Underground, in the sewers of Antarctica, avoiding too much surveillance.
"Foul play, I can't believe the trickster Zanabodl did!" Han-Cho was pissed walking along. "There wouldn't be buyers in Uzbekistan, now that fringe peddler ran off right under our noses."
"He is clever, yes, but he was desperate," Brogan said. "Don't always claim that he lied... the answer, he probably knew not, so he made it up."
"We compressed his veins, smashed him to the ground, made him pay for that little girl, yet he played us!" Han-Cho angered. "And Derrace let him run away."
DERRACE THEN PINNED HAN-CHO TO THE WALL.
"What's done is done! All of us were at fault, you included nonetheless!" Derrace pointed his neck
"Miss, Mister," Brogan calmed. "The ladder is just fronts away. Behave, shall we?" Brogan commended.
Derrace let go, and they proceed the walk.
"Come on, you two. People against us always play personally," Orama reminded.
They climbed up the ladder to Rasadonse la Kngkrta, the very residence of Mīlqārt, the President of Antarctica, who had waited thirty minutes warming up himself.
"President Mīlqārt," Brogan greeted and bowed.
"Brogan," President Mīlqārt said. "So," he noticed the other three joining Brogan. "Tololhisss ippsss tololhooe mukgōei yaiaioyyu lllead? (In Antrk: This is the division you lead?)"
"What most of them are, yes," Brogan said.
"Attnaad wrrhwwy ippsn'tatat yaiaioueer galryoshks llleadeeer henenere? (In Antrk: And why isn't your glorious leader here?)" President Mīlqārt asked.
"Wrrell, lllikooe yaiaiou, Nyāwen Kngkrta, noota poorofile, henenooe henenasss tololoran kaaeep, attnaad ippsss ummnablooe tololoran muuovooe poolacesss (In Antrk: Well, like you, Mr. President, a profile, he has to keep, and is unable to move places)" Brogan said.
"Pity him," President Mīlqārt toasted.
"Saaoran... doooineeg wrrell, attrooe yaiaiou? (In Antrk: So... doing well, are you?)" Brogan asked.
"Muuwwy tololimooe ippsss cwwonstrainudd, saaleep, efai rininequirooe (In Antrk: My time is constrained, sleep, I require)" President Mīlqārt reminded. "What do you want?"
"We need resources," Brogan stated.
"Ippiif yaiaioyyu wrrantatat effveaan noota saainglooe cwwoiaan figigroeem muuooe... Efai wrrilool noootatat gaaivooe ipptatat tololoran yaiaioyyu tolololimoooe ipppssss cwwwonstrained, saaaleep, effaai rinininequiroooe (In Antrk: If you want even a single coin from me... I will not give it to you)"
"Ottpph nooo, muuonewwy ippsss fiat, beeutatat ippnformation, tololhat'sss noota cwwommoditwwy wrrooe nooeeaad (In Antrk: Oh no, money is fiat, but information, that's a commodity we need)" Brogan said.
"Attnaad yaiaioyyu cwwamooe henenerooe effxpectineeg muuooe tololoran kaanorrw ippnformation? (In Antrk: And you came here expecting me to know information?)" he asked.
"Yaiaioyyu attrooe noota llleadeeer ottiif noota nooation, attnaad yaiaioyyu henenavooe noota viierwwy poorestigiousss saaeat, henenelwewep ummsss gaaivooe saaomethineeg (In Antrk: You are a leader of a nation, and you have a very prestigious seat, help us give something)" Brogan requested.
"Attnaad wrrhwwy saahalool efi?! (In Antrk: And why shall I?!)" he questioned. "Bōngbōng, tololhooe beeetteeer quuuestioaan ippsss... wrrhwwy muuustatat efi? (In Antrk: Actually, the better question is... why must I?)"
YOU ARE READING
Tales from the Former Universe
Science FictionThe tales and the lives that once filled a former universe of two teenage friends against the world, a new mother conceiving her adolescent orphaned son, a willful space scientist, a petty man of the rebellion, and a typical middle-class couple, to...
