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| The Relefare Contract; Personal Saga | |
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| Topic Started: Feb 8 2016, 02:01 AM (174 Views) | |
| Osiris | Feb 8 2016, 02:01 AM Post #1 |
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Pallor Lord
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Long Term Docking Deck-Beta Most people that come to Suicide Station have no intention of staying more than a few days. It is rough to visit and do business for a few days. Living here takes a certain breed of person. or at least a certain brand of desperation. Besides, even those planning to stay a while would generally prefer a means of quick escape should things go sour. Suffice it to say, the long term docks were regularly pretty empty. It also made rent exceptionally cheap. By Osiris’ standards, it was the perfect place to lay low between the bouts of extortion and drug deals he carried out on Siberius’ behalf. That down time had been growing over the last few days as well. Ever since he had given his crew of Star Wolves a glimpse into his schemes, they had been working overtime to push the time tables up. “What the hell is that thing?” Barnack’s surprisingly smooth voice echoed in the expansive bay housing Perse’s Fist. “It is a prototype for Siberius’ review. When Cauldron was still a planet, I use to run one of these for the Tuleck family.” Osiris breathed truth into a lie that sounded so natural it gave him a moment's pause. He only had a few more adjustments to make sure the system would be air tight - a task he had no intention of halting on Barnack’s account. “The hard payments are over there,” he gestured with the molecular sealer. Today the second-in-charge of Suicide Station didn’t to be dressed for war. The keliouxians hair was still styled into massive spikes that would make a saiyan envious, but his wardrobe was much more in step with the fashion of his people’s homeworld. All but his right shoulder was cloaked in a loose teal robe which flared at wrists. It was a simple garment, and contrasted well with the dark leather pauldron. The singular piece of ornamental armor was studded with gold rivets, and held in place by straps which elegantly bisected the tall alien’s torso. “Feels a bit heavier than normal. Are they paying in smaller bills or something?” Barnack picked up the three envelops sitting on a small toolbox. Without opening them, he tucked them away into a small belt pouch on his left hip. “Not that I am aware. The difference is probably from Roran’s payment. He had a barfight two days ago. My crew was there to pick up the rent when it happened. By time they got everything under control, there were three bodies.” Osiris ran his finger along a rubber seal that was now melted into place, permanently bonded to the metal casing which would serve as the water storage and acidifier. It wasn’t strictly necessary since the prototype would only run through a single cycle, maybe two. Over preparing was never a sin as far as the young Cosmic Lord was concerned. “We charged Roran to take the bodies off his hands. Then we took a cut from level eight’s security team. My crew doesn’t work for free. As I saw it, Siberius’ percentage is forty on the former, and twenty on the latter.” Finally satisfied with his work, the Pallor Lord turned to face his tax man. Barnack stared curiously at the ten foot by ten foot contraption set up alongside Perse’s Fist. “Your honesty disturbs me, wolf. No one is this eager to pay a tax. Especially your kind.” This was the first time Siberius’ right hand had made his misgivings known directly to Osiris. The demonic vessel could not quite tell if he was trying to probe or offer an olive branch. Was there a difference with this man? “My kind? Do you mean the Star Wolves or just criminals?” The Pallor Lord gave the Keliouxian a smirk. They both knew exactly what he meant. “Trust is a currency worth more to me than zeni. If a few hundred credits now can purchase me a greater range of opportunity later, I call it a cheap investment.” “And just what kind of opportunities are you looking to buy yourself?” The conversation had come around full circle, if only through implication. Osiris gestured towards the prototype, “I didn’t come to Suicide Station just for the lovely scenery. Relefare spores have certain qualities that make them very profitable additives to uppers. Without the proper financial backing, it is impossible to set up a proper grow and harvest facility. That’s why I came here in the first place, Mr. Barnack.” The gangster didn’t seem impressed, “What, you couldn’t find someone back on Catalysmia to play sponsor?” “It would have been easy to find the zeni. That’s not the most important factor though. Siberius, running this station, can provide all the requisites my project would demand: zeni, quiet territory, an established market, and controlled expansion. Things on Cataclysmia tend to shift too rapidly . . . and they aren’t the kind to appreciate safeguards.” The Pallor Lord was quickly growing tired of explaining himself to an obstacle, “Perhaps if Siberius is interested, the three of us can sit down and discuss the matter in more detail.” “Sounds like a liability,” Barnack paused a moment as he started to turn away, “but I’ll pass on the word that you want a meeting.” ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Two days later: Siberius’ Office - Level One When Osiris stepped into the luxurious office space which Siberius ‘worked’ from, he could literally feel the deck was entirely stacked in his favor. Just beneath reality’s surface, dark energies seethed and permeated within the tapestry hung walls. It wasn’t the viscous flux demonic energy normally took. There was almost no sense of force, or toxicity to the unseen miasma. Instead, it was almost an incense; light and fragrant with a seductive mystic. It was an interesting thing, to have watched the slow decline of the crime lord through the eyes of the very creature poisoning him. Insidious was truly the only way to describe a sanguimpicus. A parasite of the highest order, so long as it remained within the ruby cocoon Siberius’ life was not truly in danger. The effects of that subtle leaching were evident for someone who knew the symptoms though: Siberius’ complexion was a bit paler, the light purple was fading into something of a milky lavender. A clear sign that the unseen imp was ingesting small portions of life force along with stealing away certain inhibitions. It wasn’t enough to truly shorten someone’s life. The little demon would take just enough to impose a tinge of fatigue upon its ‘possessor’. An extra hour or two of sleep was sufficient to offset the effects. As long as an sanguimpicus remains in its cocoon, it is particularly vulnerable to physical assaults. Naturally camouflage serves as the imp’s first line of defense, but this is not its primary tactic. For those who harbor avarice at the sight of the faux ruby, the demon has an easy doorway into their minds. That greed is fed with the lightest of touches turning the unwitting owner into the creature’s primary defense - a fact often lost on the victim as they begin to experience a heightened sense of wanting. In such a state, Osiris doubted Siberius could deny any semi-reasonable opportunity to increase his profits. Especially since the Pallor Lord had ‘convinced’ the sanguimpicus to plant a more directed seed on his behalf. “Banacei, Osiris. Please, come in and sit down with us. We were just having a drink as we waited to hear more about this prototype.” Despite the pleasant greeting from the proprietor of Suicide Station, the room had a distinctly mixed emotional composition. For the briefest of moments, the Son of Cauldron was surprised to see Henex in attendance. His dour face contrasted sharply with his boss’ demeanor. It made absolute sense for him to be their though, assuming investments were already a serious consideration. The room looked much the same as it did the first time Osiris had been invited. Three overstuffed chairs were arranged in a semi-circle before Siberius’ gilded ebony desk. It seemed the central seat was reserved for the demonic vessel to sit directly across from his employer. A lesser man might have felt a twinge of intimidation being flanked by potential detractors: two large keliouxians at that. “Thank you. Henex, Barnack,” the Pallor Lord nodded his acknowledgments to those sitting to his left and right respectively. “Would you like anything to drink before we get started? I always find negotiations go so much smoother with a glass of fine Cardarian wine. No reason propositions shouldn’t be the same,” Siberius ran his finger around the rim of his drink. The crystal sung a low, steady note. “A mug of rooibos steeped in milk would be a comfort to the vocal cords.” Next to the decadence of having Cardarian wine shipped in from half the galaxy away, ordering a simple beverage favored on Juno must have seemed odd. There was only so much decadence Osiris could tolerate though. Henex looked at his at his empty wine glass with some uncertainty, “That would be a nice contrast.” “A bit pedestrian, but so be it.” It took a few minutes before the servant brought the drinks in on an elegant grav-tray. The time was mostly filled with idle pleasantries and small concerns about daily business . . . most of which revolved around the recent bar fight and the resulting need for body disposal. Barnack was more concerned about the latter part than Siberius. Most security concerns apparently fell under the keliouxian’s purview. “What exactly do you do with them? It normal procedure around here to just incinerate any unwanted evidence down in the foundry.” He paused a moment as the meek servant girl entered the room, and then decided it wasn’t cause enough to halt the conversation. “Keeps things simple. And clean.” The Pallor Lord picked up the small tea cup his beverage had been poured into with a very small sentiment of dismay. He had been hoping for a much larger mug. Still, the faintly pink concoction was pleasurably strong even with the first sip. “If there is any one thing I find most unacceptable in my life, I think it would be the notion of waste.” “Thank you, dear. Just leave the tray her with us.” Henex sped the servants departure along knowing where this conversation was about to lead. “There are certain markets, primarily within the Planet Trade Organization and certain independent planets. These markets appreciate the myriad of medical and experimental uses a cadaver presents. If the price is right, no questions are asked about where it came from or why you possess it. To cover the shipping costs, it would be better to send them along with other goods - or perhaps simply wait until we have a substantial supply. The latter would pose an emphasised risk.” Osiris took another deep drink emptying his small cup. “It’s a risk I have no qualms with taking on. Familiarity with the market makes them negligible.” “How much do you make per unit?” The mention of new income peaked Siberius’ interest. The Pallor Lord shrugged slightly, “It is a much more highly variable thing than most of the merchandise you work with routinely. Species of the subject, condition of the body, and the viability of various organs all influence the pricing heavily. For the three I took from Roran’s, I would expect roughly 250 to 400 zeni in total. Perhaps less depending on what kind of substances they indulged in.” “Hmm, doesn’t sound like a very reliable source of income.” It was probably a good thing the crime lord was disappointed by the earnings potential. People came to Suicide Station and disappeared often enough without death becoming a staple source of revenues. “No reason to draw that kind of attention to ourselves anyway.” Barnack watched the Pallor Lord pour himself another drink as though the youth might be pull a weapon. “Yes, I agree Barnack. That is why Osiris will be allowed to continue these transactions on his own volition. A small provider's fee would not be out of place. Ten percent of profits for providing a profitable environment - does that sound fair?” It was almost funny seeing how much Siberius’ right hand man was losing his influence. “Generous even, but compared to what I came here to discuss - it is an irrelevant consideration.” The purple skinned alien laughed a little setting the black braids resting on either shoulder to shaking, “Haha, yes, both in profit and in risk. I have done my research in the last two days - and so to have my advisors.” He held out both hands gesturing to the men flanking Osiris, “The debate has already been quite fierce I would say. Barnack, you can imagine, is very worried about exposing the station to unnecessary harm. But Henex here has made a most compelling, if a bit inadvertent, case in your favor.” The Pallor Lord looked to his old friend wordlessly. “Go on, Henex, inform our associate here of the problems we have been facing.” At Siberius’ instance, the world worn keliouxian set his tea down and clicked on his dataslate. “Over the last four months, we have shut out twenty-nine of our smaller contracts for commodity imports. These losses have been offset primarily by our larger distributors taking on heavier loads and in contracting fourteen more small operations. It has not been enough to deal with growing demand - especially with our currently weak supplies of vellocet and cardamine.[color]” “Right now our revenues are down twenty-two percent when they should be up by at least half that much. The critical problem is that we are having a harder time acquiring acceptably pure shipments. We have created a new, heavy use market that seems to be putting pressure on our original supply chain. I have already taken steps to diversify our interests, but with so many competing interests on other worlds - we will likely always lag behind. While our semi-isolation makes our market less risky, it separates us from the ability to produce locally.” The businessman turned criminal accountant paused for a moment, “I could go into much greater detail, but I think this overview catches the main point. Unless we start building secondary stations for production, or somehow find an untapped supplier - it’s inevitable that we will have to start cutting the product to keep up with demand.” Barnack scoffed lightly, “We already make massive profits. I don’t see the problem with letting the supply slow down a little bit. The demand will just drive the prices up and make us more zeni without overextending ourselves.” “As I have said before; Allowing the price of these commodities to rise too much will only serve to incentivise competition. We have a monopoly on the station right now. Risking that could invite more problems than just losing a cut in the market. Consider who we would be competing against - the rules of fair trade don’t really apply in these circles.” For a few moments, it was almost like seeing the old Henex again: confident, meticulous, and willing to drive his point forward no matter who sat in opposition. It gave the Son of Cauldron hope that he could be raised aloft as an ally once again. “We aren’t helpless traders. People want a cut in our market? Fine, we will tax them and make our profit for doing nothing. There is more than one way to control a market, old man.” And just like that, the thug’s deeper nature surfaced from his professional front. “Barnack,” Siberius said the name with a deliberate tone, “there is no need for things to become disrespectful.” The keliouxian gangster had been annoyed with this meeting from the start, that much had been obvious. Now, the tension holding his spine spoke of outright animosity. Not that he was willing to speak it in front of Siberius though. “Sacrificing our complete monopoly might be necessary in the long term as the station expands. For now though, I have no intentions of losing direct control over all aspects of this facility. Keeping things in house is the best way for us to keep unknowns from developing.” The crime lord interlaced his fingers, the purple digits flexing against one another. “That being said, I am still not completely assured this relefare is the right option. There doesn’t seem to be any cases of any distributors successfully using it for extended periods.” It was finally time for Osiris to make his case, “There haven’t been. That is just the truth of the matter. The circumstances for Suicide Station are very different though. All other cases have been a failure for several major reasons: First, relefare is undoubtedly hard to grow. It requires a very high energy, and chemically unfriendly environment to produce spore pods. Secondly, and I assume this is Barnack’s major concern, is the fact that in all but the smallest doses it is absolutely fatal.” “Groups composed of the criminal elements are not very good at regulating such systems with reliable safety measures. Plus, territory disputes can ruin any kind of protection against exposure. Those organizations which have managed not to kill themselves run into other problems. Third being that not controlling the access your clients have to relefare laced product is a good way to ensure they overdose. Even if you don’t scare away your customers when they start dropping dead, a rise in drug related deaths usually brings the authorities charging.” Osiris poured the last of the rooibos milk for himself and took a quick sip. “Here we can control all these factors. By replacing the cargo level directly above the foundry with our grow and harvesting facility, we can take advantage of the waste heat produced below. The initial costs will be heavy, especially since we will need to order some of the required materials in from the Avalonian Protectorate.” “And why would we need to do that? That is the exact kind of exposure we don’t need.” It seemed Barnack would not settle to have his concerns brushed aside. “They can offer the kind of androids necessary to automate the system. It would be a completely legal transaction, and unremarkable. We don’t need the latest and greatest. The system will simply require mobile A.I.s which can do inspections and repairs within the facility. Having to train and employ workers to do the same work would only open up points of liability - the less movement in and out means less risk of exposure exists for the rest of the station.” Siberius interjected, “If you do not need the best on the market, then why do we need Avalonian models? There are other companies that produce androids. Why not contract some from the P.T.O. or even Damaskia. They tend to ask last questions.” The Pallor Lord had anticipated this initial resistance at the mentioning of doing business with the Protectorate. “It comes down to reliability and security. The P.T.O. produces masses of cheap droids. They have the resources to burn, so it is cheaper to just replace failing models with new ones. Damaskia on the other, they build powerful androids. They might be more reliable, but when things go wrong . . . they tend to go very wrong.” “If you want, we can launder the droids through a number of shell companies. It would minimize exposure,”Henex made the suggestion as though he didn’t care which way the argument went, but it was enough to get things moving along. The crime lord nodded his head, “Continue with your proposition.” Osiris sat forward mimicking Siberius’ posture, “Most of the other problems the station takes care of itself. The territory here isn’t disputed by any rival organization. Even if it was, securing a single level would not be a very difficult proposition, except from the most motivated and equipped groups. That only leaves the problem of controlling available doses.” Two small refillable ocular sprayers and matching cartridges of transparent red liquid were produced, “The red eye serum, bloody eye potion, or NAP-17: by any other name it still sells just as well. If I am not mistaken, it is the largest volume product you move. It also requires a very pure solution to ensure both the desired effect, and to make sure people don’t accidently blind themselves by overdosing. It is the perfect candidate for Relefare infusion since people are unlikely to ever take more than one does in each eye over a twelve hour period. It has a built in moderating factor.” Henex was quick to point out the obvious failing of this initial product, “NAP-17 is indeed very popular among our miners, freight runners, and many of our own lower end associates. It is not, however, one of the products we are currently having difficulty acquiring. Considering the very noticeable side effects, its popularity resides primarily in space ports and stations like our own.” “True. It is a rather . . . pedestrian . . . drug of choice among spacers. Even they can appreciate quality though. We can chose to dilute the serum by as much as fifty percent and still see no noticeable drops in the high produced. In fact, purities under fifty percent of standard see improvements in both intensity and longevity. Our post-production product would not only be better, but also more cost effective.” Osiris held up the two ocular sprayers in his hand, “Alternatively, if we maintain purity and add relefare extract - such as these doses - the high produced will attract more distinguished buyers. The effects of these samples can last anywhere between eight and fourteen hours.” Siberius’ eyes lingered on the samples contemplatively, “How hard is the crash afterwards? Daily users make up most of our sales.” “I would need to do more testing to nail down the numbers. I can say for sure that there is a direct correlation to purity and crashes. So far, it looks like dilutions above thirty percent have significantly reduced crashes. The neurons are excited without the body having to filter out as much toxic byproduct.” The Pallor Lord was actually working on a counter agent to deal with both the toxicity and withdrawal users experienced from NAP-17. That project would stay within his own coming fleet. If he could synthesize it, the military application Redeye was originally intended for would become a reality. “The more pure solutions are markedly worse then I take it?” “At purities of 85 percent and higher, yes. When my crew tested the first batch of enhanced product, I noticed an important trend. The appetite suppression seems to be the biggest factor in worsening of crashes - especially for those doses that lasted longer than ten hours. If users remember to eat regularly, the ensuing headaches and nausea are almost completely avoided. Exhaustion, on the other hand, is unavoidable after such long periods of heightened energy production.” The Son of Cauldron set the two ocular sprayers on the ebony desk and lended back into his chair, “To have the best possible experience, I would recommend eating a large breakfast, and then take your dose early in the morning.” Siberius chuckled a little, “I’ll take that under consideration. What kind of impact does it have on addiction rates?” Osiris scanned the bookshelves as he considered the question. Nothing seemed of particular value. “Speculatively, I would say it would increase psychological dependence. At a chemical level though, it should not be any different than just the given amount of NAP-17.” “The perception that redeye is suddenly less addictive might attract new sporadic buyers. It still doesn’t fill the gaps we have with other products though.” Henex was looking at his digital reader again, “In the next month, cardamine will see another sharp decline in profitability. The more we rely on our bigger contractors to increase their shipments, the less cost effective it will become. Smaller, non-affiliated suppliers were brought in specifically to keep us from becoming dependant on and hostage to cartel pricing.” “After that, our vellocet is becoming increasingly impure. Something of a serious problem considering most people take it by pouring it into drinks. I don’t see how we can control dosages for either of these products.” The young Cosmic Lord listened patiently, and then looked back and forth between Henex and Siberius. “Relefare spore and extrac do not pair well with depressants. The cardamine situation will have to be handled in a different way. Not unless you want to put your clients into a coma.” “Delivery systems play a large part in keeping toxicity under control. NAP-17 works well because people aren’t generally willing to sacrifice their sight, and the speed at which the compound hits their bloodstream is very quick. Delayed effectiveness is a primary cause for overdosing.” The Pallor Lord reached into his crimson cloak and pulled out yet another set of devices: inhalers. “Aerosolizing and inhaling vellocet solves the problem. If each cartridge is a single dose, only the first spray needs to contain relefare spores.” “This is not going to go over well with our more wealthy clients. The convenience and subtly are some vellocet’s biggest selling point. Besides, producing these inhalers is just going to add to our expenses.” Barnack must of been feeling the tide turn against him and was reaching for any point to decent upon. Obsidian horns bobbed up and down as Osiris nodded his head as if in agreement. “Naturally. It provides us the perfect opportunity to split the market and increase our profits. We will have the opportunity to produce a very pure, unaltered liquor for our higher end clientele. At the lower end, the inhalers can provide an effective high at much lower percentages. Midgrade 3-D printers can produce hundreds of these inhalers in a single day. Our price point will go up by a few cents at most. It will be nothing compared to the increased volume we can sell . . . and the premium we can place on the new class symbol.” Siberius’ lips pulled back to reveal an unnaturally white smile, “I like that notion quite a lot. How much different will the high be once the vellocet has been aerosolized?” “Because of the difference of ingestion and resulting metabolization, it is a much quicker burn in generally. The buzz will generally take about five or ten minutes to set in, and then last a few hours. Relefare’s main benefit in this case will be in magnifying intensity with only a very mild secondary effect of lengthening the high. Compared to NPA-17, the synergy between the product and additive in this case will be less drastic.” Osiris ran his claws through his thick black hair as he felt himself growing deeply weary of the constant talking. He was a creature of the laboratory or the library. Reality had secrets yet to yield, but people were so often the same tedious typologies. “Limiting product enhancement to these two drugs will be the best way to ensure we do not overextend or lose control of the dosages.” “Why don’t we get down to the real questions then? How much is this going to cost me and how much is it going to make me?” Siberius seemed unaware that he was stroking the bloody ruby with his thumb as he spoke. The further he pushed his own greed, the more the sanguimpicus pulled the crime lord under its sway. “Seventy to ninety thousand zeni for the new installation. Labor will be the primary variable considering the nature of the project. That is just construction cost however. I cannot estimate the profits lost from the periodic downtown the foundry will have to undergo. With a solid construction company, it should take only three months to completion. Another two to work out the kinks and have the system growing and harvesting at peak efficiencies.” The Pallor Lord pulled out a small sheet of folded paper. Yeah, he is old school like that - live with it. “Operational costs will likely settle just around five hundred zeni a month.” Barnack scoffed, “You could buy an entire shitty solar system with that kind of zeni.” Osiris pushed on without looking up from his note, “How profitable this installation will be depends prominently on how you use the Relefare. The most significant benefit will come from the potential doubling of useable NPA-17 shipments and tripling the volume of useable Vellocet. This is of course assuming all production is shifted towards cutting the product rather than enhancing pure dosages. Based on estimates of current influx, I don’t believe the new Relefare facility will have to run continuously. Two months of harvesting should be sufficient to enhance six months of received shipments.” Refolding and tucking away the piece of paper, the Pallor Lord finally leveled his gaze at the keliouxian thug to his left, “It is good to note that this downtime can be used for continuous safety checks and preparation for the next bach. Thus, the risk would not only be reduced, but also contained within short blocks of time. Security can be ramped up at these times with minimal overhead costs.” “Well, you just think you have everything covered don’t you? What if something goes wrong in the foundry? The situation would be a compounded catastrophe if the levels were breached.” The demonic vessel shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly, “Mr. Siberius and yourself should have thought of that before you put the foundry atop your thorium reactors. Efficiency often comes with the risk of cascading problems due to interconnection. If an event in the foundry is serious enough to breach its level of the station, the thorium reactors are more likely to go critical than having Relefare spores spread through the life support system unchecked.” Siberius slapped his desk and chuckled once more setting his braided hair to bouncing upon his shoulders. “Well he has us there, Barnack. Henex! How long would it take us to recoup our investment if we were to add this little addition onto the station?” “Give me a moment. There are many factors to take into account.” The keliouxian businessman squinted at his dataslate as he typed away furiously at it. There was a time he employed a team of analysts to do this kind of work, but he always checked their figures. Watching him work made Osiris’ mind churn with ways he could see this man returned to his economic glories, even if it would never bring back his daughter. “What is it you want out of all of this, huh? Or are you going to say you are just earning more trust?” Barnack was barely clinging onto his previous professional exterior. “No. My price for providing the designs and project management will be very steep.” The Pallor Lord let the statement hang in the air unsupported while he awaited the right moment. “Oh?” Siberius’ black eyebrows rose on his lavendore forehead. The silence stayed for a short while until Henex’s neck stiffened as though he were surprised by his own doings. “Assuming we refine any left over merchandise at the end of the month, and mark it up accordingly . . . it would take less than a keliouxian year to turn the investment over to profit. Perhaps as little as nine months if we find a high end market for our enhanced products. Frieza comes to mind.” “I want the land rights to the inner asteroid field, what use to be the heart of Cauldron. Additionally, I want to establish a lane of travel free of any interruption. Any ship of mine or invited by me will suffer no inconvenience so long as it is within the bounds of the lane or within my sector of the system.” Dark amethyst orbs stared relentlessly into Siberius’ hubris. He already knew what was about to happen. Should the talks reach this point, the criminal lord and Barnack already had a plan arranged. The Cardarian took another sip of his homeworld’s fine wine and then narrowed his eyes. “That is the most profitable portion of the entire system. The amount of heavy elements there are enough to supply the new Juno shipyards for a couple decades. Why should I give it up to you?” “You don’t have the fleet to mine that much. None of the mining corporations leasing operation privileges have been able to make it that deep into the asteroids field with their heavy equipment either. Until someone comes in with the required gravity anchors and opens up the area, it will never see proper extraction efforts. When it comes down to it though, there is no reason to sink that much of an investment into the sector. Plenty of profits are there to be made on the outskirts.” Osiris pointed an obsidian claw at the four devices he had placed on the crime lord’s desk. “This will make you a profit within the year. How long will it take you to start making a profit from mining deeper in the asteroid field?” It wasn’t hard to see the turmoil playing out within Siberius. He had carved out a little empire for himself in the Cauldron system by every means he could muster. The Cardarian had committed fraud on half a dozen worlds, stolen what he could not bribe his way into, and, when the crime lord had found it convenient, assassinated those investors who became a liability. Letting go of the potentially most valuable segment - it wouldn’t have even been a consideration if the cocooned sanguimpicus wasn’t slowly poisoning his mind . . . emboldening his vices. It was just a matter of time before the inevitable miscalculation placed Suicide Station in Osiris’ claws. Barnack’s objections would pave the way, “Why are you so interested in it then? If you say it’s such a wasted investment, then why the hell are you willing to pay up for it? Have a mining fleet stashed away somewhere?” The Pallor Lord glared at the keliouxian from the corner of his eye, a hint of death gleaming amethyst, “Call it sentimental reasons.” “Bullshit. You can try buying up trust all you like with some pocket zeni. Loyalty is what matters, and Wolves are only loyal to themselves. I think you are just trying to set up shop for your buddies back on Catalysmia.” Barnack’s voice dropped to a low growl, “This isn’t a Wolf den, and it’s never going to be one.” There was a pause. A single moment of hesitation as Osiris contemplated if the plan was truly worth suffering this disgusting criminal one more minute, one more second! Before the Pallor Lord’s mind flashed the gleeful images of absolute carnage as he tore through this man’s existence - and then draped his entrails throughout Suicide Station as a lesson to those that would claim the importance of loyalty even as they leeched from the Keliouxian Empire’s wounds like filthy parasites. The Son of Cauldron’s voice echoed strangely through the room even as he whispered. “I grew up on Cauldron - was forged by Cauldronian fires that would leave others nothing but a pile of scorched ash. The thought of having someone grinding up and selling off my motherworld’s heart for their own gain . . . It disgusts me!” Barnack suddenly rose to his feet, fists clenched to fight. “Is that suppose to be an insult or are you just st-” “ENOUGH!” Siberius exploded to cut off his subordinate’s rash words, “Sit down!” The crime lord took a hard slug to finish off his wine while he waited for the keliouxian to grudgingly obey. It was only after a deep sigh did he try to bring the discussion back to task. “Every man has his own cause which brings him resolve. Henex, here, is a shining example of a man with a score to settle and yet still fully capable of being loyal. This station has prospered tremendously with his help. We support his search, and in return he gives us his tremendous expertise.” Burgundy liquor gurgled out of its bottle as it was poured into a glass too quickly. “I see absolutely no reason why our relationship with Mr. Osiris cannot be the same, Barnack. The price is steep, but not unreasonable. It is more prudent to be making zeni now than to hold out for a project which could take the better part of a decade.” “I just-” Barnack didn’t fully grasp he was done objecting until Siberius made it painfully obvious. “Yes! I understand your concerns. Mr. Osiris, I hope you too understand my lieutenant's concerns and are not grossly offended.” The owner of Suicide Station was plying his diplomacy convincingly. It would have been easy to believe he was the more reasonable one, that in truth he was on the Pallor Lord’s side. This was the bait the youth had been waiting to take the whole time, “Of course, but concern is no excuse for discourtesy. I may be a Wolf, but I did not come here wearing sheep’s clothing, nor am I asking for a handout.” Siberius nodded his head slowly, “You have been upfront with me from the start. Perhaps the problem is simply that Barnack has not had an opportunity to work directly with you. Before now, there hasn’t been a task that required so much . . . how shall I say it? Tactical expertise.” “What kind of problem would require both of our expertise?” The Cosmic Lord already knew exactly what the problem was: a saiyan by the name Bertonis. Siberius reached into his desk and pulled out a dataslate. He clicked the screen a few times before handing it forward with a face prominently displayed. “This saiyan. He is a son of a former investor. His father did not fully appreciate the nature of the investment, however. The man began to make demands and increasingly inappropriate threats. Naturally I couldn’t allow this to go on, and was forced to resort to the only thing saiyans truly understand: force.” Barnack seemed to have finally set aside his grievances as he engaged with a mild tone, “The boy has taken exception to the results of that decision.” “Indeed. Bertonis, that’s his name, has even less tact than his father. Word is, he intends on coming to our station to seek revenge. That is not acceptable.” The Cardarian took a more healthy sip of his wine this time. “Here is my offer: Work with Barnack and show him you can be trusted, as I believe you can be. We will hunt down this saiyan, and, when the time is right, you two will make sure he never makes it into the system. Should everything go well, I will gladly turn over the territory rights to the inner asteroid field. In the meantime, Henex here can help get this relefare project off the ground. Is this acceptable?” Osiris looked from side to side at the men he would soon be working with, “It is not ideal, but I think that will be permissible.”
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| Osiris | Feb 8 2016, 02:04 AM Post #2 |
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Pallor Lord
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Long Term Docking Deck-Beta The constant hum of energy flowing through and being expended by the prototype Relefare system was loud enough to echo slightly in the large hangar bay. If one were blindfolded, they might be tempted to say they were standing near a waterfall . . . albeit a boiling waterfall. It took so much energy to mimic the edge of the calderas relefare normally grew within. Not that it was difficult to produce, at least on the small scale. It didn’t even tax the Perse’s Fist’s engine core that much compared to the combat systems. “You know that Siberius wants me to get as much information out of you as possible, right?” Henex and Osiris stood shoulder to shoulder on the far end of the prototype. It ensured their voices would not carry out into the main docking area where others might be around to eavesdrop. A convenient circumstance, very inconspicuous given the subject matter. “Yes. He is considering killing me.” The Pallor Lord spoke dispassionately. Someone plotting his murder was just normal Wednesday anymore. “If you don’t give me enough information to start the project without you, I am sure Siberius will reconsider. It wouldn’t benefit him.” The keliouxian businessman had finally shaved his greying stubble, and his clothes looked freshly washed. Perhaps not feeling so alone was slowly bringing the man back from his steady decline. Osiris knelt down like he was inspecting the connection between two pipes. “No, that won’t be necessary. I am afraid the rumblings of war are becoming much too loud for me to ignore . . . and even if they weren’t, other task would soon pull me away from this space station. I need this project to move swiftly. That is why I have already made arrangements for the construction crew. Of course, they will have been your idea - a very cost effective group you once employed.” Henex shook his head causing his prematurely greying hair to sway slightly, “I never understood how you dealt with people wanting you dead so easily. Does it phase you at all anymore?” “When it is every day of your life, it just doesn’t seem to matter anymore. Conflict is just how I live.” He ran a dark claw along the grey pipe and wondered silently if there would come a day he would know peace . . . and what that might be like. “So, who are these men I am going to be hiring? Other than people I apparently already know.” Henex pulled out his dataslate and began opening the various programs that held account information and maintenance schedules for Suicide Station. “Keliouxian Siege Engineers who are use to working with volatile compounds. They come highly recommended, and whatever you deem a slightly less than a reasonable amount to pay them will be sufficient. I would prefer you pay them upfront so Siberius doesn’t get any notions about killing them off to avoid payment. They can handle themselves, but I would prefer it not come to such distractions.” The Pallor Lord took out a small thumbdrive and handed it to his old friend. “This should have pretty much all the information you will need to know about them. It includes some basic alias information in case Siberius decides to start asking questions.” The businessman paused a moment as he took the cartridge, “Your crew, they are actual Star Wolves aren’t they? Do they know you are working for the Empire?” “With would be a more accurate term. But, to answer your question, no they do not. They know I lived on Cauldron and that I have associates within the Empire still. Beyond that, they just think I am a criminal with high aspirations.” The signet ring upon the demon’s right hand glared with reflected light. “Perhaps they are correct in that judgment.” “You aren’t like Siberius, or anyone else in this place.” Henex’s voice had a note of resolve that Osiris wasn’t expecting. For a few moments the youth was stuck within his own thoughts. “Maybe I am something worse.” “No, you have a sense of justice.” The keliouxian’s response was immediate and strangely fatherly. “A single man enforcing his sense of justice upon the world. That sounds a lot like tyranny.” The word came out of the Pallor Lord’s mouth so naturally he knew it was true. A raging desire to never be enslaved again, or perhaps a more subtle drive to reach a higher form of slavery. It was an invitation to black thoughts to consider the notion of being owned by another individual again. For the many however . . . “Maybe, but at least there would be some justice. I am starting to think the universe could use a little more tyranny of that kind. But what the hell do I know? ” Henex had the same amber eyes as his daughter. It made looking into the man’s eyes even more painful than it was already. So much time had passed, and yet the image of Kenel’s face had not faded at all. That last image of her standing by with others to see him leave for Kelioux, the disappointment mingled with the pride. Osiris suddenly looked away from Henex and gripped his forehead. The sensation he was about to come apart from the inside wasn’t alien - but it came on so strong sometimes, it was hard to remember who Osiris was suppose to be. That creeping sense of doubt unworking his resolve. The only thing keeping him together. “You know enough to make you dangerous, Henex. You shouldn’t short your own stock.” The phrase slipped past his lips before the youth realized what he was saying. The older keliouxian smiled weakly, and spoke in nearly a whisper. “Kenel use to say that . . .” He tilted his his head to look up at the hangar’s ceiling as though his memories were playing across the of white tiles like a movie. “She got that saying from her mother. It’s funny to think about how much I thought my world had slipped away when Dornel passed. I’m almost glad she wasn’t around longer. At least she went naturally. It wasn’t fair that she never got to see Kenel grow up, but at least her death wasn’t monstrous. Some days, the only thing that brings me any solace is believing they are together somewhere - taken under the wings of the Lost perhaps . . . but just together would be enough.” Arcs of black electricity jumped and scattered across the Pallor Lord’s back running wild over the symbol of the Cosmic Empire: the Black Sun set upon a crimson field. It was impossible to think about everything Osiris had lost with Cauldron’s death and not feel the overwhelming emotions dredged up from the depths - his inner power naturally caught in the torrent and made chaotic by the ethos. “This universe doesn’t make sense. There is no reason for all of it.” Osiris’ voice fought itself trying to escape from a jaw made stiff with grief. That was always the underlying problem with his feelings though, the real reason they needed to be kept in check: Vibrant crimson arcs slipped in amongst the natural outflow of energy. Myriad was there, no matter how quiet it had been recently - the beast was always within. It fed off the turmoil, shifting sadness to anger and warping grief into rage. That was to say, the collection of souls accelerated the natural darkening of the Pallor Lord’s own mood. Inevitably, the grey would always give way to black thoughts. Osiris’ eyes suddenly went wide, the thoughts of genocide slipping away for a moment. “Sometimes I forget how young you still are.” Henex was kneeling just behind the youth, his arms wrapped around the demonic vessel despite the danger he presented. “I know it’s not fair, but I really do believe you can make it better. Kenel believed in you. That’s the only proof I ever needed.” Blood trickled down Osiris’ chin, brilliant red against pallid skin. He had never felt this before, never understood why it was so important to people: fatherly love. It didn’t make sense. The Son of Cauldron had failed him, had let his daughter perish when he should have been there to protect them all. That was his task. That was what his life had been for. Why would Henex comfort him now? “Don’t let yourself get lost in the dark like I did, Osiris. You are stronger than me.” As if reading the youth’s mind, “It was my job to protect Kenel, I was her father. As a friend, you did everything you should have, Osiris. You helped her see more of the world, and find her direction in life. Seeing you again. It’s made me realize how low I have sunken. How little I have done to celebrate and honor my daughter’s life.” The Pallor Lord slowly pulled away from the older Keliouxian as he stood up. He felt calmer as he listened to the man’s words. His mind shifted gradually away from that burning storm he so often felt raging within his chest. Still, something stopped the Son of Cauldron from fully embracing Henex. A certain brokenness that made it possible to live just outside the deeper darkness the Universe had to offer mortal souls, but it also made it impossible for Osiris to ever turn away from the abyss which seemed to linger just beyond the material dimension. “We have to build a monument to them. That was always my intention. A massive Cathedral carved from the very bones of Cauldron. A house for us to collect all the scattered sparks into a Flame even greater than anything we held before our world was stolen from us. A place we can purify ourselves in their memories - a place that will cast the deepest shadow over this disgusting station.” The Pallor Lord wiped his bleeding lip with the back of his cloak sleeve. His heart was still beating abnormally fast. A certain anxiety roiling within him he had not felt for a long time. “I couldn’t save them. But I won’t let them be forgotten.” Henex shook his head slightly as he stood up himself. “That’s what I should have spent my fortune on. Instead I wasted it away trying to follow threads and rumors which lead nowhere but the bottom of too many bottles.” Osiris finally turned back around to look up at the greying keliouxian. “It’s time for you to start rebuilding your connections and wealth. Once Siberius is more subdued, you should be able to make progress of your own. By the end of the week, I should have the biggest obstacle to a smooth transition removed. By the end of the month, this space station will be well within control.” “So, what is the plan to deal with Barnack?” A broad hand rubbed at a recently trimmed beard which looked almost the coloring of waves the way the white streaked through the blue. “He isn’t the only problem either. His crew is trusted is trusted almost as much. They are basically Siberius’ bodyguards when he has an inkling of needing any.” “I will deal with Barnack myself. He already has a plan set to take my head whether Siberius gives the order or not. His position is being undermined by my rapidly growing influence. If Siberius decides to keep me around to manage the relefare facility, like he should, then that would make me a much more profitable partner.” Osiris sighed a little bit as he began to walk towards Perse’s Fist and the open cargo port. His boots clanged on the well used ramp creating dull thuds barely audible over the harvesting prototype’s burners. After only a brief pause, a second set of footfalls joined his and the two men walked into the much quieter belly of the warship. The space just within the rampway was almost like an entry corridor created by stacks of metal crates filled with provisions and spare parts. Several paces beyond though, the cargo bay opened up into the makeshift laboratory Osiris had pieced together. It was nothing compared to the expansive rooms Dr. Franlin had on the mining freighter left in the charge of his Vagril companions. Still, it was enough to keep the Pallor Lord’s mind working towards more abstract and theoretical goals. No overhead lights were turned on. Instead the area was lit mostly by the various glowing orbs which were suspended over racks of various plants. Each lightbulb cast a slightly different array of the electromagnetic spectrum in order to simulate a wide variety of suns. The Son of Cauldron had always had a fascination with plant life and its ubiquitous nature throughout the galaxy. Even Cauldron itself had many species perfectly adapted to the utterly brutal conditions the planet had offered. Compared to intelligent life, and even animal life in general, plants and their related kin dominated the habitable worlds - save for those industrialized planets where their inhabitants had lost touch with nature, instead preferring to cover vast swaths of land with their megacities. Kelioux was almost like that, but the Masters there were still working hard to re-engineer the planet’s ecosystem. A noble pursuit. One which perhaps the demonic vessel would one day add his growing knowledge. For the nonce, Osiris was much more interested in experimenting with the biochemical interactions plants had with other lifeforms - and in some cases their seeming spiritual effects. “And here I thought you spent all of your time training or reading. Not many from Cauldron had much interest or opportunity to cultivate a green thumb. Are you going to poison Barnack?” Henex looked around the room a little loss. It wasn’t so much that he was awed or that he was not intelligent enough to understand what most of the equipments’ purpose. The place just seemed to strike at the old businessman’s sense of who Osiris was with a certain level of unexpectancy. “No,” almost absent mindedly the youth walked over to his primary work bench set along the wall with a massive toolbox set to one side and an equally large computer terminal set along the otherside. The nine foot wide workspace was arranged with a complex set of glass tubes and plasma coils holding slowly boiling solutions. It was all set up along a grid of iron rods forming a pyramid which rose several feet off the tabletop. At the apex of the structure, a potted plant formed the peak. The plant was unlike anything Henex had ever seen before. It almost looked completely unnatural. Its leaves were literally radiating their own light which doused everything a shade of vibrant green. On the underside of the nine fingered leaves, a rich pink added an eye startling contrast. More peculiar than this bioluminescence was the unequivocal symmetry the plant had managed to grow into. It really looked like the stalk had once been several different plants all intertwined and growing around one another until they finally fused to make one specimen which spiralled skyward, though only reaching three feet. The rich burgundy stem sprouted off three branches every three inches, which in turn seemed to follow the same pattern until the tiny bush had become something of a tiny living star. In fact, if it were not for a few of the branches having been pruned away, it would have been impossible to see so much detail. The leaves were so large and plentiful that it was incredibly difficult to see within the barrier of verdant light which they created. “The toxicity of plants only interests me a fraction as much as their possible beneficial applications. That isn’t to say I have not made any progress in that field. It is simply more of a byproduct of my main research.” The Pallor Lord picked up a small box resting on the table. The metallic container opened like a clam to reveal a row of small violet shards glimmering with inner radiance of a completely different variety than the plant above. “My work here is unrelated to most of my other plans, but I have come to think of it as an important supplement. I enjoy the quiet work, and it has certainly yielded rewards.” The Son of Cauldron pulled out one of the crystals and then levitated until he was at the same level as the plant. With an uncharacteristic gentleness, he pushed a few of the leaves aside and buried the crystal within the growing medium. “It took a long time, but I created this plant through several hundred gene splices and an exceptionally long process of selective breeding. It is important to use both new techniques and older ones if you want to reach a stable mutation, I believe.” Henex’s eyes finally shifted away from the glowing vegetation and followed the strange earthenware pot down towards the chemistry set beneath. That’s when he noticed the thick black roots breaking through the bottom of the plant’s container. Each one glistened with a deep black ichor which seemed to swallow up any light which tried to touch the roots. The liquid didn’t even glisten. It was just the empty black of space. Each root was enclosed within a glass tube that patiently harvested each drop released from the tip of the tubers. From there, the pitch cycled through the intricate system following a simple pattern: heating into vapor, condensing or bubbling into a new solution of additional chemicals, slowly overflowing into a new vial, and then repeating. Sitting at the far right of the table, next to the oversized computer terminal, was a glass globe being slowly filled with a heavy fog that managed to look like vaporized quicksilver. “What exactly . . . are you making with this?” For a moment the businessman was completely distracted by this seemingly alchemical transformation he was witnessing. Osiris floated back down to the metal floor, and took a few steps over to the computer. “It is not an easy thing to explain. You know the Lost often used a metal we quaintly call Mithril, yes?” “Yes, it’s an alloy directly infused with ki. We can reproduce low grade mithril now. My company had a research division directed towards finding a profitable way to produce it.” The keliouxian flexed his fist remembering what was once in his grasp at the pinnacle of his life. The Pallor Lord pointed one of his vicious black nails at the shining orb, “This is my latest attempt at synthesizing a highly refined quicksilver solution using the same basic principles the Lost seemed to have used to create Mithril. The plant, actually feeds directly on ki and then acts to store it both within its cellular structure and by infusing the surrounding earth with a energy condensed oil. The oil acts as both a reservoir of energy it can take back up, and it essentially sterilizes the surrounding soil. If it weren’t dependant upon very high concentrations of ki, it would be a very dangerous invasive species.” “Elemental mercury has always been known to be a fairly good conduit for ki and other ley energies. Why do you need to go to such pains to generate something most factories could pump out by the hundred gallons a minutes?” The nearly seven foot tall Keliouxian didn’t have to try to look over Osiris shoulder to see the computer monitor. He was simply tall enough that it fell within his natural gaze. A flurry of language was running in both directions of the screen. Henex had to keep blinking to keep himself from going cross eyed as both familiar and unfamiliar symbols crossed paths and occasionally ran into each other producing small explosions of even stranger language. “I understand, and that is initially what started me down a slightly different path. However, there is a difference between the term quicksilver which I use, and liquid mercury in its purer forms. There are many subtle differences produced under very specific circumstances. The only important one to my current interests is the fact that the vapor solution I have currently produced is two things: One, it is completely stable. Two, is is chemically inert.” The computer screen suddenly resolved into a video image overlooking a well polished black starship. It was a heavily modified Corvette-class Speeder that looked more like a fighter craft than an intersolar vehicle. Barnack was sitting within the cockpit completely cradled by the pilot’s seat and the associated safety restraints. He seemed busy at work making rapid adjustments, or perhaps he was running a simulation with the flight controls. “Essentially, it is the perfect long term storage for energy produced by super warriors which can then be utilized, really in any system, so long as there is someone properly trained in releasing the refined ki at the desired rates. I am still working on the right techniques.” Osiris thought for a moment as he looked at Barnack on the livestream. “The production seems to take quite an extensive amount of purifying. Our mining operations could increase their productivity considerably though, if the mining vessels were upgraded with auxiliary systems that could run on this vapor. It would give the engine cores time to cool down during heavy grinds.” The Pallor Lord simply shrugged, “It is a long way from even being a prototype unfortunately.” He then stepped aside so Henex could see the monitor without his view being partially blocked. “I think Barnack’s plan is going to be fairly straightforward. He will insist on taking his craft to intercept the saiyan on his way into the system. Once we engage him, he will probably hang back and try to let me take the brunt of the battle. At some point, he is going to turn on me. I am not sure he will try to fight me outright, not unless Siberius gives him the order. If I were him, I would wait for my enviromental suit to be compromised during the battle and then destroy the saiyan’s ship.” “That seems like it would be easy to avoid. Just don’t engage unless he is in the fight with you.” Henex knotted his eyebrows together, “He is smart enough to have a backup plan. I wouldn’t rely on that being his only strategy.” “I am not really concerned with his back up plan. His primary plan, unless it is simply to face me down after I am wounded, will be allowed to succeed. I would much rather feign death, and then have my crew pick me up. This way, I can achieve what I actually want.” “Which would be?” The Pallor Lord reached over his left shoulder and touched the hilt of Zar’rock. “I am going to slit his throat in front of Siberius, and then instill the fear of God into him.” Henex seemed a little shocked at the sudden violence in the conversation. He was still a businessman after all. He might live amongst the thugs, but he was never one of them and never would become one. “What do you mean, ‘and then’?” “There are certain species of parasites I have come across which can take over their host’s body. Some, a very select few, do not need that host to still be alive to do such. I intend on using one of these creatures to turn Barnack into my puppet in a more literal sense than he already is now.” Osiris let his hand fall away from the zweihander on his back. “That is why I actually brought you in here, Henex. I need to ensure that if something happens to me, you will still have control here. To do that, I need a small sample of your blood.” The Keliouxian laughed half heartedly, “It’s little wonder my daughter use to like spending so much time with you. She did always enjoy the stranger and, more often than I would have liked, morbid aspects of this universe. What exactly are you going to use it for? Even as he asked, he was rolling up the sleeve on his left arm. Osiris walked over to a cabinet a few paces beyond the computer. With the quickness of frequent use, he pulled out an individually packaged syringe. “I can attune the parasite’s natural sense so that it recognizes you as a higher ranking member of it’s birth colony. That requires it to be able to differentiate your chemical makeup and your ambient ki. Your blood is the perfect sample for making that adjustment. I have already done the same thing for Nellic. The Tri-pack will likewise be recognized as part of the swarm which spawned the parasite, but only as equals.” Henex watched as the thin needle invaded a small vein along his forearm and began to withdraw a few milliliters of red fluids. It was over much quicker than he had expected. “What kind of animal behaves like that? Is this one of your experiments like these plants?” “No, my endeavours into animal genomics are quite limited - depending on how you categorize saibamen.” Osiris covered up his hesitancy to explain by walking his sample of Henex’s blood over to a small refrigerator near the exit of the cargo hold. “It is a tried and true method, I assure you. Not many would really understand.” When the youth turned around he found a very patiently waiting Keliouxian staring back at him. “I already gave you the sample. Whatever it is, as long as it helps us take back the image of Cauldron, I will understand.” With a slight sigh, “It is a species of demon called sanguimpicus. The ruby I gave Siberius, it is actually something of a hibernation state the imp can use to hide itself. Once I have killed Barnack, I am going to awaken it fully and have it possess his corpse.” Henex’s eyes widened a little bit, but he did not lose his composer. “The fear of God might not be exactly the right term for something like that. I - I often wondered if you were really a demon. The idea of you being, I mean, it is just hard to imagine extradimensional beings living among us.” Osiris raised his eyebrow slightly, “I have lived my whole life here, just like you. Extradimensional might not be exactly the right term for someone like me.” This time Henex chuckled a little bit more earnestly hearing his own words delivered back at him, “I suppose that is true. I mean, the Empire has always taught that the Lost transcended into a higher reality . . . why wouldn’t there be those beings that would want to come here. Do you - do you know where you came from?” Suddenly it seemed to dawn on the businessman what Osiris’ childhood had actually been like, the slavery which had consumed the better half of his life. “I’m sorry. You don’t need to answer that. I am just rambling questions before I really think. Someone has to be responsible for teaching that bad habit to Kenel after all.” “My people are the Saoirsen, and I come from Cauldron.” The Pallor Lord tilted his head back and looked up at his engineered plant, literally feeling the warm light touch his pale face. It felt familiar and yet distinct, his own Ki metabolized so that it could sustain life. It was nice to know his power could do more than destroy, or help build things from animate steel and rock. Power, even overwhelming as it can be at times, ultimately seeks to produce something complex, fragile. “My species though - I have met a few of them. They are caught up in their own struggles I wish to have no part in. One day, that may no longer be an option. Their environment seems to be collapsing - evaporating, in a sense.” Henex looked around the makeshift laboratory again. Some of the other planets spread across the the shelving racks seemed familiar, but even those planets he thought he could name looked a little off. The one he was most sure of seemed to be moving along a shelf of its own. A long trough of sand was undulating softly as though something were churning it from below. The reedy thorn bush with its tiny pale leaves seemed to be stepping with each small wave of sand. The plant’s roots shuffling through the surf even as small seed pods twirled under the artificial wind generated by a fan built into one end of the trough. “I don’t mean to offend you, but I am not sure I really believe you. The more you seem to resist being involved in something, it becomes increasingly inevitable that you are drawn into it. You didn’t want to be a leader among the Saoirsen, but you were. You didn’t want to work for the Empire, but here you are.” The tall alien continued to stare at the shuffling plant knowing it was commonly known as a Juno creeper. This one’s thorns seemed exceptionally large though. The bright red barbs standing out almost three inches from the stalk and branches. “Sometimes, it is like you are trying to be a living martyr. Sacrificing yourself for everyone else.” Osiris’ eyelids slowly slid open so his amethyst orbs could stare at his companion from the corner of their sockets. “What else can someone do?” A warm buff of air burst quietly from Henex’s nostrils, “Live for yourself. Be happy . . . or at least don’t be miserable. How long can you really keep grinding yourself into these crusades? We both know whatever is happening to your species, you will take it upon your own shoulders. Once you see they have become desperate, lost, you will do what you can for your kind. Grudgingly or not.” The Pallor Lord’s mind drifted to a carmine face and a name he had not thought of in a long time; Naamah. His heart beat a little faster despite himself. There was a bond there, between the two, for which the youth could find no reasonable explanation. “I don’t think I was born for myself, or even to fulfill the biological imperative to evolve like most species in this galaxy. Somehow, I was always meant to be a slave of one kind or another.” The word crusade kept lingering and echoing within Osiris’ mind. He hadn’t really thought about his purpose in a long time. Objectives were easily at hand, and there were things he could help others attain - the Cathedral of Cauldron. That idea had consumed his mind most of all since his return from Damaskia. He needed a reconnection to his dead home world, but was that really all there was to it? “You are right, Henex.” Turning away from the Juno Creeper, the Keliouxian put a large hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Then you must realize you have to slow down and find some peace for yourself. Otherwise, I am really afraid you will end up a martyr. You get to decide who you are, Osiris. No one is born to be a slave.” A small smirk turned up the corners of the youth’s lips. It was the closest thing he had to a smile. “No. You are right that I will take their burdens upon my shoulders. It is my nature to try to raise people up from desperation. But you are wrong about people being born slaves. We all are . . . some of us just get to choose who our masters will be.” He turned and felt the hand on his shoulder fall away as the two men’s eyes met once again. “I will grind myself to oblivion for the sake of the Other. Maybe then I will know peace, but not before.” “When I was a younger man who still had ambitions to become a Master, there was a philosopher I read who said much the same thing about rulers. It is a very Keliouxian sentiment. Those who can serve the greater good are obligated to do so. It has been a long time, but there were Masters who had no desire to lead. Scientists and warriors and archaeologist - the best among their peers and completely absorbed in their works and studies. But when the Grand Master calls, no one refuses the summons.” Henex smiled as though both lost in a memory and entirely enjoying what he was about to say. “One day you will be among those Masters. Just don’t get yourself killed before then, please.” “I’m not sure the grave can hold me.” ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Six Hours Later: Seventh Commerce Deck - Kella’s Herbal Haven Lench was in the back of the shop among the rows of plants. He had a small set of snips and a spray bottle of green tinged liquid. He set about slowly pruning back each plant’s branches so that they stayed underneath their designated solar globe. After each precise cut, the Keliouxian would quickly spray the damaged area with the solution. The damaged area almost completely healed within seconds as the greenish liquid soaked into the plant. “What regenerative mix do you use for these plants? It seems to work on just about all of them. I haven’t been able to concoct such a panacea, yet. I have half a dozen solutions I use for one or two plants at a time.” Osiris was standing near one of Lench’s completed works. He ran his thumb along the scar left on the plant’s stalk. It was smooth like it had been healing for a full two weeks. In time the Son of Cauldron wouldn’t be surprised if even the scar faded away as the cells either began to regrow another branch or revert to the natural structure of the stem. “You would have to ask Kella.” He gestured towards the doorway that lead to the front of the shop without actually looking. “I grew up on Kelioux. Before I joined the military, I had considered becoming a botanist. The effort to complete the terraforming of the planet had a lot of support then. I wanted to help with it. As my ki grew and my understanding of chemistry lagged behind my physical training, I knew my usefulness was elsewhere.” The greying Keliouxian set down his tools for a moment, “Now that I have some more free time in my retirement, I thought I would try to take this up as a hobby. That is how I met Kella actually. Turns out, I remember even less about chemistry than I knew when I was younger. Peaceful though. I didn’t expect a child born on Cauldron to have much of a green thumb.” “No one ever really does.” The Pallor Lord straightened his back, “So, how long have you been a consultant? I hear that is what you do around the station mostly. Work with the security teams and bouncers.” The former Keliouxian officer didn’t seemed overly pleased with the youth’s inquiries. “As long as I have been on this sham of a mining port. I wouldn’t want to waste the Empire’s generous pension in a place like this.” “I can understand that sentiment. Soon, I am hoping that this place will function in a way which can support the Empire’s coffers rather than drain it. As disgusting as this place may be, it can still be useful.” The Pallor Lord squared his shoulders up with the other man’s broad chest. It was hard to gauge Lench. He had more than the standard dosage of Keliouxian asceticism in him. “I would rather see this place gone.”
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8:58 PM Jul 10