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DRAVEN
“Today might be your lucky day,” I offered with false optimism to the hulking green Dargun seated at the slot machine, his eyes glued to the spinning screen. If buttering him up kept him pumping credits into the machine a little longer, I didn’t give a damn about lying.
I clasped his meaty shoulder reassuringly, making a mental note to send over some free snacks if he stuck around another hour. For the small fortune he blew here daily, a few freebies was a worthwhile goodwill gesture to keep him coming back.
The Black Star Casino was an instant, record-shattering success since opening day here in the shadowy lower levels of the Thodos III station. Packed to capacity each night, it rapidly became the hottest spot for socializing and of course, for those dreaming of hitting the jackpot and stuffing their percomms with credits.
It was a long shot when I proposed the business to my old unit leader, Alkard, but I knew I could make it work.
And it did, spectacularly.
I felt pretty damn pleased with myself just then.
“Garv!” I shouted to one of the floor monitors while signaling at the hulking Dargun. “Get this gentleman whatever he wants to drink, on the house.”
“Right away, boss!” Garv scurried off to carry out my orders, then paused to flash me a grin on his return. “Busy night tonight.”
“Busier than usual, I’d say,” I agreed, watching the teeming crowds below.
“All thanks to you, Boss,” Garv smarmed with a sycophantic smile. “I mean, I know you’re a high-ranking Vinduthi and all, but it’s your hard work and loyalty that turned this place into a goldmine.”
I just chuckled at his ass-kissing as he scurried away. Sure, I was the owner, but that didn’t mean I had to waste time making small talk with the punters.
That’s what I had a team for. Every member of my unit had a task, and small talk usually fell to Thelev. He was the living embodiment of top-notch customer service, the one who whipped my staff into shape.
Thelev understood the bottom line: rake in as many credits as possible from these suckers. That influx of credits fueled the Vinduthi syndicate, expanding our operations throughout Thodos III. Not all our business ventures were strictly above board, but running legit joints like this let us launder the shadier profits from our more unsavory activities.
With profits on my mind, I pressed on toward the ballroom, the main space we’d reserved for the upcoming gala event. It was closed off for now, the staff hard at work transforming it for the big night. The doors wouldn’t reopen until the Black Star’s most extravagant event yet, in just four days.
My newest brainchild would be the greatest spectacle ever seen on Thodos III, drawing eyes from across the station to the Black Star Gala. For the general public, it was to be a lavish extravaganza for both commoners and elites alike. For me and the Vinduthi, however, the occasion held deeper meaning.
We would be honoring our fallen brothers, those who sacrificed their lives for our people at the fateful Battle of Bauxwell so many years ago. Though the war was lost, we would never forget.
I entered the ballroom and the staff straightening up the decorations stiffened at my arrival, eyes lowered deferentially until I passed.
“Everything going smoothly, Ita?” I asked a tall Bedrosian floor monitor.
“Well, boss, seems like things shape up whenever you come around, so maybe swing through more often?” He chuckled. “Other than that, all’s well.”
My gaze swept critically across the cavernous space, far larger than the adjoining casino and restaurant wings packed with revelers at this early hour. The ballroom often hosted parties and celebrations, but for the gala, every single detail must be flawless.
We were days away, but I learned long ago to be prepared early.
So far, so good, I mused, inspecting the holographic spheres being tested and mounted. The sweeping walls and soaring pillars gleamed spotless, the decor elegantly minimalist. However, as I approached the team unloading huge stacks of flower arrangements, I froze in disgust at the sight.
“What the hell is this crap?” I snapped, beckoning the nearest worker over. He cringed as I brandished a limp bouquet of faded, wilting flowers in his face. All around, his cohorts froze like prey animals and exchanged uneasy glances, relieved that the boss’s wrath singled out someone else today.
“S-Sir, it’s the f-floral arrangements for the g-gala,” the quivering Fanaith stammered. “The ones marked elegant.”
“You call this elegant? Look at these flowers! Limp, discolored, half rotting away!” I snarled. “The gala must be immaculate in every detail. When would any of you have thought to inform me of this trash?”
“It was the cheapest bulk order available, sir!” he bleated.
“I don’t give a damn about the cost. This is unacceptable, you idiot. We need replacement flowers, pronto.”
“Uh, sir, they’re just flowers,” someone dared to pipe up from the back. “Guests will be too drunk to notice these anyway.”
I hurled the putrid bouquet down in fury and stalked toward the mouthy worker as the others scrambled out of my path. Grabbing his scrawny neck, I throttled him off his feet.
