by Brett P. S.
“Congratulations,” she said with a muffled sigh. Miss Dubois briefly checked her hair, the raven locks put up in a bun. “Thanks to all of our efforts, unorthodox as they might have been,” she said, trailing off as she eyed Elijah, “OTO’s Terrace Centralists have total access to the Xarconium substitute. Logan estimates within ten years or so, they’ll have enough ready for distribution to go public. You three have single-handedly started a chain reaction with ripples that will alter the galactic economy for centuries. Most importantly, these changes will free Terrace civilization from the enthralling tentacles of I’malar.”
James nodded. Abigail rolled her eyes. Miss Dubois seemed more invested in Terrace’s stake than an ordinary privateer commander should have been. She believed in Logan’s cause, more or less. There was some merit in economic independence, but the squids hardly pushed their prices on Xarconium. Overall, I’malar seemed actually forthcoming and fair, despite their vice grip on the essential element.
This vie for independence, this plan to upset the balance of power; it grew from the fevered dreams of those who feared that one day, I’malar would do what Terrace Civilizations had done in the past. However, I’malar wasn’t Terrace. The squids operated on a wholly separate nature, or so he thought. Admittedly, the fear got to him as well from time to time. There was something primal, tangible in the way he knew they would turn on their little pets.