Post by EmperorMyric on Dec 16, 2017 19:06:43 GMT
There is a house in New Orleans
They call the Rising Son
And it’s been the ruin of many a poor boy
And God, I know
I’m one.
-House of the Rising Sun. And yes, I know I changed the “son” in the lyrics. I thought it could be interesting.
--oOo--
Yashimota had come home to find that home was not. Home was still there, of course, but everything else had changed, and as he looked through the darkened doorway of his suite, a feeling of sadness overcame him. Perhaps this was not home any longer.
His apartment had been a thing of beauty. Long, elegant, deceptively organic curves rose and blended into one wall and merged them smoothly with the next in a strangely seductive manner. The architect who he had commissioned to furnish his apartment had had a thing with curves, much as Yashimota had had a thing with the architect’s wife; incidentally, Yashimota thought as the computer at last recognized his biosignature and began reengaging the apartment’s lights and inner functions, the architect’s wife had been a thing with curves as well.
It had been seven months since the Immortal Empire had attacked Exceion.
“Welcome back, Mr. Yashimota,” the house greeted him. It sounded like the architect’s wife, much to the architect’s horror when he’d come to receive the final payment for his masterpiece. “I regret to report that there has been some damage since you were last home.”
It was, truth be told, minor damage. The far window, which normally gave a stunning view of the northern sea, was covered in a thick layer of soot and ash and dust. As he began to move through the house, he took a quiet inventory of what had been lost; a Ming Dynasty vase had been knocked off its pedestal by the earthquakes caused by the enemy’s bombardment, and several of his equally ancient katanas had fallen from their display mounts on the wall; one had rather ironically impaled his couch. The damage was minor, but it was still there, and it hurt.
While Yashimota triggered the house’s cleaning systems, he thought about his job. Up until two weeks ago, he had been escorting his ever illusive superior through Halcyon Dynamic’s assets in his sector, and this had been a substantial task. Halcyon Dynamics was growing rapidly with impressive zeal and shrewdness. In the years before the attack on Exceion, they had acquired three of the top ten producers of ceramics and semi-ceramic materials, assets whose values exploded when ceramics were revealed to be a key component in counter-Vexation protection. They had then quite promptly sold their shares at high prices, furthering Halcyon’s wealth.
Two days after they sold their shares, news of a vaccination was released, and those company’s stocks dropped 90% in value. Yashimota smiled slightly in appreciation for how shrewd his employers were. They must have fingers and ears everywhere, he thought.
“Sakai!” He commanded loudly, and a soft beep replied to his voice, indicating that the command had been received. He collapsed onto his sofa next to the katana, and after gazing upon it for a moment extracted it from his furniture and laid it flat upon his lap, before restlessly picking it up. Gently he tapped the coffee table with the tip of the blade, pulling up news articles, stock reports and business transactions pertaining to his lines of work. They appeared on the far wall, and as he slowly twisted the handle around in his hand, he thought and learned.
Halcyon Dynamics was growing, spreading widely and quite impressively. They were the 4th largest shipping contractor in the Union of Worlds now, and his sources suggested that they were close to purchasing controlling shares of the third largest. As the robot slowly floated towards him with his cup of sakai, he furthermore noticed that they were now rapidly buying shares and patents pertaining to portable reactors.
Yashimota made an abrupt movement as he slid the katana under the cup on the robot’s tray, temporarily causing it to halt as it reassessed the situation. Smoothly, he tilted the blade with moderation, until the cup slid down its length and into his waiting hand.
As he took a sip of it, he wondered what fingers and ears had lead to those acquisitions. He did not expect at all that Halcyon Dynamics was a clean company, in any sense of the word. His background emphasized this; a clean company does not find “Yakuza” to be a excellent citation on a resume. Yet here he was, sector director for dozens of planets and many, many ships, once before only a humble hitman. Then again, strange things tended to happen to those in his profession.
As he sipped his drink, he thought about how odd it was that the chief executive office had wanted to see his guests, but not him. He did not complain, but it was interesting. They had their own connections and their own past, and it intersected with his own connections and his own past rather remarkably. What he would have given, he thought as he finished off the cup, to have been a fly on the wall of that particular room.
Setting the cup down he unbuttoned his top collar and rose from the couch, the katana still limply held in his hand. Though not tense, it was a practiced pose, and he moved with gradual grace towards the glass wall, well covered in soot and ash.
“Open door, rear balcony.” He said softly, and imperceptible seams formed in the soot covered glass as the door separated and silently slid out of place; roughly half a foot of ash spilled over into the chamber, and with a sigh he summoned a servant bot to clean the mess up. He stepped out on the balcony, his feet and the tip of the katana sinking into the porous ash with equal depth.
Factories were rising in front of him now, and the sky was constantly red. The pollutants in the atmosphere accomplished the colour, but they were more the work of the Dark City’s enemies than the factories were. Environmentalists calculated it could take close to half a century before the debris from the impact was fully reabsorbed into the environment, and they were rallying against the new factories with terror. He knew this because they were also rallying against Halcyon Dynamics, for they were among the many industrial corporations vying for new plants on Exceion. They had already begun construction on a new munitions plant here, as the Tenebraens had tax incentives for militarized goods to be produced on this planet. It was a matter of pride for them that the goods of Exceion could be used against those who had so terribly hurt that world.
Yashimota stood on the balcony, watching the world turn.
They call the Rising Son
And it’s been the ruin of many a poor boy
And God, I know
I’m one.
-House of the Rising Sun. And yes, I know I changed the “son” in the lyrics. I thought it could be interesting.
--oOo--
Yashimota had come home to find that home was not. Home was still there, of course, but everything else had changed, and as he looked through the darkened doorway of his suite, a feeling of sadness overcame him. Perhaps this was not home any longer.
His apartment had been a thing of beauty. Long, elegant, deceptively organic curves rose and blended into one wall and merged them smoothly with the next in a strangely seductive manner. The architect who he had commissioned to furnish his apartment had had a thing with curves, much as Yashimota had had a thing with the architect’s wife; incidentally, Yashimota thought as the computer at last recognized his biosignature and began reengaging the apartment’s lights and inner functions, the architect’s wife had been a thing with curves as well.
It had been seven months since the Immortal Empire had attacked Exceion.
“Welcome back, Mr. Yashimota,” the house greeted him. It sounded like the architect’s wife, much to the architect’s horror when he’d come to receive the final payment for his masterpiece. “I regret to report that there has been some damage since you were last home.”
It was, truth be told, minor damage. The far window, which normally gave a stunning view of the northern sea, was covered in a thick layer of soot and ash and dust. As he began to move through the house, he took a quiet inventory of what had been lost; a Ming Dynasty vase had been knocked off its pedestal by the earthquakes caused by the enemy’s bombardment, and several of his equally ancient katanas had fallen from their display mounts on the wall; one had rather ironically impaled his couch. The damage was minor, but it was still there, and it hurt.
While Yashimota triggered the house’s cleaning systems, he thought about his job. Up until two weeks ago, he had been escorting his ever illusive superior through Halcyon Dynamic’s assets in his sector, and this had been a substantial task. Halcyon Dynamics was growing rapidly with impressive zeal and shrewdness. In the years before the attack on Exceion, they had acquired three of the top ten producers of ceramics and semi-ceramic materials, assets whose values exploded when ceramics were revealed to be a key component in counter-Vexation protection. They had then quite promptly sold their shares at high prices, furthering Halcyon’s wealth.
Two days after they sold their shares, news of a vaccination was released, and those company’s stocks dropped 90% in value. Yashimota smiled slightly in appreciation for how shrewd his employers were. They must have fingers and ears everywhere, he thought.
“Sakai!” He commanded loudly, and a soft beep replied to his voice, indicating that the command had been received. He collapsed onto his sofa next to the katana, and after gazing upon it for a moment extracted it from his furniture and laid it flat upon his lap, before restlessly picking it up. Gently he tapped the coffee table with the tip of the blade, pulling up news articles, stock reports and business transactions pertaining to his lines of work. They appeared on the far wall, and as he slowly twisted the handle around in his hand, he thought and learned.
Halcyon Dynamics was growing, spreading widely and quite impressively. They were the 4th largest shipping contractor in the Union of Worlds now, and his sources suggested that they were close to purchasing controlling shares of the third largest. As the robot slowly floated towards him with his cup of sakai, he furthermore noticed that they were now rapidly buying shares and patents pertaining to portable reactors.
Yashimota made an abrupt movement as he slid the katana under the cup on the robot’s tray, temporarily causing it to halt as it reassessed the situation. Smoothly, he tilted the blade with moderation, until the cup slid down its length and into his waiting hand.
As he took a sip of it, he wondered what fingers and ears had lead to those acquisitions. He did not expect at all that Halcyon Dynamics was a clean company, in any sense of the word. His background emphasized this; a clean company does not find “Yakuza” to be a excellent citation on a resume. Yet here he was, sector director for dozens of planets and many, many ships, once before only a humble hitman. Then again, strange things tended to happen to those in his profession.
As he sipped his drink, he thought about how odd it was that the chief executive office had wanted to see his guests, but not him. He did not complain, but it was interesting. They had their own connections and their own past, and it intersected with his own connections and his own past rather remarkably. What he would have given, he thought as he finished off the cup, to have been a fly on the wall of that particular room.
Setting the cup down he unbuttoned his top collar and rose from the couch, the katana still limply held in his hand. Though not tense, it was a practiced pose, and he moved with gradual grace towards the glass wall, well covered in soot and ash.
“Open door, rear balcony.” He said softly, and imperceptible seams formed in the soot covered glass as the door separated and silently slid out of place; roughly half a foot of ash spilled over into the chamber, and with a sigh he summoned a servant bot to clean the mess up. He stepped out on the balcony, his feet and the tip of the katana sinking into the porous ash with equal depth.
Factories were rising in front of him now, and the sky was constantly red. The pollutants in the atmosphere accomplished the colour, but they were more the work of the Dark City’s enemies than the factories were. Environmentalists calculated it could take close to half a century before the debris from the impact was fully reabsorbed into the environment, and they were rallying against the new factories with terror. He knew this because they were also rallying against Halcyon Dynamics, for they were among the many industrial corporations vying for new plants on Exceion. They had already begun construction on a new munitions plant here, as the Tenebraens had tax incentives for militarized goods to be produced on this planet. It was a matter of pride for them that the goods of Exceion could be used against those who had so terribly hurt that world.
Yashimota stood on the balcony, watching the world turn.