“Well, I thought seeing the Doctrine tear itself apart in real time was going to be the highlight of my year, but I suppose finding new sapient life might just eek it out a bit. Gotta say, I wish the Tylas were friendlier. But no matter what, this is a clear victory for GaltCorp! Let it be known – New Horizons was not a fluke. If there is life out there, humanity will be the ones to find it!” – Klien Birkdale, Navigator for the Galant Corporation Exploration Department, 2259. Excerpt from ‘An Even Greater Leap – A Tylas First Contact Biography’.
Adin Pike, board member of Second Sun Limited, considered which cowboy hat to wear to his first terrorist meeting. It should have been an easy decision – the wide Tom Mix had always been the ideal tool for throwing his political opponents off balance whenever they met in person, and it snugly fit into the exaggerated cowboy persona he had constructed over many years. And yet, he couldn’t help but feel that, just this once, more subtlety would be needed. It wasn’t everyday he was to meet the most dangerous men and women in the galaxy, and Adin needed his appearance to be perfect.
The expensive fur seat of his atmos-craft felt stiff under his rear as his ship flew high above the middle strata of Titanlock, innumerable housing districts, business quarters and burgeoning slums spread out below. Dots of light emanated from office towers and food plazas, fighting desperately against the impenetrable darkness of the rocky interior of Gaia. The vast asteroid that had been home to the first Collective Corporations of Humanity’s colony ships was both a sheltering mother and overbearing father for those living within its stone womb. Only those with the wealth were able to live on its surface or on one of the hundreds of private stations tethered to its exterior.
Compared to the average citizen slaving down below, likely still working late into the night in the overlapping metropolis of steel, the stocky board member truly lived a life of pure luxury. However, it was as the ship left the channels of normal Titanlock air traffic and docked at the private hotel, The White Dove, that Adin fruitlessly wished that he could swap places with any one of those regular workers in the claustrophobic streets he could barely make out through the window.
Adin rested a palm against the tinted glass; it wouldn’t have been right for one of the most well-known entrepreneurs of Second Sun Limited, let alone the entire CCH, to be observed attending such a salacious meeting. Thankfully, discretion, much like any personal value, had a price on Titanlock, and it was one that Pike could match easily. In the end, he had decided on the Gus style of hat. Perhaps it was because the familiarity of its texture, or maybe Adin’s gut reaction told him it wouldn’t particularly matter what stupid hat he wore. The Gus had served him through numerous rough business deals, assassination plots, and illicit plans, and he knew it would not fail him now. Adin ran a hand through his mutton chops to make sure they were as delicately groomed as usual. With a pleased grunt, he was happy enough with his appearance. If this meeting ended with him in an open casket, he wanted to look his best.
“It’s time, sir,” Karolus said.
His assistant was punctual and pushy as always. Without the young man, Adin was certain he would turn up to every meeting past the point of his typical fashionably late timing. Nodding, he followed his attendant’s lead and left the vehicle, taking in the veneered wood of The White Dove’s interior. The hotel was built into the upper ceiling of Gaia’s interior and projected through the crust to its outer surface. The private landing dock of the place alone would have burnt a hole in the utus wallet of a lesser executive of the corporations, but was less than an afterthought to Adin. Besides, the privacy and security of the facility would be more than worth it for such a meeting. As his small troop of bodyguards stepped out from the front of the craft, he held up a hand.
“I’ll take it from here boys,” Adin said, embellishing his natural drawl to an almost comical degree. “If any varmints show up, you know what to do.”
The guards nodded, taking positions around the atmos-craft. The second his men got a whiff of any corporate interference, Second Sun or otherwise, his men would be ready. The money and time he had spent on them made certain of that. Despite their training and blank expressions, an air of tension was undeniably present all in the hanger. Adin couldn’t exactly blame them - the nature of his meeting was far from a public affair and everyone knew the expectations that came with such shady dealings. If only they knew the exact parties involved - then they would truly be scared stiff.
Stifling a nervous sigh, he made his way through the luxurious suites and private receptions manned until he stood before a double door to an exclusive meeting room, part of the uttermost private floor.
As he prepared to enter, tightening his belt to an uncomfortable degree, Karolus cleared his throat, “Sir, is this necessary? Do you really have to do this?”
Tilting his hat so his eyes were hidden, Adin gave a smile, “Of course, kid. Life’s always about rolling the dice. If you aren’t making the bet, someone else is.”
With that, he left his assistant outside as he ventured into hell, pushing through the oak doors of the room open and letting them click behind him.
The room was pitch black; a handicap he suspected his associates wouldn’t be hindered by considering their skills and abilities. Adin wondered if the whole meeting was to progress in nocturnal stillness for just a moment when light began to fill the room. It was not the incandescence of artificial lights or the soft glow of chemofluorescent shuckabrush growth trays – no, the luminescence was far more breathtaking. From the far wall, the shutters had been lifted to reveal a view of the surface of Gaia and beyond, the light of distant nebulas and the system’s blazing red sun filling the room. Simultaneously relieving and unnerving, it also revealed his new partners in crime.
Sweeping his view across the room, the number of attendants to the meeting was thankfully as he had expected – no extra tag-alongs as he had requested. On his left were a duo, one figure laid across the lap of another. Their skin as white as bone, hair the colour of the purest argent, and each of their remaining organic eyes black within black – dead eyes like those of a shark. What little flesh they had left was of unmatched beauty. However, these features were besmirched by the brutal mechanical cybernetics protruding out of and over their skin, splitting through flesh haphazardly. The pair both had half of their faces swallowed by a grey mask of steel adorned with crude approximations of facial features. It was clear to Adin the augments were not only for practical purposes; their painful message was made very distinct. If the two were bothered by such defilement of their bodies it had yet to be seen, as the woman of the pair softly stroked the face of the man who laid back, aloof.
“Finally, the cowboy is here. Brother, we’ve been waiting here far too long – can we finally get on with this?” Roksana Olegovna whined, her soft natural voice corrupted by the grating edge of her implanted vocaliser. Long hair swept down her back, her cybernetics clicking with each slight movement.
“Soon, sister. Soon.” Yuri Olegovich, the contrastingly burly twin said, glaring straight into Adin’s soul.
A faint smirk plastered his pale face, never reaching his dead eyes. Gods, had this been a wild west story, Adin was uncertain if a six-shooter would be enough to even slow down the beast of a man, even without his cybernetics. Yuri, when standing, would have towered over him by at least a foot at least in all dimensions. The man broke the eye contact to deeply kiss his sister in a way that wrested discomfort from within Adin. The executive’s ancestors may have originated from the pre-Paradisian state of Alabama, but even he thought it wasn’t right for a man to kiss his sister that way.
“Shut it, traitors. We’ll start when we’re ready, and I want to be certain I haven’t wasted my time by coming here. If I’m unsatisfied, you’ll all pay,” the next associate said, voice harsh and desperate to overcome its innate femininity. Adin attempted to not make a scene of blatantly moving his view to the next attendant but failed miserably when he startled slightly at the appearance of the woman.
Citra Vigino, clanlady of one of Heaven’s Doctrine’s most elite families, Greyalt of the Lost Hunters, made for an unforgettable sight. Her eyes were cold, socked rimmed with black rings makeup that intensified the inhuman focus and keenness of her gaze. Her outfit was a mixture of practical and dramatic. She wore body armour that clung to her skin from neck to foot, black and marred with all manner of weapons and trophies. Across her lap laid a railcannon, its power barely suited for inner-station combat. Skulls and bones of various species marked her shape all over, the distinct elongated cranium of a Cambiar strapped across a shoulder. Dark hair bleached to platinum blonde had been jaggedly cut short as it hung just above her shoulders. Arms crossed, she drummed a finger with steady movements as she sized Adin up. Based on the sneer that enveloped her expression, she wasn’t impressed. Thankfully, that somewhat softened the blow for Adin when he looked to his next guest, a man he already had clear expectations of. They were a man he would never be able to impress.
Hal Dobermann sat as still as a statue. A middle-aged Asian man, the only other features that stood out from his otherwise outstandingly average appearance was the faint streaks of grey that swam through his hair at either temple and faint flecks of orange in his iris. A neutral expression, devoid of any anticipation or emotion calmly watched Adin, a single hand lightly brushing dust off the fine suit he wore. Adin internally breathed a sigh of relief – at least there would be one half-normal member of this group he could talk to. That was not to say the well-connected crime lord could be trusted. Adin, - hell, no one else in the galaxy - had a good idea of where the mysterious man’s affiliations laid. For all he knew, Adin could be talking to some covert Paradisian agent. Still, the slim man’s connections all across the underbelly of corporate space were unparalleled, and that was all Adin needed to know. When both men’s gaze met, Dobermann did not say a word. Instead, he politely nodded to the executive.
Last, but certainly not least, Adin looked towards the last guest before he took a seat. Instead of another human, there was simply a small boxy drone, hovering silently in the air. Floating from an advanced thruster system, the front face turned to face Adin. Mounted to its fore was a monitor screen, displaying an image of a vague figure. A sexless, faceless humanoid the colour of chalk floated in a black void, the lack of details forcing Adin to repeatedly look over what little could make out from the strange avatar. It was only upon a closer look that he could make out what appeared to be thin lines of binary code running along the surface of the figure, a flickering mass of ones and zeros. The drone’s owner identity was a mystery, but Adin had been assured on this last conspirator, ‘Juno’ has he had called himself, was skilled beyond belief when it came to hacking security systems and data acquisition. No matter what forum he was mentioned on, Juno had a spotless reputation. That talent had been made very clear when Adin’s own private network had been hacked into just minutes after sending out his invitation. Violation of his security notwithstanding, Adin hoped that the mysterious computer expert would act as a calming counterweight to others in the group.
“All the conditions of the meeting have been met. Shall we commence?” Juno said, the voice from the drone’s speaker androgenous and monotone.
“I think it is about time,” Dobermann said, his tone making it clear he would accept no other alternative. “I would like our host and organizer to make some initial statements. To lay the groundwork, as it were. Mr Pike?”
All eyes turned on Adin. It was showtime.
Without pausing for a second, he let his natural confidence stamp down his fraying nerves. After all, he was no longer Adin Pike, mere executive board member of Second Sun.
The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
He was the Cowboy.
“Welcome, partners! Today is a good day. Why, you might ask? Because today the finest men and women of this here galaxy are together, here in the very room!”
Adin stood dramatically and swung a booted foot onto the table, clicking a button to activate a hidden screen embedded into the wall behind him with his spur. He was at that moment very glad that The White Dove’s staff had paid great attention to his specific requests when booking this room, god knows he had paid them enough. Without looking, he knew the screen was displaying a cartoonish ‘Welcome!’ screen, written in the same font one would see on the sign of a saloon in a proto-wave spaghetti western flick. He ignored the confusion on Citra’s face as he moved to the next slide with a tap of his spur.
“And boy howdy do I have the opportunity of the lifetime for y’all. Otherwise, why the hell would you all be here, right?”
“I’m… beginning to think that too,” Yuri said, cringing from second hand embarrassment.
“Oh, shucks Yuri. Hold your horses pal, you ain’t even heard me out yet. Now, Dobermann my fella, you probably know why I’m the man for this here partnership, am I right?”
Dobermann looked around for a second as the group’s attention was focused on him.
The crime lord cleared his throat, “Well, Mr Pike here, despite his… performance… has relayed to me certain information and resources not available to many others in the galaxy. Those being tied to his position in the hierarchy of the Collective Corporations of Humanity, with all that entails.”
“Right you are my good man!” Adin immediately interjected, pulling the conversation back to himself. “Now, I may appear a gosh-darned fool to you fine folk, but I can assure you I have information that none of you are privy too right now. Lord knows I’ve spent enough time bickering over business tariffs in rooms like this one to deserve that much respect!”
He had also arranged murders and blackmail in similar rooms, but that was neither here nor there. Spinning his foot off the table, he moved and leant back against the wall, hitting another button with the opposite spur. The screen changed once more to a far more professional slide displaying a series of specific dates, times and various photographs of clearly shady meetings. In the middle of the screen, surrounded by the other information, was the silhouetted figure of an inhuman shape with a question mark over it.
“Now, you are all very aware of the latest rogue element rapidly evolving galaxy, correct? One that I am sure we have all tried to work with, in some form, but failed?”
Juno’s drone hovered closer, the figure on the screen leaning in for effect. “If you are referring to the Tylas of the Baraldian Heralds, I can assure you, my analysis had shown there is no possible avenue for direct action at this current time. Their hostile intentions-“
“Ah, now that’s the thing partner – you are incorrect, if I can put it so bluntly.”
Juno had been referring to the newest species discovered by humanity – the Tylas. Through the efforts of non-stop exploration by the CCH’s bravest pilots, contact had been made with the strange race of inorganic aliens beyond all previously charted systems. However, unlike the previous first contact event with the friendly Cambiar, a race of quadrupedal masters of biological adaptation, the Tylas had not been as accepting of the idea of diplomacy. Or even accepting the concept of other forms of sapient life existing at all.
Following a shaky first meeting, and after years of a strict policy of minimal direct contact with the corporations, the Tylas had finally allowed the other races to make landfall on the edges of an outer settlement, albeit with extremely restricted access. With powerful weaponry and ships, they had even forced the clans, both those loyal to and those rebelling against the Jade Emperor in the ongoing civil war, to stay away. That, however, was about to change.
“My dear friends, through contacts both within Second Sun and the other corporations I have had the privilege to find out that the Tylas have finally melted their icy shell of disinterest. It would appear those religious jellyfish have begun to sing a slightly different tune!”
A tap of the boot and the images changed. The photos previously displaying mixed groups of mostly humans with some Cambiar shaking hands were now interspersed with the occasional odd Tylas, their neck swaddled with heavy scarfs, looking down at the other races. Such a personal meeting that would have never before been possible – Tylas outside their own territory was completely unheard of. All his guests’ eyes, eyes that had previously been growing judgmental of Adin’s offerings based on his odd behaviour, had locked onto the photographs. Adin could practically feel the ideas churning beyond their avaricious expressions. Even the ever-calm Dobermann had leaned forward, hands steepled. That was good, all Adin had to do was reel them in with some solid bait.
“So, I imagine you all have the same bee in your bonnets – yes, our targets will be the Tylas. The Cambiar have already blown their load too soon, and now everyone from Timbuctoo to New Paris has a few quadrupedal friends and all their techto work with. The Out-Han Alliance have made certain of that.”
The arrival of alien life in the galaxy had been a shock to all human factions, to the point that Paradise, the authoritarian hellscape of an empire, had seemingly disengaged with their ‘Eternal War’ with the Doctrine to fight some random Cambiar nation far away. Heaven’s Doctrine hadn’t fared much better. The news of the Corpse Emperor’s refusal to associate with the Cambiar had split the empire apart, with dozens of clans separating and vying for power across clan space. Of course, many of the separatist factions likely didn’t care that much about the Cambiar anyway, but that mattered not; they had an excuse to rebel and they had taken it with gusto.
The so called ‘Out-Han Alliance’ constituted primarily of Cambiar but was slowly growing in human population as people fled from the long-established establishments of human space, fresh to start a new life. The small but rapidly growing player on the galactic stage was formed from the death of one of the CCH’s founding megacompanies, Henry and Huell Incorporated, mixing with the aliens.
“For those of you not in the know, of the two Tylas nations we can go after, only one is viable to us. The Baraldian Heralds, as much as they see us as ground dwelling monkeys, are at least willing to talk to us. The others, the Fualic Composers, just shot on sight, so that’s a bust. So, right now, we’re stuck with the religious nutjobs.”
Religious or not, the Baraldian Heralds were no slouches in the technology department. Their nation older than any human space-state, they had far longer to develop weaponry and more complicated layers of corrupt society than even the CCH could devise. The idea of cutting edge, alien technology was now clearly all his guests could think about. The few videos of beam weapons cutting through demonstrative Scar Fields were more than enough to drive mass speculation amongst anyone needing a gun on their ship, which following the start of the Doctrine civil war was practically everyone. With that technology, alongside god knows what else the Tylas had up their sleeves, or their strange flesh cloaks they had, anyone could change the state of the galaxy singlehandedly.
Citra was the first to speak up. “So, the Tylas are finally opening up – big whoop. Doesn’t make a difference. If we even try and get close to them anytime soon, they’ll still try to tear us to shreds.”
“Ah, my dear clanlady, don’t be such a quickshot. That’s how most duellists miss.”
Adin mockingly dipped his hat with a grin, drawing a grunt from the hunter. A somewhat risky move to insult the openly violent woman, but Adin couldn’t resist.
“My sources have made it clear that they aren’t just opening discussions. No, this will be a full-on hoedown with everyone involved. Later this year, they will be hosting an official event – the Interspecies Galactic Symposium, as they are calling it. It will eventually mean open borders and markets. As it happens, there’ll be early access to those invited. Of course, whilst Second Sun will most certainly be there, I am sure you cowpokes can always slip in. That is, if a certain cowboy let you know about it in the first place.” Adin winked.
“I see. A time for us to infiltrate, steal and strike then?” Yuri said. He was clearly deep in thought, brow creased in scepticism.
“That’s right partner.” Adin was a little concerned about the ‘strike’ part of the Olegovich’s plan. Adin wanted to attempt to carry out the operation covertly, but swallowed that information down. There would be time for discussion later, once he had separated them out.
“All we need to do is plan our arrival as the Tylas prepare for their little line dance.”
Adin switched the presentation to a view from Birkdale’s Gate, a small human city and the only spot in Tylas space where other races could land. Beyond the settlement of diplomats and tourists in waiting was the distant image a city composed of sleek glass and towers. Urestior. Like all other buildings in the system it sat on top a floating asteroid immersed in the massive gas cloud of Kral’Thul. Though no human had ever entered the Tylas city, what little could be seen had certainly dazzled those from the outside.
“Rumour has it as the event draws near, more and more factions will be allowed to land in Kral-Thul. When the Symposium, or IGS as I like to call it, finally comes, we’ll bring our best bib and tucker. If all goes well, we’ll walk away from this heavy with Tylas tech before anyone else in the galaxy can even think about selling any of those weapons, warp drives and anything else we can grab. Hell, I’m pretty sure whatever they use to eat with will sell for a pretty time to a collector!”
The idea had clearly germinated in everyone’s mind. Not the utensils part, no, but the actually useful tech part. Adin was certain that all the people in the room would find a good use from the results of such a theft, but he just had to seal the deal now.
“Now, ladies and gentlemen, we have before us a bright future. I understand that everyone here may not currently be on the best of terms…” A blunt admission, but one that was needed to set the foundations for the group. The Oleg twins stared at Vigino, a pair of separatist traitors tortured and mangled for the crimes of their kin by the clanlady’s dominating ruler.
The Oleg twins had once been with Heaven’s Doctrine but had suffered greatly at the Jade Emperor’s hands once their younger brother, Mikhail, abandoned the feudal empire for the Cambiar nation of the Ten-Triumphs before publicly cursing the Emperor himself. It would seem the old warlord did not take kindly to slights against his pride, as the execution of the family’s patriarch, dismantling of their clan and kidnaping of the twins had clearly shown. Though the two had escaped from the Emperor’s clutches, their bodies had paid the price. Forced, brutal augmentation had been forced upon them, the brother and sister disfigured to mirror each other in a jigsaw of organic and metal parts. Since then, they had carried out a number of dangerous missions for the Separatist factions of clanspace. Based on how Citra thumbed at the railcannon at her hip, there was clear resentment between the three. Needless to say, the Olegs’ continued hunger for violence and their very presence at the meeting confirmed they were unsatisfied leaving things as they were.
Citra Vigino had usurped the throne of her clan some years before in a brutal takeover that had left many dead. Since then, she had worked the clan hard to cement their position as one of the most powerful in Doctrine space. Whispers around the CCH stated she was hoping to merge her clan with the Jade Emperor’s own Dragon Guard, but Adin figured she must still be some time away from that goal if she had accepted his invitation.
As for Dobermann and Juno… Adin had yet to fully work them out. Thankfully, his hypothesis of the two working to their own benefits would work just fine. No matter what, a crime lord always needed money, and a good raid was always inciting to someone willing to get their blade wet. In a way, they shared a motivational kinship with the executive – they would do whatever it took for their own means. Adin had a promise to keep, and he would honour it no matter what.
Adin shook himself from his mind and stood straight. Clicking his heels, he leaned on the table. “Yet despite some of our new friends’ past and possible future disagreements, I think we can all agree that this is an opportunity, right here in the present, that can’t be missed. Together, I know we will succeed. With regards to the details, we can remotely discuss them at a future date. Considering I will likely be the public face of Second Sun’s invitation to the IGS, I am more than happy to be the middle man for this operation, so to speak. All we need now, is a name.”
Dobermann didn’t seem to agree but the idea had taken hold of the others.
“Something clear and simple,” Juno said.
“Powerful. Strong,” Citra said, looking upwards towards the heavens.
“Something that won’t give us away,” Dobermann muttered dismissively, glancing towards the clanlady.
“Well… it has to be cool, right? No way we’re doing this with some boring codenames like we’re in the military.” Yuri looked down at Roksana who nodded emphatically. If the male Olegovich had any previous thoughts of scepticism, they were far from his mind. His face bore a frenzied grin. Time to reel them in.
Adin turned his back to the group, a smile forming on his hidden face. “You all likely broke the cipher on my initially messages, right?” He didn’t force his natural accent anymore, the cowboy persona now fading away as his guests had successfully taken the bait. Now had come the time for the real Adin to step out. The Adin who would get his revenge no matter what.
“Of course,” Juno said, just a tad of pride slipping into the artificial voice.
“Then you know our name already.”
The word had been hidden in the first invitations he had sent to the group’s members. It wasn’t a complicated name, but that was the point; it would demonstrate how the group would operate. Everyone knew the others in the room were not some weak businessmen, afraid to get their hands dirty – even Adin, who knew he was the least experienced there, had more than his fair share of blood on his hands. These people were killers, monsters in the eyes of the general public.
Though the title Adin had come up with was along the lines of what Tripwire Services would use, one originating in mythology, it fit the group’s purpose.
Their partnership would not stop until they reached their goal, and they would kill anyone who so much as looked their way.
The six of them would kill with a glare; just what Adin needed.
“Basilisk."
