Heirs of Debauchery - Story 05

Story 5: A most expensive dildo

The sight of a habitable planet, a sphere of greens, blues, and tans suspended in the endless black of the void. A sight that has become rarer ever since the old order burned itself out all those centuries ago.

Not that Captain Michael Sullivan would know. After all, he's only pushing his mid 50s, a lifetime only considered to be such back on his homeworld and country, the latter of which already on their first steps out of legal existence. A fact which he currently felt little sadness over.

The him a mere decade ago would have been aghast at even the notion of ditching his loyalty to his country, but it was all before those wackos from the deep void showed up. Those sex crazed nudists gynoids, whom the politicians were quickly seduced by, the corporations being won over by cheap energy and commodities, and the general population enticed by healthcare that was, literally, out of the world. Then again, the him of a decade ago also looked a lot older, pre-collapse gene therapy was one hell of a drug.

He wasn't that much better, but at least he himself could claim that he was seduced by adventure and opportunities. And what opportunities they are! The vessel he's currently commanding, a supposedly humble expiration vessel that goes by the name of GSV Tsiolkovsky, clocks in at half a million tonnes, which outmass the entirety of mass his planet had ever sent up since the Days of Ash. A vessel that crosses the lightyears between systems like an afterthought, can generate 1G of acceleration and deceleration for as long as it feels like, and reassemble itself into a space station with its own rotating section when not moving in either STL or FTL.

And of course, the amenities, which are on par with any of the finest living arrangements back on Akanei. Certainly better than most military installations, never mind vessels. Imagine! Fresh vegetables, fruits and live fish light years away from the nearest civilized planet, just because it's good for the mental health of humans.

All that, the ship, the handpicked crew recruited from a dozen (soon to be ex-) countries on two different planets, just to ferry a handful of those same nudist gynoids around the galaxy. One of them is standing right next to him. And yes, she's naked as usual, though the sight under circumstances raises concerns rather than titillation. It's one thing to know in theory that there's a dozen safety measures in place, quite another to put one's trust in them, especially when they're designed to be out of sight and out of mind.

"That's odd." Eira Dawn said idly, her eyes glazed in the telltale signs of reading readouts projected inside her minds, the same readouts that's currently plastered on the main holographic projector.

"What's odd?" Sullivan inquired, trying and failing to look like he's up to date on the situation of the planet below. The great thing about exploration is that there's so much to learn, the downside is that there's so much he has no clue of. It's one thing to be piloting some glorified crewed missile around orbit, another to diving head first into the unknown planet lightyears away from anything familiar.

Not that he's doing the diving down to the planet part. Despite her slender appearance, Dawn, and the rest of her kind, could take quite a pounding and still be swinging, in all the sense of the terms. Unlike in popular fiction, the crew of the ship and the landing party are completely separate personnel.

"The part where there's some tribes of pre-electronics, presumably baselines, roaming in the wilderness preserves- or rather, the regrown wilds outside the singular urban area." Dawn explained, in the neutral tone of the idly curious.

"Oh, I would have thought that the actual presence of a pre-collapse urban area in mint condition would have been the biggest oddity." Sullivan remarked, trying his darndest to keep a similar nonchalant voice. Biggest motherload or not, he was not about to look like a country bumpkin or a slack jawed fool.

"Mint condition? With the conveniently circular overgrown craters and the lack of any and all communications signals?" Dawn asked, whether rhetorically or not Sullivan could not tell.

"Okay. Maybe I missed those." He shrugged, not really wanting to make this a big deal. Sometimes he kinda forgot that these gynoids operate on very different standards on various things. "So what's so special about the cavemen?"

"If you mean the baselines. The question is why are they out there, but not in the urban area." Dawn explained as she tapped on a console. "According to all known records and archives there are no primitivist reservation areas on this planet."

"Didn't even know that was a thing." Sullivan shook his head in mild bewilderment. It's wild to think that people back in those days had the luxury to reject technology. The same technology that everyone with a rock in the galaxy is fighting tooth and nail for.

"Well, guess we'll find out soon enough." Dawn shrugged as she closed her console.

"Best of luck." Sullivan said with a nod of acknowledgment. The first couple of times before he had tried to argue that the ship's security company should accompany the away team. After all, why lugging a couple hundred trained men from the some of the best militaries of Akanei if they aren't going to be used? But it was fruitless, and so they, and of course him and the rest of the ship crew, remained on board, making use of their time with various side pursuits, and if rumors are to be believed, Lt. Cascade, the head of the security company, is running a still somewhere onboard. The usual hoodrat shit, just with more toys.

Well, let the experts do their work. Or at least, the one eyed in the land of the blind. He shrugged again as Dawn strolled through the hatch into the corridor. There's still plenty of work up here in orbit, even if not that glamorous.

And perhaps those sexy degenerates might actually need their help at some point. Otherwise the ships could have probably driven themselves...

------

On the planet known as Beius a long forgotten sight greeted its inhabitants, at least those who cared to notice the slightly unusual sight of a light streaking across the sky. There were more than civilized people would assume, as life in the brutality of the wild sharpens the senses, to a degree that those relying on technology could scarcely fathom.

As the shuttle not so gracefully thumped itself onto a tolerably flattish steppes, the reinforced landing gear slamming and screeching as the thousand tonne trans-atmospheric craft does what it's supposed to do. Not pretty, but functional enough.

"Well, that was a bit bumpy." Dawn quipped as she unbuckled the straps of her crash couch. "If only we could establish contact with that urban area."

"Captain Sullivan and the crew are still trying-" Lumi Nell reminded before Dawn interrupted her in mid sentence.

"I know, I know. We're all trying our utmost. There's no harm wishing for more though." She sighed as she tapped on the console next to the exit hatch. "Hopefully the primitives will not notice us before we figure out what's going on with- what's that place's name?"

"Blockville." Nell replied.

"Yeah, that." Dawn acknowledged as she opened the hatch. "Fuck!" She muttered as she saw the sight before her.

For a sizable crowd of baseline humans had gathered around the shuttle. Spears, slings, and other muscle powered weapons pointed from all directions, wielded by those whose faces showed mostly fear, sprinkled with a dash of bitterness here and there.

"Why, why, why?!?" An old man cried in angrish. "Are we doomed to an endless debt?!?" The words themselves might not make sense due to a lack of proper context, but the words themselves were very understandable. Slight deviations to the old galactic standard, but galactic standard all the same. Which of course raises more questions than it answers.

They also seemed to be completely unfazed by the gynoids' state of nudity, even though they themselves are clothed, even if in primitive garb composed of whatever unprocessed plant fibers and animal pelt.

"Wait! There must have been a misunderstanding." Dawn immediately shouted the seemingly obvious but out of sequence statement. Normally standard first contact protocols demand a trickle truthing towards pre-electronic level natives, but normal circumstances also assume language barriers and more importantly, time.

It was also at that moment when her internal comms crackled with a transmission.

"There seems to be a hostile crowd at your location, do you request armed extraction?" The calm and confident voice of Lt. Cascade said to her. "We are on standby and ready to go."

"We have the situation under control." Dawn lied smoothly before closing the connection. Violence is not the answer yet, not because of any unrealistic notions of pacifism, but rather the situation is not dire enough to warrant their trump card, so to speak.

As she shifted her attention back to the matter at hand she noticed that the old man had been rambling for some time, most of which she hasn't caught as to what he's talking about. The language gap might not have been that bad, but it was still some complications.

"What's he talking about?" Dawn asked. Nell shrugged.

"Something about how generations ago their ancestors were expelled from paradise." She explained through their internal comms, while still appearing to be listening to the rambling of the old man. "They also had to offer regular penance to the gods, in the hopes of someday being allowed back into said paradise."

"That's a pretty normal for mythology, all things considered." Dawn noted. Generational guilt, neverending penance, the expulsion from paradise. Basically every major and minor religion of note had that even before the rise of stellar secularism, never mind the Regression and the Collapse.

"Would it be a bit unusual if they pointed in the specific direction of Blockville?" Nell inquired. Dawn snapped her head at her direction.

"Perhaps?" She asked, before regaining her composure. "That might change things." She thought about the matter some more. "Ask them if their penances are accepted."

After Nell's interruption and a rather revealing questioning, the answer came back as a confirmative: moreover, it's in the form of ores, hardly standard religious offerings.

"We need to get there. NOW." Dawn said in the physical world as she grabbed Nell by the arm. "Make way!" She shouted at the crowd, who promptly did so, though due to what motivation the landing party could not tell, nor did they give that much thought.

There will be plenty of time later on. Probably. Surely?

------

"Entrance of the premises is forbidden until full and complete payment of debt." The utterly generic security bot stated in its toneless voice. Generic in the sense of its make and model, though the wearing of the centuries had made its mark on what used to be its metallic undersurface. It was also completely unfazed by the sight of the naked gynoids and the crowd of primitives surrounding all of them, but that's to be expected of lower order androids.

"Well we're not the ones saddled with that debt. Whatever it is." Dawn remarked in annoyance, all the while simultaneously communicating with Cascade and the ship to try to hack the bot, and whatever security systems that lie beyond. It's not going well, mainly because due to the lack of comms infrastructure they had to jerry rig a connection via the shuttle and through Nell and the rest of the landing party, throttling the wireless speed to an agonizing degree.

"Only authorized personnel permitted entrance are governmental personnel and potential buyers." The security bot pratted out the canned answer. "Proper documentation please."

"Fine, fuck you. We are buyers then." Dawn snapped. The galaxy had ended, the end had ended, yet now they're haggling over the most banal of nonsense form before the last sense final. "What's even for sale?"

"Why, nothing less than the entirety of the facilities you see before you." The bot replied, making a sweeping gesture with its arm, though the wooden nature of the gesture made it look more like an attack move.

"Huh, how did this dump go on sale in the first place?" Dawn asked, already angling the inevitable haggling that's to come. A dumb game all this being, might as well play it for all its worth. Or at least stall for time as Cascade and the rest of the fleshbag goons trying their best in their hacking venture.

"A detailed explanation might take a while." The bot replied cryptically, though probably unintended given its still toneless voice. "Stand by for data transfer."

"Acknowledged." Dawn sighed in annoyance as she opened another channel in her internal comms, and soon a stream of data began to flood into her secondary brain's data storage. As she processed the received data a picture of the past began to form...

... a really, really, stupid one.

"A pyramid multi level direct marketing scheme?" She said out loud in disbelief, her eyes still glazed in the virtual world. An entire population, scammed out of their assets, then expelled from their homes, and then civilization went up in flames denying them even an avenue for justice, or at least, upper law enforcement, to arrive. All codified into divine justice because oral history for primitives being what it tends to be.

As she exited the data dump she noticed a few changes in the minutes since, mainly the wailing of security sirens and light, as well as that particular security bot having moved into a defensive fighting stance.

Yet as suddenly as it began the sirens cut off, and the bot stood down from its fighting posture.

"Sorry, must have been a false alarm." The bot said, as if that explained everything.

"Oops." Cascade's voice suddenly fired up inside Dawn's comm channel. "The hacking didn't work out." He explained casually.

"Noted." Dawn replied in muted acknowledgement. "On to the next plan."

"Which is...?" Sullivan asked, genuinely not sure where this is all going.

"First thing I need is a direct interstellar call to-" She began, which Sullivan promptly interrupted.

"Mam, you do realize that FTL interstellar calls are incredibly power and resource intensive? On both ends?" He pointed out the obvious.

The nature of hyperspace being what it is, the movement of data through it operates on similar principles as the movement of more tangible matter, and thus uses similar equipment. The Tsiolkovsky's main reactors, designed for FTL and STL travel, can provide the sufficient power necessary to make such a call. Whoever's on the receiving end will need a similar sized reactor to provide a similar amount of power, the same amount fit for a metropolis of moderate size and population. Planetary civilization generally doesn't have that amount of spare capacity lying around.

"It's that or we ship in a couple of brigades, and make a desert and call that mission accomplished." Dawn snapped back.

'We can take on that city." Cascade interjected with the bravado expected of those who were picked from some of the most hardened soldiers of their world, just itching for action of some kind, for the glory of ribbons. "Sensor sweeps so far have not exactly shown anything that impressive down there."

"You have no idea." Dawn replied curtly. "Regardless, we will attempt a more peaceful option first..."

"Acknowledged." Sullivan conceded, knowing when to fold. Crazy gynoids they might be, but they do know quite a bit of things. Besides, it's not his problem if a lot of resources are wasted on some stupid shit, that's normal for governmental organizations, no matter who or what's running the show. "Connection will commence whenever you're ready."

------

"-A FUCKING SHOPPING SPAM CALL? ARE YOU BIMBOS OUT OF YOUR DAMN MINDS?!?" The voice of a rather hacked off Alexis Zelyonka reverberated over the interstellar distances, screaming into the primary brain of Dawn, and broadcasting over the rest of the ship's officers in the conference room. The call was initiated as soon as the landing party's shuttle returned to the ship.

For a call of such magnitude and distance, the contents within was less than the dignity expected of a matter of such an importance. It certainly didn't help that Dawn did not make a good initial impression of the importance of the situation at hand, but then the contrived-ness of the scheme itself didn't lend itself to be taken seriously.

"Calm down. As mentioned before, all we need are your old financial credentials-" Dawn repeated her initial request with the same mundaneness as at the start of the call.

"I'll calm down when you're not wasting everyone's time!" Zelyonka snapped, before taking a series of breaths to calm down. "You have any idea how much of the facility here has to be shut down for this? We had to shut down all our active and passive perimeter surveillance measures and defenses just to pick up this call!"

"Then send the data." Dawn replied. "We'll be on our merry way then."

"Whatever." Zelyonka growled as she tapped her display. After a handful of seconds later a soft beep at the conference room announced the successful receiving of the data. "I swear if this-" She was about to go on another tirade before the line suddenly cut off, leaving the conference room in an awkward silence for a moment.

"Um... what happened?" Cascade finally asked, concerned if the sudden end of the call was something on their end.

"Nothing wrong on our end." Sullivan said as he consulted the readings from his portable datapad on the various systems and subsystems of the ship.

"Well, guess they need their power back." Dawn shrugged with indifference, her mind already sifting through the data to a more useful format.

"Are they going to be alright?" Cascade asked, showing a surprising amount of concern in his voice. Even though they never met or interacted in any meaningful capacity before this, he still felt that he at least should at least display some measure of concern. They're all in the same grand cause after all.

"Eh, I'm sure they're alright over there." Dawn waved off the concerns from the human crew. "Nothing we can do about it even if it is otherwise." She reminded them, though the words were far from reassuring. Quite the opposite.

"If you say so." Sullivan conceded reluctantly, his natural instincts of needing to do something being kept in check by his abstract knowledge of the sheer scale of everything... speaking of scale. "Does Alexis even have enough money for this?" He asked, the realization that they're about to buy an entire pre-collapse city finally hitting him. Even besides the other absurdity of the act.

"It's all just numbers, numbers that we can make up." Dawn waved off the concern. "When's the last time you heard anyone still using the galactic sequin?"

"Oh wow, I didn't expect to hear something from the history books." Cascade said with a whistle.

"Now that you mentioned it, it was said that even a handful of sequins was enough to live like a king." Sullivan mused.

"Yeah... I can tell you right now clearly some data was lost in time." Dawn shook her head in amusement, a trait she had picked up from the human crew of the ship. "Again, it's just a number."

------

As it was, 4.5 x 10^383 is just a number, and so is 728 years, 3 months, and 24 days (Terra standard timekeeping structure). Still numbers without any backing, however intangible, are just that: numbers. Fortunately enough for Dawn, the Tsiolkovsky is equipped with the relevant software to mint and validate galactic sequin, legacy codes that up to that point was not even an afterthought.

But it's good enough, at least enough to make the purchase. And so when the security bot announced the transaction's successful completion a cheer went up among the landing party's security forces and the primitive natives, the former there at the insistence of Cascade, who justified their presence on grounds of providing humanitarian aid. It wasn't even a lie, though undoubtedly they also wanted to stretch out their legs on some real surface.