Adjunta Defense station- Repurposed by order of Supreme Commander Raphael
Kassim of the Assad Primacy-
At times, Raphael desperately wished his great-grandparents hadn’t opted for genetic optimizations.
He was a merchant, in the end. ANYTHING could be bought and sold, and he tried to cultivate the old-fashioned merchant mystique. The problem is, as the prime minister of Adjunta, a relatively warlike world barely escaping its tribal warfare heritage, he was expected to maintain a certain… militarism.
He slapped his trim, well-muscled belly. If he were a traditional merchant, he would have a nice, bulging belly to set his interstellar customers at ease, to bounce when he laughed like a bowl full of jelly, and to allow his enemies to underestimate his threat just before he cut their throats, sometimes figuratively and often literally.
But no. building the appropriate merchant look would require habitually and grotesquely overindulging himself with his perfect thyroid balance, and Raphael was not a gourmand of food… He had a unique, exciting, incredibly diverse, and most importantly young harem. He knew that made him almost a caricature of the self-indulgent merchant prince, but there were certain advantages to that caricature.
For hundreds of years, Adjunta had passed from warlord to warlord, sometimes with only a few hours passing between coups. One Dictator had only managed to declare himself world leader in the name of Allah for twenty-one minutes before he was violently deposed by the next one who declared himself leader in the name of Ventor. In one day, six world leaders had been deposed, one after the other.
Of course, in this enlightened day and age, religions and ideologies played sheer second fiddle to the one true ruler of the universe- Money. After the Primacy of the Autarch and the seven-week war, Telurdt had been broken, both militarily and economically, which was why the Assad Primacy ruled both worlds with a golden fist.
Of course, that money had to come from someplace, and the Unified Planets never offered the same golden tribute that they pretended was ‘assistance’ that the old empire had. The UP had hundreds of developed worlds, and the Assad Primacy had… well, not hundreds of developed worlds, but definitely a similar number of worlds in total.
But that was where people like Kassim stepped in. Instead of bloody coup after coup, now those who could pay the Assad dynasty for the privilege and profit opportunities of ruling a world took the job of prime minister… at least as long as they could afford to pay, and if they failed, well, there was always someone new to be ‘duly elected’ in their place.
But world leaders seldom changed, since being in the position of prime minister offered wonderful economic benefits, from pocketing the taxes of the citizens to flat-out extortion, it was good to be the king.
Of course, it was also good to get the UPF to clean out any incursions occasionally, and the best part was, because each world in the Assad primacy was considered independently run by their own government, All of the stupid rules that the UPF demanded for their help were stymied.
That was where the golden fist came in. The UPF demanded a price for their military assistance, stupid things like curtailing slavery, and certain drugs, basically, the UPF wanted to shut down all of their most profitable industries.
The Assad Primacy agreed. Assad Prime was a Paradise world, ruled by the royal family, where the wealthy of the Unified Planets frittered away their money and time. Assad prime absolutely didn’t allow slavery, as a rule, even though more than a few UP citizens were more than happy to indulge in practices that only a slave would permit. An occasional public bust of a ‘slavery ring’ mostly composed of the black marketers that tried to avoid Assad taxes or expensive bribes was more than enough to give the UP the idea that they were in compliance.
But worlds like Kassim’s were sovereign nations. They gained all the advantages of being part of the Assad Primacy, including the UP Fleet’s protection, while being able to claim all of the Assad Primacy’s dirty little secrets as being protected due to religious, ethnic, or traditional reasons. Idiots.
That’s why Adjunta was damned near as prosperous as one of the Unified Planets. Visionary men like Raphael Kassim were willing to keep their eyes open for profit opportunities, such as the Valkyrie ship letting Adjunta station know they planned to ‘clean up’ the Hassim boneyard of chaos portals.
“Run a scan on that ship. It’s a Valkyrie, not fleet, right?”
“Your Excellence, we aren’t planning on attacking are we?”
Raphael scoffed at his second-in-command. “Of course not. Fleet would smash us. But get an Icon on it anyway… After all, while WE might not be able to retrieve anything of value, It’s not even remotely our fault if the information goes out, for a profit of course, to certain interested parties.”
Raphael rubbed his hands gleefully together. Valkyrie ships were almost exclusively staffed with females, or at least most of them were. Often unique or difficult-to-obtain breeds, almost universally healthy and fit and frequently young, if not as young as he preferred. And, of course, raiders are pathetically eager to reward the one that put them onto a new opportunity.
Ten minutes later, his second, an older eunuch named Matthews who’d been at his side as a bodyguard and servant since he was a teenager, returned. “Icon Lister wants to give you first dibs on bidding on the scan.”
Raphael spun around, “What? That asshole… isn’t his usual bribe enough?”
Matthews shook his head slowly, “He says that you get first dibs on suppressing the information. His report is here, but I haven’t looked at it.”
Raphael stroked his beard with his fingertips. He’d been practicing the gesture after he’d seen it on some ancient vids as a way to look more intimidating. So far, it actually seemed to work, although being the prime minister who could order the death or torture of almost anyone in the two planets' area on a whim, and was a silver-ranked unlimited-class duelist as well, was intimidating enough. But sometimes you needed that… extra.
“Tell Lister that if I catch word that he released the scan any time in the next two hours, I’ll have him and his children beaten to death in front of his wives, forcing them to eat the remains, and then space them. However, I'll discuss a bonus if what’s in the report is worth it.”
After reading the physical printout, and then re-reading it, Raphael tossed the folder across his heavy gold-and-marble desk to Matthews. “What do you think?”
Matthews took the folder and slowly pondered the gold-leaf script. Lister was one of the better Icons, and his auto-writing demanded some expensive ingredients, but this was some pretty serious information and well worth the costs.
Matthews looked at the bottom, and said, “This looks like a complete scrot or a desperate attempt at a trap.”
Raphael nodded, “That’s what I was thinking too,” but he valued Matthew’s experience. He was a veteran for almost a hundred years before he was… trimmed, and had been in the scrot often enough to recognize it. “So what do you think we should do about it?”
Matthews sighed, “Honestly? Even if it is a trap, the bait is just too scrotting rich. It’s like baiting a mousetrap with the crown jewels. Is there any chance that this… Crow knows how to deal with an Icon?”
Raphael shrugged, “Not likely, my friend.”
Matthews nodded. “Then you know what my suggestion is going to be. I honestly think it is a trap.”
“Wait until the Paladin’s gone and then let the Blue Velvet Company know, for a cut?”
Matthews nodded, “Yeah. I mean, two active quests on a tech seven ship. What do you want to bet one of those involves the Hammad boneyard, and the other one involves us. I believe we should keep our actives out, and have the Blue Velvet Company deal with it the moment the paladin runs a group into the first rift. Cut the ship off, take it, and then wait until the Paladin comes out. Hell, even if we have to clean up all the bronze troopers, a paladin is almost certainly worth a big ransom, plus the crew, the ship itself, whatever triggered those quests…”
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Raphael nodded as Matthew said breathlessly, “If we are very lucky, we might even be able to attach the quest to ourselves, whatever it is. Have you ever gotten a quest?”
Raphael shook his head and grinned at Matthews, “No, but I heard stories.”
Matthews nodded, “I was part of a unit that had one almost seventy solars ago. The reward was an inheritance upgrade guide for a jade-tier seeker from a scout class, an organ fabricator for a jade-tier organic liver, and a set of class eight void armor… class eight! As well as popping almost every one of us from Bronze to orichalcum, regardless of which rank of bronze we were.”
Raphael chuckled, “That was what I was going to do, but I am glad to see your suggestions are in line with mine. Vincenzo!”
One of the servants hopped from where they were obliged to stand behind an ancient decorated paper screen and kneeled down, his nose to the carpet that covered the station’s metal deck in the room that Raphael had chosen for his office, what used to be the station’s primary observation lounge. “Yes, Your Excellency!” he barked from the floor.
“Tell Icon Lister that keeping his mouth shut will gain him over a million parcels. He won’t get a piece of the pie, however, unless he can transfer or hijack the quest, at which point he knows I will be generous. Do it now.”
Vincenzo leaped to his feet and immediately backed out of the room, bowing the whole way. Raphael smiled evilly, and then glanced at Matthews, “Go keep a circumspect eye on Lister. If he receives the quest himself, cut his throat. Otherwise, we will see what we will see… but after this, killing the old fool is going to be mandatory. He should have known better than to try and extort me. And get me Marshall Granby from Blue Velvet on the comms.”
***
Petty Officer 3rd class Roisin Gabrielle Reynard-
I wasn’t really mad at David. I mean, I was, and I wasn’t. Of course, I wanted to go on the first explorations of a new rift… first clear bonuses, rare drops, bonus advancement… but he was right, first dip was also by far the most dangerous. I was no hardened soldier, hell, I didn’t even have a real combat class.
Force sage was one of what we liked to call ‘support classes’ or rear-echelons. Yes, back-line people were almost always vital to a team in a single-party rift, and usually mandatory in raid rifts, but in a new exploration, they were almost always more of a liability than a benefit, at least at my rank.
In a new exploration you almost never had any idea what kind of fauna or flora was going to jump out at you. You could have your healer safely in the middle of the group, only to find out that bore worms pop out underneath the team and instantly swallow whoever is in the middle. Or the aggressiveness could be out of whack, so even the tiniest heal causes a swarm of parasite wasps to attack the healer exclusively.
Some rifts were simply tricky that way, and I was nowhere near confident enough in my force screen and swarm to count on it protecting me if I were suddenly flying down the gullet of a giant lamprey or getting stomped on or torched by a Kasimir drake.
The initial entry team was going to be exactly what I had mentioned about the suits. Lindsay and Dirk, obviously, with Murphy as the combat medic, but the last suit was David. Because of his rank, he would be hogging the advancement, but as Murphy mentioned, they weren’t there initially for advancement, not in a bronze rift, the goal was information and an idea of the standard rewards, to see if the rifts were worth keeping active, or if they should be explored with an eye for ripping and then destroying their energy cores.
So far, only two energy signatures have been confirmed. A team trench inside of a derelict Liner, and a really big transit ring. That transit ring, based on the engine lining of an ancient Imperial dreadnought, was almost certainly a full-on hulk and was probably what had been setting up a ruckus loud enough for the fleet seers to sense it.
The hulk wasn’t big enough to run a ship like the Crow, but it was certainly large enough to offer a hefty resource reward. Once they had checked out the smaller rift and hopefully gotten some nice rewards and advancement for people like me, the drone fleets would be exploring the hulk rift.
Hulk rifts were where people could get rewards like wondrous spacecraft, advanced technology, parts, and even things like full machines and ancient plans, techniques, or spells that hadn’t been seen in the galaxy ever before. Both rifts so far were bronze, but we were getting literally the best of the best as far as rewards.
This was why, when the Adjunta defense station had immediately granted access to the boneyard, without oversight, inspection, or demands for bribes or taxes, Taera had been instantly on the defensive.
“That’s not like them.” Taera had confided. “I mean, the Assad Primacy replaced the old nightmarish ideology that brought the original settlers to this part of the galaxy. Now it’s almost a mercantile cult, with the parcel, or credit, as the ultimate judge of morality.”
“The Last time the fleet moved to help free a burgeoning Chaos World, one of the Assad Primacy’s worlds before it got invaded, the local prime minister wanted to charge taxes, landing fees, and a portion of the resources from fighting as well as expecting a hefty bribe… To save his world from a borediver! I mean, the world he’s sitting on is exploding with frost monsters, the average temperature has already dropped thirty degrees, and he expects the fleet to bribe him to rescue his own world!”
“So go ahead and assume it’s a trap. The Primacy is only polite when they think they have you over a barrel or know that you have them over that same barrel. Wasserman, if you weren’t central to getting an initial run on the small gate, I’d keep you out here. As it is, I want you to make sure that you get a full run as quickly as possible.”
“What about excess resources?”
Taera nodded, “Just mark them, that way we can send in a clearing team on the next run if they are worth it. It’s not worth the risk otherwise, no matter how amazing the profit potential. The Crow is a light carrier first and foremost, and the faster you can get the delve team back on board so we can start sending droners through the hulk, the better.”
“It’s a matter of being ready for whatever trap they set up. Reynard, you will be running outer zone interference for if we get a swarm or a pirate raid since this is pirate territory and you are one of the best Microgravity droners we have, especially in a junkyard scenario like this one. Braxis? You will be on inner zone security and countermeasures, as well as remote command for your squadron.”
“Dienne-Lar, I want you to station your golems in the wreckage, with heavy weaponry. When they try to spring whatever trap they have set, I want to make sure they are already mousetrapped. Andrea, you and Kessler will be backing Dienne-Lar up, and hunting for any concealed units… Kessler, you are the go-to for detecting sorcerous and spiritual infestations, so I am counting on you to make sure we are prepared for any ambush.”
“Zaddoc? You are the big man,” to which the dwarf laughed. “You know what your job is.”
He nodded, “Backing up the marines, setting them up as mechanized infantry for a nasty surprise if anyone manages to get on board, running the vehicle rigs, and setting up my drones as emergency repair crew. I know the drill.”
Taera nodded gravely at him, “You are the linchpin. It’s not glamorous, but we are a drone ship. There’s no way in hell that the Primacy would be playing so nice if they didn’t already think they had an ace in the hole. Your job is to neutralize that ace, no matter what.”
Zaddoc nodded gravely since he knew what that meant. If there was already a saboteur or spy aboard, his job was to eliminate them, either temporarily or permanently, even if it was someone the crew knew and trusted. Deep cover operatives, corruption, bribery, and extortion were Assad’s specialty. And it was clear that Taera had suspected someone was already aboard.
Which is exactly why I was out here, hovering alone in my drone carrier nearly an AU from the Crow. I’d already deployed my swarm, which was happily churning along and eating up any copper or higher-ranked materials it could find in the scrap for emergency deployment. I had three nodes slowly orbiting the boneyard, tiny but ready to remote a serious set of defenses, and I’d even manage to jury-rig a small drone cruiser out of the wreckage.
It wasn’t much, since it couldn’t hold a candle to the crow herself either technologically or in terms of sheer size and armaments, but a second ship, no matter how battered, ancient, or small, was still a REAL ace in the hole.
That had been my secret in droner school, what I liked to call suicide ships that could react and fly in ways that no live ship could. They needed no life support, no transit drives, no inertial compensation, no medical support, and no supplies beyond weapons and munitions. That’s how I broke the Kobayashi, and primitive tech or not, a solid steel bullet with a single combat node, bristling with energy weapons and mass drivers was still a dangerous foe.
I also had two more drone corvettes built and ready for use in the boneyard, but they were for emergencies and didn’t even have any weapons. They wouldn’t need them. The delve team was getting ready, so just before David and his crew stepped into the oddly glowing bulkhead door that housed the rift inside the hull of a wrecked vessel, I sent a short, encrypted text he should get as soon as it was decrypted by his suit’s system on the other side.
Come Back Safe.