Admiral Rodriguez and his three accompanying Kraktol officers make their way through New Pongi, pausing every so often to take note of the capital city's varying degrees of economic disparity. Huge 20-foot fences separate the slums from more affluent areas, but the poor and the rich often live only a stone's throw away from each other, regardless.
The impact of seeing such stark wealth differences side by side aren't lost on José. However, having witnessed many similar situations in all his years alive, he doesn't pay them much mind.
"Alright. I'll have to move alone from here," José says, once they reach a small park. Two blocks away, they can just barely make out a set of huge protective walls and force fields shielding New Pongi's political powers; a sprawling set of buildings dotted throughout a 1000-acre plot of land. The central building, marked on José's internal notes as the Senate, stands only three stories tall, yet the building itself spreads out for half a mile in every direction. Luxurious gardens, fountains, and gold-plated amenities line its interior, speaking to the wealth of those who patronize it.
"José, I don't like this," Soren says, her scales turning white from worry. "You shouldn't go in there alone."
"I only have one experimental stealth module," José says, while tapping the base of his skull. "And you three Kraktol are far too conspicuous. You'll draw countless eyeballs my way. Just stay here and wait for my return or a rescue signal."
"A rescue signal?!" Sapphire cries. "Darling! How are we supposed to fly in there and save you if something happens?!"
"I'm sure you'll think of something," José replies. "But realistically, if these Mallali have anything that can pin me down, you won't be much help. I had to temporarily remove my dermal armor for a full-body stealth module, but I still have my basic survival suit. I'll be fine."
After a few minutes of explaining his plans, José points at a bench off to the side of the park. "Just sit over there and wait for me. I'll return soon."
His three Kraktol officers give up their pleading, realizing that as a Terran, his mind is impossible to change once he's made a decision. Begrudgingly, they follow his orders and plop on the bench, sighing as they watch him leave.
"I hope my Darling will be okay..." Sapphire mutters.
...
José walks through the park, heading to the perimeter. He passes countless average citizens, some of them decently wealthy, others somewhat poor. However, none of the Mallali, Rodaks, or other Sentients in the park sit at the periphery of society, either on the top or the bottom. Most of them appear middle-class and decently well-off.
Just before José leaves the park's boundaries, his eyes fall on a pair of Dakkit pups, both of them chasing after each other and playing some variant of 'tag.'
"Cute kids..." José mutters.
He walks toward a large tree, one with oddly curled leaves that resemble pasta noodles. After José steps into the tree's shadow, he activates his body's stealth module.
Made by Orion Corps, the 50th Era military-grade augment replaces José's Dermal Armor, causing the nanites in his blood to vibrate and shimmer in such a way that they allow 99% of light and other detection methods to pass through José's body. Within two seconds, José 'phases' out of view, seemingly vanishing from the material world. With nobody's eyes on him at the moment of his disappearance, none of the local Mallali realize that an invisible assassin has appeared in their midst.
Admiral Rodriguez strolls confidently onto the street. He pauses for a moment to look around. A pair of Avaru resembling crows nearly bump into the invisible Terran, but he quickly scoots out of the way. Thanks to the built-in sound-dampening features of his stealth module, even his footsteps become inaudible to the sharp-eared Sentients around him.
Not bad, José thinks. I knew the module would work, but I didn't expect it to be this effective. Seems the top dogs of Terrankind always had access to the best equipment.
That thought leaves him feeling momentarily melancholic, but José quickly shakes off the sensation.
Doesn't matter. Their toys are mine, now.
The Terran walks across the street toward the walls erected around New Pongi's Senate and other political administrative buildings. In addition to the twenty-foot walls, multiple high-intensity transparent force-fields hum an additional hundred feet into the air, making casual approaches by gangs and hooligans impossible.
Hundreds of armored guards patrol the area around the walls, always in groups of six or more. These enforcers, typically Dakkit, sniff the air as they walk, while their helmets and visors scan the area for hidden intruders. They wield menacing-looking 42nd-Era weaponry, some of which José recognizes as brand-spanking-new.
Hmm. If most Terran technology the Mallali possess is supposed to be salvaged and rebuilt, why does it look as if these guards have procured equipment right off a factory line? Perhaps Lorrie's intel is far more out of date than we thought. It seems the Mallali have figured out how to build advanced Terran weaponry, at the least. I wonder what other advancements they've made, unseen by the rest for the galaxy?
José frowns. His mind becomes more alert as he recognizes the Mallali police and security enforcers aren't the total pushovers he expected. Even so, their technology doesn't threaten him in the slightest. He stands a short distance from a six-man team of enforcers, waiting to see if they'll spot him. Luckily, even when the guards look in José's direction, they don't notice his presence, not even with their trained noses.
Feeling more confident, José walks up to the wall. He coils strength into his legs, then leaps thirty feet into the air, allowing him to ascend high enough to see over the wall. The moment his vision allows him to see inside, he transmits a mental command to his internal teleporter.
Foop!
The Terran vanishes from his position and reappears inside the Senate's perimeter, easily bypassing the barrier. He lands silently on his feet, pauses for a moment to scan the area, and finally stands up, confident nobody spotted him.
Outer perimeter breached. Looks like the barrier is only 32nd-Era technology. It's pretty outdated.
Despite its age, the barrier still has more than enough power to fry a human at the subatomic level. However, it doesn't possess the means to block his short-range teleporter.
After arriving inside the capitol's most sensitive compound, José teleports atop a single-story office building nearby to get a better view of the land. He picks out ten times as many guards inside, but this time he also spots countless wealthy-looking Mallali, Avaru, and other such ruling Sentients. Sadly, he spots few if any Rodaks, proving once again the Mallali don't want to give their rivals more political clout than necessary.
The vast piece of property, located in the heart of New Pongi, truly reveals its opulence after José penetrates its confines. He spots a pair of beautifully-dressed parrot-like Avaru women, each decked out in fancy golden and purple robes, as if they were both visiting empresses. The two birds chirps and squawk at one another while laughing about some unknown piece of local gossip.
Uncertain where he can find his quarry, José travels deeper into the compound. He jumps from rooftop to rooftop, keeping away from the people milling about below him. Unsurprisingly, many Avaru security officers stand atop the buildings to keep an eye on the surrounding area, while also acting as makeshift snipers should an enemy incursion occur. Thanks to their innate flying abilities, they make for ideal rooftop personnel, as their eyesight often proves superior to the Dakkit and other Sentients.
José easily bypasses these trained personnel. Not once do they notice the ghostly apparition flickering through their midst.
After a full hour of searching the area, José reaches a building that appears different from the others. Unlike its neighbors, the structure stands three stories tall, with the upper levels growing progressively smaller, like a mini-pyramid made of three steps. Ten times as many security officers crawl around the perimeter, checking for bombs, saboteurs, and other such dangerous devices and people.
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That must be the place, José thinks.
He lightly hops off the rooftop and lands on the ground, taking care not to alert anyone in the vicinity to his presence. Even a 50th-Era stealth module's sound dampening capabilities can only do so much to make a thirty-foot fall and landing inaudible.
José approaches the central compound structure. He spots a sign at the front, one which reads, in big, bolded letters:
GALACTIC ASSEMBLY HALL.
That's the one, José confirms. Having looked up the leaders over the intergalactic net, he's already determined the rough area of where they might live and travel on a daily basis. However, compared to the public information found on the Mallali's Galactic Net, he lacks concrete knowledge about the private details of each Mallali leader's daily schedule.
Admiral Rodriguez swivels his head from side to side. His ocular implants rapidly scan the appearances of all the visitors and police in the area, giving him details about their bodies and possible identities.
Oh, that fellow over there. He's a Cheemu, goes by the name Jarrod the Long-Tongue. And that Dakkit next to him, she seems to be Lady Dranee, a low-ranking noble from one of the Core Worlds. Still, she gets to prance about like royalty here in New Pongi, so she must feel like a queen for the moment.
After scanning the identities of everyone around him, José's vision shifts again, creating countless blue lines in the air. He picks out and traces several outgoing transmissions from various wrist, ear, or pocket-worn devices. All of them, while heavily encrypted, cannot stand up to even a second's scrutiny from the Admiral's advanced hacking toolkit. He easily bypasses all their security measures and downloads the files straight to his neural interface.
Tsk. These people... what scum. Lady Dranee appears so prim and proper to the public, yet she runs a damn slave-trading business within the black market. And her friend, Jerrod, he's worried someone might uncover the blackmail involving his father's weapon cartel. Seems he's shipping goods to the Trellut on the down-low.
The Admiral sighs. Politicians never change. They're all dirty scumbags underneath their shiny exteriors.
After casting aside those fruitless thoughts, José peers deeper into the stolen data-files. He finally finds what he's looking for.
Ah, here we go. It looks as if Lady Dranee has a business appointment later today with Maximillian, son of the Alfras. As the highest-ranking Dakkit in the Core, Maximillian's father is quite the important man. If I can find his son, I can find him.
José's primary goal, to speak to Benjiro and the other Mallali leaders, momentarily falters. As he glances through several dozen illicit folders tucked away by Lady Dranee and her cohorts, his expression turns to disgust.
Benjiro isn't going to be any better than these twisted failures. If anything, he'll probably be worse. How am I supposed to convince a deluded, privileged, rotten old dog to pay attention to the Buzor? Maybe I should try speaking to Maximillian, first. Or maybe I should find a high-ranking military commander. I like those types more. They usually understand what's at stake better than the damned bureaucrats living it up on their conquered Core worlds.
For a moment, José falls into contemplation. He realizes that in the end, his efforts might bear no fruit and the dumb idiot politicians might just ignore him, no matter what evidence he provides.
Doesn't matter. I have to locate the Alfras. If I fail, I'll at least have gained some valuable intelligence. Perhaps I can hack his command codes and take what I need by force. My only goal is to destroy Yama, after all.
After coming to a decision, José heads inside. He teleports past multiple perimeter defenses, ignoring every security checkpoint that would fool more poorly-equipped saboteurs, and finally arrives inside the Galactic Assembly Hall.
Compared to the inner compound, the GAH doesn't sport hardly any security personnel. Those who linger inside keep their weapons hidden and stand at attention. Their existence is not intended to protect the people inside, but to provide their Mallali guests a sense of safety and reassurance. Considering the investment put into securing the inner and outer compound perimeters, the Mallali seem assured no assassin could possibly breach their defenses without setting off any alarms.
Too bad for them, the Terran exists.
José teleports to a nearby wall and adheres to it via gravitic implants built into his hands and feet. He once again rapidly collects the data of every guest within visual range, allowing him access to their most private information.
One Dakkit male catches his attention.
Hmm? That fellow is Ferund Carrus, a secretary to the Alfras himself! He seems to be greeting a pair of dignitaries from...
José glances at the Ferund's pair of guests. They turn out to be secretaries themselves, both of them working for two targets on José's list.
That male Cheemu works for Leevoo the Observant, while the ratty-looking Dornet works for Virapa Thicktooth. It looks like there's some sort of a big meeting happening today!
José transmits a burst of energy to his auditory canal, then leans in a little closer, allowing his long-ranged hearing to pick up on the conversation between the three secretaries.
"...by a most ignoble Dakkit fellow," Ferund says, his voice full of scorn. "I mean, the nerve. Does he not know whoms't I serve? My master is the most powerful canine on all of New Pongi, yet Mister Rotticus expects me to strut around like his personal lap-pup."
The Cheemu secretary shakes his head. His eyes rotate around independent of each other, giving him a somewhat disinterested vibe. "Mlerp. You can't trust these low-level pond-feeders. They suck up to us, hoping to get in the good graces of our esteemed mlerp masters. You have to stomp on their tails to show them who is boss."
The Dornet secretary, a female with well-maintained fur and two huge buck-teeth, sniffs the air suspiciously. "I've had five, count them, five Dakkit proposition me since my arrival yesterday. Can you believe it? They must believe that if they marry me they will somehow end up ruling the black market. It's disgraceful!"
"Anyway, forget those mlerp creeps," the Cheemu says. "We've still got an hour before our masters finish their business. Why don't we grab some crawlies from the bar?"
"Hmm. I suppose I could indulge myself in a round of chewing," Ferund says. "I'm looking forward to visiting that new nightclub tomorrow night. I hear the prey they've put on display will boil the blood of any predator."
His words cause the two herbivorous secretaries a small amount of discomfort, but they quickly hide their feelings.
"I'd like to visit, too," The Dornet says, chittering nervously. "But, um, I don't dare go alone."
"I have a VIP invitation," Ferund says. "You two can both come with me."
"Mlerp. Most excellent! I can't wait!"
The three secretaries continue chatting, but José pulls away, completely uninterested in anything else they have to say.
It seems Benjiro and the other Mallali are engaging in a significant meeting of some sort, for at least another hour. If I hurry to their location, perhaps I can intercept them!
José begins a series of rapid teleportation jumps, flickering from one wall to the next. He zips down corridors, past hundreds of Mallali upper-classers, and into various chambers where many different backroom dealings take place.
It takes the Admiral twenty full minutes to scout out the interior, but eventually he discovers the Alfras isn't actually meeting with the other Mallali leaders inside the three-level Assembly Hall, but instead, a secret chamber underground where fewer transmissions and probing attempts can penetrate.
Clever, José thinks.
Hidden underneath the main hall, more than ten feet of exotic materials designed to hamper sensors and other readings protect the Mallali's secret meeting area. Even José, outfitted with 50th Era technology, can't easily break into the meeting room to make his presence known.
I can't teleport inside. Too much signal disruption. And, once I'm in, getting out will be tricky. On the other hand, there are more than ten top-ranking delegates in there. This is the best opportunity I'll get to make my case before the most influential Mallali.
After debating over his options, José comes to a simple conclusion.
He steps inside a bathroom, disables his invisibility, then activates an auxiliary function of his stealth module. Immediately, his figure changes as a holographic projection mirrors itself over his body, seemingly shrinking down his figure by a foot and a half. He assumes the appearance of Ferund, the Alfras's secretary.
His appearance becomes dog-like, making him look like a cross between a bipedal Rottweiler and a Dobermann. A fancy suit appears on his torso and legs, while a small, pointy tail pops out of his rump. The Admiral's voice shifts, allowing him to mimic Ferund's mannerisms and speech to a level even the real deal might find difficult to tell apart.
José practices speaking in the mirror for a minute, then exits the bathroom and heads down the hall toward a hidden elevator leading to the secure underground passage. When he arrives, a pair of Dakkit guards stationed outside the elevator glance at him in surprise.
"Ruff? Mister Ferund? We weren't expecting your return for another forty minutes."
"I know," José says, changing his personality to one of a superior being, someone who looks down on the common rabble. "I've just received distressing news from one of the Core Worlds, Rhalnova. I must present this information to Alfras Benjiro on the double. Grawr!"
"Oh! I see," The guard says. He glances at his buddy, and both of them nod. "Alright, sir. Just step forward and let me scan you. Protocol."
José rolls his eyes, acting as if the procedure is a waste of his time. "Get on with it."
He stretches out his paws, allowing the officers to wave a pair of hand-scanners all over his body. However, as the scanners try to pierce the disguise-projections surrounding José, he activates a silent command from his neural interface, one which sends false data to each of the devices sweeping across his figure.
After twenty seconds, the guards step back and glance at their scanner readings.
"All clear, sir."
"Gruff! Took you long enough," José growls.
The Admiral steps through the elevator and waits for it to close. He presses the descent button, which begins taking him five floors underground, to the secret area where the Mallali leaders have decided to congregate.
Infiltration successful, José thinks. He doesn't smile, knowing he's only cleared the basic hurdles. His entire journey to meet the Mallali will come to nothing if he can't convince them to listen to his words.
The Admiral's expression morphs into a look of annoyance.
God, I hate politicians.