Mr. Left's hand shot out and grabbed her arm. He tapped something out on his tablet, and showed it to her. It read, "Deal with the eavesdropper on your way out. Good Day."

Clara nodded, and stood. Smith and the others let go of the chest. The heavy thing was the Underground's problem now. She put her glasses back on, turned, and in one fluid motion, drew a butterfly sword and kicked the door open.