The shuttle that just left the Estrella was capable of carrying almost two hundred and fifty passengers within its cramped cabin. There were three blocks of seats arranged in a three-five-three layout, and twenty-two such rows throughout the cabin. Seated near the rear of the cabin, at the right-most block, were Edmund, Merrion and Altansarnai. Most of the other seats were occupied by sullen-faced workers dressed in greyed coveralls, presumably support staff for the Dimoprasia. There was a faint odor of sweat and machine lubricants hanging in the air, with the ever-present hum of the air processing system.
Edmund closed his eyes and leant back into his seat within the shuttle's passenger compartment. In this microgravity, it was more like he was trying to push himself into the cushioning, with only the restraints going across his waist and chest as leverage points to push against. To his right was Merrion, who was seated in a window seat and excitedly gazing out, her expression caught in the reflection of the window screen.
Alta: "That's an interesting expression. Have you never ridden a shuttle before?
Edmund's eyes refocused upon the reflection in the window screen, bringing the image of Altansarnai behind him into focus. Her head hung over him in the reflection like a hawk hovering over his shoulder, still as tall and as imposing as ever in spite of the fact that they were all seated. Her height was evidently a result of both lengthened limbs and body alike, which forced her to sit in a hunched-over posture.
Edmund: "Me?"
Alta: "No, the young lady. Well? Have you?"
Merrion: "Not a shuttle, but I've taken the inter-sector tram a few years back."
To facilitate inter-sector commerce and travel, long tethers dedicated for high-speed travel were strung between the closest ships between the sectors. Closeness was a relative term, and oftentimes the closest ships between sectors were easily several million kilometers apart. While travelling the gulf of space between the sectors, there was nothing of interest to see and of course, no scenery in particular to look at.
Edmund: "Most current models don't have windows, not that I recall."
Alta: "To be precise, none of them have ever had windows. That's not a window either. It's just a screen like any other, linked to a central camera feed to the exterior. An actual transparent pane would be a structural weakness, and completely unnecessary to boot."
Edmund watched Merrion's expression sour as Alta's matter-of-fact declaration was made. His normally gruff expression softened slightly upon noticing it, and he adjusted his position in his seat.
Alta: "Although, since this is a shuttle, we might get to see something soon."
Before either he or Merrion could reply, a voice came in over the cabin intercom, crackling through the speaker.
Pilot: All passengers, be warned that our orientation maneuver will be commencing shortly. Ensure you are securely fastened into your seats and no loose objects are floating around. I repeat…
While the pilot repeated his warning over the intercom, Merrion turned away from the window screen to face Edmund and Alta. There was that telltale sparkle of curiosity in her eyes that Edmund immediately recognized, and with a sideways glance towards Alta, he got the sense that she recognized it too.
Merrion: "Maneuver?"
Edmund: "Shuttle's thruster is on the back. The pilot is going to swing us around to point the thruster in our direction of travel so we can slow down. We must be approaching the Dimoprasia soon."
Alta: "That's exactly correct. 50/50 chance that you'll get to see the ship, depending on the direction the pilot chooses to rotate us."
Merrion: "A 100% chance then!"
Alta narrowed her eyes.
Alta: "Awfully confident, aren't you?"
Merrion: "Not really, I'm just the lucky sort."
Edmund: "If you keep pushing it, the luck will eventually run out."
Merrion only replied to Edmund's remark with a playful scowl.
Pilot: "All passengers, maneuver will be commencing in 10 seconds. 9, 8, 7…"
Just then, Edmund saw a lone object floating before Merrion. It was a cuboidal wrapper, like the kind used to hold a deck of playing cards. However, the only giveaway of its contents was its tell-tale shape, for the packaging was completely white without a single word of text on the exterior. In Merrion's shuffling about earlier, it must have come loose from whichever pocket it was stowed in earlier. It was a miracle that it wasn't flying in some unpredictable direction, but rather just lazily drifting away at a slow speed from Merrion.
Edmund (thinking): Wait a moment –
Pilot: "– 2, 1 –"
Edmund felt his stomach lurch as the pilot fired the maneuvering thrusters. Fed by the plasma burning furiously at the heart of the shuttle's service reactor, the orientation thrusters delivered a singular kick, sending the shuttle rotating around its center of mass in a counterclockwise direction. Unfortunately, without any anchor to the shuttle's frame for this angular momentum to be imparted into, any loose objects would remain stubbornly in the previous orientation with respect to the shuttle's direction of travel.
This, of course, included the pack of playing cards, which lurched in the opposite direction and flew right past Edmund's face.
Edmund: "Shit!"
Even though he tried with his best effort, Edmund was not fast enough to catch the pack, and he could only watch helplessly as the white package bounced into Alta's chest and was sent careening off in an unpredictable direction.
Alta: "OW!"
Edmund: "LOOK OUT!"
Edmund shouted towards the crewmen most likely to be hit by the flying pack, catching some of their attention. Some reacted instantly, ducking down low, whilst others rapidly looked around, trying to assess the situation. There was a lone crewman amongst that crowd, however, who lazily turned to face Edmund, raised his hand, and caught the flying pack with unnatural ease.
Edmund's eyes widened with some measure of surprise as he watched that crewman pluck the flying pack of cards out of the air with all the urgency that one would use to address a snail, or perhaps an insect scuttling about on the flooring. His body language was practiced, casual, and completely unhurried, in complete contrast to the frantic manner in which Edmund had reacted to the flying pack earlier.
There was another lurch as the thrusters fired again, halting the rotation of the shuttle and returning the shuttle to microgravity. With the return of scheduled peace, the crewman unbuckled himself from his seat and floated over towards Edmund, maneuvering past the seats with surprisingly little effort.
Crewman: "This pack of cards, is it yours?"
Edmund: "Not mine, its hers. But I can pass it to her."
The crewman completely ignored Edmund, and instead, turned to address Merrion directly, taking Edmund slightly aback.
Crewman: "I caught something of yours."
Merrion: "Oh, thanks."
Crewman: "Are these two with you?"
Edmund narrowed his eyes at the suspicious question. In the briefest moment, he evaluated the crewman. He was dressed in the same grey coveralls as everyone else, and they were neither freshly washed nor heavily soiled. They were, however, heavily wrinkled, a telltale mark of a long period of service. The crewman's gaze was also not darting about, instead being wholly fixated upon Merrion. A singular tattoo barely peeking out beyond the crewman's collar held Edmund's gaze the longest: a partial series of numbers indelibly marked upon the man's skin.
Merrion: "Yeah…why? Did they do something?"
Crewman: "…no, it's nothing. Here, don't lose these again. They're valuable."
The crewman tossed the pack of cards towards Merrion, and immediately turned away to float back to his seat. Merrion stretched out her hand to catch the pack, when –
Merrion: "OW!"
Edmund: "What? What happened?!"
Merrion, wincing in pain, quickly grabbed the pack of cards and stuffed it back deep into her hoodie pocket, before rubbing her fingers with her other hand.
Merrion: "I don't know. It's like I got a shock of some kind from the pack."
Edmund: "Probably a result of the synthetic fibers of your garments? What say you, Alta?"
Alta: "My guess is that that crewman who returned it probably transferred some static charge to it. It's not uncommon for that to happen."
Hearing Alta make that declaration in her authoritative tone made both Edmund and Merrion nod in agreement.
Merrion: "Guess that's why then – hey look!"
---
Merrion, nodding in agreement to Alta's explanation, had her attention momentarily caught by a change in the scenery on the window screen. The endless field of star-studded darkness was suddenly interrupted by a bright light – no, several bright lights moving from the back of the window towards the front. Intrigued, she turned her head to look at the window screen, and as the entirety of the lights were brought into focus, the source of the lights became clear at last: floodlights illuminating the name of their vessel.
Merrion: "Di-mo-pra – it's the Dimoprasia!"
Edmund: "Hmm…"
Merrion: "Why the long face?"
Edmund: "Nothing, it's just..
Merrion turned back to look at the vessel coming into view. The Dimoprasia was quite different from the other vessels she had seen before, at least from schematics and drawings from the Net archives. Its bow was like the rockets of old; tapered towards a central point in a streamlined manner to achieve some manner of aesthetic perfection. Unlike the utilitarian designs of 8th Sector vessels, boxy and pockmarked with docking ports and berthing cages like barnacles attached to a great leviathan of the void, the Dimoprasia's hull was elegant, graceful, and beautiful, appearing as if shaped out of a singular flawless chunk of metal.
Merrion was only beginning to notice other features as the camera feed began to adjust, digitally compensating for the brightness of the floodlights illuminating the name engraved into the hull. Although light was devoured by the void, the Dimoprasia's shape was deliberately highlighted by the numerous floodlights embedded across its hull. Behind its tapered bow was a long cylindrical midsection, also embedded with more lights to help make its exterior visible to others.
Merrion: "It's visible."
Indeed, whoever was in charge of the Dimoprasia was able, and willing, to ensure that it was easily visible from the exterior. Edmund recalled an old image from a book he had once read, chronicling the old megastructures of humanity's cradle. One such structure were the stone menhirs which the Dimoprasia bore striking resemblance to. For a vessel of the Fleet, the Dimoprasia was not that large. But even so, –
Edmund: "Yeah. Even when taking the trams, usually only the vessel's name is visible, if the terminal is nearby. Maybe docking ports too, or warning lights atop antennas. But this, this is just…"
Alta: "Excessive?"
Edmund: "That's the word."
Alta: "My dears, you don't even know the half of it. The Dimoprasia's exterior is just the beginning. Just wait till we're aboard. For just a week, you'll see what the world of the truly powerful looks like."
With the vessel so conveniently illuminated, Edmund stretched out his palm to the window to try a small trick he had learnt some time back. Closing one eye and squinting through the other, Edmund aligned his fingers with the view of the Dimoprasia through the screen.
Edmund: "Three fingers' widths by one finger's width…fifty kilometers…that's about three by one –"
Alta: "Close, but not quite. The actual size is about five kilometers from bow to stern, and one in width. Still, good application of apparent size to judge true size."
Merrion: "Apparent size?"
Alta: "How big it looks from this far away. By gauging both, you can estimate the actual size of the ship. Three fingers are about five degrees, and one is about…well, one degree. The formula is –"
Edmund: "Spare her the math. Suffice it to say that I wasn't quite right with my calculation."
Alta leant back into her chair as far as she could, and let out a hearty laugh, which drew the attention of some of the nearby support staff before they quickly looked away again.
Alta: "You were close enough to matter. Perhaps I was too harsh on you, initially, with my judgement of you.
Edmund: "Oh? And what would that be?"
Alta: "A meathead, just like the one who raised him."
Edmund scrunched up his eyebrows in response to that statement. The one who raised him…there was only one person she could be thinking of.
Edmund: "You…no wait, you can't be talking about –"
Alta: "I know about your situation. Or rather, I knew, you see. Zora consulted with me before she took you in, and then never again. Rather ungrateful, but I'm sure some of me rubbed off on her, and from her to you too."
Edmund groaned with exasperation, both at having this part of his history mentioned to him and having to hear that that their current client was essentially aware of him from an early age. His gaze shifted about, wanting this conversation to die off quickly, but there would be no such hope for him.
Merrion: "The Inspector raised Edmund?"
Edmund: "Zora did NOT raise me – "
Alta: "He's correct, Zora only took him in at the age of – "
Edmund: "STOP divulging my history to my partner, right now."
Alta: "A secret keeper, just like her with me."
Edmund: "This is not a secret, this is history. It is gone and past, and now you stop. Or it will jeopardize the working relationship we have."
That ultimatum seemed to get through to Alta, who raised her hands in defeat and smiled silently. Merrion, unperturbed by this, continued to pester Edmund, eventually giving up as well after a minute of unending verbal jabs and probs that elicited not a response from Edmund.
---
About half an hour later, the shuttle finally docked and unloaded its human cargo of support crew and the unlikely trio of Edmund, Merrion and Alta, who waited for the grey-suited personnel to fully disembark before they made their way off the shuttle. Floating through the docking tube, Merrion watched the throng of crewman before them disappear through a side door marked STAFF ONLY at the end of the docking tube, one by one.
Merrion: "Why haven't we seen any other passengers with us? I know that the Voidway Auction is supposed to be some ultra-exclusive fancy thing, but there can't just be a handful of participants."
Alta: "The Voidway Auction is just one of the numerous activities being carried out onboard the Dimoprasia. We boarded one of the last transport shuttles, so I presume most of the other passengers had already boarded earlier."
Merrion: "Surely whoever is running the show would have loaded up all their support crew first, if they had any mind to organizational efficiency or to conceal the uglier side of running a ship."
Alta: "If you know that, then you must also know why these crewmen were loaded the last."
The look of confusion on Merrion's face told Alta everything she needed to know.
Alta: "Perhaps you are not as perceptive as your senior partner. In that case, I shall leave it to him to explain it to you."
Merrion: "I'm lost."
Edmund: "Indentured servants. The crewman who returned that pack of cards to you had a contract serial number tattooed upon his skin. It was well hidden by his coveralls, but I still managed to glimpse the initial numbers. It would appear that the captain of the ship treats their indentured servants rather well, if they're allowed to leave the ship at all."
Indentured servitude was one of the many forms of contracted employment used within the Fleet. In contrast to regular salaried employment and self-employment, which was negotiated and enforced via contracts between employer and employee, indentured servitude was negotiated between the employer and a middleman, who owned the indenture of the servants.
Typically, such indentures were created in the wake of debt which could not be settled by any other means, exchanging servitude for the repayment of such debts. In other cases, such indentures were created as punishment for crimes committed. It was not uncommon for those who were born outside the Admiralty's repopulation quotas to quietly sink into a life of indentured servitude, simply moving from day to day fulfilling the unmet labor demands of the vast ships of the Fleet and living in the barest acceptable standard of conditions.
Alta: "One of the many necessary evils that the Admiralty turns their blind eye towards. Truly condemnable."
Edmund nodded in silent agreement. Having grown up as an outcast, indentured servitude would have likely been his fate, had the very same skeins not decided for him to walk his current path by sending that fiery woman to his hideout all those decades ago. It would have been so easy for Edmund to just be pushed along a life of crime until he was inevitably apprehended and sentenced, and yet through that singular choice, attempting to pick Zora's pocket, he unknowingly set himself on a path towards a better future.
How many of those same crewman were like him, but simply not as fortunate to have had the same chances in life? Edmund pondered that question, knowing that the answer would be depressing regardless of its magnitude.
Floating through the docking tube, the trio eventually reached the end and passed through the main passage, entering into the docking terminal of the Dimoprasia. It was a sight of pure opulence, exactly as Altansarnai had foreshadowed earlier. Most building materials were easy-to-fabricate nanolaminate composites that could be coated with a thin layer of varnish to give it the appearance of any desired material, be it wood, tiles, or metal. But there was an unmistakable woody smell in the air, as well as the chaotic and organically fractal appearance that the mass-produced alternatives could never replicate convincingly at this scale.
No, this was real.
Edmund: "Is this…real wood?"
Real wood panels, carvings and fixtures adorned the walls, with both the ceiling and floors left as standard metal paneling. Natural wood was hard to procure in the 8th Sector, requiring both time and space to cultivate. While the biosmiths of the Fleet could genetically engineer variants for various aspects, such as fragrance and a beautiful grain, the effort involved in doing so only further increased the cost. The prudent buyer would devote such costly investments towards objects like statues, masterfully carved and polished to bring out the inherent beauty of the material. To just use such materials as common paneling in a flagrant and blatant display of wealth, for nothing more than mere decoration…
The sight left both Edmund and Merrion stunned, their jaws agape at the splendor.
Merrion: "The grain, it's all unique…the patterns, there's no patterns. Oh my goodness, it's all real wood. How…how many credits would all this have cost to purchase?"
Alta: "If it were standard wood, perhaps a week's worth per square meter. But this is not just any wood."
???: "Indeed you are right, Madame Inquisitor. This, this is rosewood."
Alta tipped her hat and smiled, her eyes closed, while Edmund and Merrion whipped their heads to face the origin of that declaration. Anchored to the metal ceiling by a pair of magnetic boots was a man dressed in an impeccably tailored navy-blue suit. To call it a ceiling was being generous, as in microgravity any of the four walls of the docking terminal were equally valid to be floor or ceiling.
A short smock of curly brown hair hung from his head and his chocolate-brown skin seemed to glow in the light from the numerous fixtures in the terminal. By his side was a metallic cat, its skin like mercury frozen in time in its luster. The cat's tail, adorned with a blade at its tip, whipped about as its artificial eyes regarded Edmund with an inhuman glare, the mechanisms inside shifting and adjusting to, presumably, bring the image of Edmund into focus.
Edmund (thinking): An intelligent construct! Ngh –
Golden cufflinks adorned with an embossed chain-link glistened in the light as the man adjusted his crimson-red tie and addressed the trio with a regal and deeply-baritone voice.
Suited Man: "The rosewood is a lovely species, beautifully perfumed and richly hued. Observe the glossy finish and savor the fragrance that is unmistakably characteristic of it."
Edmund stayed silent whilst Merrion inhaled deeply. She held her breath for a few seconds before exhaling loudly with a disappointed sigh.
Merrion: "I don't smell anything."
Suited Man: "Indeed, it is a refined scent that takes careful practice and much exposure to in order to perceive. Unfortunately, it would appear that the lower classes are incapable of appreciating the finer things in life. Such a pity."
The man's gaze had changed into a contemptuous expression of pity. Even whilst hanging upside down from the ceiling relative to the trio, Edmund felt like the man was looking down on him. Edmund met the man's gaze with a glare of his own, his reply to this stranger who he had only just met and was already antagonizing him and his partner.
Edmund: "Even the 'lower classes' know not to pick fights with strangers. I have more respect for the dirt I clean off my boots than for those who lack basic decency."
Suited Man: "Oh, do not be mistaken, I did not intent to insult. I was…merely stating a fact, that is all. I would assume that even one such as yourself is capable of seeing the gulf that exists between you and I? Surely you cannot be so blind as to willfully deceive your own eyes to this obvious difference."
The man smiled and Edmund's eye twitched in response. He felt a boiling rage build up within him. Edmund had lived for many decades and had encountered many kinds of people in his long life. Some were kind, others were cruel. Some were prone to violence, and others wouldn't be able to hurt even a fly.
But this kind of person, the kind who incited violence upon themselves through the denigration of others –
This was the kind of person he hated the most.
Still, if Edmund were to beat the lights out of this man right here, it would be counterproductive for their overall goals. This man looked important, and if the Voidway Auction were as exclusive as it seemed to be, assaulting anyone else participating in it would paint a large target on both his back, and Merrion's too. Edmund looked back to the man, but he was no longer focused upon him. Rather, he was now looking towards Alta.
Suited Man: "Madame Inquisitor, why do you choose to travel with such individuals? To be accompanied by the lowborn does not speak well for your organization's prestige. Surely an esteemed individual such as yourself would be surrounded by equally cultured companions?"
There was a sudden chill in the air, descending like the curtains over a stage. Out from the corner of his eye, Edmund could see Alta tip her hat, still smiling, but with an appreciable aura of menace in her eyes.
Alta: "You know who I am, yet you deem it fit to question my choice of escorts? Who are you as to have such authority?"
The man crossed his right arm across his chest, and bowed deeply, which made for a slightly humorous sight consider he was hanging from the ceiling relative to the trio.
Suited Man: "My apologies, Madame Inquisitor. I am –"
Alta halted the man in the midst of his introduction with a casual wave of her hand, a dismissive gesture accompanied with a smirk.
Alta: "Second scion of the Celso Banking Corporation, yes, I know you, Alesh Celso."
A look of surprise mixed in with adulation made its way across Alesh's face upon hearing his name pass through Alta's lips. Edmund could hardly believe such a haughty individual even knew how to admire others, but Alesh's expression made his inner headspace clear for anyone to see.
Alesh: "You know of me already? I am honored, Madame Inqui-"
Alta: "And I am appalled. To think a Celso would behave in such a disgraceful manner. What gave you such a privileged attitude? Your upbringing? Perhaps your peers? Or maybe…it was them? But which one? I know there were two men who married into the Celsos, but the first is dead, and the second is merely a trophy for the…ahh, I see, it was Sabrina then."
Alesh: "You would bring up our CEO's name in this?"
Alta: "But of course I would. I knew your mother very well, as with many other members of your family. Your kin are well-regarded in the circles where I walk, and it should be no surprise that I know of you too. It is a great shame that we have to meet like this, and that I had to witness such shameful behavior from you. It appears that the blood of the Celsos does not carry with it the instructions for graceful behavior. Sabrina's lineage will die with her, it seems, tainted by the blood of those two men –"
Alesh: "You insult the blood of my family?! Why you – mmph!"
Alesh's rebuttal was cut off mid-sentence by the arrival of another, a woman in an elaborately decorated and well-fitting turquoise dress that hugged all her curves. Her skin was the exact same shade as his and their faces were similar in structure except for her eyes, which were noticeably softer in expression. In her outstretched hand was a paper fan pressed against Alesh's mouth, muffling him. Behind her was a neatly spaced arrangement of tough-looking men wearing body armor and open-face helmets. Edmund squinted, picking out the words CELSO SECURITY SOLUTIONS stenciled atop the body armor. He looked back to Alta, and – was that a look of concern on her face?
Elaborately Dressed Woman: "Hold your tongue, brother, before you sully our family's reputation any further. Madame Inquisitor, I apologize for my younger brother's behavior. I am Irune Celso, and I humbly request of you to accept this apology of mine in my mother's stead. My brother can be…confrontational at times."
From the corner of his eye, Edmund saw Merrion flinch slightly and stagger backwards as Irune turned towards them with an expression of penance on her face. He glanced over to Alta, catching the barest twitch of her eyelid, before her dignified manner returned with practiced ease.
Alta: "Finally, someone with some semblance of manners. Had your brother watched his words when dealing with me perhaps we could have avoided coming to blows to begin with. Luckily, it seems that Sabrina managed to raise someone worthy of taking over her, when the time comes."
Irune: "Your kindness honors me, Madame Inquisitor. I must apologize to you too, companions of the Madame, for my brother's behavior towards you. Please, accept my apology on his behalf."
Something about Irune's voice seemed to worm its way into Edmund's ears. Was it her tone, her enunciation, or was it something else? The words she spoke seemed to wriggle their way into his emotions, as if compelling him towards action. The barest thought of simply giving up and accepting her request sprouted in Edmund's mind, but he resisted that compulsion with some visible effort. As if in response, for the briefest moment Edmund caught Irune's expression shifting, ever so slightly.
Edmund: "Are all "highborn" like this?"
Irune: "Definitely not, however those who do are, regrettably, more common than they ought to be. You, and your fellow companion here, are unique individuals, and should've been afforded the same respect as the Madame over here by my brother."
Alesh: "Tch, I can speak for myself."
Irune: "No, you cannot. Mother has deemed it fit for you to settle negotiations at the auction, and it is there where you shall contribute to our family. Hold your tongue before I override your assignment, as is my right as your older sister."
Alesh: "Half-sister."
Irune: "The half we share is from our mother, which is sufficient. Silence yourself before we shame our family any further before outsiders."
With surprisingly little effort, Irune placed one hand atop Alesh's head and forced him into a bow of apology, which she accompanied. Still attached to the ceiling by their magnetic footwear, the two turned and disappeared into their entourage, who soon departed as well.
The cat construct from earlier got up from its reclined posture and seemed to bow for a moment before turning about. With its back in full view, Edmund caught the barest sight of a double chain-link stenciled on its back before it departed as well, leaving the trio behind in the docking terminal.
There was a loud sound, and Edmund turned to see Merrion breathing rapidly. He hadn't been alone in detecting the tension in the air, though it hadn't affected him as badly as it had affected Merrion, evidently. Her face was filled with bewilderment, like she had just seen a ghost float past, but there was something else about her expression, drained of colour, that made Edmund worry ever so slightly.