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Interlude 1
🕑 Added 2025-01-06 17:06:00 +0000 UTCINTERLUDE (I)
A Maid Under Certain Circumstances
Asha Na’Keer remembered a time, not so long ago, when she’d thought her career was really headed somewhere. Of course, that’d been just before cold hard reality came a’knocking. Proceeded to pancake her budding optimism flat with all the tonnage of an industrial deep space cargo hauler. But then, isn’t that just the way it goes? Big dreams were for the young and driven. And in these last few years? Well, it felt as if she’d aged decades.
Oh, it’d started off well. When she’d scored an internship with a well known and highly respected talent recruitment agency, lightyears from her home system of Talaxix, her friends and family had been ecstatic.
Talaxix wasn’t exactly a center of industry—a grand hub of trade and commerce. Just two socio ratings shy of being designated an untamed system, it was safe to say she’d grown up in the boonies by intergalactic standards. Far from the limelight of the hub system worlds with their first pick of all the latest fashion, holo-celebs on every street corner, not to mention the far reaching influence of the major corporations—the kind most only knew through holovids or corporate dramas.
Dazzled by the promise of a world filled to the brim with glitz and glamor—at least if the feed was anything to go by—was it any wonder that, upon being formally recognized by a subsidiary of a subsidiary of an ancillary corporation, everyone she’d known believed she was onto bigger and better things? For that matter, was it any wonder she herself had believed it most of all?
Looking back, she could only shake her head at her own naïveté.
Of course she’d known she’d have her work cut out for her. Likely forced to claw her way up from the very bottom in order to get anywhere fast. It was the routine plight of every plucky C-Drama heroine to spend at least a week or two toiling away in the dark and dingy mailroom, or shuttling coffee from one big wig to another.
The simple reality that much of her time would be spent running errands for people that wouldn’t even glance her way, let alone give her the time of day, didn’t fully set in until around the fourth such week. Six weeks after that, and the existential dread truly began to set in.
Years passed like this, and it was only through hard work, determination, and the empty threat of a sexual harassment lawsuit—following an unpleasant run in with a certain corporate executive’s handsy nephew—that she managed to claw her way up to the position of Junior Talent Scout.
An actual position with an actual salary!
She’d been so elated that, despite her dire financial situation, she’d ordered out that same night, rented a series to watch inside her 16 square foot cubicle apartment, then proceeded to drown out the generated dialogue with her own soul wracking sobs—noodles dangling from her lower jaw as she ugly cried her lungs out.
Entering corporate h.q. on that first day following her promotion, she felt enlightened. As if she could finally walk with head held high. Chest no longer constrained by stress, dread, or anxiety, she took in a slow, deep breath for the first time in what felt like forever. Almost wistfully, she’d even watched the overworked interns scurrying underfoot—harried, hollow eyed, and routinely unkempt—with a bit of nostalgia. That life was well behind her, after all.
No more thankless unpaid labor for her, thank you very much! No more thankless jobs, no more contemptuous side glances, and no more twice cursed coffee runs!
“I thought I told you mocha caramel half-caff latte with dullsanut cream!” her tormentor hissed. “This is dullsan you illiterate half breed troglodyte. I can’t drink this!”
The slap of scalding hot coffee in her face very quickly brought Asha Na’Keer back to reality. Asha screamed, clawed at her face before slipping on the puddle of steaming hot liquid that’d pooled on the floor. She fell, dashing her head against the coffee slick tiles—a trio of hissing laughter following her all the way down.
As it so happened, her brand new lease on life lasted just long enough for her to be introduced to her direct superior. Senior Talent Scout Keshra Rae’Shafeer, daughter of Bashar Rae’Shafeer, CEO and majority shareholder of Creative Media Group Incorporated—a media corporation that owned nearly 40% of all media agencies within Ra’ak Neerian space.
“Careful the Vacoor[1] doesn’t ruin her Daieshan[2] with all that wriggling,” hissed Vadra Telle’Sen, daughter of yet another notable corporate figure, and Keshra’s childhood friend. “She only just finished paying off the last one. Does she have no shame? Surely even your generosity has its limits!”
———
[1] Vacoor - a position somewhere near the very bottom of the Ra’ak Neerian’s social hierarchy, it is akin to indentured servitude.
[2] Daieshan – a garment traditionally worn by Vacoor class females to denote their low status, it is very reminiscent of a maid’s uniform circa 19th century France, if fitted to accommodate a Ra’ak Neerian’s leaner frame and long tail.
———
The two girls collapsed into fits of uncontrollable laughter, rolling around on the luxurious red velvet upholstery of their chaise lounge sofas. The light streaming into the swanky recreational space—through massive floor to ceiling windows—glinting off their polished scales in an almost hypnotic display. Even filled with pain, hate, and rage as she was, Asha couldn’t deny that it was a beautiful sight.
Those bright pastel scales, with their swirling, interlocking patterns. And those strikingly vibrant neck frills besides. Everything about them clearly communicating their high birth. A stark contrast to Asha’s uniform set of mud brown scales, with no real frills to speak of.
Mashree Kel’Tae, third such daughter of an influential figure, and fledgling acquaintance of the other two girls, said nothing as Asha writhed helplessly on the floor. Merely shot her the occasional pitying glance over the rim of her cup. As if her feigned sympathy weren’t worth so much calax dung.
“Oh, would you give it a rest already?” snapped Keshra, rising to a sitting position—her agony having, apparently, gone on too long for the young mistresses liking. “You’re fine! Quit playing it up! There are no surveillance systems in here, so if your plan was to sue for damages, it would be your word against mine.”
“The word of a filthy Vacoor versus the heiress of a galactic corporate empire,” Vadra mused, tapping polished claw against pink and teal snout. “Hmm… you know what? I think she might just stand a chance.”
Again, the two shared a long laugh, and in the meantime Asha managed to collect herself. Rising unsteadily to her feet, Asha vowed that she would forever curse the day daddy dearest decided it would be in his baby girl’s best interest to work her way up from the mail room just as he had. In a bid to “build character,” whatever that was supposed to mean. An effort that had clearly failed, if the last few weeks were of any indication.
Never would she have believed she’d have preferred to go back to being an intern. At least back then, when she was snubbed or run ragged, it wasn’t personal. Merely the corporate machine at work, and her, a negligible cog. Now though…? She wasn’t merely treated like a slave—dancing to these wealthy young mistresses every whim—but she was made to dress like one as well, and pay for the privilege. Every Daieshan she was loaned pilfered from Keshra’s very own family estates.
A privilege for which she was made to pay 40% interest every month. Never mind that she’d been the one to insist Asha wear the humiliating thing in the first place. She now knew what the talent liaison had meant with her offhanded comment. That the turnaround rate for Keshra’s subordinates was the highest of anyone in the entire department. One more week of this and she… well, she didn’t know what she would do.
Something she couldn’t take back, that was for certain.
Eventually, with Asha no longer playing the part of courtly jester, the hilarity petered off all on its own, and Asha’s tormenter finally got on with whatever it was she’d called her into this exclusive executive’s lounge for in the first place.
“Now then, listen closely, because I’m only going to say this once. You’re aware of the recent integration, yes?”
Asha’s heart raced at the casual mention of the newly integrated universe. A thrill of excitement running up her spine at the knowledge she’d be alive to witness firsthand what only her great great great great grandparents had been there to see live. The Games of Ascension.
She didn’t allow her spark of interest to show, however, lest it somehow be snatched away from her like so many other things had been. Merely bowed her head and responded meekly.
“Yes, my Dokan[3], I am well aware.”
———
[3] Dokan – the proper name of address from a Vacoor to their master.
———
After all, it was all anyone could talk about. The only way she could’ve remained unaware of such a significant event all this time, was if she’d literally been living under a rock.
“Good. It seems you’re not completely oblivious.”
Asha bit her tongue to keep from hissing her displeasure.
“But that said! I’m willing to bet you didn’t know that our department, among a choice few others, has been tasked with monitoring the tutorials of these newly integrated worlds, in search of marketable talent among the mediocre trash.”
Asha’s brow ridge twitched, an uncharacteristic sign of her shock at the news—having learned to expertly hide her thoughts and emotions in her time working for the company a long time ago. Keshra studied her face for a reaction, and was clearly left disgruntled when none came. Asha had to fight the urge to smile.
“Saint that I am, I have decided to gift you with the honor that has been bestowed upon our department. Here,” the female tossed Asha a laminated lanyard, which she struggled to catch. “This keycard will give you access to the lower floors. Take the elevator to floor number B409, then take the leftmost hallway until you reach room number L246. Once inside, you’ll find a series of holo-screens. Monitor them and report back to me on what you find.”
Asha kept her face passive, though inside she seethed. This wasn’t the first time Keshra had passed all her workload onto someone else, mainly her, but it didn’t make it rankle any less—be it the first time or the fiftieth. Worse than anything was the factthat she knew, even if against all odds she found a genuine talent—a diamond in the rough that would end up making the company billions—she wouldn’t see a lick of that bonus. Keshra would claim the find had been hers, and hers alone—taking the very sizable commission all for herself.
Not that the malicious tyrant even needed the money. Thanks to daddy, this little princess wanted for literally nothing, and yet took so much from others all the same.
“Though, I insist you only do so when you’ve discovered something truly interesting! I don’t need to know about every little bowel movement or decapitation that goes on in that boring sandbox of theirs. Just the highlights! There’s a reason they don’t air any of that drivel to the public, you know. After a while it just gets to be pathetic.”
For now, Asha would just have to take her word on it.
Mind already churning over how she was possibly meant to complete Keshra’s “request” and get to everything she was personally responsible for, Asha made the customary request to be dismissed, received an affirmative, and swiftly made for the austere exit. She barely even cared any more that her rights as a free citizen had ostensibly been stripped from her by the obnoxious tyrant. All she wanted in that moment was to get to work as soon as possible, before she was forced to work late.
Again.
“Oh and do be sure to keep that nifty little ticker tracker on you at all times!” Keshra called, just as Asha was reaching for the door handle.
Asha’s gaze immediately drawn to the slim black wristband she’d been issued on her very first day. The story they gave was that it was to assuage safety and security concerns, though everyone knew it was only there for accountability. Hard to slack off when everything you do is stored and recorded. Of course, Keshra, barely middle management at this point despite her familial ties, didn’t have access to the full employee records.
Pertinent health information such as her heart rate on the other hand…?
“That way I’ll know the moment something interesting catches your eye. We wouldn’t want you to accidentally misremember something in your report, now would we? That stunt was what the last Vacoor tried to pull, and, wouldn’t you know it, he hasn’t been heard from since!”
Asha paused in the doorway, clenched her fist instead of responding, then gently shut the door behind her to the sounds of hissing laughter.
+++
Far from the sun’s life giving rays, within the bowels of a glorified recruitment agency, inside a cramped room ruled by eerie blue light and dancing shadows, a somewhat hollow eyed Ra’ak Neerian female stares uncomprehendingly.
Gaze transfixed by an image that defies all reasonable explanation. Reptilian irises glued to the double-wide screen—back aching from her exaggeratedly hunched posture, snout hovering bare inches from the moving picture.
The picture, and the stark impossibility depicted therein. Fingers hover above the holographic control panel, repeating the same moment, over and over again, as if the scene were captured in an infinite time loop. An unremarkable confluence of events, at first glance—one she’d seen a dozen, maybe even a hundred times over by this point. The same thing repeated countless times in innumerable tutorials. A helpless participant, a bloodthirsty monster, and the miniature massacre sure to follow.
And yet…?
Asha rewound the recording one more time, slowing it down until the events looked as if they were happening underwater. It was the only way her eyes were able to catch it in time—it was just that fast. The briefest blue flicker, barely distinguishable from the static that occasionally plagued such outdated tech, and yet…
There!
Asha paused the recording in the exact moment the blue projectile exited the child’s mouth. She zoomed in as close as it would go, and gasped. Then she froze. Eyes wide, her gaze snapped to her wrist band. As if noticing her attention on it, the black bracelet blinked to life, showing with a series of jumping figures and graphs that all her vital signs were normal.
She let out a slow, steadying breath. The very last thing she wanted right now was to attract Keshra’s attention, and so be forced to explain why she suddenly felt like her mind was ready to implode. Almost afraid she’d been imagining it, she once more studied the screen before her.
Tracing the length of the hair thin mana dart, a masterful feat of mana manipulation in its own right, and then finally along the delicate runes engraved there. Each mark so fine, that even on the high resolution screens they barely registered as more than blurry pixels. With another flick of the control panel, she enlarged the screen itself until it took up ten times as much space as any of the two dozen screens she’d spent the last ten hours monitoring.
With another deft manipulation, she set the enlarged screen back to live play, sat back in her squeaky office chair and watched. The only thought on her mind whether she’d really seen what she’d thought she’d seen.
And if so, what in Talaxix did she do with this information?
