[Lorek] Old Friends?

It had been a long time indeed since Melek Ib-bar had used a holotransmitter for business purposes. The Chains' diminished scope since the Reaper War had limited his activities primarily to the Confederacy, where such technology was at a premium, and beyond the occasional Governor or surviving military unit, few such luxuries existed. He had, in fact, had to blow a thin layer of dust from the pedestal once he'd been made aware that someone with access to said technology wanted to speak with him - someone worth listening to, even!

Holo-emitter set up and ready to receive a signal, Melek sat down at his immaculately clean desk in his surprisingly spacious office, closed the door with the desk controls, and typed out a quick message.


Collar had been kind enough to simply forward the human's message entire, so Melek did have some idea of what he wanted. The imposter had recently been a matter of some concern; interesting that they had drawn the attention of those beyond the immediate circle of the Crimson Chains. Interesting, and potentially useful.

The pale batarian poured himself a drink and waited patiently.

Fortunately for all involved, he wasn't waiting long.

A small storm of brightly colored motes formed in the air, hovering, suspended above the projector, before collapsing into the minature image of a tall, lean, human a moment later. Eyes the color of emeralds, scars stretching across his face, expensive suit (Telesconi today); perhaps he had a few more lines in his forehead, perhaps his figure was a bit thinner than the last time Melek has seen him, but it was unmistakeably the same man. The figure tilted his head to the left in a small, measured, movement. The gesture was hardly as reflexive or as fluid on a human, but it was a good deal more natural looking than the kind of twitch than some tried when they attempted to mimic batarians.

"Mr. Ib-bar, you're looking well. There was a small pause as the businessman studied his counterpart, hands clasped behind his back. "It's been awhile hasn't it?"

A tad trite but hardly inaccurate: it had been a year and some change since their first, last, and only "meeting"; the same instance, coincidentally, that was responsible for this conference.

Nikolai might have taken a moment to reflect on the rather odd series of interlocking events if he hadn't been too busy running worst case scenarios and contingency plans in his head.

"While it is a pleasure to see you again, I assume our mutual acquaintance informed you why I wished to speak with you?"

Ah, straight to the point with this one. Far too often among batarians the real issue was circled and avoided in favor of pleasantries and smalltalk, each party trying to establish some kind of dominance over the other before any real negotiation could proceed. Not so here. The head tilt was a nice courtesy, one too often forgotten or poorly imitated by humans - Aleksanders' attempt was reasonable, though he would never perfect the motion as only a batarian could.

"He simply forwarded me your message. I must admit I was surprised to find that there was someone impersonating Abad - it seems like a lot of risk for little reward, all in all, particularly when their only ambition seems to be posting on second-rate extranet forums."

Let the human stew over that one for a bit.

"That said, I'm not entirely sure why such behavior drew your attention. The extranet is a haven for impersonators and anonymity, after all, and I'm certain there are far more significant impressions taking place. I recall a news report about a certain krogan media mogul who was implicated in a hospital break-in, of all things. It would seem that identity theft is on the rise, and your interest in such intrigues me."

That wasn't entirely fair. Melek was well aware of the imposter and had even taken action to discredit him to some degree, but there was no reason for the human to know that, former business associate or otherwise.

"Mmmm, a fair point. While the site in question is a bit of a magnet for the sensational and ordinarily I would have paid this no mind..."

There was another, longer, pause as Nikolai searched the batarian's lower eyes. There was a reason he was talking to Melek and not, say, nabOrcas and Sam’klar, nor attempting to reach Ord’narak in the Kite's Nest. Out of the remaining leaders of the Chains he was the one that the human was perhaps most alike; both were disciplined, ambitious, and calculating with a pragmatic streak a mile wide. They had something of a rapport or, at the very least, a passing familiarity; more than the businessman could say for the Chains on Cartagena or the men on Chresk. But, perhaps most importantly, out of all the available options Melek was the one that was least likely to have carried this out himself.

The batarian was doing well for himself, re-establishing the Chains as a disciplined and effective paramilitary organization, firmly entrenched with the government of Lorek. He didn't need to create a ghost for the purposes of boosting morale or to build some kind of mythology around the Chain's former leader. And if he did, Nikolai sincerely doubted that he would be quite so hamhanded about it.

"Forgive me for being direct but I'm afraid the question must be asked, how dead is Mr. Sam-mel precisely?"

"I can assure you that Mr. Sam-mel is quite dead. While he did prove nearly indestructible over the years, even he couldn't survive a thermonuclear explosion that destroyed a Reaper, and we checked each escape shuttle just in case."

Abad's scars had been a distinguishing feature for as long as most of the Chains had known him, with the possible exception of Vasik Team. That group swore that prior to the Anhur rebellion their leader had at least lacked his large facial scar, though even they couldn't speak for the myriad of others scattered across his torso. This time, however, there had been no escape. Abad was very much dead.

Collar, in his initial communication with Melek, had warned him that the imposter seemed to have knowledge only a Crimson Chain would possess. Aleksanders' question hinted at much the same. Were Melek the blackmailing type, he could think of only perhaps three things that could be used against the Titan CEO: a visual record of their previous holoconference, delivery records, or the abundance of Titan equipment in use by the Chains recruited just prior to abandoning Omega. Nothing else was in any way conclusive, but any combination of two of those three possibilities would be evidence enough to make his life very difficult.

Melek, of course, was not the blackmailing type. He preferred to work amicably, or when necessary outmaneuver his rivals, while blackmail carried certain risks and usually engendered resentment. Abad had usually avoided the tactic, and discretion had always served the Crimson Chains well. Whoever this imposter was, he was not so scrupulous.

"I can't imagine you'd be contacting me simply because of an imposter, no matter how realistic. Your question is an odd one, Mister Aleksanders - is there something I should know?"

The image's shoulders rose and fell in a small shrug. "I suspected as much honestly but, like I said, the question needed to be asked."

And the Chains would have checked. Even if loyalty had played no part in the decision (as unlikely as that was), they would have taken pains to make sure that Sam-mel was gone before they started making inroads through what was once his. After all, nobody likes the idea of their old employer suddenly appearing over their shoulder with a pistol in hand and a smile on their face.

Abad was gone, wholly, without a doubt, gone.

The sensation was curious, more akin to feeling the gap where a tooth should be with your tongue than actual pain; more a realization of absence than true grief. But he had already mourned the loss of the batarian in his own way, and this current matter took precedence over the (relatively) long dead.

Working under the assumption that you do not already-

"Yes, actually, I believe that there is. While the individual posing as Mr. Sam-mel is very obviously an imitation, and a somewhat poor one at that, they would appear to have access to a number of his personal resources. The article in this particular scenario being a recording of our meeting about a year ago."

And unless, by some fluke, the man or woman going by Seeker31 had solely the one piece of data that he/she needed to apply pressure (as greasily hamhanded as it was) in that given situation it was likely that there was more such information,

potentially a great deal more.

The pale batarian sat forward in his chair, spidery fingers interlocking on the desk in front of him. There was no doubt now that the human on the other end of the projector had his undivided attention.

"Well, then. It would seem you may have a problem."

There was a lengthy pause after that thought; a pause in which Melek simply sat, staring seemingly at the holographic projection. In fact, he was deep in thought. Collar was a capable soldier but no diplomat or negotiator at all, and his evaluations when it came to other people tended to be exaggerated. He was much more like Goronak Ilorik than Melek, and so when Collar had warned his former associates Melek had always harbored some doubt as to whether the imposter actually had privileged information or simply played a good game.

Aleksanders, on the other hand, was no soldier, and made his fortune largely through observation and guile. He had that in common with Ib-bar, and so when Aleksanders told him the imposter had access to some of their records, Melek believed him, particularly when the claim was so precise.

"As you are no doubt aware, the Crimson Chains is not quite so... cohesive... an organization as it used to be. A number of my former associates are in possession of our complete business records, and sadly such a split represents a breach of security well beyond my control. I can assure you that I and my faction have nothing to do with this - why would we? - but I can't speak for the others."

There was another pause, this time for emphasis.

"It's even possible some of those records have made their way into hands beyond our own: some leftover records may have been discovered and disseminated following our evacuation of Omega," which Melek knew was not the case, having personally seen to the destruction of all records in the compound there, "...or one of the others may have offered them to the highest bidder. Granted, most of our regular customers didn't survive the Reaper War, but there are a few who did and information brokers would no doubt offer a pretty sum for such names. It's most unfortunate that yours is among them."

The information broker theory was plausible, but unlikely. Joral, Ashtor, and Alto may never have appreciated the value of information quite so much as Melek did, but they recognized that it could be dangerous in the wrong hands. He'd demonstrated that for them himself, on several occasions. No. The imposter had some more direct connection to the Chains, but he was no closer to figuring out what that connection may have been. Context was needed.

"If I may ask, how did you become aware of this?"

"May?" The man said dryly.

This wasn't an apocalyptic-esque threat and there were protocols in place for the eventuality of such a colossal security breach; namely discredit the data, discredit the man, and toss both out to be savaged by the extranet and crucified in the court of public opinion. But still, to make a massive understatement, this was a bit of a loose end and such things had to be dealt with in a timely manner or they had an unfortunate tendency to multiply, usually exponentially.

Now, the most important question: did Nikolai trust the batarian? To be honest with him? No, Melek was an intelligent man and intelligent men play to their own interests. He would withhold any information that might undermine his own authority or limit future courses of action. To aid him out of a sense of altruism? No, there would be a cost, there was always some cost; it was only reasonable for there to be some price for this further down the road.

Then why? Why seek him out at all?

Because if there was one thing that the scarred man trusted, without a trace of doubt, it was that Melek Ib-bar's actions would serve the long term goals of both himself and his faction of the Crimson Chains. The presence of an active and potentially malevolent individual with both access to proprietary information and no qualms against using it was an unacceptable risk to both.

"You don't have to reassure me Mr. Ib-bar, if I was under the impression that you yourself were responsible for this we would hardly be having this conversation."

Nikolai frowned inwardly as he mulled over the options that the pale, lanky batarian offered. Each possible, reasonable even, but at the same time...the conduct of the false Sam-mel felt so much more deliberate, so much more personal than the actions of some random individual. Additionally, there had been no offers of cash in return for silence, any enemy of the Chains who was going after their former clients wouldn't have dared to tip their hand so early (at least not without some form of demand following close behind), and any information broker worth the name would have behaved in a similar fashion. Knowledge was power, money, influence, not something to be parted with so casually and certainly not without some kind of string attached.

The only other readily apparent alternative was that this was someone within, or with ties to, the Chains's current power structure. But that still did little to actually explain why?

"Via the aforementioned site actually." A microsized holoscreen flared to life alongside the figure and he tapped out a few unseen commands.

Several (long, comm buoy traffic being what it was) moments later the batarian's terminal chimed, an encrypted message from a dummy account sitting in his inbox.

"A copy of Seeker31's message along with a link to the relevant thread for your perusal. As I said, it is a blatant imitation but the almost childish behavior is...worrying."

Melek had already seen both pieces of provided information, of course, as well as some similar behavior across other boards Abad had frequented. It was always a shock to Melek just how active his former superior had been on the extranet; running even this comparably small and simple faction of the Chains was taking up most of his time, and Abad had managed a much more complex and diverse organism than this. Remarkable, really, that he'd still managed to find time to bother sentients across the galaxy with his particular brand of hostile wit. That said, Abad had had the benefit of a cadre of capable officers, something that Melek had yet to develop.

It wasn't for lack of trying, of course, and there was no shortage of hyper-competent candidates given the Lorek Chains' large contingent of former Special Intervention Unit troopers, but aside from Goronak it had proven difficult to trust any of them. This was at least in part because Melek had done such a thorough job of corrupting such officers in rival operations over the years, including the other Chains factions, but when it came right down to it, Melek hated delegating. Without the minutiae of the organization to keep him busy, he'd likely get bored, or worse: complacent.

Minutiae such as consoling a worried former associate, for example.

"It's a play for legitimacy. Whoever this is, they want to sew doubt, and if they can keep former associates of the Chains - such as yourself - from denouncing them publicly, they achieve exactly that. The longer they maintain the charade, the more doubt they sew. The threat of blackmail was intended entirely to silence you and let them go about their business. On the surface, childish, but not an inherently foolish maneuver."

The gaunt batarian sat back in his chair, fingers still interlocked in front of him.

"I doubt there's any action you can take publicly to dissuade the imposter. Recognizing them would only be to their benefit, with the side effect of making you look like a fool when the ruse is revealed. The revelation of your former business dealings with us would be more immediately damaging, though I have no doubt you have contingencies in place."

Fingers unlaced and drummed on the desk thoughtfully for a moment before Melek continued: "In fact, with the threat of discovery so imminent, it may be prudent to rekindle our relationship. There's nothing to lose, and much to gain - we're an effectively legitimate part of the Lorek government, which is one of the most progressive in the Confederacy, and a broader profit margin would no doubt keep your shareholders from asking many questions."

"I believe that that's an accurate and efficient summation of the situation as it stands."

And it was, truly. Any action on his behalf was a tacit admission of legitimacy, drawing further attention to the issue and compounding the problem. Best remedy available was to simply ignore the individual in question and his threats into oblivion. In the meantime scarred man took a moment to reign in the tension, to breathe, and to relax.

What was done was done, what could be done to address the issue had been done, what preparations could be made were already in place; there was no point in stressing over something that was already out of his hands.

That being said there was still something gnawing at him. It wasn't anything concrete, nothing that he could vocalize as a rational argument, just the jangle of warning feelings. A lizardbrain response, instinctual. In their line of work sometimes the most dangerous mistake wasn't underestimating your opponents capabilities but overestimating him. Burning resources and time on contingencies and ploys that they would never even notice. Sometimes there was no higher thought process, no plot. Sometimes people simply did things because they could, because it amused them.

But speculation was just speculation; biased, unverifiable, and largely based within one's own imagination rather than reality. For the time being Melek's explanation was the most reasonable and, in the absence of any concrete evidence to the contrary, the most likely.

There was another shrug and, just like that, Nikolai shoved the entire problem into a small, neat cubby of his mind for examination at a later date. There was business at hand.

"Correct on all counts Mr. Ib-bar. My organization and Mr. Sam-mel had an amiable working arrangement in place, one that I am more than open to re-establishing and, while the War has taken its own toll on our assets, rest assured that our production capabilities and R&D remain formidable."

If snakes could grin the expression would in all likelihood be identical to the businessman's thin lipped smile.

"What was it you had in mind specifically?"

"The way I see it, we have several options depending on how public you want our 'new' relationship to be. As I mentioned, we're effectively a legitimate part of the Lorek government now. Slaving isn't our specialty anymore - it's just not practical, given the strict relay control and reduced markets."

Melek stared off into space for just a moment before continuing, fingers drumming on the table, head tilting to the right as a smile spread across his face.

"If you're interested in a public relationship - forging new and relationships between humans and batarians or something along those lines, as I imagine your publicist would put it - we could provide personal bodyguards for you and some of your top aides. You know what they say about men with batarian bodyguards, after all? They say 'there is a man who will die of old age.'"

The smile broke into a chuckle, albeit a quiet, batarian one. Excessive laughter was one of those minor quirks of humanity that tended to irritate batarians, after all, and there was no point in encouraging it.

"Keeping that in mind, even among batarians our people are the best. You would of course pay us in credits, a substantial portion of which would go towards buying Titan weapons and armaments at a quietly discounted rate. Separate transactions through a proxy, of course, so as to avoid the appearance of Titan supplying weapons to a Confederate faction. Additionally, Goronak is my partner here, and, as I recall, prior to the war you found his feedback most useful in the development of said weapons; I'm sure he would be happy to provide his expertise as part of any agreement."

Fingers drummed again.

"That said, if you're interested in something less public and perhaps a bit more morally objectionable, we retain many of our contacts. I'm sure we could work as a middleman to enable such transactions, though of course it would be easier to do so if there were legitimate shipments taking place at the same time."

Well now this was interesting.

There was a balance here, an order, with potential gains and liabilities arrayed before him like pieces on a chessboard. Stratagems and counter maneuvers. Plots within plans within innocuous questions. But, in the end, like it always did, it came down to one piece.

One single piece.

"Yes. Yes I think that that would work nicely."

His head dipped again, this time in counterpoint to Melek's.

Good manners cost little and could reap much.

Guards, a new market, increased profits, a neat public relations coup, a staunch ally and all the perks that brought (say what you will about backroom deals, promises staked on reputation were as binding as any legal contract) in turn for weapons, credits, and potential military support in the future.

Oh yes, oh yes he could work with this. Granted the guards would have to be integrated and the Shades would have to be appeased; but that should be relatively simple enough. Supplanting the Chains in the guards's immediate loyalties would hardly be easy per se, but neither would it be unreasonably complex. The perils of competent subordinates who were aware of their status was that, unfortunately, they had a tendency to actually take initiative on their own behalves. As for the Shades, they would initially be unhappy of course, but first and foremost they were almost fanatically dedicated to their master. They would keep watch on the Chains and carry out their duties. Still, Nikolai made a mental note to implement a few additional morale boosting measures for his own elite troopers. Reassure them of their positions.

It wasn't that he expected the pale man to try and stab him in the back but leverage was leverage and it was far better to be pleasantly disappointed than unhappily surprised.

"To clarify, we are amenable to your proposals. Both of your proposals. As you say it is far easier to mask illicit trades behind perfectly legal transactions. And if you're already involved in one, why not the other? As for the logistics of this; how would you like my personnel to get into touch with yours?"

Well now, this was working out better than expected!

Melek made a mental note to thank the Abad impersonator prior to executing them; thanks largely to their efforts, the Lorek Chains were gaining an important ally in Citadel space and a job that would increase their visibility and legitimacy in circles otherwise inaccessible from Lorek.

"We maintain a small dock on the lower levels of Omega," said the batarian, typing out a few basic commands on his desk console. "I'm transmitting the exact location now. It should serve as an excellent contact and transfer point. One of the advantages of being in the Omega Nebula rather than the Kite's Nest, I suppose."

That much was true. While the Nest had its own economic system, it could be difficult to access major interstellar commerce routes from there; Omega was the perfect hub, and Lorek was only a few hours away. Given their current business angle Melek hadn't taken advantage of that yet, but it was never too soon to tap a new resource.

"I look forward to working with you again, Mister Aleksanders. Our administrative assistants can work out the specifics, but I think we both have much to gain from this agreement."

With another tilt of his head, deeper this time and still clearly to the right, the gaunt batarian terminated the communication.

A major new client, a new weapons deal, and observers in one of the largest corporations he could hope to deal with. It had been a good day for the Chains. A very good day indeed.