"For the sake of all that is good. Harry, I had thought we agreed; I don't want to sell to the military!" said Kincade. Both gentlemen tinkers sat in the smoking room of the Club. The tinkers and makers, seated all around Harry and Kincade in opulently plump leather chairs, appeared to be enjoying a cup of tea. However, there was a decided gin fragrance and a remarkable lack of teapots. Pipe smoke collected in the air above them, like quiet ideas given form floating and wafting in the air, waiting to be pulled into existence by one of the tinkers, with steam, hammer, clockwork, and just a touch of madness.
"What do you mean, old boy?' replied a ruffled Harry. Shorter than Kincade, at only five-foot-four, his feet only touched the floor, and his broad shoulders and cropped brown hair had a military bearing. But with old eyes that had seen more than they should have in his twenty-seven short and storied years.
"We discussed it and agreed months ago. And, now, only a few days before it all comes to a final end, and you want to walk away?" Harry said.
Looking back at him, Kincade met his blue eyes with his steely grey. Then, taking a deep breath and in clear tones, said, "Look here, my young friend, we are both no more than thirty, we have time, and I have considered it. But, frankly, they simply aren't paying enough!"
"What do you mean, enough? The price we agreed will make us both rich beyond any measure of normal society. We will be richer than old George Duppa," said Harry.
Kincade reached for his dragon-headed cane. His palms pressed together as if in prayer, holding the cane in both hands. The handle was a carved face of a dragon. Its small, unblinking, ruby eyes set in polished brass seemed to be looking into Harry's soul to seek to make a connection.
"I mean, old boy, that we could help so many people lead the fullest lives and reach all their ambitions. The Ambulation Frame I created will allow people crippled by the very military in those stupid wars to walk again. We can return the wretches to their full capabilities. This suit will allow them to work, to be a part of our world. To once again be part of our society. This new world needs people to tame nature. We need people to build railways and airship ports. In short, we can give them back their dignity! The military will take my invention and fit it onto soldiers. The army's soldiers will be equipped to run faster and kill more people. They will take my invention away from us, from the world," Kincade finished.
Harry pursed his lips for a moment, considering what was just said. "Have you lost your mind? I run the business, and you just hammer on brass and dream. With what money would you buy materials for your stupid ideas? If not for my business acumen," Harry's challenge burst out of him. There was a pause, and Kincade raised his eyebrows momentarily, considering.
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"Well, I am waiting!" Harry demanded and then continued before Kincade could answer. "Without my expert managership and business mind, we would be out on the street in a month. Oh no, you wouldn't be on the street, would you Kincade? Family money makes ethics easy. Ethics are not for the hungry man, old boy," the red showing on Harry McCabe's face as he rose from his seat.
"We have both fought in those stupid pirate wars. Remember the Caribbean island? The pirate blockage of Montserrat? Remember when we were hungry? Remember, we said we would look out for each other?" Harry's finger pointed straight at Kincade's chest. In Kincade's mind, this straightforward action course him to flashback in his mind to the privateer wars. The pirates had once been ordinary citizens of the Commonwealth. He had never understood what experiences and thinking could drive an average person to such an unthinkable life. Outside of the embrace of society and all its benefits, no one in their right mind would ever be part of that madness.
"Well, it's time for me to look out for you. We will make this deal, and we will be rich men. Then, you can use your money to help whomever you like!" Now standing over Kincade, Harry looked down at him, his hands absentmindedly balled into fists.
"Chaps, your debate is gaining great interest," said Hutchens, average in height and a well-muscled man with long brown hair. Hutchens's chin was touching his chest, muffling his comments.
"It would be best to resolve your concerns in one of the workshops, with the machines clamoring. You would be quieter," Hutchens continued with a sly smirk. He gestured to the others in the room, and the furtive glances and out-and-out steers, one of the tables was putting money down. Harry sat down.
"Oh' shut your cake hole, pretty boy. No one wants your advice or company," Harry cursed.
It was not unusual for someone to argue in the Club. In fact, the O'Reilly brothers, just the other day, came to blows -- again, but that wasn't it. Instead, it was that it was gauche to discuss money in public.
Kincade stood up and looked at Harry. Then, with a slight sneer, he looked into Hutchens' eyes, "Hutchens, a good point, as always." He smiled at the man, nodded, and turned to Harry.
"Harry, the patent is mine. We are not selling to the military. Call the deal off," he said with a finger pointed at Harry's chest; Returning the gesture, Kincade turned to leave. Harry reached out and grabbed Kincade's sleeve.
"Kincade, it's late. We are both a little tired. Let's talk in the morning," Harry said wearily; Kincade lifted his arm, breaking the grip as he left.
Harry turned and watched a single point in the back of Kincade's head as he left the room. No one heard Harry murmuring to himself, "I will save you, old friend. A sale to the military is best if not for you, certainly for me. And I have bills to pay…".