Ohm Colony, HIP 82030, 3306-08-26 07:46 GST
Thomas Whitton, Operations Manager at Ohm Colony, closed the door of his small apartment behind himself and began the walk to the outpost's operations center. It was a short walk to the operations center and but he wanted to be at his post on time. He fully expected to be fired today, but there was no point in giving the new regime an easy excuse. Not that they needed one, he thought glumly: things on the station were a mess. The Buurian Protectorate had just won the latest election after a narrow defeat in an election a few weeks earlier. Tom had been a vocal supporter of the previous regime. He even signed off on the party that the Confederation of Olelbanu had wanted to throw on the station, to sway undecided voters. Space being at a premium on the small outpost, the only places big enough were the hangars, which wasn't an option, and the agri-zones, cramped as they were, where algae and fungus were grown, to provide station with a supply of staple food. It was bland food, but it kept import costs down and made the colony viable. It was during this party that the water supply for the agri-zones was contaminated. They were still trying to figure out what had happened, but the entire crop and all the water had to be vented. Things were cleaned up now and they were starting growing food again, but rationing of both food and water had to be put in place. The Buurian Protectorate capitalized on the situation and won the election in a landslide.
That wasn't Tom's only worry: he had committed the outpost to what looked like an easy and profitable cobalt contact. The price was excellent, and the miners that worked out of the system could easily fulfill the demand. There was a steep penalty clause payable if the order wasn't fulfilled within the due date, but he was pretty confident that it would be done the first day, at a huge profit. He hadn't considered foul play, however. The first delivery had made it fine, but after that a group of Vultures were destroying every ship carrying cobalt out of the system. They had managed to sneak a few more shipments out but were still two tons short of fulfilling the contract and no ship would dare transport cobalt for him. The new controlling faction was likely to take a dim view of saddling them with millions of credits in penalties. Thank Randomius they weren't an Imperial Patronage style faction, or he would have been looking at a life of slavery to pay for it. As it was, unemployment was more likely. He could go to another system and maybe get work on the docks, but a good job, like the one he had, was unlikely.
He reached the door of the operations center, stopped and took a deep breath. He straightened him self up a little, punched in his access code on the door's keypad and stepped inside the small control room. Melisa Singh, flight control office and operations assistant, was already at her console.
"Morning Tom", said Melisa in a cheery sing song voice. "You look a bit rough? Late night?"
"I didn't sleep well. I have to be honest with you Melisa...". He paused and took a deep breath. "It's very likely we'll be fired today, when The Buurian Protectorate takes control. I'm sorry. They'll likely announce that they want their own people in charge when they call us today. I am sorry to dampen your day, but the new boss is probably going to be unhappy with us."
"She seemed cheery enough earlier on."
"Who?", said Tom, confused.
"Progenitor Woodward, of The Buurian Protectorate. She called about thirty minutes ago, asking how things were, and if there were any issues we needed assistance with."
"What did you tell her?", asked Tom, a creeping dread coming over him.
"Well, I mentioned the situation with the water supply, which she already knew about, of course. She instructed us to coordinate with CMDR Buur and General Zoff regarding resupply of essential commodities. They'll be working to clear up the drought situation as soon as possible."
"Did you tell her about the state of the faction offices?"
"Yeah, I mentioned they weren't in great shape. She responded, that a political supporter had donated 2MCr, so that is our budget to expedite repairs. Today would be good, but she fully understands that we may be busy."
"And the cobalt contract?"
"Well, when I was answering her questions on system security, it sort of slipped out.", Melisa said sheepishly. Tom's heart sank. "But she took it very calmly. She said she'd set up a delivery contract for us."
"Did you mention the Vultures?"
"Of course. She said it wouldn't be a problem. The CMDR taking the contract had seen a lot of action in the Thargoid Wars, whatever that means."
Tom sat down in his chair, dumbfounded, strapped himself in, and deactivated his magboots. He was slightly in shock. He hadn't been fired. There had to be a catch. He logged in and was hit with the second surprise of the morning: there were three megaships in orbit. There were multiple Pythons and Kraits on their way to the station already, CMDR Buur, General Zoff, CMDR Sweney, CMDR Universallaie, and CMDR Waltzinmouse piloting them. An incoming comms request popped up on his console. He accepted it.
"Hi, I'm CMDR Buur! I have 16000t of water on my carrier. Where do you want it?"