Just Business

Posted on Tue May 19th, 2020 @ 11:11am by Bomoor Thort & Thane & Amare

2,929 words; about a 15 minute read

Chapter: Chapter VI: The Last Bastion
Location: Elenca Settlement, Üssina, Öetrago
Timeline: Week Four, sometime after "Senators and Sinners"

The small local HoloNet projector in Mumin’s house jittered as the weak connection dipped out momentarily before resuming, casting the familiar features of Bruta Thort to those assembled.

“As Öetragans we must decide here and now whether we want to retain our relevance as the Galactic authority on terraforming and planetary restoration,” Diplomat Thort spoke firmly but with a passion to an unseen crowd in Mooko City, “Mother’s Aid is a non-profit organisation, but the recent incident with SharTrad has brought to light a number of offworld-based private enterprises that are vying for M’s Aid’s hard-earned research and confidential techniques. Only with your support for our growing movement can we hope to pass lasting legislation to prevent the heritage of our people becoming yet another commodity to be bought and sold. Let our great herds unite for the sake of the Mother and for ourselves. Thank you.”

The segment was ended and Mumin shut down the projector as the broadcaster’s logo began to swirl on the screen along with a familiar jingle. She turned to the familiar group assembled before her: Jiljoo, the Twi’lek engineer, Llim, Bruta’s own Ithorian assistant and the strange Ongree sea-captain Yllib Senob, who was propped back on a small chair chewing on a small local nut with his unusually-positioned jaw.

“So, the fight has reached the capital,” Mumin droned a light concern, “And it would appear Bruta has uncovered more plots against M’s Aid.”

She had hoped he would contact her when he returned to Öetrago to update her on his search for Bomoor. She hoped that no news was good news, as she had not sensed any disturbances in her Force connection to suggest he had come to any further harm. He was alive and she trusted that Bruta would soon find out more, if she maintained her patience and focused on helping those at hand. This is the way she had always lived and it had served her well thus far as a leader of her people.

Llim stood silently seemingly lost in thought, but his slumped shoulders indicated his out outward dejected feelings on the situation. He looked to Jiljoo for a spark of hope. He had grown closer to the Twi'lek since their daring SmartSoil caper at the SharTrad R&D labs, and knew she was the inspiring source of his subtly growing sense of confidence. He looked to her to be brave for the group.

"He ish a fine man, your Mishter Bruta!" Yllib-Senob barely managed through attempts at crunching down on the native nut, although the wincing of his right eye and the faintly audible cracking of his gnashers was making his struggle evident to all present. After a few more seconds of the futile fight, he bent his head forward and spat the offending article out with an unceremonious splat, spittle surrounding the nut in his orange hands. He placed it in his pocket and wiped some of the spit on his improvised seaman's garb.

"I've been hearing all sorts of news from up the rivers," he went on enthusiastically, looking from Mumin to others in their ramshackle group. "Most people aren't happy, especially around most of the herds. It's the cities we've got the biggest battle on our hands, although the Squalu aren't so convinced. I reckon they've been approached, you know, by some of these other corporations. A friend of mine that travels the Üssal River said she's seen big ships landing round Kavanu plains. Not their designs, by any stretch. Big ones. Transports and the like." His enthusiastic expression gave way to a more serious look, which he offered exclusively to Mumin. "I'm a simple man, but even I can see the likes of the folk our foes are targeting."

"I have friends among ze' Kavanu; great engineers," Jiljoo whipped her head around to the Ongree, her more weighty synthetic lek trailing slightly behind her natural one, "But zey' often do work with offworlders to get ze' parts zey' need. But surely no herds would make any deals to damage M's Aid. Certainly no Ithorians."

Mumin sat down and rested a hand wearily against the table, "Don't be so quick to assume, Jiljoo. Just as the roughest Houk may have a heart of aurodium, we Ithorians come in all shapes and sizes. You have not seen a herd rivalry in your lifetime, young girl, but... well, let's just say I have seen some extremely horrid members of my species."

"No species got a monopoly on selfishness," Yllib-Senob said in what he presumed to be a sage tone. The comment had the ring of something that he likely heard from another, and was no repurposing to what he considered to be great effect. The little self-satisfied nod he was doing only cemented that image.

"Indeed not," the matriarch Ithorian replied, now eyeing the ship captain, "You know, I wonder if you might assist us again, Mr Senob. I think it is time I spoke to Mother's Aid directly; I used to do a bit of work with them and I have some old friends there. I want to know why they appear paralysed when it comes to taking action against these corporations. Tell me, do you ever take your boat out as far as Mooko? I know I could order an airship, but I would rather not advertise my travel too much."

Mumin and her little team had stirred up a bit of trouble in recent weeks, starting with the incident at the SharTrad station, which Bruta had done his best to deflect the blame for, but extending to some other surveillance and investigative work around the local area. Just as Diplomat Thort had discerned, a number of small, unfamiliar enterprises were beginning to do trade on Öetrago and all were interested in the ongoing projects of Mother's Aid.

"I have been known to," the sailor replied proudly, puffing out his chest a little and wobbling his head happily. "And I'll go that way if the good matriarch asks it of me. However, there is another ally I think we may have forgotten in the excitement of all of this plotting and planning." Yllib-Senob glanced around at the gathered co-conspirators, a slightly incredulous upside-down look spreading over his brightly-coloured face when no-one worked it out. "Doctor Buhggs, of course! Few hate these corporations more than my good friend, Buhggs."

Llim's eyes rolled at the mere mention of that name. "Doctor Buhggs...how wonderful," he breathed with a sigh. His stereoscopic sarcasm was not lost on a single soul within earshot of his words - except perhaps Yllib.

Turning towards the young Ithorian, the Ongree's distorted face twisted into a disturbing, but still enthusiastic, smile. "Yeah, Doctor Buhggs! He's a fine scientist, and a firm friend. Just like Mister Bruta is, too. We're lucky to have such a fine brigade of upstanding folks, wouldn't you say?" He gave a friendly, hearty nudge to Llim, not even slightly picking up on the awkward character's mood about it all.

Mumin raised an eye stalk, choosing to side with Yllib's optimistic view of Llim's pessimistic one, "Yes, Doctor Buhggs is renowned for his aquatic studies for M's Aid so an introduction to him would be most useful."

"Then it iz' decided!" Jiljoo beamed, "We will all go and meet ziz' Doctor Buhggs and find ze' bad guys ruining Mother's Aid!"

The green-skinned womaan's enthusiasm was contagious and everyone in the room was soon buzzing with hopeful enthusiasm.

---

Across the waters, in Mooko city, Diplomat Thort sat at a busy café, impatiently tapping his feet as he awaited the arrival of the 'interested party' that had contacted him out of the blue yesterday to arrange a meeting. He had been intrigued when they said they could offer him a deal that would keep Mother's Aid in Öetragan hands forever. It seemed too good to be true but, as he sat here watching the minutes tick by on the large chronometer in the park space opposite, he began to feel he was being played. His days had been packed since taking on this self-appointed role as champion against offworld espionage and Senator Cosh was becoming impatient of his time away.

Just as he was about to finish his drink and leave, two smartly-dressed individuals approached him: one an unfamiliar Ithorian and the other a Toydarian, hovering along by his wings rather than walking as their species tended to prefer.

"Another drink, Diplomat Thort?" The Ithorian greeted Bruta in a baritone Basic deep even by their species' standards, taking position opposite his countryman, looming tall over the him. His skin was remarkably dark, having a thick chocolate-stained appearance to it, with odd mottling that covered much of its leathery texture. He wore what passed for an Ithorian business suit, designed in the fashion of the current Mooko trends, made of rich materials and finely woven. A small communication device rested about his auditory organs, and his manner, whilst professional, did not give off an aura of kindness.

"I am Wowron Unger, First Director of ÖetraGrow Industries," the dark-skinned Ithorian introduced himself, inclining his head slightly as he claimed his own seat, brushing down one of his suit's sleeves unnecessarily. "This is Ondo Mog, our Project Manager. Thank you for meeting with us on such vague terms. Thank you also for speaking in the Basic tongue. It is for Ondo's benefit. His ears are not so accustomed to our song."

Bruta eyed the pair warily, particularly the Ithorian, before settling back slightly, "Of course," he nodded, "Basic is as much my language as Ithorese at this point. I'll pass on another drink though, but don't let me stop you Mr Unger or Mr Mog."

The diplomat scratched his hump slightly, "That company, 'ÖetraGrow'; I can't say I've heard of it. Is that a new business? Quite a good name, though, although probably lost in the home tongue, I'm afraid."

"It tis good marketing, yes?" Mog offered his nervous attempt to broker his casual introduction, his Toydarian wings flitting up and down rapidly to maintain his hovering in place next to Unger at about shoulder level. "There's a lotta money for making up good names these days...ehh, not that I would know, heh heh."

Unger did not seem amused by either Bruta's manner or even that of his own Toydarian companion, offering both cold glances before he finally decided to speak again. He splayed his long fingers across the table in front of him, a single digit tapping rhythmically.

"ÖetraGrow is a financially solvent enterprise that has managed its business discretely and effectively for many months now," he sounded off, his tone indicating it was a mixture of a sales pitch and an obligatory explanation of his affairs. "We have a particularly talented cross-species team that specialises in the flora and fauna native to Öetrago, with our leading body nearly exclusively Ithorian - although we do not discriminate when it comes to talent." He gestured to Mog to highlight that final point. "We have developed some of the most advanced botanical and medical appliances since the conclusion of the Second Outer Rim Conflict, specialising in gene therapies and advanced adaptive xeno-horticultural treatments, which have been wildly successful on testing we have undertaken on barren and dying worlds, offered to us by our sponsors. Indeed, we benefit from a strong and favourable partnership with a number of interested and stable off-world parties, and it is our belief that our advancements, combined with the insight, infrastructure and establishment of Mother's Aid, would see our combined opportunities and success multiply tenfold - and that is merely a conservative estimate."

Finally, having said his piece, Unger withdrew his hand, interlacing its elongated digits between one another. His eyes, also several shades darker than the Ithorian norm, were fixated with an unwavering glare on Bruta. "The restoration of Ithor - and countless other worlds - is within our grasp."

Bruta sat up straighter at that comment, as most Ithorians, even the most detached from their ancient home world, would do, "Hold on, you're working on planetary restoration?" his voice indicating his clear surprise, "I have heard nothing about Öetragans working on new terraforming projects outside of Mother's Aid. What worlds have you attempted this on already? Did the atmosphere reach the threshold for viability?"

The diplomat was trying not to focus on Ithor, but the puzzle of the 'Viability Threshold' was a comment that was often brought up in regards to the notoriously Vongformed world. While numerous efforts had been made to restore the planet, none of the techniques like removing all traces of Yuuzhan Vong technology, selective re-seeding and atmosphere cleansing had succeeded in reaching the fabled 70% viability threshold that was predicted to be the point at which Ithor could once again become self-sustaining. Most people had long accepted that something deep within Ithor had been irrevocably been tainted or that the great Mother had turned away from the world.

Unger watched Bruta warily, clearly considering his options and what he could, should and would say. He turned his eyestalks to his Toydarian companion briefly, and then turned them back to the diplomat. "Our business is not managed by any government. It is too political and mired in bureaucracy," he answered, his tone a little annoyed. He did not seem to think much of the other Ithorian. "But we have close connections to Republic authorities through our benefactors and have been permitted access to worlds that have not even heard of Mother's Aid. Honoghr, for instance. Life blooms once more, under the watchful gaze of Ithorian overseers - although much work still needs to be done."

The final comment was vague regarding figures and details, very purposely, it would seem, but Unger kept a steely gazed locked onto Bruta.

Bruta wrenched himself from his near-dreamy state, imagining the possibility of ÖetraGrow's planetary restoration if Honoghr, a world ravaged by a toxin released during the ancient Clone Wars, could be resurrected, then perhaps Ithor could too. He made a note to look into Honoghr before returning to the point that concerned him, "You say you have Republic connections," his voice became more dry, "I have heard others make similar comments and it often meant the same thing: GalactaWerks."

Bruta spread his hands as though laying down a hand of Sabaac, "You wouldn't happen to be representing their interests, would you? Because you must be aware that I am currently embroiled in a battle to keep offworld influence from Öetragan enterprises, particularly the charitable institutions, such as M's Aid."

Unger scowled and exchanged a brief look with Mog again. "I represent Öetrago's interests," he rebuked, "like yourself. However, it is me and a selection of Ithorians that manage our enterprise - not aliens or besuited politicians. The finance, interest and investment I receive from other groups is purely in the interest of development, with galactic considerations at hand." Unger's eyes narrowed on Bruta. "We are not so narrow-minded to let political persuasions interfere with the welfare of Ithor and the Third Republic." His voice became an octave lower. "GalactaWerks works in all fields. To escape it completely is impossible, and would seal you off from opportunity. It need not mean they pull the strings."

Bruta sat back and took a deep look at the well-dressed Ithorian before him. The man's dark leathery skin was certainly Ithorian, but he wondered what Herd he hailed from, if he had a Herd at all, "I'm not sure if you are selling me a line or if you genuinely believe that. Either way, it will not change my mind about GalactaWerks: they do not work in half measures - they either control it or they intend to control it and such a plague must not take route here as it has in so much of Republic space."

He shot a brief glance over to Mog before settling back on Unger, "I am sorry if that sets us at odds. I am usually a man of compromise, but I also know when to draw a line in the dirt and this is one of those times in our history."

Unger glowered, his expression dark and menacing. After a few seconds of grim silence, he spoke again, baritone deep and tone scathing. "You are a fool, Bruta Thort. A naive, idealistic fool, and it is your kind that will doom Ithorians to the footnotes of history." He nodded to his companion and rose from his chair with surprising speed. "Fortunately, there are those of us bold enough to not surrender the future on a whim so easily, and with the friends to support them. This is not the end, diplomat."

Not waiting for any further response, the dark-skinned businessman trotted away from Bruta and the table, his Toydarian ally hovering alongside him.

Bruta scowled slightly as he focused on Unger's back as he walked away. Some primal part of him wanted to charge after him with his full weight and mow him down as the pre-historic members of his species would have done to defeat an opposing herd. But the weight of his civility and intelligence kept him in his seat.

So, the enemy now has a face and a name, he thought, Wowron Unger and Ondo Mog of Öetragro. Or, in other words, more puppets of GalataWerks. They must not succeed.

TBC

 

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