Post by Romando07 on Oct 18, 2021 18:45:41 GMT
Malaak
Slums of Artikos, 07:00 local time
Hartan wasted no time, waking up as early as he could given his destroyed sleep schedule, getting dressed up casually and taking a ciggie as he listened in on the local radio news. of course he got the info slightly before hand due to his connections within Department of Communication and Information, but it would be interesting to hear what the host had to say nonetheless;
“Welcome to Mornings with Santian, here today with exclusive breaking news-”
Of course they would take advantage of living in some of the most liberal areas on the planet, with the media having some freedom from being watched as closely, at least by the local government.
“-stories of spiking suicide rates across distant and, if rumours are true, extremely important to the economy of a region known as ‘Killian Verge’ world of Natar,...”
Hartan got into his car and quickly found himself stuck in a traffic jam on his way to work, starting to wonder about the actual state of the galaxy, information about which hardly comes readily available to ordinary citizens on Malaak. Trying to ignore the sounds of an active shootout a few streets down, Hartan started to think about the prospect of moving to one of the newer colonies, away from Malaak, away from this…
“Black market activity and gang wars have skyrocketed in several countries as local gangs clash with each other for control of those sites that offer buying illegal shares in Malcorp, a company which promises to let their clients participate in the wider galactic market, free from ‘certain groups of people watching over them at all times’...”
Trying to hear more interesting news, he had changed the station and now listened to an elderly grumpy woman explain what the Crash of 77 meant for ordinary people. Seems like other news broadcasting groups prepared the interviews ahead of time.
“...To conclude, most of us won’t feel anything change. We as individuals are isolated from the rest of the galaxy for now and have nothing to fear from the fallout of this economic disaster…”
That's all that mattered to Hartan. He switched the station again before realising another car had bumped into him, it’s driver screaming and cursing at him while pointing to the wide open road ahead.
He sighed, and pressed on with his day as normal.
_________________________________________________________________________
Santara
Landing site Psi-2, 14:00 local time
Walking into the conference room, Anna wasn’t expecting much, but now that she was actually here and listening to all the new ideas and potential, she couldn’t stop thinking about all the possibilities and future plans that came with them. Being the regional manager of all Nova Front holdings on this quickly growing planet came with many expectations and work, but also leeway to do things her way. With the news of Market Crash of 77 reaching the colonies few days ago, several different non-competing companies came together to organise a conference on which they will lay out their plans for the upcoming months to best utilize the current situation; immense drop in ancerium prices and economic downturn that affected others, but not them. So far several good ideas were raised, plans that even relatively unstable, new and still rising companies could proceed with. After all, when someone goes into red, another one goes into black.
She was so glad that private talks between CEOs of their companies last year managed to result in a deal with a swath of leaders in more democratic and liberal nations to gain the right to colonise under the condition that they would answer only to Departments, in exchange for a cut from the profits to the families of the leaders who agreed to the deal.
With a new era of colonization upon Malaaks and The Council’s incentives, demands for ancerium for Malaaks had skyrocketed, quickly becoming the most demanded good on the market. With imports being impossible due to The Council’s restrictions and a permanent “gentle blockade of and watching over” all colonies and Malaak itself, as well as any deep space stations. Every ship, drone, satellite and person going to space were accounted for and tracked at all times, and leaving authorized space for even a bit was punishable by ‘disappearance’ as others called it, making any contact with the outside world impossible, and ancerium unobtainable, dooming the private companies to failure.
Or at least everyone thought so.
But then, came Malcorp. A bunch of unknown mad people with a death wish managed to set up a secure server and establish a way of trading with the outside world “Our money for your transactions.” Pretty terrible as far as company catchphrases went in her opinion, but it didn’t matter. Although they took a quite painful 30% cut from every transaction, it was the only way for people to do business of any kind with others in the galaxy without being killed by the regime.
Nova Front and other companies struck an exclusive deal where they would use Malcorp to buy ancerium en masse and store it at a secure location from where Malcorp would take it and deliver to one of their colonies over the span of two months or whenever the opportunity presented itself. In exchange, they will charge extra and harvest data about the colonies provided by Nova Front.
This was of course a closely guarded secret that would cost them all their heads if it was found out, something that kept her awake every night thus far, but it would be worth it. With deliveries from Malcorp, they controlled the price of ancerium and with it the whole private sector of colonizing the new worlds.
Now she took another sip of her sixth cup of coffee today and tried to pay attention.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Loyalist Space
Utvrda
“Anthony brought a pack of cold ones to celebrate!” Tomyelled as he bursted through Sam’s door without knocking as usual.
“Sam this was the best idea of your entire life I'm telling you! Malcorp is a huge success!”
“Yes Tom but please… I'm dead tired. Can you calm down?”
Tom was obviously a bit tipsy, but tried his best to stay quiet even though he wasn’t successful.
“Duuuude, you even got Leo himself to come over and congratulate you! That's as good as if Raok himself gave you a high five!”
That was true, and Sam was feeling quite proud of himself. Although he was just an accountant with an interest in the IT sector, he managed with help of Tom and others to create the biggest success at making fat stacks for their cause, right under the Council's nose. The idea for it came while randomly drawing a caricature of Tom one day, and they have been working tirelessly at it ever since, for two entire weeks. He still remembers explaining it to Leo;
“It works quite simply, really. We have a bunch of unused cargo space on that wreck of a space station and infinite storage potential on the planet, and we are sufficiently far away from The Council to have nothing to fear. We will use our ability to communicate with the outside world through proxies and third parties to trade on behalf of the people back home on Malaak and charge extra for the ability to not commit suicide with three gunshot to the back of the head after buying stocks from the galactic trade market. It's simple, we will be fully in control at all times, and we can manipulate the prices.”
His fond memory of watching their leader’s face light up with excitement, and then hearing that their plan was approved, was however interrupted by Anthony coming into the room, visibly drunk, and falling on the sofa while struggling to keep his eyes open.
“Dude.” Tom said to Sam “I don’t care if you are tired, our idea is working and we need YOU drunk and out partying with us, at least for a few hours. It’s your day off after all.”
Reluctantly, Sam agreed and took a sip of water before standing up and dragging Anthony out of the room together with Tom.
He did deserve a drink.
Slums of Artikos, 07:00 local time
Hartan wasted no time, waking up as early as he could given his destroyed sleep schedule, getting dressed up casually and taking a ciggie as he listened in on the local radio news. of course he got the info slightly before hand due to his connections within Department of Communication and Information, but it would be interesting to hear what the host had to say nonetheless;
“Welcome to Mornings with Santian, here today with exclusive breaking news-”
Of course they would take advantage of living in some of the most liberal areas on the planet, with the media having some freedom from being watched as closely, at least by the local government.
“-stories of spiking suicide rates across distant and, if rumours are true, extremely important to the economy of a region known as ‘Killian Verge’ world of Natar,...”
Hartan got into his car and quickly found himself stuck in a traffic jam on his way to work, starting to wonder about the actual state of the galaxy, information about which hardly comes readily available to ordinary citizens on Malaak. Trying to ignore the sounds of an active shootout a few streets down, Hartan started to think about the prospect of moving to one of the newer colonies, away from Malaak, away from this…
“Black market activity and gang wars have skyrocketed in several countries as local gangs clash with each other for control of those sites that offer buying illegal shares in Malcorp, a company which promises to let their clients participate in the wider galactic market, free from ‘certain groups of people watching over them at all times’...”
Trying to hear more interesting news, he had changed the station and now listened to an elderly grumpy woman explain what the Crash of 77 meant for ordinary people. Seems like other news broadcasting groups prepared the interviews ahead of time.
“...To conclude, most of us won’t feel anything change. We as individuals are isolated from the rest of the galaxy for now and have nothing to fear from the fallout of this economic disaster…”
That's all that mattered to Hartan. He switched the station again before realising another car had bumped into him, it’s driver screaming and cursing at him while pointing to the wide open road ahead.
He sighed, and pressed on with his day as normal.
_________________________________________________________________________
Santara
Landing site Psi-2, 14:00 local time
Walking into the conference room, Anna wasn’t expecting much, but now that she was actually here and listening to all the new ideas and potential, she couldn’t stop thinking about all the possibilities and future plans that came with them. Being the regional manager of all Nova Front holdings on this quickly growing planet came with many expectations and work, but also leeway to do things her way. With the news of Market Crash of 77 reaching the colonies few days ago, several different non-competing companies came together to organise a conference on which they will lay out their plans for the upcoming months to best utilize the current situation; immense drop in ancerium prices and economic downturn that affected others, but not them. So far several good ideas were raised, plans that even relatively unstable, new and still rising companies could proceed with. After all, when someone goes into red, another one goes into black.
She was so glad that private talks between CEOs of their companies last year managed to result in a deal with a swath of leaders in more democratic and liberal nations to gain the right to colonise under the condition that they would answer only to Departments, in exchange for a cut from the profits to the families of the leaders who agreed to the deal.
With a new era of colonization upon Malaaks and The Council’s incentives, demands for ancerium for Malaaks had skyrocketed, quickly becoming the most demanded good on the market. With imports being impossible due to The Council’s restrictions and a permanent “gentle blockade of and watching over” all colonies and Malaak itself, as well as any deep space stations. Every ship, drone, satellite and person going to space were accounted for and tracked at all times, and leaving authorized space for even a bit was punishable by ‘disappearance’ as others called it, making any contact with the outside world impossible, and ancerium unobtainable, dooming the private companies to failure.
Or at least everyone thought so.
But then, came Malcorp. A bunch of unknown mad people with a death wish managed to set up a secure server and establish a way of trading with the outside world “Our money for your transactions.” Pretty terrible as far as company catchphrases went in her opinion, but it didn’t matter. Although they took a quite painful 30% cut from every transaction, it was the only way for people to do business of any kind with others in the galaxy without being killed by the regime.
Nova Front and other companies struck an exclusive deal where they would use Malcorp to buy ancerium en masse and store it at a secure location from where Malcorp would take it and deliver to one of their colonies over the span of two months or whenever the opportunity presented itself. In exchange, they will charge extra and harvest data about the colonies provided by Nova Front.
This was of course a closely guarded secret that would cost them all their heads if it was found out, something that kept her awake every night thus far, but it would be worth it. With deliveries from Malcorp, they controlled the price of ancerium and with it the whole private sector of colonizing the new worlds.
Now she took another sip of her sixth cup of coffee today and tried to pay attention.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Loyalist Space
Utvrda
“Anthony brought a pack of cold ones to celebrate!” Tomyelled as he bursted through Sam’s door without knocking as usual.
“Sam this was the best idea of your entire life I'm telling you! Malcorp is a huge success!”
“Yes Tom but please… I'm dead tired. Can you calm down?”
Tom was obviously a bit tipsy, but tried his best to stay quiet even though he wasn’t successful.
“Duuuude, you even got Leo himself to come over and congratulate you! That's as good as if Raok himself gave you a high five!”
That was true, and Sam was feeling quite proud of himself. Although he was just an accountant with an interest in the IT sector, he managed with help of Tom and others to create the biggest success at making fat stacks for their cause, right under the Council's nose. The idea for it came while randomly drawing a caricature of Tom one day, and they have been working tirelessly at it ever since, for two entire weeks. He still remembers explaining it to Leo;
“It works quite simply, really. We have a bunch of unused cargo space on that wreck of a space station and infinite storage potential on the planet, and we are sufficiently far away from The Council to have nothing to fear. We will use our ability to communicate with the outside world through proxies and third parties to trade on behalf of the people back home on Malaak and charge extra for the ability to not commit suicide with three gunshot to the back of the head after buying stocks from the galactic trade market. It's simple, we will be fully in control at all times, and we can manipulate the prices.”
His fond memory of watching their leader’s face light up with excitement, and then hearing that their plan was approved, was however interrupted by Anthony coming into the room, visibly drunk, and falling on the sofa while struggling to keep his eyes open.
“Dude.” Tom said to Sam “I don’t care if you are tired, our idea is working and we need YOU drunk and out partying with us, at least for a few hours. It’s your day off after all.”
Reluctantly, Sam agreed and took a sip of water before standing up and dragging Anthony out of the room together with Tom.
He did deserve a drink.