As Kullum listened to Oman speak he watched the alien in question attempt to flirt with one of the bar-girls as she bought another drink over to its table, and failing miserably. The spacer smiled to himself, and took a final swig himself, before rising from the table...

"Watch and learn my friend, watch and learn" He shot back at Oman, and with that swaggered off to the Alien's table.

He got about halfway, before realising just how big the guy was, and since he'd had to hand in his blaster before coming onboard the station, Kullum felt suddenly exposed, but he hid it well.

"You look like a handsome fella, perhaps you can help me"

The alien glanced up from his drink to look at Kullum, and blinked all three of his eyes...

"You taking the piss?" he growled, clearly not amused.

Kullum held his hands up, backtracking quickly...

"Whoa, no I'm serious, I'm sure you have all the...er..." Kullum suddenly realised he had no idea if the alien was male or female, took a gamble... "...women... going mad after such a distinguished looking gentle...uh..man such as yourself..." He continued...

The alien frowned at this, or at least appeared to, and before he could speak or offer any form of objection, Kullum had already sat down opposite him...

"I thought that the moment I saw you sitting there, and don't think I didn't see that waitress flirting with you"

The alien seemed to look at Kullum like he was mad...

"She said she'd seen better looking Banthas" he complained, adding "Moody bitch" under his breath as he took another sip of his drink...

Kullum saw his moment, "Na, I'm tellin you mate, she's just playing hard to get, they all say that!"

The alien seemed to stop and think about this for a moment mid-sip.... "Eh?" he murmured eventually...

"I'm serious, thats why I came over here , I wanted to know your secret, that waitress who just served you, I overheard her saying how handsome you were!"

He bought his cup down and stared at Kullum for a moment, and then glanced back over his shoulder to the waitress serving other customers...

"She said I was handsome?"

"Cross my heart and hope to die" Kullum replied, lying through his backteeth.

"But she said she wouldn't touch me with a ten foot lightsaber" The alien moaned, causing Kullum to roll his eyes, unnoticed by the alien...

Sheesh...

He leaned forward and whispered "She is so playing hard to get"

"you're full of shit" The alien said, his three-eyed gaze however still not moving away from the object of his affections...

"Why would I lie? I don't know you, I have no reason to!"

The alien turned back to face Kullum and frowned... "you're not from the tax office are you?" He asked warily...

"No, look, the name's Kullum, I'm just a traveller looking for a place to find some more...discerning adult entertainment, with all the attention you appeared to be getting , you seemed like a bit of a player to me"

The alien turned round once more to stare at the waitress... "you really think she's playing hard to get?"

Kullum nodded "yes!"

The alien turned back, his expression softened a little..." well I have been told I have amazing eyes" He added, proudly...

Kullum jumped at this "There you go!"

"She really said that?" The alien seemed eager now...

"Look lets get her over here, and you'll see"

The alien, almost choked on its drink, as Kullum began waving for the woman's attention...

Eventually she made her way over...

"What will it be?" she asked

"I was just telling my friend here that you find him very handsome" Kullum replied...

Her face dropped, and her reply was instant "Are you for real? I..." -- but then she froze mid-sentence, as Kullum waved a large bunch of credit chits behind the oblivious alien's head, the woman, thankfully, still the focus of his attention..

"...find that I'm becoming more attracted to him by the second" she continued abruptly, doing her level best to hide her obvious disgust, all the while keeping her eyes fixed upon the wad of credits Kullum was holding...

As the alien turned back to face Kullum , he quicky darted his hand full of credits out of sight to the back of his head, as if scratching something out of reach...

"you see! told you! Uh, a bottle of whiskey please"

Waitress seeing this, circled around the table, and snatched the wad of credits from Kullum's hand, all in one fluid motion, so smoothly in fact Kullum had the distinct impression she'd done this before...

"Bottle of whiskey coming right up" she said cheerily over her shoulder, before pausing to fix a smile for the alien...

The alien returned one back, (it was not a pretty sight) a look of surprise crept over his face as he glanced the wad of credits she was trying unsuccessfully to stuff into her hip pocket...

"Boy" he started turning to face Kullum,

"you sure tip a lot"

"The spacer leaned back on his chair and smiled broadly as he replied..

"I'm just that kinda guy..uh...sorry I didn't catch your name?"

The alien grinned also, at least, Kullum thought it was a grin...


Hard to tell...


"Samos..." The alien responded, extending his massive hand..


Kullum smiled, shaking it firmly, and as he saw the waitress coming back with the bottle he ordered, he knew he was getting somewhere, he just hoped the ugly son of a bitch had something useful he could use...

"Well, Samos, how about you and I share this bottle of whiskey, and you can fill me in on the best places in town" He asked, as she put it down in front of them, her fixed smile making her look like a pleasure droid "My treat" the spacer added...

The alien looked up at Kullum, laughed abruptly and placed a massive club-like hand on his shoulder...

"you're alright Kullum, you're alright" He replied, as he grabbed the bottle eagerly...

Oman saw the display with the waitress and grinned. Nothing set ugly people, well ugly beings, off more than having someone not ugly give them a bit of attention.


Ugly people grease the wheels of avarice.


They are the ones that will flitter hours of their precious time away pretending to be fictional characters that look handsome and buff. A fat, ugly man with a small willy will suddenly become an Imperial Admiral with a footlong boner. A fat, ugly woman will become some nineteen year old Jedi because for some reason, Jedi don't get fat.


Now that would be something! Seeing a fat Jedi.


"The force is strong with this one.." he murmured and the waitress that had taken Kullum's wad of credits came up behind him depositing the used glasses to the tending droid for washing.


"You practicing too?" she asked and Oman turned to her puzzled.


"Huh?"


"You practicing for the audition of Desperate Jedi?"


It was funny how many lowlifes found their way to the Astral Astoria and had, apparently, set up shop. On one level of the Astoria, the Yeez Leez Production Company was filming a series about a Jedi waking up to find out he's the last. His mission, to inject his 'force' into as many people as possible to protect the galaxy from the coming Sith onslaught. And he did this 'injecting' through a variety of sex acts.


"I am a spotter," Oman picked up nonchalantly. "Looking for new talent for an upcoming spin off called Desperate Sith."


"Ohhh.. sounds fascinating," the waitress purred and Oman felt an annoying finger trailing his collar.


"Sorry, Babs. Don't have time for that. Gotta keep a look out."


"You see anything?" she asked tentatively.


"It's not what I see so much as what I will remember. And baby, I don't know if I will remember you."


"Would some credits help?"


Oman grinned frankly. "Couldn't hurt."


She gave him half of Kullum's 'tip' and whispered, "If I get the part, there's more where that came from."


"I think we can swing some auditions.." Oman managed to get out with a straight face before the waitress' duties took her to another part of the establishment.


Oman used his newfound funds to order himself another drink and wait for Kullum to work his way up the food chain.

Astral Astoria Police HQ





"Evening DCI, quiet one tonight"

Detective Chief Inspector Kesser looked up and grunted a response to the young constable, as he poured himself a cup of Caf..

It was the start of the night shift, and he wasn't yet ready to deal with overly eager young bloods, not until he'd had something to drink, preferably something hot and stimulating.

The meeting room was filled with police all waiting to be briefed on the evenings duties, and they all waited patiently for Kesser to start the proceedings.

"Whats the score then?" He asked eventually as he frowned at the contents of the cup he held in his hand...

"Right" Started the young constable who had greeted him earlier "We've got two hundred and fifty pickpockets reported, a hundred and twenty one robberies, over five hundred assaults reported in the bar district alone, er...some idiot flew his freighter into a docking bay when its doors were closed, a batch of new alligator sightings in zone RF-3 , oh and some perv lost his bollocks when he flashed some girl in a shifter booth, apparently he scared her so much she activated the shifter, and he was too close"

Kesser choked on his caf at this point, causing a ripple of laughter to emanate from the crowd in the room..

Charming....

"He was taken to the Medics on 77, but they've requested for anyone who finds his...um.. missing parts to hand them in, so they can be reattached"

Kesser stared at the constable in disbelief...

"You have got to be kidding me" he replied , before taking another swig of his caf...

"Sir?"

"I'm not wasting time having my men search for some idiot's nuts, we've got enough on our plate, serves him bloody right if you ask me, he's probably better off without them, whose the girl? we should thank her she's done us all a favour"

The Constable smirked at this, and handed Kesser the relevant flimsiplast file, he scanned it quickly, and handed it back, then spoke to the group, raising his voice a little over the various comments and laughter...

"Right, settle down people, when this joker is ready to leave , I want someone there to arrest him and escort him off the station, and if anyone does find the aforementioned sack , well, what i don't know about I don't care about, quite frankly. Right you lot, you know the drill, shape up and look sharp, just because its a quiet night doesn't mean I want you slacking off, you've got your orders, lets keep things tight, and watch yourselves out there...."

With that the men were dismissed, and as they all made their way out of the meeting room, Kesser tried to finish his somewhat over brewed Caf, grimacing as he gulped the remainder down.

He handed the empty cup to the Constable "In the name of Vader, get someone to fix that bloody Caf machine" and then took his leave.

It was time for him to hit the streets, for he knew, there wasn't such a thing as a quiet night on the Astoria, merely an interval before the real trouble began, and something was going on, he could feel it in his bones.

Quiet nights worried him the most.

Later that evening...


Lower levels , 29th Floor, section 003





Kullum stumbled noisily out of the shifter-booth and into the 'street' with Oman following closely behind...

He took a moment to gather himself as he eyed the shifter-booth suspiciously...

" I don't trust them things..." He muttered, more to himself than to anyone else...

He looked up to find himself in a long dark corridor, with what looked like many different junction points at regular intervals...

The spacer turned to face Kullum, looking at him, somewhat unimpressed...

"you sure this is the right place?" His compadre asked him , his eyes narrowing out of annoyance...

Kullum held his hand up, in an effort to stem any criticism before it began...

"Look , he said it was down here, I checked , down the corridor, third junction on the left..."

He started walking, and Oman fell in step, albeit half-heartedly, clearly unconvinced...

Earlier, Kullum had found himself close to something akin to despair, he'd listened to the ugly fat alien in the bar chew his ears off for the best part of three hours, not to mention the fact, that the guy drank like a fish...

Samos had almost drunk him dry...

Kullum had begun to worry, he'd virtually run out of money long before learning anything of value, as he listened numbly to the creature carry on talking about his various skin conditions...

It was only after the alien had polished of the fourth bottle of brandy, they had finally learned something of interest, and he was now reduced only to a few hundred credits.

Apparently , during the night, the lower levels played host to some form of illegal races, using illegally modified 'Skimmers'
Samos was mad on them, and had given Kullum the shifter co-ordinates needed to get there, but even Kullum had to admit it was starting to look like a lost cause...

Samos, had been unusually tight lipped about the general affairs on the station, but from what the Spacer could ascertain, all crime in the station was more or less run by a group simply known as ' The Firm' . Who ran it and where to find it, Samos hadn't said...

But if the ugly alien was right about the races, Kullum had reasoned , it was a fair bet to assume this 'Firm' was more than likely behind it.

The two men turned the corner at the third junction, only to be met with another , albeit shorter corridor with one single metal door up ahead.

The two exchanged a dubious glance, and Kullum stepped up to the door, and tried to open it.

Locked.

He knocked upon the metal door in the way Samos had explained to him...

A small panel about eye-level slid aside and Kullum came face to face with a pair of green eyes, who examined him coldly...

Kullum shifted a little under the glare...and coughed to clear his throat, trying to remember the password Samos had told him...

"Jetsu Kahar" He said warily, unsure of his pronunciation ...

The Alien eyes grunted, and the panel slid shut again, and then just as Kullum was about to turn to his friend and shrug...the door opened with a loud metallic grating sound that filled the corridor...

The pair stepped through...

...and into a vast space which Kullum could only imagine was some kind of old warehouse or storage space, he couldn't see the ceiling or where it finished for that matter...

"Enjoy the race" The alien behind the door had said, before returning to his normal duties..

What lay before them, staggered even Kullum.

A huge arena, packed with revellers punters, bookies, and different tracks, leading off into directions he couldn't see, lay before them, all watched by what must have been thousands of denizens, who surrounded them in the stands where they were...

Evidently they had passed through some kind of dampening field, because the moment they had stepped through the door, the noise was almost deafening...

A race was already in full swing, and from where they were they could just make out the racers zig-zagging dangerously across the track, raising a cheer from the crowd as one unfortunate racer was sent sprawling into collection of waste barrels on the side of a dangerous looking curve.

Kullum stood there dumbly mouth agape.


...Samos! I take it all back...

...you beauty!

Oman saw Kullum's eyes light up like a girl on her wedding day. Married to an extremely good looking man with clean, white teeth. Married to an extremely good looking rich man with clean, white teeth.


Still, the sight of the racing arena was enough to make him forget his uncomfortable thoughts to having used the shifter. The massive operation was indeed impressive yet it only served to underscore just how little Oman really knew about running a successful business.

That was the key term: successful

All his ventures seemed to end with him broke and on the run from some sort of law. And yet here, they were holding races... bloody races on a confined spacestation under the noses of the law.

I was really a sweet setup as his eyes roamed the area, not really looking at the races for those were sucker's bets. It was the bookies, the "House" set-up that he was interested in.

Where does all the money go?


He could see that the clients varied. Some represented certain sections of station maintenance & utilities meaning hardworking laborers were coming here to unwind and hoping to win more credits than they earn in pay. Then there were off-station clients and Oman realized the organization extended far beyond the arena itself. Catering to those who would fly in to bet on special races or even perhaps to run their own racers in the competition.

Oh yes, there were many ways to make credits with this. Someone had vision and oh, what a vision!


But Oman was having a vision too.


Let other suckers do all the work and he would be the one to cash in!


The difference between those in charge of this arena and him was not the fact that they both wanted easy money. where their talent lay in building a money-making organization, Oman's was in stealing the profits of such organizations. While he may like the lifestyle of those in charge, dressing nice and using money as a mere accessory, his gift lay in the art of drifting. Never staying in one place for very long until you reaped all you could reap. His troubles always seemed to stem from him stopping and trying to set up a money-making business. It wasn't him.


But, Oh how he envied the lifestyle! He stared up top along the far walls and saw the exclusive "owner boxes" where the top payers and probably the owners of racers sat overlooking the arena and the masses gathered below as if they were gods on high.


A resentment began to appear in his eyes as Kullum happily chatted up some aliens who were moving to place their bets.


All the money those aliens were depositing..not all of it was electronic chits. The setup had to be able to handle money in all it's forms which means they had to figure out a way to move it!


The money couldn't say in the arena warehouse and with as many people here as he saw... (he wondered if this was considered a slow day or not), you'd need a starfreighter to move that much bulk. Daily starship schedules would be monitored and the pattern notice by Astoria Law Enforcement unless they were paid to cast a blind eye. Even so, if the money was held so as to avoid daily shipments off the station to avoid predictability, the pile would only get bigger.

What if there was a bank here on the Astoria that did business with this organization off the books? Then the organization could transfer their tangible money into intangible computerized credit. The organization's money could be moved with as much effort as a holonet transmission. But the bank would still have all this tangible money in it's hold and it would have to move that money out and away from the station. It just wouldn't do to have a bank's money on a space station that could suddenly up and vanish as easily as it appeared! And there was always the possibility of the Astoria falling under attack. It hadn't happened but there was a first time for everything.

He thought about the scorch-marks on the outside of the Astoria and wondered how long ago that had happened and where? Obviously, the station had had quite a life elsewhere.


His mind went back to the mental money trail. As the aliens plopped their hard-earned money nodes onto the counter, he smiled.


The money would hang around the organization's or around the bank's neck like a skin-sucking taper-worm.


But if he stuck his hand in there, wouldn't the taper-worm take to him as well?


He grinned.


Call him a vagrant. Low-life scum. Poke fun at his clothes as not being the latest fashion and scoff at his looks, he was also one of the best at what he did.


There were indeed possibilities here!

Kullum turned to face his compadre and grinned, he could already see the cog's of his friend's mind working overtime. He watched eagerly as a crowd of skimmers flew past noisily on the track next to them, followed by a roar of both cheers and jeers... "Was I right? or was I right?" He shouted over the noise to Oman next to him, before turning his attention back to the track... "I love this place!" He added, more to himself than to anyone else...

Finally!...

He felt suddenly vindicated, especially considering the hassle it took him to get here.

A place with some action!...

Kullum's eyes swept across the races and the spectators, taking in the sights , clocking the bookies, the stands, and the VIP box, it was then he caught sight of her...

Holy shit! Hold the Holo!...

The spacer froze, stunned, as his eyes settled upon her face.

Suddenly devoid of words, he began tugging furiously at Oman's jacket, and as the irritated spacer whacked Kullum's hand away, Oman turned to see what the fuss was all about, and followed his friends gaze...

A woman high up in the VIP stands, surrounded by heavy types, was sat watching the race, dressed in ornate, sumptuous silken robes, quietly chatting with those next to her.

Her long dark hair, glittered with exotic jewels and flowed over one of her shoulders like a lazy jet black waterfall.

Despite the distance, Kullum thought she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen!

He watched, dazed, as she fluttered a fan gracefully in front of her face, partially obscuring it from sight, only offering brief glimpses every time she moved her wrist.

He had to take a closer look!

"I'm going over" Kullum said decisively but as he started to move towards the stands, a voice from beside him stopped him in his tracks...

"I wouldn't even think about it , son"

Kullum turned to face an alien of some description, who had obviously been watching the proceedings closely...

The leathery skinned humanoid gestured with his head towards the VIP stand...

"You got no business going over there unless...you got business going over there.." He paused and seemed to size the pair of them up "You get me?" He added ominously...

It was at that moment Kullum realised the alien was a bookie...

"Consider that piece of advice, free on the house, the rest'll cost you extra" The alien told them, throwing them both a knowing glance...

"Look, you both look like you're game, how about a little flutter?" he gestured to his stall...

Kullum glanced towards Oman, who simply shrugged his shoulders non-plussed.

Kullum turned his attention back to the alien...

"Alright" He started, lowering his voice so as not to be overheard "Who's the woman?" He asked gesturing at the stands with a sharp nod...

A frown, spread across the Alien's brow, as he considered the question...

"Oh, thats gotta be worth a shot at five to one, hmmm...lets see" The bookie glanced down at the stall... "Ah yes, 'Philanderer's Folly' , race starts in twenty minutes, hundred credits minimum bet"

He grinned broadly, revealing a row of fangs...

...apt... (thought Kullum as he delved into his pocket)

The spacer handed the credits over, and the alien gave him a Flimsi-stub, then leaned in closer...

"Vima-Nishira, if you want more...adult pursuits with the fairer half, she's the one to go to, she runs it all"

Kullum's eyes widened at this...

"But , as I said, if you value your life, you're best leaving her well alone, she's taken"

A deep frown crept across the spacer's face as he listened, and he was just about to ask , 'by who' when Oman interjected, his voice containing a heavy dose of impatience...

"Who runs this show?" He asked flatly, typically to the point.

The bookie leaned back and eyed them both for a moment...

"You're not from around here are you?" He said through a gruff laugh...

"Since you made it this far, I guess its alright, but thats gotta be worth a shot at ten to one"

Oman, rolled his eyes, and gestured with his thumb for Kullum to pay...

"You gotta be kidding me?" The spacer complained, as the bookie shook his head...

"I never joke when it comes to bets, I'd recommend 'Playing with fire' , he races in thirty-five minutes"

Unimpressed, Kullum delved deeper into his pocket "How much?" he muttered wearily...

"Two hundred" The alien answered, flatly.

"Sheesh" He grumbled as he handed it over, throwing Oman an annoyed glance as he did so.

The bookie smiled again, and gave Kullum his stub, then leaned in closer to Oman as he spoke...

"The Firm runs everything, the whole operation, and its not just the races, you want to do anything, its gotta go through them, they take their cut, of course..." He smiled faintly...

Oman glanced back across to the VIP box, as he spoke... "The heavies with the woman, they part of this...firm?"

The bookie nodded slowly, then gestured with a sharp nod towards the stands...

"See the big green ugly alien standing up in the box" The alien bookie whispered quietly..

Oman and Kullum both turned to look, and could just make out the figure of an alien watching one of the races...

"Thats Deran, you don't want to cross him, he's Zelezny's Vigo"

The two turned to face the bookie with a frown...

"Who the fuck is Zelezny?" They both asked in unison..

The alien rolled his eyes...

Private storeroom , secluded from the rest of the race hanger...




"The race is about to start, Mr Zelezny"


The voice came from behind, and as Zelezny turned his head slowly to face its source, his eyes narrowed from irritation as they settled upon the alien, a Nemoidian, who had disturbed him.

The Nemoidian all but froze in his withering gaze, as if the deep blood red irises held within it wasn't enough to unsettle a person to the core , the cold, hard scrutiny the alien suddenly felt himself under certainly did.

It was the kind of look that could drain a normal man of his bravado within seconds.

Zelezny did not speak to the alien, but turned his attention back to the matter at hand, all the while making a mental note to have the interrupter demoted.

If it was one thing he hated, it was being interrupted, especially when he was conducting business.

It was rare these days for him to handle things personally, he had more than enough subordinates to carry out pretty much whatever he ordered, but he found the personal touch.... gratifying.

Despite it being arguably unnecessary , Zelezny found it both useful and enjoyable keeping his hand in touch with affairs, so to speak. It kept him close to the pulse of the station, something he felt was vital for a man in his position, believing firmly that one should not lose touch.

Standing at six foot five inches in height, with reptilian scaled skin, coloured currently a deep jade green, and with a shock of white hair arching over his scalp not unlike a mohican, Zelezny tended to stand out in a room.

Zelezny was a Falleen, and appearances counted for everything in the world he commanded, and this philosophy showed itself in not only his actions, but in his physical appearance also.
Always smartly dressed, he exuded both wealth and power, and today was no exception. Decorated in a deep purple tunic made from the finest silks, and sporting a head ornament made of rubies, the firm's boss was currently demonstrating his other most important quality

His strength.

With one long finger-nailed hand , his right, grasped tightly around the throat of a hapless human, he lifted the man ten inches clear above the ground , bringing the terrified individual's eyes level to his own and then past them as he lifted the human higher.

"I have no time for those who cannot honour their side of a bargain" He began, his voice impassive, indicating no sense of strain despite the exertion.

The human gasped for air, and struggled to speak over his vice-like grip as he stammered back in reply "I had no choice , I would have been boarded, I had ...I had to dump the cargo"

His fingers struggled to break the grasp Zelezny held him in, while the Firm's boss eyes flashed in anger, his skin rippling in waves of colours to a deep scarlet...

"You did not dump the cargo , nor were you in danger of being boarded by anyone!" He began to raise his voice as he spoke "How can you be so stupid?"

The man's eyes looked down at the Fallen imploringly as the alien spoke...

"Not only were you stupid enough to LIE to me, you attempted to sell the cargo at the bazaar! did you think I would not find out? How could you not think I would know? Perhaps you think I am a fool?"

The human could only shake his head desperately in reply.

"I am not the fool here human, because by your actions alone, you have sealed your own fate. There is only one way we deal with traitors, liars and those who steal from us on the Astoria"

Zelezny's glare grew more intense and somehow , colder...

"You have left me no choice, human" He said , sending a chill down the man's spine.

Perhaps sensing what was imminent the man began to struggle even more, his legs starting to kick out in panic...

With a faint smile , and in one swift , brutally efficient motion, he snapped the man's neck, and watched as the human fell limp almost instantly. He let the body flop onto the floor, his grim desire for compensation , darkly satisfied.

Zelezny turned to face the now silent Nemoidian who had interrupted him earlier...

"Never. Interrupt me again" he fixed his eyes upon the nervous alien as he leaned closer, pointedly, and the alien nodded furiously in acknowledgment.

"Get rid of the body" He muttered nonchalantly, and with that, in a flurry of coloured silk, he exited the small room and joined his small entourage waiting patiently for him in the corridor.

A Zabrak joined him by his side and fell in-step with the Falleen, as he spoke to him...

"Where's Deran" Zelezny asked with a slight frown...

"Waiting in the Box with Nishira, they are both waiting for you, sir" The Zabrak replied respectfully...

This seemed to please the Falleen, and he smiled lightly, as another aide opened a door to the hanger arena, and the entourage swept in.

Zelezny found the female Zeltron / human mongrel's company, most... diverting...

As the people parted to make way for them all, he made his way to the stands and the VIP box, taking his seat beside her, acknowledging Deran, his Vigo, with a short sharp nod.

Nishira's dark eyes met his and as she fluttered her fan, he caught side of a smile hidden behind it.

"It is not polite to keep a lady waiting, Z" She said , her soft voice tainted with a kind of hurt, yet playful quality to it.

He smiled in return, and picked her hand up and held it within his, making it look tiny in comparison. He leaned forward and kissed it, as if to offer recompense.

"My deepest apologies , Vima , unfortunately I had to take of some pressing business, quite last minute"

She allowed him to kiss her hand, and then withdrew it gracefully..

Her eyes, glancing downwards in a subtle gesture of demure acceptance.

"Oh?" She started, her alluring voice gently curious, "I hope there isn't a problem?"

The Falleen, turned his attention to the race-track as the racers lined up in preparation.

"No" He said with sly smile, as he watched his racer ready himself...

"No problem at all"

Nishira fell silent and followed his gaze, already knowing what that meant, and watched as with a bang and a roar of the crowd, the race started.

Meanwhile...

Two hundredth and ninety ninth floor...



Ayan watched patiently on the monitor as the Vinda-Corp shuttle was guided into the large hanger, her hands ensconced within the sleeves of her robe.

The Caretaker-prime, had been following the events on Bonadan with great interest, and when it was announced that Mr Vinda was stepping down as CEO of his own company, she had been both surprised and curious as to who would fill the gap.

The Bonadan Lounge had become a very successful business venture for both the station and its attached corporate entity, and as the new CEO of Vinda-Corp had been revealed as someone named Miles Johnson (Ayan did not recognise the name herself) the company had thought it prudent to send a representative, perhaps to calm any potential fears about its change at the top.

Business as usual, being the message it wanted to send out.

"Do we know who they are sending?" She asked, almost absently...

An individual named, Richter Bayern, a human, unfortunately, other than being a member of the corporate entity known as Vinda-Corporation, not a great deal is known about him, or his background...

The voice echoed around the vast chamber...

Ayan's eyes lowered, in thought...

"With the presence of these new ...Cree'Ar aliens, it may be necessary to leave this sector of space" She said , changing the subject abruptly, revealing the real focus of her thoughts...

I have already calculated our next possible list of trajectories should the need arise...I am also keeping track of the major news networks for any signs of potential threats in order to keep appraised of the situation in general...

The voice boomed back.

"What of the Cree'Ar we have onboard ourselves? Administrator Vejuun for example" The Caretaker prime asked...

I have been observing their movements and actions, I believe they are attempting to create a base onboard the station, level seventeen, section four.
I have also been detecting temporal and gravitic distortions, though subtle, granted...but to what end? I am hesitant to formulate a hypothesis on this matter at this stage, for it will be mainly conjecture and speculation, and I would rather deal in facts...of course I have many simulated scenarios...

Ayan looked up in surprise...

"Should we not remove them, now?" She sighed, her voice showing traces of concern...

No.

I do not believe it is necessary, I can nullify any temporal incursions, should the need arises, I do not believe they are aware I am monitoring them.

"but they are a potential risk to the station, are they not?"

Perhaps, but I find them most fascinating...

Their technology is light years ahead of most sentient species within this galaxy, and I have found studying them most diverting...

Ayan looked up at the source of the voice, unimpressed...

"Somehow , that does not reassure me" She returned, flatly..

The voice chuckled, a strange electronic clucking sound...

I am monitoring them, Caretaker-Prime Ayan, and if I feel their actions become a threat, then I shall remove them from this station...

Ayan nodded slowly, albeit not thoroughly convinced...

"Do we at least know where they come from?" She asked, becoming a little frustrated...

I have detected the tell-tale sub-signatures of intra-dimensional beings, but where, exactly, is impossible to pin-point at this stage...

"Takes one to know one, yes?" Ayan said with a half-smile as she responded...

Certainly not the primary or sole method, but your supposition has its own crude merit...

Ayan smiled wryly at this reply...

Of course, it is entirely possible to trace their origins should they make contact with others while onboard...assuming they initiate contact with those still located from their original dimension or galaxy in question...

Ayan raised her eyebrow at this comment...

"You are capable of that?" Ayan said, impressed...

Yes... The voice replied..

However doing so, could be dangerous, and could unnecessarily jeopardise the safety of this station should they realise this fact... I have observed they are very sensitive about their privacy...very secretive creatures...

The voice seemed to trail off towards the end...

"I'll bet" Ayan replied, then seemed to take a moment to reflect upon this thought for a moment...

"Okay what about these Reavers?" She asked matter of factly....

I have been able to ascertain certain trace elements that match their origins , to a region of space once held by the race known colloquially as the 'Daemuns' it seems these Reavers are a kind of mutation or sub-species. It really is all quite fascinating...

"No Janus!" Ayan interrupted annoyed... "Not where they come from! what shall we do about them if they turn up here!" The frown burrowed itself deeper onto her forehead as she spoke...

Ah. It seems they can spread infection, and disrupt matter. I have been working on a solution to this for quite some time, and I believe I have isolated the pathogen responsible. With this in mind , I will be actively scanning every ship and being approaching this station. If I detect any signature of the corruption, they will be dealt with.

It has been noted they appear to be attracted to strong Holo-net activity, so I have taken the precaution of activating a dampening field around the station...might I also suggest that any outside transmissions be encouraged to be kept at a minimum?...

Ayan nodded in agreement... "Yes, very wise, I shall see that it is done" She replied in answer.

I believe these precautions should suffice for now, as for a potential solution or...cure, I am processing this at the moment, a most intriguing diversion...

Ayan, nodded and felt a little safer knowing that Janus was taking the threat seriously, at least.

Ah...You should make your way to the Hanger now, it seems our visitor, Mr Bayern is departing his transport...

Ayan turned back to the monitor and nodded...

"Very well" and with that, she took her leave...

Janus ran though its many simulations and permutations, and felt content, that, at least for now, the station was in no immediate danger...

It found these sentients, most interesting...

It switched its attention to the races being held on the lower levels and chuckled to itself...

It had already selected its own racer, based on its own criteria, in conjunction with the many variables inherent in such a seemingly random exercise...

Running briefly through its own millions of simulations, it waited patiently to observe the outcome, an experiment to see whether its findings would match with the end result...

It watched captivated as the racers shot around the make-shift track, delighting at having to recalculate its variables in realtime, as the racers jostled for position...

Yes, these sentients were fascinating indeed!

The two bets ended up being a class-lesson in the art of being scammed. Both racers lost and with them Kullum's credits.

If this "Firm" controlled everything, then it stood to reason that they had either some sort of agreement with those who ran the Astoria or they had devised a clockwork system that kept them off the radar of those running the station. Such a system would be delicate and perhaps something he or Kullum could use in a jam.

"If they start being heavy handed with us, we could do something that could attract the attention of the Astoria security," he whispered.

"Presuming the security isn't corrupt," Kullum whispered back and Oman scowled. That could very well be the reality. The Firm did not need to be in cahoots with Astoria Controllers, just the security for the levels the Firm controlled indirectly.

He could see that Kullum was bitten with the lust bug as every other word was "I wonder if she.." or "She seems.." and Oman finally had enough.

"You gotta find a skirt in every port don't you?"

He stood up, "Well, we might as well go up there and sign up for employment with this Firm. Being a customer will only incur their scorn and quite frankly we (meaning Kullum) do not have the credits to pay to get their attention. So we work from the inside. As a Firm employee, you can find a way to get close to the lady and I can find out where they stash their credits. Maybe we come away with both?"

Kullum thought for a moment, "What would Firm management be doing hanging around with the new employees?"

Oman rolled his eyes, "We don't apply for the lowest job. We fake some creds/reputations on our names which would probably mean a hack into the station computer system so it can pass a background check from this Firm.."

"Shall we go meet your girl? Maybe she'll give us an interview?" he asked, gesturing towards the lift.

"If that bookie is any indication, only if you want a job as a prostitute," Kullum chimed back.

As the pair walked towards the lift, Kullum threw his ticket stubs to the floor with a growl...

...Bloody typical! (he thought to himself) and cursed the bookie under his breath...

Slowly as they both got closer to the lift he couldn't help but start to wonder if they were walking straight into the lion's den.
He was no coward, but as he caught sight of both Oman and himself reflected in a monitor (used to show results of the races) , he realised they didn't really look the part they were intending to play, and of course if these Firm members smelled a rat, that ,as they say, would be that.

Something told him, they were more cagey than the average Astorian, and that was saying something.
He stopped and stuck his hand out abruptly to force Oman to do the same...

"Hang on a minute, you thought this through?"

Oman looked back at his fellow spacer frowning, and Kullum leaned forward and lowered his voice as to not be overheard...

"Say we get in, what then?" Kullum asked "What I mean is, think of it from their point of view, The moment you're ripped off , where would you look first? who would be your first suspects?" He prodded Oman...

"The members you already had, or the two chumps you hired last week?"

Kullum pushed his point further "and while I trust your computer slicing skills, it won't take long to see through it"

He shook his head as he spoke..

"Nah, its too obvious, no-one at the top of an outfit like this believes in coincidences. I once heard about a boss who after learning he was betrayed had every new guy who had joined in the last six months killed, just as a precaution. No-one knew if he ever found the guy responsible , but it made him feel better. Something tells me this firm aren't going to be much different..."

Kullum hesitated for a moment, as he considered this...

"I say we keep our noses to the ground, and see what we can find out, better to stay off their radar as long as possible I reckon"

He glanced back up to the woman in the stands and the Falleen sitting next to her, and then back towards his friend...

"We know who runs things now, we have a name, and a face to go with it, lets see what else we can find out. Why don't we try the stations computer first, see what else we can dig up? If it all leads to a dead end , we can always sign up then"

He looked up at Oman expectantly...only to see his partner shrug nonchalantly in return.

Kullum could tell he was getting impatient, Oman was not one for standing still for too long.

"Look we'll keep our heads down and see what we can find out, but for now , lets stay out of trouble, and not attract any undue attention"

As the doors slid aside, Kullum entered the lift, missing the wry expression that had spread across his partner's face.

"Stay out of trouble" Oman repeated sardonically, as he watched Kullum throw a last glance at the woman in the stands...

"Right" He murmured as the lift doors closed.