Outer Olympus

Outer Olympus: Chapter 4

The Magistrate's office of Maintenance Six had fallen into the hands of Malcolm Paradigm through a chance opportunity. A decade ago, when the Outer Olympus Rebellion had been at the height of its power and the Crown Prince was rallying his forces to put down the rebellion, Malcolm had been a regional administrator for a supply depot under the Ministry of the Present on Quilst. Knowing the fleet needed quartermasters to oversee the supply lines of the campaign Malcolm had talked his way onto a supply ship accompanying the fleet, cognisant of the fact that the Ministry of the Present wanted favour with the Prince. Things had gotten dicey immediately, as the campaign had gone far worse than the Hegemony expected, with the rebels adopting a strategy of targeting the Hegemony fleet's supply lines rather than engaging with the fleet directly. Malcolm had seized an opportunity when Maintenance Six was retaken, and became responsible for its use as a logistics station for the war effort. When the dust settled, everyone who had been in line to take over running it was dead, so his appointment of Magistrate- a position that came with orders of magnitude more power and wealth then his former job with the Ministry of the Present- had been a quiet and uncontested affair. He had, at the time of his ascension, considered this to be an outstanding success on his part, rising beyond what he could ever have believed possible for himself.

A decade of power and opulence had heightened his ambitions, however. His power had grown exponentially - the mineral wealth of the planet Rockwater which the station orbited required Maintenance Six's logistical support to be exported, which meant he controlled a lynchpin in an economic system worth hundreds of billions of credits a year. Malcolm had people in all stages of this pipeline who owed him favors; he had pull in regional governments, corporate alliances, and he had even managed to get his son Marcus trained in the Lightbringer Arts, something he hoped would give their family name more sway and broader influence to attain his current goal- the establishment of Maintenance Six as its own Barony. A cylinder colony becoming a Barony wasn't particularly rare- Horus Station, just a single gate away, was a prominent one, but the process of making his station important enough to petition for this status had been long and hard.

And so, Malcolm Paradigm sat in the most luxurious room for hundreds of thousands of miles, surrounded by furniture imported from the Imperial core, handcrafted marble statuary encrusted with gold filigree, a state-of-the-art communications system that rivaled that of the wealthiest corporate arrays, and yet all he could think about was how much he did not have. Until, of course, his petty plotting was interrupted by a call on that expensive comm system of his. It started with a simple, familiar beep, which indicated a message from his secretary. He ignored it for a second, before a second louder beep indicated the message was urgent. He sighed, and paused his composition of a letter to Kestia Hyperion before pressing the button to receive the call.

"Sir," came the voice of January Jade, a reliable woman he had recruited a few years ago who had served him loyally and well. "You have a call from Specialist Major Ramnousia Vestal." He winced. It was never a good sign to get an unexpected call from a high-ranking officer one had never heard of; that type of encounter that could only lead to trouble.

"I don't have an appointment with her. Tell her to schedule something," he said dismissively. A Specialist Major was someone of significance, but generally, not someone that important to a man like him who frequently talked to Admirals.

"Sir, she says it's a VISOR Priority Two call," Jade clarified, and Malcolm's blood went ice cold. He grit his teeth for a moment, then nodded to nobody in particular, as Jade had no visual feed on him.

"Fine. Put her through," he said, after a few seconds of worried calculation. In a moment, the holographic form of the Specialist-Major appeared in front of him. She was a woman in her early thirties, with long, white hair flowing around her, marking the transmission as coming from a location without gravity. She carried her weightlessness with composure and practiced elegance, an effortless comfort that only came with a life full of long voyages and careful attention to one's bearing. Her dignified air made him second guess his assumption she was not nobility- the name Vestal was not a familiar one, but there were hundreds of minor noble houses he had never heard of. Her uniform was that of a VISOR operative, with an additional rank badge indicating a small degree of naval authority. Her face was in an impatient sneer as she appeared, but this relaxed almost immediately, her eyes looking him over with detached attention.

"Magistrate Paradigm," she greeted him, little emotion in her voice. He nodded politely, clearing his throat a little.

"Specialist-Major. I imagine there is a reason you have called with such urgency?" He asked, not hiding his displeasure. Even if this was an important call, there was no reason to let her think he was someone who could just be pushed around. He had expected her to have some measure of annoyance at being treated like this: generally anyone with any authority thinks they are the most important person in the world, and any level of disrespect to that authority tends to frustrate them, which was his goal. Let her think he was an obstacle enough that she might do something for him to get what she wants. She, however, smiled at his words.

"A somewhat last-minute change of plans," she said, with the air of someone discussing a shift to a plan made to eat with a friend. "My task force will be using Maintenance Six as our base of operations for anti-insurgency operations following the recent rebel attacks in the system." Her casual words might as well have been a hammer slung at his skull.

"I was promised by Captain Leval there would be no need for-'' he angrily got to his feet, slamming his hands on the table defiantly, part of him knowing this explosive display was a mistake in tactics- he needed to project an air of control, not erupt in fury. Vestal's smile moved just a centimeter in satisfaction.

"Captain Leval made that promise before his forces failed to apprehend the rebel forces my own task group drove away," Vestal replied, her smile fading a little. He could sense a genuine bitterness about this failure- she must have been counting on him. "As a result, the situation has become increasingly precarious." Slowly, the anger in the Magistrate drained into defeat. Leval had been a powerful ally, someone he had cultivated a relationship with for years. The idea that the man- a competent officer, by all indications, had simply failed in such a catastrophic way that this alliance might mean nothing was something he had never even considered. He now found himself with extremely limited options; even his plans for the worst case scenario hadn't imagined something like this. He slumped into his chair.

"So, you're strong-arming me into supporting you," he said matter of factly, no longer having the energy to choose his words for the pretense of the conversation being anything other than the power play it was.

"A loyal servant of the Hegemony should be enthusiastic to aid in the eradication of its enemies," she said with a smile. Her voice had the cruel enjoyment of a child picking the wings off a butterfly- she had him defeated, but she was playing with her food a little.

Good.

"I will give you whatever aid I can. But I cannot have you disrupting operations on this station beyond what I deem reasonable." He had one last card to play, something she seemed to be neglecting. Vestal's eyes rolled, his defiance no longer interesting now that she thought she had him pinned.

"Magistrate, if you insist on impeding my operations so you can line your pockets with your petty commerce," she began, then faltered at his smile.

"This station is a vital part of the supply chain for the Stylus Shipyards," he explained, letting his face fall into a grin. "If you want to contact fleet command and tell them their next shipment of destroyers will be delayed, be my guest." It didn't matter what connections she had, or he had for that matter, it was a simple fact that a significant disruption to the military supply chain was a bigger issue than she'd be able to overcome. He could see the displeasure at the realization on her face. She took several seconds to compose herself before she spoke.

"I'd be careful how far you push your luck, Magistrate. There are stakes in play worth more than a few destroyers," she said. An obvious bluff. If she believed that she'd take action, not threaten him.

"I find that hard to believe," he replied with a smirk.

"Because people like you don't get to see the big picture," she growled. "Some of my agents will be joining you soon to brief you on the specifics. I expect your full cooperation." The hologram vanished before he could retort, and he frowned. Did she already have agents on his station?