The air was hazy and thick in the office, smoke drifting about in the dim lights. To a newcomer it might look ethereal, like a mystical swamp from a fantasy game, but now it was simply normal. Damian Arkus took a long drag on the cigarette he was holding and let it out with a sigh, extinguishing the butt in a gold ashtray.
He sat up in his chair and examined it. The gold was intricately and beautifully forged; it was one of his favorite pieces.
“… that if I could outfit it with a Z62 model then possibly I could make it in time. The issue is, of course – sir, are you listening to me?”
Damian snapped out of his reverie and looked at the woman sitting across the desk from him, trying to hide her impatience. How long had she been talking? He didn’t know or particularly care.
“I didn’t hear a damn thing you just said miss, sorry ‘bout that. You came to request a special price reduction, didn’t you?”
She raised an eyebrow and sighed, “Yes, sir, on a Z62 afterburner.”
Damian nodded, “Z62… it’s for your SSS-class freighter, isn’t it?”
She smirked, “The one and only. I’ve got a two week delivery to make and only twelve days to do it. Payoff is damn near unbelievable.”
Damian reached over to his computer and typed the item name in the search of his inventory database. “I see. Well, the manufacturing cost of a Z62 is also damn near unbelievable, so I can’t make you one for under 513 million. More importantly, I won’t make you one for under 760 million.”
Her face fell, “Sir, I assure you – “
Damian held up a hand, “Let me finish. Luckily for you, we tore one off a freighter we hauled in last month. No buyers yet.”
She nodded slowly in understanding, “How much?”
Damian smiled and leaned back in his chair, “675, however, for everything you do for me, it’s yours.”
She blinked in surprise, not quite believing her ears, “Sorry, did you just say it’s mine?”
Damian nodded. She furrowed her brow, “Are you sure? I can pay the 675, you don’t need to just give me a 700 million Kredit afterburner.”
Damian waved her off, “Don’t worry about it, I make that in a week. Plus, you’re my personal hauler so it’s an investment that helps me anyway. Go make that record time delivery, Luza.”
She laughed giddily, standing and offering her arm across the desk. Damian grasped her forearm and stood with her in the customary handshake of the faction. She thanked him and hurried from the room to see her new engine and have it mounted. Damian picked up his handheld comm pad and called the storage manager to inform him of the afterburner he’d given to Captain Luza Delian then stuffed it in his pocket.
“Air system purge,” he commanded the AI voice control system as he slung on his jacket and made his way out the door. Smoke quickly began clearing from the air as it slid shut. He wasn’t sure where he was headed but he figured he would decide as he walked. All he knew for sure is that he’d been sitting for far too long. Pirates, mercenaries, criminals of every sort, and workers add saluted him as he passed. He returned the gesture to some of them, but for most he simply inclined his head.
He decided to visit the pub, perhaps catch some friends between contracts staying at the station. The number of people steadily grew until her reached the inner court where all the shops and restaurants were. Here the crowds scarcely took note of him as he went by on his path to the Hunter’s Pleasure.
There were three classy pubs on the Haven, but the Hunter’s Pleasure was by far his favorite – and the most expensive. Luckily, as the Grand Captain he never paid a dime in the Haven’s shops unless he wanted to. The smell of their signature ale wafted faintly out the door, the commotion of the inside with it. People raised their mugs as he entered, gleefully shouting the Creed: “Plunder today as if you will die tomorrow, die tomorrow for what you have won today! Long live the Recei!”
“And long live the Grand Captain!” added the bartender, to the bar’s great approval.
Damian strolled up to the bar and claimed an empty stool beside a heavily muscled man in a sleeveless shirt. He had tattoos covering his arms but the most important was the one on his neck that signified him as part of the UYP, or a hitman of a drug gang from Rafinica that had worked under the Recei for some fifty-odd years. He spoke a language that Damian didn’t understand, but the words flowed and rolled so beautifully that it seemed ironic for a man so large and dangerous.
“What shall it be tonight, Capitan?” the bartender asked, fetching the special mug used only for Damian.
“House ale and fish, Jaccon. Your specialty sauce for the fries of course.”
“Of course, Capitan,” Jaccon nodded, his Mlevic accent thick, “How goes the business?”
Damian shrugged, “I gifted that Z62 we pulled the other day to Luza Delian.”
Jaccon whistled and raised his brows, “Quite a gift, and an investment with good return I anticipate.”
Damian chuckled, “Smart man. Luza hauls whatever I need whenever I need, and she does it better than anyone. She’s got the best security squadron in the sector and I’d trust the woman with my life, not to mention I happen to enjoy her company. It helps me as much as her, plus, it’s not like I command a freighter in my own fleet, especially not SSS-class.”
Jaccon served up Damian’s ale and went to work cooking his fish. It was a wild-caught thekeme-su from the oceans of Salvto, not rare in this pub but surely a finery to most.
“You know you don’t need to work the bar here, you are First Mate to the Grand Captain after all.”
“As you’ve said many a time Capitan, and as I’ve always responded so will I now,” Jaccon laughed a deep, hearty laugh that reverberated like a bass note, “Of course I don’t, I love this pub and I’ll let none but my own son rule it except myself. My father opened it, and so will it pass to my heir.”
“And how is your wife?” Damian inquired, taking a mouthful of ale.
Jaccon pulled a bottle from the wall and poured a line of shots for a cheering party of young smugglers.
“Well, Capitan, She talks of moving back home, to Mlevva. I think I would like that, after I retire. I am an old man Capitan, I may not look much different, but I feel it. One more great adventure I think may do me in. Yes, one more would fill my glass. After that, I think I’ll sell this place and open the Hunter’s Pleasure down on Mlevva, with a small house and my family.”
Damian nodded slowly, contemplating what it would be like without Jaccon, who had served him so well for so many years. He had been alongside Damian since the day he came to power: since his brother died. His brother was killed in a firefight with Walniajan militia members in the streets of Carazzal. He could still feel the hot, sticky blood coating his arms and face after he beat the three men to death in those same streets.
“It would be my great loss, but I believe it is a reward well earned.”
Jaccon nodded silently and picked up a glass to polish, absently surveying the pub. Somebody began a drinking song and soon the whole room was drunkenly caroling. Damian drifted off into thought as he finished his plate and mug.
“Another?”
Damian shook his head, “No, not tonight. I think I’ll go for a stroll. Til’ the morning my friend.”
Jaccon waved a goodbye as he left. He made his way up a long staircase that ran all the way from the very bottom of the Haven to the top. It was a very large station, especially for being privately owned, improved greatly from its humble beginnings. The Arkus family had ruled all of it for three consecutive generations, even if ruling was a comical description.
Being Grand Captain of the Recei was nothing like being a king, all of the organization’s members governed their own fleets, businesses, and affairs. The Grand Captain managed all the space stations and planetary hubs, collected faction contracts, managed Recei inventory and internal trade accounts, passed laws and membership, and had the power to summon all Recei members to war as a singular army for faction conflicts. Even these powers had their limits, however, and any laws passed by the ruling council only affected Recei territory with the exception of exposing faction information and murdering other members. Exceptionally few laws were in place anyways, respect and weaponry handled the rest.
Membership in the Recei criminal faction was not simple nor easy to attain. Aspiring initiates must first find a current member and have a recommendation submitted to the ruling council. Depending on the standing of their sponsor, processing these requests could take weeks or months. After an applicant is accepted, they must willingly be taken to a Recei holding facility and taught the codes, eventually taking a mandatory exam to advance. During this period, they cannot have contact with the outside world or leave the facility without guards to protect secrecy. After passing the exams, they are assigned a Kassaken, or a specially trained assassin, who will accompany them on all missions and exercises for three months. If at any point they attempt to betray Recei trust, they are killed on the spot. Those who manage to complete this course take the Recei oath and become a Previtza 1st class.
As far as hierarchy, the Grand Captain is at the top with the Grand First Mate second, followed by the ruling council. Everyone else has equal power to vote, but standing tiers divide them into further sections. The tier system is as follows from lowest to highest: Previtsa 1st class, 2nd class, 3rd class, Canero 1st class, 2nd class, 3rd class, Swabana 1st class, 2nd class, Kniave, Capsata, and Alesteros. The tiers are named after the six founders of the Recei, and a member’s tier is determined by their faction points, obtained through faction contracts and trading with other Recei members. Tier determines the quality of contracts available to a member, what priority their recommendations hold with the council, and their tax rate. In totality, the Recei number 487 thousand across the galaxy.
The Recei had only ever been summoned to war seven times, two of which resulted in major wars. The first was led by Gildian Force against the Republic of Mala-Mala, the second was led by Damian’s grandfather, Drago Arkus, against a rival criminal faction named the Vurino. With tensions growing between the Recei and the Empire of Walniaja, Damian wondered if he may soon have need to summon the Recei to battle.
He contemplated that as he walked across the star-lit terrace at the Haven’s very top. Plants of various sorts lined the path in decorative fashion, kept pristinely trimmed by station workers. He produced a vapor rig from his pocket and puffed the blue mist as he walked. He wouldn’t mind, he thought, rallying his people to war. He knew the destruction his personal crew could produce alone; he could only imagine the faction’s full might on display.
He walked for a long while, until the hive of activity below died down to a deserted court as night dragged on. The clock struck midnight in the center of the room, so Damian decided he should return to his quarters.
The halls were deathly silent as he strode to his room and his every thought was a shout in his mind. The door slid open with a soft hiss as he approached, closing and locking behind him after he entered the “do not disturb” command on his entry terminal. Damian tossed his coat on a chair and sat down on his bed with a sigh.
“What news do you bring me, my friend?” Damian said to the seemingly empty space.
“How did you know I was here?” A figure emerged from the darkness.
“High political position and years of being a killer have trained me to sense everything.”
The man snorted, “I have good news… and a request.”
“You have served me faithfully, I will meet your request.”
The figure stepped closer and set a package at the foot of the bed, “You will find my detailed report here, as per usual. There is a particularly interesting tidbit inside this time, a hitlist of individuals recently assembled to hunt you down. Our Walniajan military moles are very good at their jobs.”
Damian exhaled through his nose and stored the package away in a drawer. Later, he decided, I will deal with that later.
“And your request?”
“The man straightened, “It is a small one. I want to join you on your ship to fight them, I have a vengeance to repay.”
Damian looked the man in the eye, “I would be honored to accompany you in my crew. Who is the unfortunate soul you wish to reap?”
Through the darkness, Damian saw the white glint of the man’s teeth as he smiled a predatory grin.
“That bitch Azura Diaz killed my father.”
ns 15.158.61.8da2
