Credible Prime

Aster

Aster held court in a dingy back alley
hall full of rubble, rustic devices and one ornate desk that amply filled her sitting area. Aster herself was the embodiment of all of these things, a hooded figure, bent crooked and hobbling across her dimly lit abode. She wore the ornate yet tattered robes of royalty gone sour so many generations ago. She was once part of the Guild of Elders, aide to the Ancient, who's directives drove commerce and industry throughout the Vast. That was before conflict drove the wedge of wedges between Seekers and the Yend. Her race gave her extraordinary abilities to tap into a sliding component of space-time and aptly envision time's past and future. Her accuracy was astounding and as such her counsel was requested by many a conniving status seeker. After the Guild of Elders scattered across the Vast she made her living as an advisor to captains of industry, politics and even crime. But in the end, thanks to her formidable talents and the desire for nearly every faction in society known across the expanse to weaponize her, she retreated to a humble existence on Kalus, awaiting a moment she had always foreseen.

Now she was a trader, a clairvoyant, using once great talents to help desperate customers locate lost trinkets, find scorned lovers and divine the location of all manner of misplaced artifacts. She was biding her time and she knew this. But few other people understood. Aster was a legend among them, shrouded in the din of her hovel. Her exploits were chronicled in every text from worlds across the Vast. But even those who sought her employ here in her dusty little den amid the junked carcasses of bygone freighters that cobbled together her insignificant village, even they did not know she was the Oracle of the ancients, member of The Guild of Elders and keeper of Kalfate.

Today she held court with Maxum, a crime boss of the most notorious gang on Kalus. Today Maxum was in a particularly foul mood.

He traveled by way of a levi-chair since his ample size was far too much to permit him to crawl as his species was intended. The chair was a throne-sized shrine to his salacious trade and he hovered right in front of Aster's junk strewn table demanding answers. His voice bellowed.

" I have asked you for weeks to locate that scumbag Kreed of the Mercs of Kalfate and your abilities have conjured up last locations and possible sightings. I grow tired of the lack of results and when I grow tired people die!"

Aster was unfazed by the threat. In fact she was more resolute after his threat, as if it strengthened her and amped up her courage.
She spoke:
" You act as if my abilities are like some tracking device that pinpoints the beacon of one's ship or a lost satchel. It's a nuanced way to make contact and it takes time. I employ methods you would never understand. Kill me if you must but you'll never get your precious Kreed of Kalfate. I'm far too old anyway".

Then, as swiftly as a trained fighter, Aster- with an acrobatic movement that betrayed her demure posture- somersaulted across Maxum's lap ( if it can be called that) an emerged out of a radical handspring grasping his blaster. She held it to his head.

Maxum sighed. " Again with the pirouettes? Will that little stunt ever cease to reside in your arsenal of tricks?"

" Will you ever cease to be a sluggish excuse for a gangster?" She retorted.
"Your prize will be delivered at its most convenient".

Then the door swung open. In the threshold stood Krux, Kreed, and the flank of mercs that helped them navigate the village. Aster turned to Maxum and smiled.

"You certainly are proud of yourself aren't you?" Maxum snorted as Aster giggled gleefully. He turned to Kreed.
"Finally! Right into my hands!"

" Those are hands?" Kreed replied with breath sauteed in sarcasm. "Maxie, old swindler, what could you possibly want with me?

"Denial will get you dead, Kreed", Maxum roared. " You have long promised me results! Answers about Kalfate! But all I do is repair that ship of yours and feed your band of layabouts while you traipse across the Expanse bouncing from dead end to dead end!"

He slapped his enormous paw on the junked up table. It made a splattering noise like a wet slab of meat falling from the sky. The table flipped over, trash and trinkets clattering across the floor. Reflexively, Kreed crouched and threw up his arms to guard his face and head. He'd seen too many times, heard too many stories about what happens during a Maxum tantrum. The mobster seemed amused at Kreed's reaction. He chortled like an animal.

"The great Kreed of Kalfate flinching at a loud noise! You are no warrior,boy!"

Kreed reached into his pocket and pulled out an object that instantly drained the wickedness from Maxum's face. He held it up so that Maxum could see it in the dim light.

The gangster was transfixed, and awestruck . " Where did you get that?"

Kreed turned to Krux and gave him a little nod.

" This is Krux Koda", he said. " And he knows all the answers."

Maxum was a slackjawed. His mouth moved wordlessly. Aster laughed.