[The Wreck, Nova Dawn] The Apple of Ignorance

The Nova Dawn, was, as always, vibrant with energy, the asari freighter turned bar and nightclub, undulating with the beat of the music, and its increasingly rowdy patrons. Its new owner had added her own touch to the place, turian decor tastefully meshed with the original asari design.

Away from the bass of the music however, a few select booths had audio dampeners installed to mute the volume, and to ensure privacy. Something the sole occupant of one of the booths appreciated. She'd gone to great lengths to ensure that the greater powers remained ignorant of her product as long as possible. Today, if all went well, she'd have at least two customers with decent financial backing.

If it all went well.

A single red eye glanced at the booth entrance, where her hired assistant, a fellow professional, was waiting to escort the potential customers inside.

That is, if any of them show.

Cole glanced at the silver case beside here, before returning her attention to the door.

The corporate delegation was the first to arrive. The representative slitting his eyes against the flashing lights as he stepped inside the club. He was short and slender; small and almost frail. Pale skin given various hues from the strobes and riot of colors playing over every available surface.

The guards flanking him, however, were anything but vulnerable: long coats with high collars over lightweight armor and lean, sinewy muscle. An asari and a batarian, booth carrying themselves as if armed. The Wreck was no Cartagena, not even an aspiring Omega, but traveling protected and unescorted, particularly for such a tempting target, was asking for trouble all the same.

The batarian leaned forward, he had to actually stoop to put his mouth close to the human's ear. There was a brief exchange, the comments lost in the heavy throb of the bass and, as one, the began wending their way through the dancefloor; making a beeline for the nearly empty booth.

They came to a stop a few feet away from the entrance. The human at the head, his guards behind.

"Simon Barbosa." He had to almost shout to be heard over the music. "On behalf of Titan."

Bintar arrived in the club flanked by three blue suns, one centurion and two soldiers. He had protested the measure, for his usual approach is "my door is always opened", but the higher up at Slaves4Us had thought it would be a good thing to provide protection, and remind the other parties that the company is not defenseless.
Bintar himself was clashing with the stern professionalism of his escort. It was his first time on the wreck and his demeanor was more of a wide-eyed tourist than of a shady businessman. The bar was the fourth time he had stopped to take pictures.

"Ok gentlemen, I think I see my contact, how about I buy you a drink while the transaction operates? You'll keep an eye on me from the bar."

The proposition was met with approbation.

"Barman! Three Baror Little Devil for my boys here! You guys will thank me."

The approbation turned from groans from the two batarians. The human wondered why his colleagues were suddenly so upset.

Bintar left his escort to meet the contact. Behind him he could barely hear the human blue sun say "Wait... Where is the alcohol in that thing?"

He introduced himself with a bright smile. "Lovely to meet you sir! Bintar Ranak for Slaves4Us! Let's have a swell time shall we?"

Derek Malik, a tall, bulky, and lightly tanned man, stood outside of his employers booth, waiting for her contacts as instructed. As soon as he saw a pale man followed by armored figures with long coats, he knew it had to be one of his employers contacts.

That, or these three simnply enjoyed standing out.

"Simon Barbosa, On behalf of Titan." The man was shouting, and Derek could still barely hear him, but he managed.

"You and your escorts can go in, but no funny business." Derek gestured for the small man to enter, keeping an eye on the group of Blue Suns that had just entered. The batarian in said group, the one that stood out from the rest, made his way over to the booth.

"Lovely to meet you sir! Bintar Ranak for Slaves4Us! Let's have a swell time shall we?"

Derek simply stared at the Batarian, wondering why the man was so... cheerful. He opened his omnitool to look at the list of people he was to admit, and grunted ambiguously, gesturing for the Batarian slaver to enter. As he did, he looked inside at his employer.

"Is this all, or are you expecting anymore company?"

The Elcor plodded meaningfully into the blaring, sparcely lit club. He glanced around, looking for the person he was there to meet. When he didn't immediately see her, his eyes crossed over the tables, filled with celebrating, inebriated denizens, and then across its dance floor. The Elcor stared for a few moments. He was not much of a dancer.

He eventually found her, or rather, the people with her. Expensive armor and long coats stood out in the crowd of bar-goers mostly wearing the sort of light outerwear you expected to see in a club. He stepped over to the booths, shoving more than a few people out of the way as he did so. Some protested but when they turned and saw him, musclebound and hulking, the rarely seen Devlon industries "Behemoth" Elcor armor on his body and legs, they generally turned back around and continued on with what they were doing.

He hadn't brought any guards with him. He wasn't even armed. This was a place created from the mashed together remains of wrecked and scuttled ships. Few people would be carrying weapons powerful enough to hurt him and those rare individuals would have to be nearly suicidal to fire them. Anything that would reliably puncture his shield, armor, and skin would also be at serious risk of punching straight through the outer hulls, venting the firefight into deep space. The Wreck may be a free haven for criminals but that also meant that things like "safety standards" and "structural reinforcement" were at best suggestions. Besides, the Elcor had a great deal of experience in dealing with armed opponents. Fights had become almost routine to him by now. They start by shooting at him. Then they begin to panic when it doesn't do much and he's closed in on them faster than they expected. Then there was usually some noise, some grunting on his part, some screaming on theirs. Then someone usually needed to come by with a mop and hose to clean what was left off the walls.

He stopped just outside the booth, looming over the already tall Malik. "In greeting: Hello, I am the one who contacted you about my employer's interest in your product. Warningly: You know who I am here for, I do not think we need to discuss names. Bluntly: You may call me Fakultus. Insincere jest: It is absolutely my real name."

Derek looked up at the elcor. He wasn't intimidated by the large being, and really had no reason to be. If the elcor tried something here, a lot of people would more than likely be trying to bring it down. He looked at his omnitool, then at the elcor. He soon stepped aside for the large creature to enter.

"Don't cause any trouble, understand?" Derek had a feeling that this... transaction, would be interesting at the least.

Cole's red eye flashed at the entrance of Gamma and the representatives. Seeing only two, she would have responded that they were expecting one another. But before she could say anything, the third representative made his way inside. Sandra's lips pursed in annoyance, reigned in any overt signs of irritation, and adjusted accordingly.

"Ah, gentlemen, thank you for coming. Forgive me, I wasn't informed that I would be receiving an elcor agent to these talks. I would have chosen something roomier. One moment."

She got up, exiting the booth, and making a beeline to another. She'd have to pay Aulus, the owner, extra for this. She beckoned Gamma to follow her, and between the two of them, successfully emptied out the one booth possessing the necessary room. After shooing out former occupants with the threat of violence, and paying off the club bouncer, she beckoned the three reps into the larger room, the doors closing behind them, muting the thrum of the bass to tolerable levels.

"Again, I apologize for any inconvenience. For the record however..."

She leveled baleful stare at the armored elcor.

"If your employer seeks to do business with mine in the future, it is only common courtesy to inform me when I have to take special considerations for for people like yourself."

With that admonishment out of the way, she got down to business. Cole took out a silver case and placed it upon the table.

"At the behest of my employer, who has requested to remain anonymous, I have been charged with selling a unique neuro chemical compound. Iin return for either sufficient currency or trade goods, we are willing to trade the compound to a few select buyers. The qualities of this compound are already known to your employers, as we have sent both samples and scientific data to your principals. My employer is not only capable of producing this compound, but doing so in numbered quantities. We are, as far as we know, the only people who can.

She looked expectantly, her cybernetic eye flicking between the thee different species of agents.

"Are there any questions or concerns?"

"Politely: I apologize. I have often had this problem. Clients communicate with me only by text and assume that I am perhaps human. I should have made a note to the contrary." He turned towards the other two buyers. "Quizzical: I hope you are not concerned that your guards have been left outside?"

"Well, I'm sorry if this was mentioned before but what exactly are we buying here? Is it just the final product, the chemical composition, the process to do more ourselves? Can we alter the formula, the dosage? How many sentient test were made? Are we sure it works only on humans? Ho and more importantly..."

Bintar dug in the plastic bag he was carrying, pulled a dozen batarian pastries and beamed at the other persons present.

"Who wants some of those swell Kashky? Baked them myself! Come on, dig in!" he said while taking one himself.

Murmuring a polite greeting to their host and gesturing for his chaperones to remain outside, Simon quietly seated himself at the table. Not even a weapons check, tsk tsk.

Sloppy.

(Granted the man resembled a budget sized toothpick more than anything and was not obviously armed, but still, it was the principle of the matter. )

In any case, the corporate rep took a moment to adjust his rather plain suit, smoothing out the creases as the woman began her presentation. He was calm, relaxed; fingers loosely intertwined before him, shoulders held easily, expression placid; aside from a brief, almost disproving, shake of his head at the armored elcor, it was like he and Cole were the only ones in the room

And then the batarian started talking and something in his brain made a sincere effort to claw its way out of his skull in order to escape the inane babble.

"The information provided in the dossier was comprehensive; I have no immediate questions. And no, no thank you." Simon said mildly. His voice quiet, a soft lisp around the corners of a few of his words.

"Plainly: The Batarian is correct. We would like to receive additional information before we are prepared to buy. And..." With this he paused and turned, looking at Bintar and the bag he had proffered. "With Gratitude: I will try one, thank you."

With this he reached out with one massive hand and delicately pulled one of the pastries out of the bag. It looked tiny contained in his expansive palm as he brought it to his mouth and began to chew. He was mildly concerned that they might be poisoned in some way but the fact that no one present had apparently expected an Elcor meant that unless Bintar had absolutely doused them in something he likely wouldn't feel much effect if they did in fact turn out to be dosed.

"Politely: They are very nice." He said, finally.

Cole nodded, her one apparently working eye flicking between the three men. The truth was both her eyes were artificial, including the pale, scarred one, that was helpfully relaying information garnered from a quiet security scan. The scanner she'd hidden among the clubs lightshow, as far as she was aware, had gone unnoticed by any of the parties present..

"I can answer some of your questions. And no thank you, I'm not hungry."

She waved away the batarian pastry, before pulling out her silver case, popping it open with a pair of ominous clicks.

Inside, was a small syringe, and, oddly, a grey piece of fruit that wasn't dissimilar in size and shape from an apple.

"This is our product, in its most natural state. My employer, who has somewhat of a flair for the dramatic, likens them to an antithesis of the fruit that existed in the Garden of Eden, a location some religions on Earth claim where life first came to be. Unlike the fruit described in the story, granting the first humans with wisdom and intelligence, this will reduce humans into a much more submissive state, and make complex thought a challenge, to say the least. It can be safely taken in large quantities, but I would advise no more than the quantity in this syringe a day, to prevent overuse. And once taken off the compound, there are minimal to no side effects. The worst we've noted in our experiments is difficulty in remembering contact numbers."

After finishing the show and tell portion of the sell, she put both items away, before continuing on.

"As for what we're selling, specifically, however much of the compound you want. We have reason to believe that it is difficult to synthesize, and for the moment, my employer is the only one who knows where the compound originated, and would like to keep it that way."

She glanced at Bintar and Fakultus.

"Concerning nonhumans, we've determined that the effects are far more muted in other species, would be rejected by dextro species, and, in the sole case of batarians, extremely toxic. Relevant data will be supplied alongside any goods that are purchased."

She promised, before studying them all expectantly.

"Now, what are you willing to exchange in return for the compound?"

Derek, or "Gamma", as his current employer called him, stepped up from behind his employer, standing slightly on her right side. He leaned down, tapping her shoulder lightly.

"Would you like for me to fetch an "example", Ms.Cole?" Derek kept his eyes on the three representatives, specifically the one from Titan. His left eye was a blue cybernetic, while the other was naturally brown. In the meantime, he'd curiously taken one of the Bintar's cakes, looked it over, and put it back before crushing it.

Derek Malik hated pastries... Not enough meat...

Cole's eyes narrowed at Malik, before guesturing back to the entrance of the room.

"That will not be unnecessary, Gamma, unless you'd like to volunteer. No?. Then resume your post, Gamma, until instructed otherwise."

She ordered, her voice edged with brittle iron. She would have words with him later about proper protocol.

"Understood."

Derek stepped back, returning to his post, watching the three representatives carefully.

"Businesslike: My employer is prepared to offer 80,000 credits worth of capital. Two thirds of that would be in cash, the remaining amount would be in material goods, primarily valuable ores. If that offer is unsatisfactory my employer is still prepared to negotiate. That is for a small, initial sample, say enough for a small planetary settlement. If it proves to be as effective as you have lead us to believe we would be prepared to purchase far greater quantities."

Bintar was chomping on his pastrie pensively. He wiped his mouth and talked again.

"We're still at a testing phase, trying our options out. The sample product was enough to prove the product worked, and we're counting on trying it on asari and salarians, if it pans out we'll order much more.
For now we'd need product to keep down the most rebellious humans we have, and some more for testing. The price we pay has of course to be inferior to the benefit generated by the slaves themselves so... How about this?"

Bintar slipped a datapad with a number, face down, on the table to delta Q. The number was much, much lower than Bordacit's however.

"Now if this product is as promising as we think we would be delighted to become long term customers. Also if you're more comfortable with favors, we can provide you with slaves, manufactured goods, put you in relation with people willing to sell relays pass, and we have a descent information network over the batarian confederation."