Frozen Soul, and other works: Chapter 127

(Origin Club, Thelorious, Dimiya)

The Origin Club was the most prestigious and exclusive club on Dimiya. No mere nightclub for the masses, the Origin Club was a strictly ‘members only’ affair that catered to the rich and the powerful. Getting a membership, even on a provisional basis, required the support of other members of the Origin Club. The number of people who even knew of the Origin Club’s existence, save members and the trusted staff who worked there, numbered in the mere dozens, across the entire planet.

Simply put, if you knew about the Origin Club and didn’t work there, you were either a member, or you were on one of two lists. The first list was for people who were potential members, either as legacies or as up and comers. The second list was for people to watch in case they caused problems for the club, so that a quiet ‘accident’ could be arranged for them. Some people, naturally, were on both lists.

This exclusivity and discretion gave the Origin Club a cachet that allowed politicians, businessmen, religious leaders, and all other types to speak freely often crossing the party lines or other divides that separated them in the outside world. Many a deal had been hammered out in the sitting rooms of the Origin Club over one’s intoxicant of choice.

In the Trophy Room, a group of twelve Senators and business leaders were meeting, away from the prying eyes of aides, the press, and other annoyances. It was not unusual for any or all of them to be at the Origin Club, or for them to sometimes have a ‘working dinner’ with their fellows to work out the best forms a piece of legislation should take. Tonight, however, their conversation was on less pleasant topics of how they should arrange the future of the Confederacy for the ‘greater good’ (which included THEIR good, of course).

Malon Adynore of Iylia was the ‘hostess’ for their current get together, and the Senator was quite upset with the news that had broken earlier that day. “I am telling you, this Black Star group is far too powerful! And they’re getting more power by the day! We need to step in and bring them in line!”

Aiwin Lukian, CEO of the largest shipbuilding firm in the Confederacy, shrugged his shoulders. “We have tried the business measures, but his products are good, and reliable. They’ve gotten considerable favorable press for their designs thanks to the Imperial Civil War and the business at Nuevo Edo. The only reason they aren’t cutting more into our bottom line is because the owner seems content to build small military craft and freighters, and has not ventured into industrial craft. Now, he’s putting the first large freighter of his, this ‘Oregon Trail’, into space, and several of the mid-sized shipping companies are already interested in what it can do.”

Kamata Kanko, one of only three humans in the gathering shook his head. “It is no use going through the normal criminal routes, either. Nakahara-dono of the Rose Dragons and Triswyn-dono of the Crystal Fangs have spread the word that Black Star is not to be touched. Even rival organizations, like our Jade Serpents, cannot move openly against them. All the underworld would unite against any syndicate that moves against the Black Stars, if only to ensure that their retribution does not result in too much ‘collateral damage’.”

Lukian looked over to the man, and said, “Are they still that scared over what he did in the Badlands, Kamata-dono? I understand that destroying the outposts was a setback to most of the syndicates, but surely that would encourage them to get some revenge?”

Kamata shook his head. “Oh, there are many who would rejoice if they could bring the Black Stars down, but they are not foolish enough to risk open conflict with a group as powerfully armed as they are, who have been proven to destroy targets that merely encouraged others to their doom. On the other hand, Black Star is willing to deal with those who aren’t against them, and their products are high quality. Not always the best, or the fastest, but reliable, and discrete. And their products are priced fairly. He has their fear, but he also has their respect. It is very upsetting.”

Adynore growled in frustration. “And now even mercenaries are useless against him! You’ve heard the terms he arranged for the release of those damned Kul’tirans who couldn’t even destroy a single freighter? 2.1 MILLION credits for twenty-one crew members! The standard rate is 10 thousand per head, for officers. And the price for that Proudmoore bitch? He got another 2.1 million for her alone!”

Faylen Miravaris, an executive in one of the more prominent arms manufacturers in the Confederacy, shook her head. “That is not what worries me, to be honest. We already know that he possesses the ability to produce Greenwave. Once the Proudmoore girl was released from her slave collar, she began informing those who needed to know that her ships had been destroyed by FTL torpedoes.”

Adynore smiled like a hawk at that news. “Excellent! With that, we can nail him with the treaties banning those weapons. He’ll have to do whatever we tell him to!”

Miravaris sighed. “If only it were so simple. It seems as though the treaties were written to prevent attacks on planets or lunar colonies. Attacking a ship would not apply. At the time, battles at faster than light speeds were a possibility in interstellar space. The development of tarpit traps removed that as a factor, but the treaties were never changed.”

Lukian shook his head. “There is no way we’d be able to get the treaties changed, not in any length of time that would help us. There is some hope for the court of public opinion, but their owner has developed a somewhat flamboyant persona as the ‘plucky upstart able to fight above his weight class’, and his successes make him popular. He need only say he was looking to improve his forces against Pirates or the X’thari, and people would cheer him on. His defense of Nuevo Edo has made the Black Stars into heroes in many people’s eyes. A smear campaign may do more harm than good.”

Miravaris leaned back in her chair, considering. “From the reports, he is quite the lecher, so have we considered a seduction? We could arrange a honeypot for him, either to get a scandal, or ensure we can influence him. Perhaps a mental psy user? Surely we have one with enough subtlety for the job that we can call on?”

Taeral Elcaryn, one of the Senators from Dimiya itself, shook his head. “We have several in the intelligence services who could do the work, but the CIS is refusing point blank to issue such orders without written authorization, citing the fact that they’ve already burned substantial assets attempting to infiltrate Black Star before we began pressuring them, and they will not throw away ‘vital security assets’ on ‘political games’.”

Adynore growled. “We’ll need to replace the leader of the CIS then, to ensure that they have the… guts necessary to do as they’re told. I want to know what the bastard has on them that we don’t, so we can turn and make them start doing their jobs!”

“Perhaps they just know me better than you do, hmm?”

(Ziunov, Ihm Imperium)

Ziunov was a charming little planet, on the edge of the Imperium, not far from the border with the brash Terran Empire. Those humans had tried, from time to time, to make in-roads against the Imperium, but the sturdy warriors and cunning leaders of the Warrior and Leader castes had stopped the enemy each time, and driven the Empire back more than once. Ziunov was originally an Imperial world, but after the last war the Imperium had claimed it as spoils, and dismantled the small fleet refueling station that had been there, turning Ziunov into a shining example of an Ihm colony.

A local month ago (1.3 Terran Months), there was a large disturbance as an unidentified ship emerged from FTL at the edge of the atmosphere, stopped by the automatic safeguards, no doubt, and proceeded to crash in the mountainous region of the southern continent known as the Lamtara Rise. Naturally, such an event was major news across Ziunov for a day, perhaps two, but after it became clear that there could be no survivors, the story was relegated to a background piece on whether the safeguards on FTL engines should be strengthened.

There was an unusual bit of news related to the crash, however. When the first flights had tried to reach the crash site with flyers, they were still several kilometers away from the site when they had begun experiencing interference with their instruments. Sensors detected increased particulate residue in the air, and so it was assumed that something aboard the crashed ship had been released into the atmosphere, and was interfering with the systems. When satellite pictures showed the extent of the wreckage, search and rescue efforts were called off, as there could be no survivors from such a wreck.

Of course, that was when the Salvagers got involved. When the ‘interference’ continued despite several days of wind and rain in the mountains, people began saying that perhaps there was some new technology (or perhaps even Lost Technology!!) that had survived the crash, and was active. However, the nearest settlement was almost two weeks away on foot. Even taking transports as close as they dared before walking the rest of the way, they were still looking at hiking for at least a week, thanks to the mountains.

Zass Whitescale was leading this particular venture. A rare variant of the Ihm people, the Whitescale clan were far, far more resistant to the cold than others of their people. The cold wind, rain, and snow of the mountains would not bother them. They were, in fact, the only Salvager group who could operate in the Mountains without flyer support, which is why getting the exclusive contract for the crash site and whatever they found there was easy enough.

She looked around at her four hulking brothers, Bhox, Roxl, Uathru, and Throsk. All fine specimens of Ihm malehood, and all Whitescales who would not hesitate on a mission like this because of the cold. She would have preferred to have one of the men from the local village along as well, but having a playmate to warm her burrow while they were working was not worth the trouble bringing a ‘normal’ Ihm would cause them. Perhaps when they got back, however….

She shook her delusions, fun as they were, aside. Now was not the time for such things. The flyer had left them two days ago, and already the climb into the mountains was getting treacherous, even for an Ihm who could easily take the cold, and had prepared for things, even going so far as to prepare more primitive ‘backup’ tools, should the source of the interference in the mountains cause problems with their more modern equipment. While all five of them carried a share of the gear, her brothers naturally carried more in their packs, since they were better equipped to carrying large loads. Thanks to this, they actually had supplies to last a local month, if they needed it, but they hoped that they’d be long out of the mountains, at least, before supplies started to become an issue.

Climbing to the top of a rise, Zass pulled out a pair of binoculars fitted to her Ihm features. Such a device was not native to the Ihm people, but was something they had adapted from the Humans during their conflicts. The ability to enhance one’s vision was a powerful tool, but the idea of using tools held in one’s claws for the task, rather than using Psy to enhance the eyes directly, was an approach the Ihm had not considered. She knew how to enhance her sight the ‘normal’ way, but when in the wild one always needed to be aware of one’s strength, and conserve their energy for the proper moment. Learn from your enemies as well as your allies, that is what the Matron had said.

Looking through the device, she could just see the remains of the alien ship far off in the distance. She couldn’t be sure of what kind of ship it was, but there appeared to be a cave forming nearby under an overhang that hid it from satellites. Perhaps there was a survivor after all?