#maurlias

Surshen slithered out of his tree at the changing of the guard, nodding to Maurlias as she arrived to begin her time watching.

“Are there any concerns to watch for?” she asked, preparing to climb into the tree.

“I saw three Torgan heading south instead of west,” he said.  “I will inform the hunters.”

“Wonderful.”

“I also heard a distant report, like thunder but compressed, or like the human makes at her forge to the northwest.  This was followed by smoke near the swamp.  It reminded me of the fires in the sky that herald the arrival of the aliens.”

“I will keep watch for more changes like that,” she said.  “Who will you inform of this, though?”

“It is the same issue,” he said.  “I will inform the hunters.”

***

Carmen stepped out of the airlock and almost crashed into the wall.  She rolled her eyes.

“Lousy space ships,” she said.  “Never enough room to move around on these things…”

“I apologize for the accommodations,” said the voice of The Soul Survivor.  “And it will only become more cramped as we usher your two friends in here as well.”

“Look, why’re you even interested in us?”

“It’s nothing personal,” he said.  “No ulterior motive beyond the most obvious one.  I’m rebuilding right now and while I have vast resources hidden away elsewhere, much of it is inaccessible.  Kidnapping the three greatest racers from The Corona Cup will allow for a quick influx of funds once I leave this system.”

“Wait, that’s it?” said Carmen.  “This is just about money?”

“Yes, I apologize.  I do enjoy the reputation for high crimes that I have garnered across the galaxy, but to finance every robot army, death ray, and mass hypnosis I must, alas, sully my hands with the work of the common gangster.  Napoleon’s greatest weakness and tactical failing was a belief that his supplies were limitless, and I refuse to fall for such a self-imposed ruse.”

“You think the Racing Federation will just roll over and pay you?  I hate to say it, but a lot of those suits have backgrounds as people like me.  They might’ve sold out, but they’re not pushovers.”

“Oh, I know,” said The Soul Survivor.  “I have done this many times, and I’ve learned that those who run sporting events can afford great amounts of money, but they shouldn’t be treated greedily.  You have the hotheads who’ll try to ‘handle things themselves’, the villains who write off their employed celebrities as acceptable losses, even the pragmatists who’ll contact law enforcement agencies or mercenaries.  The trick… especially with people like you, Miss Shift… is to demand payment, but a small enough amount that the risk of jeopardizing you in some way is laughable from a financial standpoint.  It really is a business, you see.  I fully expect that I’ll be able to release you and your friends shortly.  Or, at least, shortly after I leave this system.  While the Dyson Empire hasn’t disrupted my own capabilities, they have deafened the ears of anyone who might hear what I have to say from here.  If you would, please follow the hall to the left.  The galley will be a more comfortable place for you than this hallway.”

Carmen turned and walked.  The ship was designed with only a single occupant in mind, and as such the walk was a brief one.  A door slid open as she neared the end of the hall, revealing a tiny room with food and beverage dispensers, a small table, and dim lighting.  A man in a pilot’s uniform stood as Carmen entered.

“Hello!” he said.  “It’s good to mee-”

“You!” said the voice of the Soul Survivor.  Instead of hearing the voice from all around as she had been, the voice now came from a device that Carmen had assumed to be a water cooler, but when she looked at it closely she saw that it was, in fact, a partially reconstructed version of the robotic body that The Soul Survivor was known for inhabiting.  The trademark dome, filled with bubbling water, was recognizable as soon as she focused on it thanks to the countless news reports that had featured him over the years.

“Me?” said Carmen.  “Yeah, me.  Your kidnapping victim.  Who else would I be?”

“I-”

A silence filled the room.  Carmen looked at the man at the table.

“Is he always this surprised by people?”

“No,” said the man, looking worried.  “Never.  I don’t know what’s-”

“Silence,” said The Soul Survivor.  “I’m sorry.  Miss Shift, seeing things through remote cameras does not always convey the same emotional resonance as they might when seen through my active sensors.”

“What emotional resonance?” said Carmen.  “I thought this kidnapping was just business.”

“It is.  Business to which I must return, in fact.  Xorn’Tal needs to be picked up and his fronds will make this more of a challenge.  This is Tan, the captain and pilot of this vessel according to The Dyson Empire.  He’s playing the role of my Renfield for today.”

“Would you mind not calling me that?” said Tan.

“Very well,” said The Soul Survivor.  “You can’t help but see a comparison though.”

“Even so.”

“Carmen, Tan will show you how the machinery works if you require sustenance.  Much of it requires his empirical code to activate, a hard-coded mechanism that I haven’t had the time or need to modify.”

The bubbling in the jar lowered after that.  Carmen looked at Tan and nodded.

“So.  You work for Emperor Dyson and The Soul Survivor at the same time?”

“I don’t work for The Soul Survivor per se,” he said.  “But we’re friends!  I’m putting my job on the line here, but he’s in a pinch and could use some assistance.  So… yeah.  I guess you could say I’m in both of those camps right now.”