Ravens of Eternity

108 Shadowy Dealings

High above one of the many red spiral towers, Admiral Chase settled down into a slightly-oversized chair. As all the furniture was Drogar-sized, she felt like she was an overgrown child sitting in one.

Opposite her, across a dull metal desk sat Stormfather Retholis.

Both wore their everyday uniforms rather than their dress uniforms. They were clean, simple, and only bore the markings of their ranks along with the symbols of their nations.

The room around them was cozy and sparsely decorated. Behind Retholis was simply a transparent metal window that showed off the city. To their sides were shelved walls filled with books, medals, commendations, and various wartime memorabilia.

“I was under the impression that someone like me wasn’t allowed inside of a Red Zone,” said Admiral Chase.

“If you’re worried about getting executed, don’t,” replied Retholis. “Besides, we don’t really have any other choice. My office is the safest place for us to talk.”

“Safest? What the hell’s that all about? Someone watching your every move or something? Or mine?”

“Hmm. Scrutinized? Yes. Surveilled? No. I suppose that’s the difference between in here and out there.”

“I’m beginning to regret accepting your invitation, Swarmfather. But now that I’m here – how can I help?”

.....

Retholis stood up and walked over to one corner of the office. There was a small cubby among the shelves and pulled out some sort of green liquor from within it. He poured some out into a couple of glasses and offered one to the Admiral.

“It should be safe for humans to drink,” he said.

She took it in her hand and sniffed at it politely. It smelled like a grassy meadow filled with poppies. It didn’t have the sting of alcohol, but she could tell there was something mildly intoxicating in it.

“Leader to leader,” he continued, “I gotta be frank about why I agreed to capture you. Why I’m using you as leverage.”

“You wanted to re-initiate trade with the Federation, right? I honestly agree with you there. Goods, culture, ideas, technology, currency. The more we exchange those, the better we understand each other. The better our futures will be. Even if it is with knives at our throats.”

She took a sip of the drink, and rich flavors of flowers and berries and grasses swept across her tongue in waves. A buzz swept through her as she absorbed the stimulants within the concoction. She found it rather pleasant – far less intrusive than alcohol.

“Yes, that, certainly,” replied Retholis. “But it’s more than that, too. Let’s just say that my allies and I are working towards the benefit of the Imperium as a whole.”

“Let me guess – your ideological opponents are working hard to slow you down.”

“That’s putting it lightly. It’s more like they’ll do whatever it takes to keep people like me out of their way. That includes drawing daggers and blood across the Imperium.”

As she drank more, she found the flavors changed somewhat. Bitter tones and sweet notes clashed against each other, but ultimately harmonized under the slight haze of intoxication and time.

“Since you’re my unwilling pawns,” he continued, “it means you’re all part of this very dangerous game.”

“Well, it’s not like we can do anything about it – why tell me?”

“Because you need to understand your role in the game. It’s pivotal, and it might get some, or even all of you, dead.”

She leaned back into the chair, but it was slightly too large for her, and she awkwardly fell back too far. The intoxication made her feel a little sloppy as well. Regardless, she felt slightly out of place and out of her depth.

She leaned forward again, and sighed in resignation.

“Way to take it to the extreme,” said the Admiral. “You’re making it sound like they’re liable to attack us, even with all those guards at the compound.”

“That’s what I’m hoping things will escalate to, yes.”

Chase’s eyes went wide the moment he confessed that. She knew the Drogar were bloodthirsty, but she always believed that they were still bound by decorum. It looked like she was wrong.

“You want us dead? The hell!”

“No, not dead. I do like you and your retinue in particular and wouldn’t wish for any of you to die. But I do want you to get attacked. I simply hope that my warning will give you time to shore up your defenses.”

“Why? What’s the point of all this? Why’re you putting us out like bait? The records on you Drogar were right – you’re all vicious monsters!”

Retholis grimaced slightly at her words. They were a vicious species, certainly. But they were far from the only vicious species in the galaxy.

“Have you perhaps considered,” he replied, “that you humans aren’t vicious enough? I’ve ruthless and powerful enemies that will strike at you simply for influence. And I’m telling you this because I want you ready. Help me take them down, and I promise you we’ll both profit greatly from their deaths.”

~

Somewhere further down the same spiral tower, a group consisting of a few dozen enrobed Drogar met in a large hall.

The very center of which was a platform with a seated podium on top of it. All around were hundreds of curved desks arranged in concentric circles. The entire room held an interesting design, where the outermost edge was higher than the very center. The floor stepped downwards with each ring of desks, which allowed everyone an uninterrupted view of the center podium.

Every one of the dull metal desks held signs of their daily use – omnipresent on their surfaces were smudged terminals and disused drink containers and random personal knicknacks.

At the center, an aged, rotund Drogar leaned up on the podium while a few dozen of his compatriots were gathered around him. Most of the rest of the gathering hall was dark and empty.

Every single one of them wore opulent robes made with the finest fabrics. They were all adorned with beautiful jewelry that were set with multicolored precious gems. All were ostentatious, and were clearly visible and obvious and eye-catching.

Wealth and power were more or less synonymous in Drogar society, and these particular ones oozed them in spades.

“Senators,” said the old one in the center. “Thank you for making it to this impromptu limited session. I know it was on short notice, and I hope you’ll forgive me for that.”

“Sure, sure,” said one of the younger senators, “Now that we’re here what’s this all about? And where’s all the rest?”

“Ah, this doesn’t really concern the majority,” the old one replied. “Only those of us with specialized interests will care, truly. And for those of you who haven’t read the most recent briefings, know that Swarmfather Retholis has taken possession of Federation Navy prisoners.”

One of the senators spoke up suddenly.

“Oh! Yeah, heard someone talking about that a cycle or so ago. They’re the ones that those chaos pirates ported here by accident, right?”

“Exactly those, yes. I find it preposterous that he used a wartime clause to capture them, despite not being in a designated warzone. It was clear that he should have eliminated them immediately.”

“I agree,” chimed in another senator. “But I also admire his ability to profit from the situation. I might’ve done the same in his shoes.”

“Sure, we all might have. If it were in a conflict at the border. This is the capital, no? He shouldn’t have given them any quarter.”

The crowd of senators murmured to themselves.

Savoth was among the group of senators, and like the others, he absolutely hated that Retholis had taken human prisoners. In fact, he hated everything about Retholis himself. He stepped forward and chimed in on the discussion.

“Agreed,” he said. “And worse, Retholis has taken the apes and sent them planetside... To this very city!”

“What?!” cried a senator. “Humans here? On Taloren herself? That’s preposterous! Isn’t there a law against that somewhere? Shouldn’t these apes have been taken to the Deep Prison instead?!”

“Yeah! That’s where their filth belongs in the first place!” cried another senator.

Savoth grinned at the reaction, and happily added fuel to the fire.

“Yes, preposterous and outrageous without a doubt. First they won’t allow the planet to return to its former glory, and now they allow these filthy apes to live and breathe alongside us? What’s next? We gonna start selling Zones to them?”

Anger rose among the crowd. It wasn’t sharp, but it certainly seethed.

“Not only that,” added the old one by the podium, “this city – this planet’s under financial stress. Too many clans are unable to feed and house themselves properly. And somehow it’s our duty to feed and house those humans? The idea is nauseating.”

“What’ll we do about it?” asked a random senator. “The majority’s running roughshod all over us!.”

Savoth scoffed at the senator and harrumphed loudly.

“Who cares about those fools?” he said. “We’ll just do what we always do – tell all of our friends just how we feel and let them deal with it. They come up with the most satisfying, most creative solutions, anyway.”

“We can’t keep relying on them for those sorta things. They’re gonna get thinned out from the executions alone!”

“Agreed,” said the old one. “We’ll save them for a cold cycle, when we’ll need them to stoke some fires down the line. In the meantime, I need you all to focus on the upcoming border funding reallotment proposal. Entire floor’s gonna be here to decide on it soon. There’s a piece in there that’s got me all worked up, so we can’t let it pass.”

“You’re talking about that fleet yard restriction thing, right?” asked Savoth. “Not looking forward to that either. Fuckers are trying to reach right into my ledger.”

Groans echoed the chamber as he spoke. The grievance was felt uniformly among them.

“Some of my friends expressed their concern at a tea ceremony,” the old one said. “The Chief Builder at Terratus Orbital Yards took me aside personally and told me how much it would affect the Vogellus III expansion, and more importantly the speculation. He said it would most definitely cause losses across the board. He even used the word ‘catastrophic’.

“I want each and every single one of you imagining your portfolios sinking to the bottom of this heavens-damned planet. That’s where we’re headed.”

More fuel, thought Savoth, more fire. He took one step on the platform, and turned towards the other senators to speak to them.

“Whole clans could go under,” he added. “Mass layoffs, manufacturing shutdowns, you name it. Entire zones would collapse overnight. Our zones.”

One of the senators spoke up suddenly, his voice was panicked and on edge.

“Half my clan’s estate is held up in Terratus futures! If it sinks, we’re gonna be on a lifeline! They said this proposal’s gonna pass easy, but we can’t let that happen!”

Many agreed wholeheartedly while the rest grumbled among each other, their distaste for the state of things was beyond their ability to stomach. Savoth and the older senator grinned at each other, happy with how easily they whipped their fellow senators into a frenzy.

They allowed the others to work themselves up a bit more before the older one cleared his throat and requested their attention.

“Don’t get too worked up,” he said. “We haven’t lost yet. We’ll do whatever it takes to burn their pathetic proposal to the ground. Even if we gotta start a war to do it.”