04 - 10 Chapter 10 - edited by BoonDock

={2}Chapter 10=

Isehia pressed a sub-dermal contact onto the base of her jaw and tapped it twice and with that she activated her Data Brain connection to GalNet. She could now make GalNet calls directly using her mind’s speech center without opening her mouth. It took a little practice to separate what you were thinking and what you wanted to say without using your vocal cords or your mouth, but she had been doing it for a long time and because of that she earned a very generous salary.

She was an employee, but even she only knew her employers as ‘The Company’ and her direct contacts only as 'Managers'. She had never seen one in person, or more precisely she didn't know if she had ever seen one. With a few movements of her tongue she scrolled through the GalNet menu, projected directly into her retina, and blinked at the necessary symbols to make the desired connection.

The expensive Bombardier Private Space Yacht had left the Penal Colony, already raced past the orbit of the fifth planet, and slipped into Quasi Space. Her Manager came on right away. A suave looking green skinned humanoid posing as a Hegloian and wearing an expensive Saresii Silk Business suit in the classical and very distinguished Cambridge cut. Yet she was certain it was a generated image and had nothing to do with how the real person looked.

He sat behind a featureless glass desk in a sterile white looking office. He had his fingers steepled and said, “Ah my dear Isehia, I gather there weren't any complications?”

“None at all, Manager. As predicted the Watch Tower satellites were over 1000 years old, well maintained but completely obsolete and inadequate. We left plenty of Shiss Engine Trail residue, used an old Shiss Computronic Virus routine to disable the Watch towers. The Warden's Island was devoid of any life signs and the Guard’s shuttle was gone. We destroyed it anyway.”

The manager did not change his position and remained almost like a static image, if it wasn't for his moving lips, “The Warden and his small staff were very open to the suggestion to take a little vacation. I know of all the details Isehia, did you secure the Greenie?”

“Yes, Harlex Gedde is currently sitting in the yellow salon enjoying his favorite whiskey and my company.”

“How did he take his liberation and did you make him aware that his new employers insist on his full cooperation?”

“His reaction to our activities, co-related to his predicted Psych-profile, are right on the money. He currently enters stage two ‘Realization of his current situation’.”

“Good news then Ieshia. I trust we can proceed then. Failure would not only ruin his day but I would have to re-evaluate your employment status with a very terminal outcome.”

***

While the rented Bombardier Yacht traversed space, speeding with glowing Isah Pods and many times the speed of light through this other dimensional condition known as Quasi Space; towards its distant destination. Almost two thousand light years away a man disconnected a highly secure GalNet link and with it a Simu-Life ™ sequence entitled ‘White Office’.

The real surroundings however weren't all that different from the simulation. He was many things, but had never been accused of having much of a creative streak or imagination. Clive Khan was the owner of a small but very profitable consulting firm, specializing in advising import and export companies about the legal and cultural conditions of doing business with Free Space civilizations.

For almost forty years he had crisscrossed Free Space as a Freelancer living hand to mouth doing little jobs and slowly build himself a reputation of being reliable, never asking too many questions and knowing every Pirate Outpost, every Free Space Trading market and where to get anything.

Everything changed when he started doing business with the Hanuman Cartel and now he was a respected businessman with a plush office in the second tallest sky-tower of Pluribus. His unseen business associates bankrolled everything, including his high roller lifestyle of course. Failing them was not an option. He had never asked questions or been too curious, but even he wondered what was so valuable on that strange planet, to explain such a detailed operation that had gone on for so many years. Of course he knew that Green Hell was the origin of the drug Califerm, but the stuff was now grown and synthesized all over the place. Drug business was still a very profitable venture, even though not even one percent of the Union Population used any illegal drugs. Heck even the use of legal recreational drugs had steadily declined over the millennia and the Union Health Council estimated that less than eight percent were using rec drugs on a regular basis.

The main reason was that the very reasons for drug use had virtually vanished from the daily lives of the main population. No one had to work if they didn’t want to (surprisingly 90% wanted a job). GalNet Virtual Worlds were a much better escape than most drugs could provide (Virtu-World addiction was a much more severe problem). Many of the social problems and conditions that existed in societies where illegal drug use was rampant simply didn’t exist at least for the average Union Citizen.

<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">The Gal Drifts who were the main group of Illegal Drug users were mostly Non-Cits in the first place and their numbers were truly insignificant. Okay, the exotic animal market, especially the black market for dangerous life forms, was very lucrative. Rich collectors, private hunting venues and of course the Death Arenas paid astronomical sums for something rare and deadly, but even that did not really explain the operation his clients made him execute. He was certain he was only part of something much bigger.

<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Curiosity in this regard would be deadly, he was sure, but if there was something profitable beyond drugs and exotic animals, he really would have liked to have a bigger slice of the pie. So he pulled up his desk unit and made a general info request, ‘Most valuable substances and items’. The GalNet Search was instant and populated his field screen with a list,

<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">‘The most valuable substance by weight is Tritherium shelled - Ultronit lattice Neutronium. A gram of this material manufactured by SII costs about 1 Billion Credits. While it is theoretically the ultimate indestructible material and thus the material of choice for Battle ship armor, the manufacturing process takes many years and the cost of machinery and processes makes it prohibitive expensive. Still, it is the most expensive material/ item/ substance known’.

<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">‘Information – Information is among the highest valued commodities. It could be argued that it is the single most valuable commodity. Considering what Governments and Corporations spend on resources to gather it.’

<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">‘Artifacts and items – Verified artifacts of extinct civilizations: Dark Ones, Celtest, Pree, Uni, The First League are the most valuable items traded both legally and illegally. (Illegal items are artifacts that are working military weapons) Artifacts and items of the Y’All or Piostla Artifacts of ancient unknown or little known civilizations.’

<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">‘True Calipharm Dust – (From Green Hell) 1 gram is traded for about 5 Million Credits.’

<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Clive stopped reading there and revised his opinion on Califerm. The real stuff was worth more than the illegal drug sold on the black market to junkies and it seemed that there was great interest in obtaining quantities of the genuine material by the Shiss and the Kermac. He deepened his research and found out that the genuine material was used by the Saresii to create Psionic Drugs, medication that, according to what he was reading, could increase the Heidelberg PSI Index of a person, without the ill effects of God Dust as the Gal Drifts called the illegal synthetic version.

<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Clive wondered if that was the ultimate goal of his clients, getting a supply of that stuff. While he was reading that he noticed a note tagged to the article that it was generally believed that the real Calipharm could kill a Narth. He shrugged and then made sure his clients were updated on progress.

<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">***

<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">It was almost dark when Roy found a cave. At first he wondered why the first visitors to this world did not land on the mountains, as it seemed there was nothing really dangerous there. But then his sense of danger made him aware of patches with violent ice worms in the snow and he found that not all boulders were just inanimate objects, but cleverly disguised huge relatives to the Blister crabs. Green Hell was what it was even here in the mountain region.

<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">The idea to make a cave his home was a good one at first, but now as he stood before the dark crack that appeared to be the entrance of a cave, even he didn’t feel brave enough to actually find out what Green Hell life forms lurked in there.

<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">To Partner he said, “Well Uncle Sam was right, there are caves but I didn’t even bring a light and I don’t think it is a good idea to go in there.”

<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Partner snorted and with two fast strides disappeared inside. Roy pulled his blaster and went after his friend. As tough as he knew his friend was, there could always be something that was tougher and more dangerous. His four legged friend surprised him with his abilities all the time and now was no difference. The short tubby horns on Partners skull were glowing with a bright white light and illuminated a cavern of about twenty meters in diameter. It smelled dry and musky.

<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Pieces of something pelted and bloody stuck between Partners wide chops, streaks of dark blood down the animal’s chest proved that Partner had encountered something in this cave. Whatever it was didn’t have a chance so it became apparent. Partner was neither distressed nor wounded or upset. He sat there on his hind legs and looked as pleased with himself as ever.

<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">After an inspection of the cavern his instincts told him it was reasonably safe. He didn’t find any passage way deeper into the mountain, so he bedded down next to Partner who now was settling down as well, between him and the cave entrance. He had spent a few nights outside before, but never to bed down and sleep. This was the first time he had actually closed his eyes to sleep while outside. He was more tired than he wanted to admit to himself. More emotionally drained than physically and soon sleep came to him and he slept, with a big black paw gently placed over his side and dark red eyes glowing watchfully towards the cave entrance.

<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">***

<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Ranger Salomon, Martha and Paul Steward arrived at Sam Brown’s Farm as the local sun was just about to slip behind the horizon. Martha had never seen the place and now she looked over the neat rows of cultivated fields, surrounded by only a twelve meter high energy fence and not a complete energy dome. The most unusual sight to her was the log home in the center. Not an Ultronit construct but a house, a genuine house made of wooden logs, with a smoking chimney. Paul was all excited as it looked like something out of his Pre Astro books.

<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">The tall black man stood on his porch and waved his raised finger, “Not a step further!” Martha and Paul wore full gear as usual and stomped their armor suits from the landed armor floater across the packed dirt path.

<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">The black man said, “Not a step further, folks. My home isn’t an Ultronit shell you know. It isn’t built for Off World Geeks in 8,000 pound monkey suits.” He eyed them with open contempt, “If it isn’t the Masters, Roy’s parents. I am the bad influence. Used to be a dumb brute, as you call us Marines, ain’t that right? I am the one who pulled you out of the wreckage too, if you recall.” Sam Brown raised his massive arms, “Oh right, you are too busy to call your son or me to say anything.”

<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Martha showed she was much braver than Paul and opened her Suit, and stepped down from it and onto the reddish dirt. Wearing just a Bio Seal suit like Sam Brown did. Paul almost fainted as he saw his wife completely exposed. There was no force field above them and Martha was breathing the real air of the planet for the first time since she had landed here seventeen years ago. The fresh breeze of natural wind and a sweet flowery scent felt strangely invigorating.

<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">“Mr. Brown, we know we have acted like social recluses and we have used words and did things we are not proud of. Things that only became apparent to me as I was forced to look into the mirror and see our own reflection. Whatever we have been can’t be changed and we will try to remedy our behavior in the future, but right now our son Roy is missing. We know he thinks the world of you.” She continued without taking a breath, “I begin to realize now that you have been a better adult influence in his life than we have been.”

<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Sam completely ignored Paul and the Ranger and said, stepping to the side, “Come on in Ms. Masters. I think it is time you and I have a long talk about Roy. I have fresh Hell-aide, or something stronger if you wish, and we can sit on the veranda.”

<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">She watched with horror as an arm long centipede slithered over the path and into the low green plants she recognized as Fire Nettle Bushes, neatly planted in rows and obviously cultivated. Sam had seen it too and said, “No worries Ms. Masters this is Lockjaw, one of a few thousand living around here, hunting for Vamp Fly larvae and Suck-Painers. Not interested in you at all.”

<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">With cramped fists, and to the amazement of her husband, Martha walked the eight meters and climbed the short steps.

<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">The Ranger turned, “It seems I am not needed here. I will be in town in case you need me.”

<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Paul Masters finally found words, “What about me?”

<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Sam said, “Why would a grown man ask such a question, with a voice that sounded as if he was close to tears? You can go with the Ranger, stay where you are as long as you want or come in, like your wife did. Without the suit of course.”

<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Paul Masters thought about it and decided that he was not ready yet to leave the comfort and safety of his suit, but standing there seemed foolish. Martha said with a strong edge in her tone, “I have been out of my suit for less than five minutes but I begin to see us the way the locals see us.” Then she sighed and said, “Go home Paul. I’ll call you when I am done here or get out of that suit and come up here! I have not been harmed as you can see.”

<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Paul Masters had never thought of himself as a coward or a wimp, but the fear that knotted his throat told him otherwise. All he had to do was to release the suits seals and walk a distance of six or seven meters. He could not do it. So he did what Martha said and followed the Ranger. He wondered if he could ever look into her eyes again without feeling shame, and for the first time, science was no longer on his mind at all.

<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Martha watched her husband climb into the Ranger’s floater and Sam said, “No worries about Roy, he will survive. There is no sense in searching for him tonight, but you and I can look for him tomorrow. I have a feeling he is headed for the White Head Mountains and we should be able to pick him up somewhere along the Shore of Vast Lake.”

<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">The floater disappeared over the top of the Jungle and into the incredibly beautiful dark red painted sky. Martha was still very tense. Her suit had closed itself and stood like a deactivated robot out there. To get to it she would have to cross the same distance again. The black man wore his bio suit with the sleeves rolled up. His suit had the exact same camouflage pattern as she had seen Roy wearing. He produced a glass pitcher and two glasses, filled them with ice cubes and a dark red clear liquid. He pointed at it and said, “Drink!” His voice left no room for doubt, it was an order. In the lab and in her field she was quite accustomed to giving orders, but not here in the presence of this towering man that oozed an almost primeval flair of true Terran aggressive, male readiness from his very being. She took a sip and then eagerly drained most of the glass, it was that good. A tarty fresh taste that was somewhere between Cherry and Cranberry with a hint of lime but the overall taste was something completely new and absolutely delicious.

<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">“This is delicious! What is it?”

<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Sam Brown flashed his white teeth, “It is called Hell-aide and is something your son came up with. Made from Hell Berries.”

<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">She choked, “You’re saying this is from a local plant? Everything here is poisonous!”

<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">“Silly arrogant scientist! You and your kind haven't even begun to analyze one tenth of what is out there and you already claim to know that everything is poisonous. What kind of generalization is that?”

<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">She swallowed at that logical irrefutable critique and said meekly, “Roy made this?”

<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">“The Hell Stinger bushes have deadly stingers, deadly roots, leaves filled with nettle hairs that make a Terran Jellyfish sting feel like a relief. Yet the berries it produces are perfectly eatable and, as you found out, delicious.” He replenished her glass and said, “Roy came up with the idea, pressed the juice, and blended it with water and ‘Hey Presto’.”

<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">“I do not know what to say...”

<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">He snorted, “And that from a woman who claims to know everything about Green Hell.”

<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">“I never claimed...” She stopped and said, “Well it appears the Ivory tower we built for ourselves seems quite real and becomes only apparent if you look at it from the outside.” She looked at the glass and almost whispered, “I forgot my own son, but it wasn't always like that, back when I made the decision to have a child the traditional way and only now I remember how much I loved that little thing that came out of me.”

<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">The man sitting across the table said nothing and he had almost melted into the long shadows of the impeding night. She simply kept talking. But she still was a scientist and that what defined her and she said, “How come you can survive out here? In a house made of wood?”

<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">“It's wood of the Tantalus oaks; the Ants hate it and stay away from it. The beasts of the Jungle have accepted the fence and only occasionally something runs into it.” Just then something flew towards the porch and with a bright flash burned to nothing and he laughed, “That doesn't mean this is a harmless place free of danger. I just learned to live with it and those open windows of mine are guarded with effective force fields as you just saw.” He made a gesture in the dark, moving his hand across the cleared land, “I am not a Greenie like Roy, but I too have learned to live with the planet and not against it.”

<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">“You think he will be alright?” she asked, “He isn't really a Greenie you know.”

<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">“Have you not seen him, being outside? Your son is the quintessential Greenie, Fiercely proud of his world; instinctively he knows what is dangerous and what is not. I was a Marine and I have visited 1000 different worlds, fought in Jungles with beasts, men and other sentient beings; there is no world like Green Hell anywhere.”

<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">She nodded. “I know that, that is why we are here researching what we call the 'Green Hell Question'. Not even after all these years of research can we explain the conditions of this world.”

<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">“Because you’re looking at it with a Micro viewer and don't see the big picture. It’s like looking at a jig saw puzzle piece by piece and trying to guess what the whole thing might look like instead of taking a step back and looking at it from a distance.”

<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">She was glad it was dark, so he black man across her could not see her face. This man she always dismissed as being just another mindless soldier, had a keen mind and maybe he was right. Maybe it was time someone took a step back and correlated all the data and all the research and filtered it for a true common denominator and went on from there.

<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">She had never known Green Hell had red dirt, before she had seen the exposed ground. She had no idea that parts of certain plants could be consumed, or that the unstoppable ants could be kept at bay with the smell of a certain wood. Maybe Saresii experts would need to look into this Sense of Danger Greenies claimed they had. Martha, who knew her son did not have the necessary HPI to manifest Psionic talents, must indeed have this sense. How else could he survive out there? If he was indeed alive.

<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Sam reached for her hand and patted it, “I see what you are thinking. I simply know he is alive and tomorrow we’ll find him.”

<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">She believed him but said, “How can you be sure and how will you find him, where Marines and the Ranger have failed?”

<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">“Lady, I know because I know Roy and I know in my heart he is alive. As for the Ranger and the Marines. These are Privates of the Expeditionary Marine Division.” There was a gentle tone of amusement in his tone, “Good boys they are indeed, but they are not United Stars Marines, to you all the same I know. Yet there is a world of difference. Besides I’ve got a secret weapon.”

<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">She actually knew there was a difference, Expeditionary Marines were trained for the Explorer Fleet of the Science Corps and received similar but not the same training as Combat Marines attached to the Fleet. She said, “What secret weapon?”

<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">“Charles of course.”

<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">“The robot you supposedly gave him?”

<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">“Oh I did give Charles to Roy. He’s got the owner license and everything to prove it too. You do know what Charles is, right? He and Henry saved your live just very recently.”

<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">“Yes I remember and I should have thanked you too! Charles is a Fight robot, right?”

<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">“Charles is a Cerberus IV Main Battle Robot with all the weapons except the TL Cannon.”

<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">“So he is a weapon of destruction what good will that do to find Roy?”

<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">“It found you and your husband. Charles is not just a weapon. It is the finest piece of equipment SII ever came up with in its time. What good is a weapon without a brain or good eyes? Charles is at least as smart as your Lab Computronic and has the finest sensors. If he has the correct life form data, he could find a single ant on this planet, eventually of course and after weeks of scanning.”

<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">She didn't believe him, “We’ve got the best Life form detectors and could not determine a human life form past 100 meters in those Jungles.”

<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">“What is the budget of the entire Science Council, Corps and all?”

<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">“I happen to know it is 90 Trillion Credits annually,” Her voice sounded proud and confident. “We are well-funded as the Assembly considers Science paramount!”

<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">“True that, Lady. The Fleet alone however gets almost 40 percent of the Union GDP. The Cerberus program alone is worth more than the Science Council budget. Only very few people are licensed to own a real Cerberus no matter how old. You probably could equip your lab with the newest and latest hardware, buy a few flyers and run the entire Green Hell Institute budget for a year for the price you had to pay for an IV.”

<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">She was speechless but could simply not accept the facts the facts the old Marine had told her and so she checked it on her GalNet PDD right there in front of him. Her GalNet search confirmed every bit and as she saw the going price for a Cerberus IV, she gasped. “You gave my son a present worth 5 Million Credits?”

<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">“No Ma'am I made your son an equal partner in Sam Brown's Farms LTD and the Robot was part of his share, your husband signed the permission.” Sam giggled,” I bet he didn't read it, when Roy handed it to him.”

<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Martha knew this was most likely true and didn't get into this any further. “So Charles will find Roy?”

<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">“As I said the machine found you and there is no machine more dedicated to its owner than Charles.”

<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">“It is a robot is it not?”

<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Sam sighed, “You civilians truly have no clue what a Cerberus is or can do. These machines were designed to fight the Y'All. Charles fought with me against the Pertharians before they became Union members. A Cerberus is capable of reacting to new situations, and adjusting its own programming, directing its repair Nanites to adjust and remanufacture its equipment to fit the situation if necessary and it is smart, very smart. Charles has over eighty percent of his program and loyalty routines dedicated to Roy. Henry who has been my IV for over 20 years now has dedicated 40 percent to me and that is way beyond the 20 percent Factory setting.”

<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">This was way beyond Martha's expertise, but she understood that Roy was special to the robot and that gave her hope, “Why can't we send out the machines right now?”

<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">“Because we don't want to scare or spook anything around Roy at night. This is still Green Hell and if he found a place to sleep, he can't react fast enough before the robots reach him. Besides I want to know what you will do once we find him. Until now I have had a good mind to leave Roy out there where he is happy.”

<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">“We will change many things. Paul and I are going to leave but I think we can leave him behind on Green Hell and let him make his own decisions. I believe I have even changed my mind in terms of his career choice and perhaps he would be a good Ranger or a Marine.

<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Sam's white teeth seemed to glow in the dark, “If Roy enrolls in the Corps, I am certain he will make a damn fine Marine one day, Ms. Masters. Someone you can be proud of even if he never joins you at the Hive of Minds.” He then got up, “Call your cowardly husband and tell him you will have dinner here and then we will search for Roy after the Sun’s up.”

<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Again there was nothing for Martha to do other than to obey. Martha didn't know it but there were few who ever argued with former Gunnery Sergeant Samuel Ironside Brown of the United Stars Marine Corps.

<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">***

<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Far from Green Hell an asteroid without a corresponding solar system slowly made its way to a region called Ballard's Expanse in Union galactic maps. The asteroid would reach this dense dust cloud around the year 5020. The asteroid was a wanderer on a course across the Galaxy for eons, but it was far from lonely or unknown. This big chunk of rock and ice was hollow and known as Sobody's Seat. One of the fabulous Galactic Markets of this neutral and enigmatic civilization.

<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Some claimed that the Golden were somehow related to the Kermac, but the Golden themselves never confirmed or denied that, and always kept strictly neutral facilitators of trade and commerce throughout the Galaxy. The Golden kept trade relations with many civilizations, quite a few no one in the Upward Sector had ever heard of. Their Golden Markets, often called Golden Bazaars, were places where anyone who would stick to their rules and pay a fee and a percentage of the profits to the Golden could set up a store or booth in a Golden Bazaar.

<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Raffolk Oker was such a merchant and he maintained a large alcove store at the third main tier of the inner balustrade ring. His store had been there for almost 700 years now, originally founded by the first Oker and subsequently managed by family members ever since. The Store was known far and wide as Oker's Artifacts and Rarities, a place where the most precious and rarest items of long gone civilizations could be purchased. Oker's wares were genuine and his clientele the richest of the rich, including purchasing agents for Union Corporations and Galactic governments with virtually bottomless purses.

<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Raffolk was human and some claimed he came from the New Siam Kingdom before it became Union, but like the masters of this bazaar, Raffolk never really told anyone where his family originated. He certainly wasn't a Union Citizen or had ever set foot inside Union Territory, He didn't care much for the self-important Union, but then he considered the Shiss and any of the Galactic Council as self-important and didn't care much for them either. He had no particular opinion about the Nul, but then no Nul ever made any purchases. He liked their money, he liked his customers and he liked being the expert.

<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">His storefront windows were covered with heavy curtains, only once in a great while would he display something, usually a piece of junk none of his real customers wanted. Most of his wares were presented as holos or in catalog presentations first and only if he really knew a customer would he allow a pre inspection. Dealing with artifacts had its dangers of course, even here on a Golden Bazaar where the Silent ones kept everything running smoothly and safely, but they weren't everywhere and a determined thief or crook could slice his throat before his bodyguards could prevent it. Sometimes a certain item caused the interest of more than one collector and in this market, competition was fierce and deadly.

<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Raffolk Oker came down from level 500, where he had a luxurious palace-like villa complex, to open his store as he did every day. He was only mildly surprised to see two humanoids waiting for him. His regular customers knew his opening hours; most of his customers had been doing business with the Okers since even before he took over from his father.

<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">He took stock of the two. One male one female, both dressed in expensive clothing. The male was significantly shorter than the female and dressed in a tailored suit of Sitaurian brocade. She was tall and had long black hair. Her eyes were hidden behind a stylish visor. He smiled inwardly. He was certain they both were rich Union Citizens, probably arrived in their own multi million credit yacht. Someone at an exclusive VIP party mentioned his name and there they were. Her attempt to disguise her true heritage was a joke of course. She was Saresii, silver hair dyed black and hiding her purple eyes behind those Terran style shades. He was harder to place, but probably from one of the countless Terran Colony worlds. He relaxed and decided to greet them and let them in. No reason for not starting the day with a nice little sale. He did have a few pieces of nice old junk he needed to sell anyway. Normally he would wait for his staff and security guards before he let anyone in, but he could handle a Saresii. His mind was shielded by a Saresii Psi Shield from the First Empire. Not even the Union had something as fine as that.

<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">To the two he said, “I am Raffolk Oker and I am the proprietor of this place, you are a little early. Normally we don’t expect to wait on customers before Calum time and that is still almost two hours away.” He pressed his hand on the signature sensor and the door curtains changed from rigid steel like condition to soft breezy velvet. He brushed the curtain aside, while the lights in his store came on.

<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">The sales room was a gold and red affair with antique looking Auto-adjusting Furniture, low golden coffee tables and an elaborate sales counter looking like the nightmarish kitsch version of what a demented Saresii jewelry designer thought Snow White’s glass coffin would look like. Inside were a few pieces of alien artifacts.

<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">He made a sweeping gesture, “Please feel free to look around while I complete my opening routine.”

<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Both of them nodded gracefully, and followed him. The tall woman clutched a genuine Pre-Astro Louis Vuitton hand bag as she approached a glass display case.

<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Raffolk occasionally dealt with Pre Astro Antiques; while Terran Pre Astro Artifacts weren’t anywhere as old or exclusive as the things he usually dealt with, he was continuously studying them as the market demand for genuine Pre Astro was growing every year. Her bag, in such exquisite condition, would easily bring three or four million genuine Union Credits at auction. Her using it, and not having it in a safe, made him certain they both had more money than they knew what to do with.

<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">He opened the rest of the curtains and then said to his customers, pointing at the woman with an open hand, “I am ordering refreshments from an excellent service vendor down the row. Let me guess Naddian Tea for the lady and I would guess either Terran Coffee or perhaps beer for the gentleman?”

<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">For the first time his guests actually spoke. The female said, “Yes a spot of Naddian tea would be lovely. Should I be more surprised you’ve got Naddian Tea so far from the Perfect worlds or that you guessed I am Saresii by birth?”

<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Raffolk spread his arms, “This is a Golden Bazaar, if it is sold anywhere chances are very good you can buy it here and I do pride myself on good observational skills.”

<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">The shorter male grunted, “There were times when I was digging for ore in those blasted mines myself, I would have not refused a beer for breakfast, but now I’ll take some water. Never good to drink before a business deal.”

<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Raffolk keyed in the Order to his PDD while he offered them seats and reclined himself in one of the red upholstered chairs, “So what brings you all the way from Union space to my store? A special recommendation of a friend perhaps?”

<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">The man pulled on the legs of his trousers before he sat down, “Let’s talk business my friend. You fell for our act just as expected. Let us for the sake of this conversation assume she is a Saresii and I am a Rich Colony Terran Mine corporation owner. That is exactly what you’ll find when you check us out, but to make things short and sweet. You can continue do business as a healthy man after we leave or you’ll find yourself in whatever place your kind believes you go to in the afterlife.”

<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Raffolk immediately knew this was not a joke and in all the years dealing with the most desired items in the Universe, there were more than a few attempts to gain what he had without paying the astronomical prices. He paid a stiff fee to the Golden for additional security and the Golden Guards were known for thousands of years to do a very good job. He had a staff of well trained security guards and the best security systems money could buy. However he had been lax, nothing had happened in years and very few wanted to anger the Golden. His guards would not be here for at least another hour. He smiled never the less and said, “You’re doing it all wrong, I can be bought, that is no secret, and I’ll sell to you whatever I have to sell, but I don’t respond well to threats or bad jokes. My father Ruffal taught me that.”

<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">This was a spoken code for his Computronic to raise a security alert and activate his personal safety measures.

<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">His visitors remained as collected as before and the woman playfully removed an Itomarian power stick from a show case that was supposed to be alarmed and laughed charmingly but it was a cold laughter that gave Raffolk the chills and panic slowly rose from the bottom of his stomach. The protective force he expected did not activate and his chair did not drop with him on it into his safe room.

<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">The woman now held the power stick with both hands, almost like a sword and she said, “Pay attention now to what my associate has to ask you. What we have left in your safe room doesn’t like to share tight spaces with someone else. I think you should be glad you are not down there right now.”

<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">The short man said, “Mister Oker, you are the last one who knows about the Saresii ship and we must make sure there are no records you keep of any kind.

<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">The dealer wrinkled the skin of his forehead and looked totally perplexed, “What Saresii ship?”

<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">“It was one of your first deals when you took over form your father, a Saresii Log Crystal.”

<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">His face changed as he recalled, “The Log file of the Arnura. The first complete and undamaged Log file of First Empire, from before the Saresii were punished by the Dark Ones. It was found on a planet called Green Hell I believe.”

<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">The man smiled, “Exactly. That one.”

<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">“I sold it and I don’t keep records to whom I sell things. The privacy of my clients is paramount. So why all this?”

<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">“Translocator Technology of course, Admiral Stahl brought it back from his exile. It was Seenian technology, just like the Devastator.”

<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Raffolk made the connection, “Of course the Old Saresii were as developed as the Seenians and they were allies fighting a war together and it stands to reason that an old Saresii Ship might just as well be equipped with Translocator Cannons and Trans Dim Shields.”

<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">“You see now how important this is, especially since the Log file tells us where that ship is today.”

<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Raffolk shrugged. “Even I know where it is, or must be. On Green Hell of course, but whatever is left of it will be safer than on Arsenal. Nothing survives in those jungles and it is a Union World which doesn’t allow any full scale operations.”

<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">“Everything except of course a Greenie,” the Woman said. “You remembering this so clearly is why we are here. We must make sure no one knows what we know.”