Jason watched the news reports for a while, taking in the most recent reports of the numerous wars across the vast regions the Republic controlled.
He got to see an 'uplifting' story of an overwhelming ground victory; of a squad of heavily armored soldiers with red-tinted armor charging through a fortified position; clips of built-in cameras mixed in with what were clearly overhead drone shots, showing the warriors charging ahead, enemy projectiles bouncing off of them. The aliens had four arms, but like most of the creatures here, were still mostly humanoid; almost like Loki's adopted appearance, albeit with grey skin rather than more pale.
The weapons didn't look too different from what humanity had wielded when the Jotun arrived; rifles, shotguns, firing simple, chemical propellant weapons. They did virtually nothing to the monstrous heavy troopers; during the entire scene, several minutes of fighting, only a single warrior died; when he encountered an armored vehicle, and its main gun launched a projectile at short range; tearing a hole straight through the soldier, even as he crushed a pair of the grey-armored creatures to death; one of them just barely spared thanks to the tank round, to fall to the ground, spasming, twitching, barely alive...
Until a few seconds later, when one of the other warriors charged up; and stomped on the poor creature, ending its life without even noticing as it sprayed some sort of short-ranged energy weapon into the tank; reducing the thing to slag.
The whole thing gave Jason an idea of how they fought; and reinforced the idea that if you had the most advanced and powerful tech out there, a tank was still probably better than an armored infantryman.
There were numerous such battle scenes and clips; he was even able to get it to run searches, so he could find out a bit more information about what prisons were usually like here; and he learned that there were actually four types of prisons in the Republic.
Their version of the afterlife involved being devoured for eternity by 'the Swarm', and their worst sort of prisons were called 'Devouring Pits'; which would better translate as 'Hell Prisons'. Prisons for those condemned to die, apparently his own crime would have netted him a seat there if he wasn't either a type zero, or had hacked the system. These places were mostly just something to tell people about to threaten them with.
Then there were the 'Work Camp' prisons. In endless varieties, people were sent here mostly to manufacture hand-crafted goods for the government to sell, or to make armor and goods for the navy; or even low-grade starships for the government to sell. The most common variety, apparently where the Tier-2 and Tier-3 people generally went. Which... translated as people who were humanoid, but not as closely related to the species that made the Republic.
The 'Minimum Security' sort were for the Tier 1s for the most part; which... were apparently most of the 'Merick', the six-eyed, pale bastards who ran the show. Only some of the Merick were 'Tier Zero' like himself. Which... basically translated to royalty.
He had managed to trick his way into being considered alien royalty. Without even meaning to. No wonder he was being treated so well.
Suddenly, he heard a soft tone; and looked out the window of his modest 'house', to see... the door to the central area was lit up with faint golden light. Ahh. Meal time. Did he need to go out there? Odds were good that any of these other prisoners would be more of these weird pale space-Nazis.
Might as well. He needed to gather information before making his escape; maybe one of them could be useful.
He rose to his feet; wondering whether the white cotton-like garb he received at the hospital was normal for here; and checked the bedroom, to find... a copy of the undersuit he'd worn under his armor. Granted, that undersuit was a marvel, itself a form of armor, with tubes of liquid built-in to help wick away heat... while this was essentially just a solid black suit... and pair of boots.
After a few minutes, he was dressed once more; the new suit was comfortable; definitely had three bugs in it; and had no armor value whatsoever. But... at least, when he wore his helmet, he still sort-of looked like his usual style.
He sighed; and slid the helmet off, for now; carrying it under his shoulder as he crossed the perfectly-manicured golden lawn to the doorway.
When it slid open, there was a short hall... leading to... a resort.
That was the best way to describe it. A ring of chairs around a swimming pool, the smell of strange food cooking, music playing softly, and attractive scantily clad male and female aliens; mostly the pale, six-eyed Merick, though he could see a few green-tinted and obsidian-tinted ones among them. The outfits seemed to be appropriate for a beach setting; short skirts and sports-bra like tops, and a handful of men and women wearing simple white, grey, or green robes were slowly walking in from a variety of doorways; some just settling in at a table, others stopping to talk to the... waiters?
One of the six-eyed females; a bit slim for his taste, but still looking remarkably similar to a bald, pale, attractive, human female; perhaps in her 20s; stepped up to him with a smile. "Hello there, Jason! I'm Charis, and I'll be your server today. Are you wanting to eat alone, or with others?"
"..Is Charis a common name among your people? The Shield who brought me here was a Charis. Oh, and I'm fine sitting with others. Might as well meet some folks."
The woman laughed. "Of course! It's probably the most common female name. Charis, Charlu, Charnik... Pick all the girls with those three and you've got most of the population. If it weren't for ID numbers the systems would be impossible."
He nodded. "Okay. I was told I needed to eat..." He frowned, and tapped the helmet. "What was the diet requirement again?"
Both the waitress and the helmet stated, almost in perfect sync; "Nine parts orange, one part red."
Jason shook his head. "So what does that mean, anyway?"
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The woman led Jason towards one of the tables, where two of the six-eyed men; one wearing a white robe, another a green; were sitting. "Hello, sirs. This is Jason, a new inmate to the facility from an exceptional distance away." Jason looked at the two men; each of whom were being calm, assessing the three-eyed human; and then sat down.
Charis smiled. "The colors denote types of nutrients that are needed to feed the various species of the republic. There are sixty-eight different nutrient types, with the most common referred to by color. For most prisons, they are standard fare. For this place, they actually serve food, real, cooked food; meat, vegetables, the like. But... they can incorporate the nutrients you need into the meal."
A slow nod. "Well. That sounds good. Could you get me a small sample, then, please, of whatever you make for the others, so I can try some local foods?"
"Of course!" The woman turned, sprinting off towards a nearby building, as the two men both stared at Jason. Both men looked... virtually identical. Two vertical columns of black orbs that just focused on him, ignoring the plate of... some unknown, red, stringy substance before one man, and what was clearly a roast animal for the other.
"Hell there. Name's Jason Bennet." He nodded at each of the men.
The first; wearing a white robe, made a strange rotating gesture with his head that Jason filed away as a nod; his helmet would've interpreted it for him, if he were wearing it. "I am Chilbik Vrish, of Vrish-Corp. My companion here is Chilfin Vrissh, my son, also of Vrish-Corp. We don't get new inmates here often. What brings you to our... isolated paradise?" He gestured out at the exquisite simulation of a beach resort. There was even the sound of water on the illusory beaches. Jason wondered for a moment if the beaches were there; if he could step out into the water, even if it were just a sort-of imitation.
"Ahh. Well, I was of Eye-Tech, and technically Head Enforcer of La Famiglia, but just Jason will work, for now. My company, my homeland, and the reasons for my various titles are all far, far away now." He would need to earn some new ones here. Though... this place wasn't bad. Maybe he should ignore the news in the background and just... consider this a retirement.
"Oh? A corporate man like myself? Vrish-Corp is the top seller of artificial combat boosters in the Republic; we make drugs to influence the mind and body, and... I'm here because I was, technically, a 'Drug Kingpin', as Vrish-Corp also sold most of the illegal drugs in the republic." He nodded at the other Merick at the table. "My son here.."
The other alien interrupted. "Turned him into the Republic for the illlegal part of the operations. But... had been a participant for years. He got a century, I got twenty years."
Jason slowly nodded, smiling. "Ahh! A man after my own heart... sort-of. Eye-Tech was actually the lead manufacturer of combat drugs back home, as well as a variety of combat technologies. Amusingly enough, I liked to personally go after extremely dangerous targets; and had an extremely well-paid, capable, research team developing new tools and chemicals to help that process. Which, of course, also made me extremely wealthy selling them to others."
He leaned forward. "Though, the crowning jewel of our empire was actually a drug whose formula I stole from another company. He spent years hating me for it, even tried to kill me."
The two aliens were both watching Jason closely; seeming more animated by the moment. The father made his not-nodding gesture. "Really! I know you're a Tier zero, but thats just a matter of brain structure. How close are you to us Merick genetically? Could any of your formula be useful for our combat forces?"
The son glanced at the father, then at Jason. "What sort of drug was this crowning jewel? What did it do?"
"Ahhh... It was called Reflex. I think I may have brought some with me; I was actively on the hunt when I got stranded here, after all. You take a dose and it makes the world slow to a crawl; lets you, for a few seconds, move like a speedster; run so fast you tear your muscles apart, dodge bullets, just about."
Both of them seemed confused at his words; likely part of it hadn't translated. "A... Drug that lets you move faster?"
"I can take a dose... and then catch a knife you threw at me, and throw it back. To me, it would seem like the knife was swimming through the air."
The son slid his fingers around on the table in a circle, as the father took another bite of his meal. "Interesting. You should definitely come visit my headquarters, we can talk shop. After I get released, if you like, we can bring you over."
"If possible; I've got a life sentence, after all. It may have been an accident... part of killing a giant monster... but I apparently ended up riding a ball of neutronium that almost hit a population center."
The father almost choked on whatever the strange food was; even as a waitress was carrying out a platter, containing dozens of bowls, each with a label, and a few bites of different kinds of food. "A ball of neutronium? How much?"
Jason frowned. ".... I'd guess trillions of tons. One second. Helmet, how much neutronium would you say was in that braincase?"
A soft digitized voice emerged. "Impossible to estimate, due to the varied structure of the Emperor's bio-mass and uncertainties of purity. At minimum one hundred trillion tons, but potentially in the quadrillions. Absolute maximum possible neutronium density would be forty-seven quadrillion tons; a closer estimate would likely be two quadrillion."
The two men stared at each other, then at the helmet. The father spoke first. "...We need to invest in starship construction. This... the impact this could have on the Swarm timetable....That's millions of dreadnaught power cores worth..."
The father chuckled. "I strongly suspect quite a few prison sentences are about to be cut short. I may actually live to see the purge of the galaxy complete. I honestly hadn't even thought you would live to see that, son."
Jason looked down at the tray, as the woman smiled, and backed away, keeping out of the conversation. Numerous colorful pastes, creams, lumps... bits of cooked meat, a truly enormous variety of food... spread out.
However nice these people were, they were genocidal... xenocidal? Zealots. That lump of evil alien brain might spell the doom of trillions. "How long will it take them to get it to a shipyard? That's quite a bit of weight to move."
The two shrugged. "Obviously, gravity-bending technology has its limits, but.. its enormous, and expensive, but we have these gateway ships that create... artificial wormholes. It takes some time to make one to the destination, but they'll call one of them in, and in a month or so, get it across hundreds of light-years in an instant. Likely they're already working on getting it offworld to avoid damaging the local environment, but really... a lump that big is worth more than this world. If blowing up the world was the only way to get it, they'd have the planet's tier one and zero people evacuated next week, and the whole place would be gone."
Jason blinked. "Surely they wouldn't do something like that. A whole habitable world?"
The son shrugged. "There are hundreds of thousands of habitable worlds out there, trillions of tier-2 and tier-3 slaves to exploit... and only a tiny amount of neutronium outside of neutron stars where retrieval is.... difficult. Most of our existing supply comes from a mining operation around a black hole that is currently eating a neutron star, in fact. In a few thousand years, when it dies, we'll need to find a new source."
Jason started sampling some of the exotic foods; starting with a few of the strange fruits, to occupy his mouth and avoid talking as he considered. So. He had maybe a month to figure out how to escape, steal a ship, and stop that neutronium from leaving the system. Though... they'd likely build a shipyard here, if they had to. He needed to either dump it into a star, or get it into the hands of the Republic's enemies. Preferably ones who weren't just as bad as they were.
"...So. The 'Swarm'. How much do you two know about them? All the news shows is details of the war."