The Auditor

Act 1, Scene 4

A Moreauverse Novella

Salen's head drew back as he chirruped a short, sharp laugh. “Oh, stars, Johan, you're just too damn ugly to even consider getting physical!" He tapped a faux-scarred cheek and tilted his head to peck the human's lips. “Definitely what you would call a two bagger, or a ten shot bender, for sure!"

“Or no lights." And, as he spoke, the lights in the cabin winked out, plunging them into a darkness more complete even than the void of space.

“I can still feel you, Joh." Salen quipped, flicking Johan's cheeks with his whiskers. “And smell you, phaugh. These prosthetics don't breathe well at all."

“Ugh, yes, tell my sweat glands that. Even with the nano channels it feels like plastic wrap on too tight."

“Then let's get this off." Salen released Johan's shoulders, bringing his hands up to dig his blunt, manicured claws into the scars of Johan's cheek. The faux flesh ripped easily under the slow drag, sloughing away from Johan's skin to reveal the nano mesh of wiring beneath. “The printer's already got another set ready to apply in the morning." Worrying his claws beneath the loosened material he lifted it away slowly. It had enough structural integrity to pull away entirely but for the tears in the cheeks.

“And a shower." Johan said as he worked his jaw while Salen discarded the mask. “I so need a shower."

Salen returned and bent to nip lightly at his ear, “Maybe." He did not bother with the faux scars on other areas of Johan's body. “Maybe not. I've got something for you to do, first." Johan felt a thump against his side as Salen turned away, his heavy tail dragging across his hip with a whisper of fur.

Johan swiveled the chair to track the unseen form, following the soft click of claws on the floor and whisper of fur against fur. “Oh? And what might that be, oh, my master?" He asked, a warm hint of humor tinging his voice.

“First," Salen's voice, warm and seductive with its own edge of humorous teasing, “get rid of those clothes. They cover more than just your skin, pet." Johan was swift to comply, shucking the shirt even as he stood, dumping it blindly in the chair behind him. His feet were already bare so shedding his pants was a simple affair, the sibilant rustle of cloth the only sound in the cabin for a few breaths.

“I have done, master."

“Good then." Salen's voice was directly in front, a meter or so distant, slightly to the right. The ghost, of course, could have told him exactly where the skunk was, even shown him a false-color image from its internal sensors but it had long ago ceased offering such helpful queues. Salen did not even have to tell it not to do so anymore. “On your knees, pet." Johan did as he was bid, the floor comfortably soft despite being hard enough for Salen's claws to click as he walked. “Come forward."

Leaning forward Johan touched the floor with his fingertips and shuffled forward on his knees, gauging how far away the bed was from the chair. No more than two meters, despite the size of the cabin.

With the absence of light Johan's other senses amplified, filling his ears with the sound of his awkward shuffling, his breath and that of Salen not far away. His nose was filled with the rich, earthy warmth of Salen's personal scent; the curious mixture of cinnamon and vanilla his creators had chosen for him a subtle suggestion below the much more potent weight of his masculine musk and dry dustiness of clean fur. Johan let his nose lead toward that tantalizing melange, tilting his head up slightly to take it in with a long breath through his nose.

He felt a brush across the top of his head briefly before it was withdrawn, a mere feather's caress that could only have been a long, heavy drape of fur. Warm fur brushed his shoulders softening the firm planes of muscle and bone bracketing his shoulders.

“Closer, pet." Salen's throaty churr was still somewhat distant, the echoes within the cabin quieted by his own exposed pelt and the soft materials of the bed they shared. “Lean in." Johan did as bidden, shifting his weight forward onto his hands until he felt a touch atop his head, that warm stroke of heavy fur. Shorter, velvet soft fur brushed his cheeks as he drank in the increasing potency of the musk and spice in his nose. Then his face was smothered in fur and the heady musk of male. “There you are, pet. You may enjoy what you have found."

Johan pressed into the warm touch of dense fur, drinking in the musk as he buried his nose into it and inhaled noisily. His lips caressed and traveled the hollow before his face, tracing its curves and contours as he worked upward. His nose and then lips transitioned from ever shortening fur to flesh. It was hot and slick, the scent a heady richness of Salen's personal musk. The weight atop his head shifted to one side as he cocked his head up to give the hot flesh before his lips a hard, slow, probing lick.

He felt the flutter and twitch of Salen's anal ring clench under the questing stroke of his tongue, the skunk shaped dog letting out a trilling growl as his tail drew up and to the side even further. Johan's weight shifted forward further, pushing his face solidly beneath the long drape of Salen's tail, his tongue slathering across the twitching anal ring, tasting the prostatic wetness that the skunk's vents produced rather than the mephitic thiols of his natural ancestors.

“Yessss, my pet." Salen growled, the angle and shift of his rump against Johan's face revealing that his upper body had sprawled out while his rump was raised into the salacious attentions of Johan's tongue. “You enjoy that, dear one, hmm?" Johan answered by circling his tongue about the taut ring of hot, slick flesh, flattened at the apex of the curve by the root of the tail above, and then shoved his tongue firmly against its center. Johan most certainly did, he had long ago ceased to worry about his partner's hygiene in such regard. The skunk was incredibly fastidious despite the fact the wetness produced by his vents would keep him naturally far cleaner than any other the human had ever encountered.

And even those he had occasionally delved upon just as he now was his skunk shaped dog.

Shifting his weight back onto his knees he reached up and grasped Salen's hips as he pressed his tongue against the clenching center of Salen's intimacy, lapping up the subtly sweet, musky wetness.

“Ah ah, now, pet. You know better." Salen admonished, shifting his weight forward, slipping from Johan's grasp even as he dropped his hands obediently away. He dipped his head in apology and, as Salen's weight shifted back, he found his face pressed against the back of Salen's large sac. The fur upon the cool, tender flesh was extremely short, no more than a couple of millimeters, but as soft as crushed velvet. The musk upon them was rich in male potency, vanilla, and cinnamon. He brushed his face from side to side, letting that musk coat his skin even as the trickling wetness from the skunk's vents dribbled down his nose and stained that fur with Salen's growing arousal.

He could only imagine, delightfully, the similar wetness pooling at the tip of the skunk's sheath still tantalizingly out of reach.

“You want something, my pet?" Salen's hips swayed side to side, amplifying the eager nuzzling of the human's face beneath his tail.

“You." Johan mumbled against the soft brush of damp velvet crushed against his face and lips, his nose buried in the cleft of Salen's furry rump.

“How, my pet?" Salen's tail tucked down against the back of Johan's head, driving him even more firmly into the cleft beneath it, its length draping down Johan's naked back.

“Any way you will have me, master." Johan tilted his head and cupped his tongue under one heavy orb, far too large to fit into his mouth, to kiss and roll it as close to his mouth as he could draw it. The scent of musk, spice, and arousal was making Johan's head spin as if from lack of oxygen and his own aching erection was bobbing heavily against his loins leaking his own copious pre. “Let me serve you, master; lust for you, savor you." He jerked his head up and dragged his tongue firmly along Salen's cleft and across his slick anal ring. In the darkness there was only that scent, the touch of fur and hot slick flesh, the sound of their quickened breathing. Salen was black within black, a phantasm for the titillation of his mind's eye that was, at the moment, as blind as those of stone.

Salen suddenly drew away, bedcovers rustling as Johan was left floundering, his tongue left to do naught but lick his damp lips. “Come, pet." A quiet double pat on the bed somewhere ahead and to the left. “Come, stretch out on your back for me." Johan hastened to obey his master, clambering up onto the bed, the fate of the prosthetic faux skin utterly forgotten. He felt Salen's warmth and bulk to his right but did not move to touch or caress, that would not be accepted. He crawled up onto the bed and obediently turned to stretch out on his back, panting as his eyes sought to focus on something, anything, in the impenetrable darkness but only saw false flickers supplied by his own neurons.

Warmth moved over him, brushing against his chest and stomach but he kept his hands down at his sides until given leave to touch. He felt a warm breath across the flesh of his needy cock and groaned as his balls surged and tensed, eager for release. “Oh, my dear pet, you are in such need." A warm, subtly coarse caress against his glans and downward along the underside of his cock made Johan jerk and cry out afresh, his hips striving up toward that torturous lick. Cool air wafted across his balls as Salen took his own sampling of Johan's musk, as pungent and potent as the skunk's own in the still air of the cabin. “Shall I ease your ache, pet?" He teased, ending with another slow, savoring lick that cupped around Johan's taut head, lapping up the copious dribble of his pre.

“Yes, master, please!" Johan choked as his fingers fisted the coverlet into ruin.

“Hmmmm." Salen purred, his lick progressing back down the underside of Johan's cock, across his balls, the skunk's head rotating even as his body moved, reversing the position Johan had held beneath his tail only moments before. “No." The human's thighs parted as the skunk's angular head drove between them, under his aching balls, and delved into the cleft of his ass. That warm, rough tongue dragged across his clenched anal ring.

“Master!" Johan croaked and writhed, his almost painfully erect cock too stiff to even slap his own loins as it bobbed in the air, left cooled by Salen's drying saliva. “Please!"

“Nor shall you, my pet." Salen warned from between Johan's splayed ass cheeks, his tongue darting and stroking, his long whiskers tickling his inner thighs. “Do not touch." Johan abruptly jerked his hands away from where they had been about to grasp his cock and ease some of its needful ache.

The surface of the bed dipped and rose as Salen continued to shift without drawing his head away from its teasing, torturous play against Johan's twitching ass and the underside of his taut drawn balls. “Yes, master, please." He moaned, lifting his hips and shifting to follow that tongue.

And then it was gone, a heavy weight grinding upward between Johan's splayed thighs, driving his cock down and trapping it between flesh and fur as Salen moved up overtop him. “Please what, my pet?" Salen's voice was close, a caress of warmth at his chest, throat, chin, lips. Whiskers caressed his throat and cheeks as Salen's presence drew up over him, the weight of his hands pressing down the mattress to either side of Johan's shoulders.

“Please, master." Johan hooked his lower legs inward, pressing against the back of Salen's thighs as the skunk stretched above him, the fur of his abdomen grinding against Johan's cock, bringing him rocketing almost to the brink but not enough to hurtle him bodily over. “Take me, I am yours!" He pulled with his legs, feeling Salen's sheath replacing the warmth of his tongue in the cleft of his ass.

Salen's hips shifted, rolling back slightly, drawing his sheath down as the fur of the skunk's lips brushed his own. When he strove up to steal a kiss Salen raised his head out of reach. “You are, my pet." Johan felt the stroke of short, velvet soft fur drag along his cleft end in a wet, naked slither of flesh against flesh. A tapered tip slid upward, nudging the underside of his balls before drawing back down, and then up once more, settling into the dimpled center of his tight clenched ring. “You are. I shall."

Johan let out a breathy roar as that narrow tip speared him, spreading his tight clenched anal ring with the slick heat of Salen's rigid length. It was not painful, being suddenly and forcefully spread around the slim girth. It was a pleasure long enjoyed, slim or thick however it was granted him. His legs tensed, pulling even as Salen's hips strove back and then thrust again, deeper, eliciting another grunting snarl from the pinned human.

He could feel the smooth flesh slipping, slick and hot and throbbing, against the walls of his flesh and past the constricting clench of his anal ring. Even is it moved, drawing almost fully back before slamming forward with the muscular dip of Salen's hips and the impetus of his own legs, he could feel it thickening, spreading him wider with each powerful, urgent thrust, bearing the curve of the skunk shaped dog's nascent knot solidly against his resistance. Johan relished the feeling, the submission to Salen's desire, the omega submitting to a more potent alpha. Salen had found a certain liberation in Johan's willingness to reverse their normal roles; of master and slave, leader and follower.

It drove his desire to lust and his body to eager acceptance of the thickening arousal forcing him open further with each thrust. He grasped at Salen's shoulders and upper back, urging him to greater power, his body shuddering with each thrust, anal ring relaxing slightly each time the curve of that knot ground against him. And then, with a firm shove, into him. It did not remain, withdrawing with a wet sound that seemed far louder than their shared panting in the heavy darkness, the thickening cock drawing out almost entirely. There was a pause, a brief moment hovering in the transition point between removal and return, that reflex clamped him down upon. His inner walls tightened and he felt his cock shift and twitch in the fur of Salen's groin, dampening the black fur with his own needy arousal.

And then the skunk was slamming forward again, Johan's outer resistance relaxing, if slightly, while his inner walls tightened around the intrusion. Once more the knot slammed against him and powered through, thicker, more solidly, before being jerked free again. Discomfort tried to rear itself from the waves of pleasure but was quickly subsumed when the cock was drawn back, paused, and shoved into his bowels afresh. Five times, six, seven, eight times that enlarging globe of passion slickened arousal powered into Johan before his anal right caught behind it, clenched, held it fast.

And that's when Salen truly began to buck, to fuck with more beastial force than passioned arousal. Johan's body shook with the short, almost brutal fervor of Salen's lust seized instincts; to mate, to claim that which was his, surrendered and accepted. Johan's fingers fisted into the deep fur of Salen's upper back, pulling the writhing skunk down, feeling sharp teeth at his shoulder, below his ear, the side of his neck before finding purchase and biting down. On occasion those teeth pierced his flesh but those were marks, some now true scars, that he bore with both pride and love.

The mark of his lover, the one whom in all of his years he had chosen as true mate. Once thrown to him as a discard to use at his leisure now taken by his heart even as it was given to him in return.

He delighted in the feel of Salen's engorged knot pulling against his clenched ring, slamming against his prostate with each needful thrust, the liquid motion as the thick, lengthy pride of his lover giving him all that he desired; that they desired, to share. Johan could feel Salen swiftly approaching the limits of his passion, the stiffening of his shoulders, the gut that ground his cock mercilessly against fur softened muscle. Salen's breath hissed through his teeth, alternately cooling and scalding the flesh trapped between them as he rose ever more closely toward his peak.

And then, with a wonderful pulsing surge that Johan could feel surge up from the very root of the knotted length piercing him, the rush of his lover coursing up his length to detonate deep within his body. The fluid rush that pressed even further than the cock was capable of made Johan's sight sparkle and flicker with the overwhelmed neurons within his visual cortex. “Yes," He rasped, clutching at Salen, as if to pull him bodily into himself entire, “master, yes, claim me. Fuck." He drew the last words out breathlessly as Salen's cock twitched and throbbed, pulsing the thick, hot seed of passion into the willing flesh it had taken.

His own erection, though aching with need, was subsumed by the feeling of Salen's desire being released. The skunk continued to buck wildly for several long moments, the initial release lasting far longer than Johan's ever could, pouring the copious initial release into him. There would be more, he very well knew, much more, over the next half hour or longer and was more than pleased to accept it.

At length Salen's body slumped, rigid muscles going slack as his weight crashed down upon Johan and his teeth released their pinning hold. The skunk panted heavily into the hollow of his shoulder as Johan continued to grasp and stroke the fur of his back in turns, letting his hands rove down so far as the skunk's muscular rump and hold him in place. He could feel the slow rise and fall of the lush tail in the darkness with each tightening and throbbing pulse of the skunk's knotted cock.

“That's my pet." Salen rumbled after several silent minutes, the twitching of his cock slowing but not ending, becoming a steady, powerful pulse in time with the rhythmic clenching of Johan's inner walls. “Good, you did not waste yourself." Despite the wonderfully overwhelming sensations throbbing against Johan's prostate and the needy sensitivity of his aching cock, Johan had not climaxed when that bulging mass spent itself within him. “I do not like waste."

With the flexibility given to skunks and dogs alike Salen levered himself up slightly, twisting his upper body about, and took Johan into his muzzle all in one smooth motion. The human let out another startled, delighted bark as his fingers fisted into the nape of Salen's neck and his body clenched powerfully upon the length embraced within him. He heard Salen's hiss of pleased breath when he was clenched but the skunk did not withdraw from Johan's cock. It tightened down all the more firmly, taking his pet's entire aroused length easily and stroking it eagerly with his tongue.

Johan needed very little coaxing and even less stimulation. Seconds after he had been engulfed by that searing heat his cock thickened, becoming even more achingly erect, and gave a powerful muscular twitch. His balls churned and tightened and his hips strove to lift against the knot securing him to Salen's loins, keeping him firmly in place as his body tightened down still further. His climax exploded almost violently forth and Salen chuttered the same way he always did when Johan clenched upon his knotted length. With the cock in his muzzle the exultation was a muffled growl that vibrated along Johan's entire length as his seed poured forth into the waiting maw.

Salen wasted not a drop, no more than Johan might have had the skunk's cock been in his mouth rather than his ass. Again and again his body clenched, Salen hissed through his nose in rapture, and human seed surged across the skunk shaped dog's tongue.

At length both slumped, Salen half atop his pet human, curled about to nurse the last fading dregs of his climax while his own erection continued to keep the two inseparable. When Johan at last softened, externally at least, Salen unwound from his serpentine posture and sprawled atop him. “Damn, Joh, heart of my heart. Just… ahh, stars." He panted with the scent of Johan's release hot upon his breath.

Johan mumbled concurrence and purposely gave his ass a slow clench, forcing his inner muscles to push outward, gliding along Salen's buried length before embracing his knot in a hot, slow, muscular grasp. “Show's how much I love being yours, master." He muttered after several moments leisurely torturing the skunk's cock. He felt it surge briefly, thickening within him, the knot bulging and pulsing as a secondary climax rolled through the skunk's loins. One of many before their union would be released.

He was going to sleep well, he knew, with that gift seeping into him long after its source was withdrawn. They did not bother with a shower, steeping in their shared musks through the night. Such things could be dealt with after they awoke.

“Progress?" He asked the ghost after settling into the costumer's chair many hours later. The ship's chronometer, synced with that of the outpost, read oh-six-forty-five. More than time enough to apply the prosthetics he would need.

“Assessment of crew compliment, human command and moreau labor, compiled to within a ninety two percent veracity rating. Data review of station records compared to supplied external data approximately sixty percent complete. Considerable variances have been discovered, primarily concerning facility output against refinery materials receipts. Some steps have been taken, prior to the freeze placed upon it prior to our arrival, to obfuscate the primary records. This has caused a disparity between mining and reducing machinery output to cargo reported."

“He's skimming." Salen, cleaning the cookware and plating he had used for their morning meal, observed from the kitchenette. “That's to be expected and should be accounted for on end of cycle profit reports. What's the disparity?"

Johan remained still in the chair as the wire mesh was drawn over his face and the nano hooks secured it to his flesh. Salen was more aware of some criminal activities, having been raised in the House of a criminal syndic for his first decade, than Johan ever would be.

“Of fifty thousand metric tonnes of end process material prepared for transport per three month cycle, as recorded by mining machinery logs, only forty-one thousand tonnes have been officially reported for transport and delivered. Currently two medium freighters in the lower bay are loaded with thirty-eight thousand tonnes, combined, with another three thousand tonnes undergoing final processing. Of tertiary note; all freighters in the nadir bay have been fueled and remain on ready standby for immediate launch. No flight plan has, as yet, been logged."

“Can you secure them?"

“Negative, freighters have been removed from network. All service umbilicals have been disconnected."

“Probably because of us." Salen noted ruefully. “To keep us from doing just that."

“Agreed." Johan sighed, carefully, as the faux skin was drawn down over the nano mesh. “We'll have to secure at least one of them for transport."

“An unladen one, or least laden." Salen pointed out as he stacked the plates and flatware in their respective niches within the kitchenette. “With that much mass the loaded ones will be too slow for speed if we need it, and packed to the rafters with some extremely explosive raw material."

“Are maintenance drones able to access freighter bay?"

“Affirmative. Drones are the primary method of loading and servicing vehicles in that bay."

“Can you take one over, get it aboard the freighters?"

“Cleaning service drones have access to the freighters as well as logistics drones for stocking materials used by crew. There are no scheduled services currently in the network queue, however. Inserting an anomalous command may be detected."

“See what you can manage, quietly. If you can get those drones aboard try to get them into the command module and insert remote piloting override functions."

“Probability of detection is high."

“Try."

“Affirmative."

“Track locally archived financials of human crew, find out who is raking in more than their pay would account for."

“Most of the command staff have recorded a large spike in personal finances over the past five months. There are data links to Alliance financial institutions but no current access to validate account information."

“Flag those, cross reference with previous assessments, prepare methods of segregation prior to act three. What is the current market value of crackle, per tonne, in the latest market data?"

“As of the last market data analyzed thirty days prior a4 classification R37 was valued at two hundred seventy-three thousand four hundred obols per tonne. That is a mean increase of twenty seven percent over the past six months due to a marked reduction in available supply."

“I wonder why." Johan mused and Salen chuffed a humorous noise through his glistening black nose. “They're making some pretty fat bank. Too bad they were too stupid to keep the station running smoothly, rather than turning it into a slave camp. No matter." He shrugged as the cosmetics armature withdrew its appendages and retracted into its stowed position. “Well, Associate, let's get about the remainder of this act, shall we?" He shifted and stood from the chair, turning his back as Salen approached with the unrelieved black overcoat to complete his ensemble. “Identify hierarchical alpha of the moreau population and likely subjects for positive dissemination of script material. Identify humans for same, of moreau positive motivational association."

“Several viable options are available among humans, there does not seem to be a single lead actor among those left behind subsequent to change of command. Of the labor moreaus there are four lead and several supporting actors from which to select. One operates a criminal group and manages distribution of intoxicants, gambling, and combat sports. The others fill various work classifications and are deferred to but do not seem to control any cohesive political groupings."

“Species and assessment of criminal leader?"

“Trimurti 931 series; pilot. Feline, tiger; male. Reference name: Rakshasa. Records on file pertaining to criminal activity prior to facility assignment: piracy, trade of slaves; moreau and human, murder of same. Assessment: termination. Similar classifications assessed to many operating under its leadership. Records subsequent to acquisition on facility: primary function; security, three years prior to station change of command. Criminal operations established during that time frame. Subsequent to change of command, control of the major criminal activities. No record of overt violence or homicide while on facility."

“What is his association with current security staff in moreau areas?"

“Maintains close association with all security. Records indicate management of same through exchange of favors or other bribery. Security refrains from entering areas under criminal control."

“Nothing unusual, there." Salen observed as he straightened his own simple, if severe, black coveralls and they moved into the forward cabin and the external hatch. “Typical syndic behavior. Seems odd that the violence and piracy was not continued here, though. I'd like to take a wander into their turf, see how things operate here."

“Once I've found a secure location from which to conduct my 'interviews', sure. I'm sure you can handle yourself, there." The hatch hissed, pushed outward slightly from their vantage, and the ramp began to lower.

“Nothing new to me."

“Who manages the prostitutes?"

“Chief of central zone security Bevaris Timarl; human. Assessment: segregation and removal from act four script. Strong antipathy toward moreau labor. This assessment is shared with mining functions foreman Audren Henry; human. Termination advised. Henry has multiple instances of extreme violence toward non-human labor prior to change of station command and lethal violence subsequent."

“Prepare segregation script, append potential termination, both parties."

“Working." At the bottom of the ramp their liaison stood waiting with an air of quiet expectation, his eyes shifting immediately past Johan to Salen.

“Sir, are you ready to begin?" Brady asked in an unctuous voice as they descended to the deck. Behind them the ramp drew up and sealed itself with an unnecessarily loud series of hisses and thunks.

“Yes. Take us to the nearest conveyance toward the housing area of your animal labor." Johan said flatly without giving the man more than a glance. He was an underling and Johan would treat him as such.

“You do not want them brought to you, sir?" Brady asked as he quickly caught up to Johan who had crutched right past him, his cane clicking loudly on the smooth stone of the hangar floor. This time, at least, overhead lights illuminated their path toward the same elevator. “Down below is not a safe place for a human without a security escort."

“Security escorts interfere with the investigation, mister Brady, no matter how distant they stand off. And no, I wish to see the environment in which the animals live and work. Also, there is security in place in those areas already, is there not?" The elevator doors squealed as they drew open.

“Yes, sir, mostly. Not everywhere. It's a lot of territory to cover and we're short staffed." They boarded the elevator and Brady opened a panel below the interface the Leftenant had used the previous day. Inserting a key he turned it, tapped at several keys on the revealed pad, then removed the key and closed the panel. The elevator groaned, shuddered, and began to rise away from the apex station cap. They swayed in place as it bucked and shuddered, picking up speed.

“Short staffed since the previous commander and his staff quit the facility?"

Brady bobbed his head, bracing one hand against the wall of the careening elevator. It was twenty-seven kilometers toward the asteroid's center of gravitational rotation, the 'void', and that meant the car would be moving quite fast to get there in a worthwhile time. “Sorry, this shaft was never exactly smooth." He apologized in that same unctuous voice that made Johan annoyed simply to be near. “Yes. Commander Nan and twenty of the command staff, and some support, up and lit out one down watch. They took a fully laden medium freighter and were gone before the next shift took over the command deck. Took several thousand tons of refined ore with them, too. You know how much that's worth?"

“A few million or so obols, by our last market download."

“Ouch. Prices have gone up, then. Was a hundred fifty thou, or so, per tonne last I checked, before the array was damaged. It created quite a row after they left, mostly among the animals. A lot of violence, a lot of death. And that's just continued to climb as they're not overseen very well, now. A lot of safety procedures being ignored."

“Three medium freighters are assigned to material transport." the ghost supplied silently deep inside Johan's head, and Salen's. “Only two remain, along with four Yugo class personnel transport craft. Two are docked in the cap, two in the lower ship bay."

“How long has the freighter been missing? Any record of departure?"

“Prior to change of station command three were on record. Subsequent only two remained. No record of its departure remains, likely lost in the ten day gap in facility data."

“Capacity of personnel transports?"

“Ten, by design, with supplies sufficient for thirty days. Up to thirty in extremely close quarters dismissing supply requirements. The additional mass would negatively affect ship functions."

“Status of transport craft?"

“Craft in apex landing bay designated mothballed, drives listed as not operational. Craft in lower landing bay operational in ready standby state and fueled as are the two remaining freighters."

“Someone's getting ready to exit the stage in a hurry." Salen's quiet mental presence slipped into the communication channel though the skunk had not moved, other than to maintain his balance as the elevator car shuddered and shrieked. His tail certainly helped in that regard for he remained far more steady than the two humans, the lush plume flicking and swaying with each buck of the car. Johan could feel his weight rapidly diminishing as the car rose ever closer toward the center of the asteroid and, within minutes, he was forced to grasp the handrail around the interior to remain on his feet.

“By the time we reach operations we'll be at less than five percent nominal gravity, Sir. Considering your condition will that cause any complications?"

“None." Johan maintained his flat monotone as he tried to keep his poise despite the motions of the car. “We will manage." Both he and Salen had extensive zero-G training and experience. From the aplomb that Brady exhibited he, too, was more than passingly familiar with the vertigo inducing drop in weight.

“You'll want to get a good hand hold, then. The car will slow gradually but it'll still be enough to send you to the ceiling anyway. There will be grav plating outside, it doesn't work in the elevator anymore, so be careful stepping out. It'll be a nasty transition."

Going from zero to one standard gravity in the space of a single step was more than simply 'nasty'. It wreaked havoc on the body as everything dropped back into place and the buildup of fluids suddenly found the lungs are far more interesting place to be than the respiratory tract. The elevator slowed in fits and starts, juddering and moaning with metallic protest as it drew closer to the top of the shaft. Each jolting adjustment in deceleration sought to lift Johan's feet from the floor and he allowed some discomfiture to show, some degree of inexperience with the change, to lull the man Brady into a false sense of confidence.

Salen merely dug his claws into the floor grating, braced one hand and his tail under the rail, and held Johan's occasional drift down with one firm hand on his shoulder.

At length the elevator ground to a halt and the doors shrieked as they opened. Or, at least, one of them did. The other stuck half way and the motor made a petulant growling noise as they disembarked. Luckily the nearby gravity of the floor plates transitioned partially into the cab, bringing them to a quarter gee before they stepped out and were hauled down by the much more substantial full gee of the plating. The lower, but not absent, gravity had allowed their respiratory passages to clear before full gravity, at least. Johan felt his innards drop heavily into place and even Salen staggered slightly across the threshold, as did Brady.

“Bet that'll go on your report." Brady opined as they regained their equilibrium while a hard faced human guard eyed them dubiously, Salen especially.

“The overall lack of basic maintenance, yes." Johan growled with thinly veiled ire, tugging his overcoat and shifting his cane to take the weight of his 'injured' leg.

“Ionas, this is The Auditor and Associate. They've been sent to conduct an audit of the facility, beginning with operations. They have full access to all areas, without restriction within safety guidelines." Brady said to the stoic guard.

The man was tall, broad, and given to a slight paunch though the meaty arms holding the pneumatic rifle seemed more than capable of wringing their necks if he so chose. “A'aight." He said with a nod, stepping aside to take up position near the roughly hewn stone wall of the corridor. “No detail?"

“Refused." Brady said with a shrug as he stepped forward and beckoned them to follow. “Say it'll hamper their work."

“Bet." Ionas replied laconically and shrugged. “None've ours, either, eh?"

“Figure, yeah."

“Correct." Johan said levelly as he queried the ghost.

“Ionas Beltaran, four years, labor security. No marks, sympathetic assessment. Numerous interactions with female labor, primarily one procyonid female, water systems."

“Violence?"

“Limited reports notated. Standard behavior within use of force procedures, typically concerning intoxicated crew, both human and moreau."

Johan paused after a few steps and rounded on the man who unconsciously adopted a more rigid stature, staring down at him from several inches of greater height. “How long have you been assigned to labor security, officer Ionas?"

“Four years, give or take, sir." The man replied, his voice clipped; reporting rather than answering.

“Never in the cap?"

“No, sir." He shook his head fractionally without relaxing his posture. “Like it here fine. Or did, anyway." He finished though more quietly, his eyes flicking toward Brady who was more interested in sizing up Salen standing at Johan's side and slightly behind.

“Where did you serve? PMC?"

“The Swords. Saw conflict in the Genesis sector; Narbor, Aramais, Sparta station. Didn't much like the spin on 'em, got out. Defense Authority wouldn't have an ex-Sword so I been security ever since, ended up here. Why, sir?"

“Just curious, officer. You jeeve like a soldier; reflex." He waved his free hand slightly. “Carry on." He saw Ionas' hand flex, ever so slightly, as if to raise in a reflexive salute but he checked himself.

“Aye, sir."

Johan turned back toward Brady who snapped his attention back to him. “Tag for follow-up interview, thirty hours."

“Tagged."

“Would you like to speak with the foreman, sir? I can see if he's available." Brady asked as they resumed walking down the wide, low-ceilinged corridor. No doors branched off from it but Johan could see niches inset along the wall every few meters; just deep enough to shelter a single person. The niches were cut away from the direction of the elevator in a smooth angle but toward the opposite end of the corridor the face of each niche was cut flat with a crisp edge.

Places for armed people to find cover while they fought to secure, or hold, the elevator from the mine beyond the corridor. They turned the entire thirty meter passageway into a lethal gauntlet if all of the niches were occupied.

“No. If I choose to interview them it will be with others of the command staff."

Johan was ready for pretty much anything when the door at the end of the corridor squeakily cycled open, but the one thing he was not prepared for was the silence that greeted him. Nor the darkness save for the single powerful white light shining down on a balcony platform that ended, abruptly, three meters from the door on all sides. “False image." he thought, sensing Salen making the same request.

“There is nothing of note to project." the ghost said after a moment. “Two hundred seventy meters directly ahead is the vertical plasma transfer column. There appear to be other adits throughout the void, two kilometers in diameter with your position being near the polar apex which is approximately three hundred meters forward and above your current location. There are no adequate schematics of the space to provide a safe frame of reference for an image to be provided." As Johan's mind visualized the vast open cavity in the gravitational center of the asteroid he began to make out other distant points of light, pinpricks of other balconies, perhaps, or merely beacons to define the space.

“Where do we go from here?" He asked flatly. “And how?"

“On the wall to the side, next to the door, are impulse packs. Strap one on, those will provide us with thrust to reach the other landings." Showing as he explained Brady crossed to a large cabinet and opened it to reveal several dozen modest sized booster packs hung on racks. Considering the overall maintenance they had thus far seen Johan was dubious about their use. “This is how our staff come and go, they'll be freshly charged. Compressors take in the ambient air, pressurize it, and then it is released through the maneuvering jets. Just like your ship did on approach." He slung one over his shoulders, wrapped a belt around his waist, cinched everything down and took up a dangling lanyard with a control mechanism that he slipped over one hand. He held it up. “Four directional toggle, press for down, press the tab on the back, under your ring finger, for up."

Salen helped Johan don one of the packs which he did so with purposeful awkwardness due to the cane and leg brace and then one for himself much more smoothly. Brady took something, a small tablet of some sort, from his pocket and fiddled with it for a few moments while they donned their packs. He stepped up to the lip of the landing and pointed.

“There's where we are going." He said as they joined him. Peering into the inky darkness Johan saw a light strobing steadily far away and far below them. “Labor housing, if that's where you want to go. We can get to the operations center from there, too, or go direct from here."

“Is there no other way to that location from here?" Johan asked. The tiny blinking light looked miles away through empty space. It reflected on something just to one side between it and their landing, a smooth vertical structure surrounded by something the wan light would not reveal.

“No. Only way to the cap is through that elevator." Brady waved a hand back toward the corridor. “Built in security measure, just in case. Kept them from storming command when the others split." He stepped up to the lip of the landing. “Follow my lead. Now, when you step off do it with some force so jump hard. The gravity falloff is about three meters and it'll want to draw you back, and it'll thoroughly fuck with your sense of up and down. Beacons will activate when you start using the thrusters." With that, Brady took the final two steps and leaped from the ledge as if expecting to flap wings he did not have and fly.

He immediately began falling back and down, toward the wall below the landing, before activating the forward thrust of his pack with a shrill, angry hiss that pushed him beyond the radius of the gravity plating's pull. He rose back up ten meters away and halted himself, floating in the black void with red beacons flashing at his shoulders and back.

“I will push." Salen said through their communal link with the ghost rather than speaking aloud. He had said not a word in the presence of humans since their arrival. Johan nodded and awkwardly crutched toward the lip of the landing and, with Salen providing a powerful shove from behind, he plunged off. Almost instantly the wall and landing seemed to be down, skewing wildly as it weakened, and his sense of up was utterly lost. In water bubbles would point toward the surface and air but here there was simply… nothing, no frame of reference for his sense of balance. Johan hit the thrusters forward, pushing beyond the bubble of gravity, and felt himself become weightless within seconds.

Salen caught up smoothly and helped Johan, still being purposeful in his awkward control, right himself in relation to their human guide. “This way." Brady called out over the hiss of his jets as he rotated, angled his body downward with a few practiced motions, and gave several sharp pulses to push himself forward. There was no need to maintain thrust as, with so little effective gravity, the only thing that slowed them was the air rushing noisily past their ears. That was overcome every few seconds by a tap of the forward thrust.

“Warning, mass object directly ahead." the ghost warned as they sped across the black void, angled downward from the reference point of their original landing, Brady's blinking red beacons almost a hundred meters ahead of them. A false image in muted grays overlay Johan's sight and he saw a mass of vertical lines several hundred meters ahead, distance indicators revealing just how swiftly they were approaching. Beyond the lines was a lighter, somewhat uniform hue to indicate some sort of massive wall in their path.

Brady's beacons rotated and he passed between the vertical lines, shifting his angle with short puffs of compressed air. Johan did not attempt to conduct the same dexterous rotation to fit through the gap, he depressed the center of the directional toggle and reared back to bring himself to a stop well short of the vertical lines. Salen did the same, though continued a slow forward drift that covered the last dozen meters. “Cables." He reported over their link. Johan impelled himself forward slowly, catching up to Salen. Brady's beacon lights were no longer visible.

Salen had, indeed, discovered that the vertical lines were cables. Massive cables, each almost a meter thick and humming with enough power to make Johan's bones ache and their connection with the ghost, and each other, tenuous. He backed off to survey what they could see, and the ghost could paint in their vision. Vertical cables marched off to either side, defining a gradual curve away, each ten meters apart. Fifty meters beyond, within the arc of the curve, was a truly immense vertical column. Johan and Salen backed off to reduce the interference created by the cables.

“Plasma transfer column." the ghost reported, solidifying the image in their eyes though it was still more graphical artifact than something visibly identifiable. “Between the number one and two fusion cores above and cores three and four below."

“Why is it so immense?" Salen asked, keeping himself from drifting as Johan was with short twitches of his tail that, in the zero gravity, had puffed comically, the long strands drifting as if in water.

“The functional transfer conduit is only ten meters in diameter, while the column itself is one hundred meters in diameter. The additional mass is inert material and cooling. The cables further confine the magnetic influence of the transfer containment systems. Those systems induce an interference current in the cables which is used for electricity."

“How fast were we moving?" Johan wondered idly but the ghost picked up on it.

“At the time of the warning you were traveling at nine meters per second. Impacting one of the cables or column casing at such speed, given the gravitational environment, would have resulted in severe, potentially fatal, injury without protective equipment."

“Where is Brady now?"

“Currently one hundred meters below and three hundred meters further from your position in opposition to your point of origin, closing toward you at sixteen meters per second." In the distance they began to hear quick, sharp pulses of the human's impulse pack and see the wan strobing of red beacons.

“Injury or death to myself or The Associate, mister Brady, will result in far more scrutiny of this facility than a mere audit." Johan verily snarled as the man drifted close enough to hear him. “It will also result in termination of those responsible, and I do not mean loss of employment."

“I -" the man stammered though Johan sensed his contrition was not entirely convincing. “I'm sorry, I did not think. I pass through here so often I simply followed the shortest path by habit. I'm terribly sorry, and glad you realized the danger before I did." Beside Johan Salen actually growled; a low, dangerous sound that Johan seldom heard, or heard in different pitches during vastly different activities. He put out an arm to ward the skunk shaped dog back, who had the full and very deadly instincts to rend and tear as any natural animal of either species. He also had far better equipment to accomplish the task. That resulted in him spinning slightly before he corrected with a deft touch of the controls.

“This will be logged in my formal report, mister Brady. Further such habitual actions will be viewed with extreme disfavor by myself, my associate, and the Board of Directors. Do I make myself clear?

“Y - yes, sir." Again there was a subtle underlayment that Johan did not find at all convincing. “I will be more careful in the future."

“Carry on." Johan spat, his fury evident with every cold, level, hard clipped word. “Why are there no beacons on this structure?" But Brady had quickly jetted away, opening up a hundred meter or more gap, well beyond earshot.

“Maintenance reports safety beacons ceased functioning nine hours twenty-two minutes ago due to failure of the control board in operations. A replacement board is currently being fabricated in maintenance chamber two, estimated time of completion thirty-one hours." The voice inside his head offered.

“Watch our backs, Salen. That was an easy, if obvious, attempt to remove us from the script."

“Always, Joh." Salen said from a couple of meters to his side, a comical figure soaring like a superhero, the wind flattening his tail into a curious black rudder illuminated solely by the red strobes of the pack's beacons. “If his assessment warrants removal from the script?"

“He's all yours."

Ahead the strobing beacon of their destination grew large, Brady coasting in slightly above and touching down lightly. Salen moved ahead and landed with feline grace, cutting his pack's thrust at just the optimal moment. Johan glided in with markedly less grace and landed awkwardly, Salen quickly stepping up to keep him upright. Johan winced visibly as the ungainly landing jarred his 'injured' leg, the brace groaning audibly as it took on his weight again.

“Where would you like to go from here, Sir?" Brady, acting appropriately chastened, asked as they stowed the packs on racks labeled 'expended'.

“Where do the animals work? I assume this is the adit to their housing areas?"

“This is, yes. Most of them are working in the shafts with the boring machines, a few in maintenance and housekeeping down here."

“I would like to see how these mining bores work, take us to the nearest."

Brady shook his head quickly, “I can't do that, sir, truly. Not because of the proprietary nature of the work, but those shafts are full of material being shuttled to the reducing center. While the machines are in operation no one may transit the bore holes. They only shut down for shift rotation, one hour per twelve hour shift, to move workers in and out via the bores once the material has been vacated."

Johan sighed and nodded, that did make sense and the ghost verified the nature of the low-gravity mining machinery. The holes they made would be lethally dangerous. “Very well. Where is this reducer machinery?"

“Well below of the core." Brady pointed down past the edge of the landing. “Several kilometers further down. We're roughly at the equator of the core."

“How many labor are assigned there?"

“Ten or twelve, monitoring the processing from a control booth, and perhaps more if there are repairs to be made. We have three operational reducers down there, two in operation at any given time while one is down for regular maintenance. The fourth is too badly degraded to use right now, cutting our production by a third."

“And what is your customary production when all four are functional?"

“Six to eight hundred tons of material per hour, producing about a hundred kilos of separated ore. Right now that's about seventy kilos, depending on density." They began making their way down a broad, roughhewn corridor of rock which was well lit. Graffiti covered the walls, a mixture of artistic shapes and phrases in both Alliance common and the written language that had organically developed among the moreaus over time. Each group, from the primary companies that created them, seemed to have developed its own. The most widely dispersed throughout the Alliance, Rakath, had developed among the widely utilized GeneMark canid lines and had, for the most part, been adopted by other species over time, though not entirely. Johan was unable to read whatever pidgin writing the raccoons had developed, but he could identify the roots stemming from the canine developed language.

The lighting here was far more illuminating and properly maintained, leaving no depths of shadow in the corridor. The sounds of activity, speech and moving things, echoed to them from beyond the curve of the passage. “You need to realize, sir, that we are entering an area primarily overseen and managed by the animals. We have security in place but they're mostly just to quell the more disruptive elements, not control things."

“I would not expect that they could, given they are outnumbered twenty to one and the weapons limitations here do not allow for sufficient armament to maintain tight control." As they continued around the slow curve the living areas came into view in a vaulted chamber several hundred meters across.