The Black Omega files: Commander Ouberos

What follows are dramatisations of some of the crimes committed by just one member of the mercenary gangster outfit Black Omega.

Commander Ouberos is known to be fond of deception and out right piracy. He is known to associate with escaped criminals, political fugitives, false prophets and all manner of vile rogues.

Extreme caution is recommended

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Deep inside the Coriolis the business consultants office was lit by Arctic white window lights. The cold, bright type favoured by medical facilities which wanted to give an impression of sanitary conditions.

There was very little furniture in the room. Either side of a tall, circular glass table were two black leather, high backed chairs complete with chromed arms and data connections. Some distance in front of them was a solitary, mean looking fold up metal chair.

The kind you only brought out when there was absolutely nothing else to sit on. The kind that just looked uncomfortable.

Absen Molph, Commercial strategist for the Alliance of Hip106072 had quickly discovered how uncomfortable the chair was while he completed the data assessment which had been given to him by the Business Consultants PA. It seemed that no matter which way he shifted he just could not find an easy way to sit on the cursed thing.

The tablet data slate he was using was of a foreign design and was longer than he was used too. He found he needed to rest it on his knees while he inputted the information and that meant he had to lean forward which was adding to the discomfort. The office was really cold as well which wasn’t helping. His fingers were already going numb even as his aching back grew hotter. For what seemed like the hundredth time he stopped inputting the details of shipping forecasts and profit margins by tonnage into the slate and leaned back. The business consultant had come highly recommended but he was beginning to wonder where the small fortune they were spending was going. It certainly wasn’t being spent on luxuries.

He breathed out heavily and realised he could actually see his breath.

Before he could look for the thermal controls he heard a door slide back behind him and the loud click of heels. The PA had returned and he tried to remember her name, Lara, Tara? She was stunningly beautiful and he had quite forgotten to listen to most of what she was saying. He caught the sound of another, heavier set of footsteps and he turned his neck but winced when his back protested.

The PA had shoulder length silver blonde hair, pulled tight in a ponytail. Her white dress was business like and tight looking. It finished just above the knee and Absen found for the second time that day he wasn’t really listening to everything she was saying. He became aware that the Business Consultant had approached and was holding out his hand. He wore a sharp royal blue suit in the old style, complete with white collared shirt, black tie and a crisp pocket square. With his hand extended toward Molph, he caught the gleam of an antique wrist mounted chronograph under the shirt cuffs.

“Kara has filled me in on your predicament Mr Molph. I think we can help,” The Consultant spoke with an unusual accent. He gestured again with his hand, but when Molph still failed to understand he took the slate from his cold hands with an impatient jerk. Then he and Kara moved over to the leather chairs, sat down and took a few moments to scroll through the sensitive information he had shared with them.

Absen clasped his fingers together for warmth and drew his knees up a little. His eyes roamed the room and occasionally he cast furtive glances over Kara.

She looked at him once, catching him with her incredible void dark eyes and smiled, causing him to look away quickly like a thief caught in the act. He looked again just as quickly but she was back with the data. She and the Consultant shared a quiet comment about something of interest in the stream. She smiled and Absen wondered if they were together or if she was single. He hoped she was single. She was a business professional, he began to wonder how much it would take to get her to sleep with him. Within the Alliance he was a powerful man.

Then he came to, shook off the distraction and remembered why he was here.

Absen had been authorised to give the Business Consultant full disclosure of the entire commercial enterprise for the Confederacy. The Alliance of HIP106072 figured they now had nothing to lose. Their approval ratings were in the pan and business was so bad projections indicated a recession and famine were on the horizon. Since Black Omega had arrived on the scene their entire business model had collapsed. It seemed nothing they did went right. The Omega crew were organised and vicious, they had dominated the trade routes and obliterated any opposition, literally obliterated it. The structures of government had collapsed around them and now they held sway with Black market payments, corruption and gangland tactics. The Alliance had tried to fight back but their ships were no match for the Omega fleet in System and on the Coriolis the agents of the Alliance were found dead or just never found again. To say the current situation was bad would be an understatement of Stellar proportions.

“Mr Molph, what were the original ideals of your Confederacy?,” Kara’a question caught him by surprise.

“I’m sorry?” he stammered.

“Does your Alliance have a Principal statement?” she asked again, smiling as she spoke. He found himself suddenly fidgeting on the chair and struggled to think for a moment. He had been with the Alliance since he left education. 35 years and yet he found himself unable to answer her. The Consultant was also watching him now and if Kara’s smile was warm and friendly his face was cold and distant. He watched with calculating intensity that Molph found hard to deal with.

“We are a Confederate organisation built on a number of large commercial operations. Originally dealing in mined goods but now diversified into all areas and drawing taxes from a large proportion of the Systems population. We exist to rule and to make profit,” he replied and found himself hoping the answer would please Kara. He decided speaking to her was easier than the Consultant.

“And what do you think Black Omega’s principle statement might be?” she asked. Molph thought for a moment more and looked between the two of them for some kind of clue. In the end he gave a weak shrug and had to admit he didn’t know.

“Direction, Opportunity, Fun,” she said. “Can you imagine why that might be popular with the citizens of this and other systems like it?”

Molph sagged a little more. His faction, the faction he had dedicated his entire life too were not one of the galaxies great successes and he knew it. Black Omega were famous even before they arrived in his system. For a hundred light years around passing Traders had been whispering their name. System after system had fallen to them and it was said they had the ear of high captains in Delaines Kumo. Intelligence agents, working for the Alliance had gathered what data they could about Omega, but when they finally landed in force the Alliance was poorly prepared to deal with them. They had tried locking down the system. Tried fighting them. Tried raising taxes to fund more ships. They had tried everything and failed. It was all over and now they were clutching at straws.

The Consultant spoke and Molph looked up.

“Black Omega are here to stay, they are well funded and their business model is both popular and profitable. Your position however is currently financially unsustainable. Your costs are too high and although you have some highly commercial shipping contracts you aren’t leveraging the profit correctly and are throwing it away in a pointless opposition to Omega. Kara and I can see there are also areas where you aren’t maximising your commercial ventures. Ships are flying half empty on long circuits with low returns. Deck crews work half a shift and take too much sick time. There is too much stock being damaged enroute or failing to arrive. All of this adds up to a negative nett effect on your position. Frankly I am amazed you have made it this far,” as he spoke Molph seemed to shrink further into the uncomfortable metal chair and he began to visibly shiver.

“However, I can truthfully say that I have seen worse. This situation can be turned around. With the help of Kara and I, I believe we can stem the losses that are draining you and perhaps also gain some ground on Omega,”

Molph’s eyes went misty and he nodded, desperate for some good news to cling to. Right now he knew the leaders of the Alliance would try anything.

“You should know though that I don’t work for free and that on top of the money you have already paid I will require another ten million before I advise you further,” he spoke the words so easily it was as if he had asked to borrow a pen. Molph didn’t hesitate. The Business Consultant had come highly recommended. His intelligence agents had all agreed and reeled off names of systems which had mentioned him, they showed him quotes from exotic places, references on Galnet from far flung systems of renown. They had found their man for sure, he was the saviour they needed and all it took was a measly ten million. Less than the cost of a stock T7. What could possibly go wrong?

Kara stood, all legs and elegance and passed him the data slate.

“If you could just log in from our slate and transfer the money right now we can get started immediately,” she said smiling and placed a warm hand on his shoulder. He joyfully approved the biometrics with a wipe of his thumb. As the money bloomed in the Consultants account a receipt notification spiraled across the slate. Distracted by the closeness of Kara Molph only half read the account name.

Then he did a double take, his mouth fell open and he looked up at the Consultant who had stood and was smoothing his jacket. Like a slack jawed fish who finally sees the net he watched as the Consultant tugged at his shirt cuffs and straightened his tie. Then ran a hand over his slicked hair, smoothing any which were out of place.

“Did, did that say Black Omega?” he asked, his voice slow and confused. The world around him reducing as he spoke to a tunnel of fear that closed tighter and tighter by the heartbeat.

Kara’s hand gave his shoulder another firm squeeze, but then she kept on squeezing until he gasped in pain. Something popped in his arm and his breath left him. He looked up at her and she was still smiling only her smile had become as cold as the room and her once sparkling eyes now seemed dead and flat. The eyes of a shark would have held more emotion.

“Yes,” said the Consultant, taking the Data slate from Molph’s useless fingers “Thanks for the cash by the way. It’s not my largest robbery but it’s been a good one. And thanks for this too,” he said, wiggling the slate. Then he looked at Kara meaningfully.

Curiously Molph suddenly decided they were definitely an item.

“I think we’re through here,” the Consultant said.

Molph’s thin neck made a surprisingly loud crack when she snapped it.

The Consultant and Kara left the room and he locked it behind them. They had paid for enough power to refrigerate the room for at least a month. The cold would stop the decomposing body being discovered for a while at least. They could ambush many ships before news of the manifest theft came to light.

“I think I like being a consultant,” Kara said as they waited for a turbo lift back to the hanger. The Consultant nodded and agreed. They stepped in and were silent for a while as they stood beside each other. Kara checked her makeup in the mirror while he looked at his watch and checked his nails for dirt.

Lift Muzak played lightly in the background.

“Wouldn’t want to quit being a Pirate though,” he asked eventually and looked over at her quickly, a worried frown crossing his face. Kara shrugged.

“Nah,” she said and then the lift ping announced they were back at the hanger. The doors parted to reveal the giant shape of a Falcon Delacey Python, wreathed in steam and bearing the stealth black of Omega.

The Business Consultant offered Kara the door and began to whistle a happy little tune as together they walked back to the ship.

“I like being a Pirate best,” she said and the Consultants laughter echoed around the hanger.
“Me too Kara, me too,”
 
The Camorra of HIP106296


In the depths of Pausch Enterprise, was a bar called Reflexx. It typical of the dives in the warehouse district. The same type of bar could be found across the entire span of human space. When it was busy it was a place to enter cautiously. When it was quiet it was usually quiet for a reason and it was best to avoid it altogether.

Skoome “Three fingers” polished the bar slowly and kept a cautious eye on his only customer. Three Fingers was a big man, obviously a fighter. Scars, tattoos, one ear missing. Make no mistake, Three Fingers had come up the hard way but the thin, old man at his bar was a viper. A scorpion. A Gangster from birth. A Made man, and he was not good company.

For a few seconds the lonely drinker was illuminated by the lightning quick flash of the pink neon in the Reflexx sign through the window. Then it was gone and he was shrouded in the half darkness once again. He finished his glass of Black Opel Nera and Three Fingers immediately gave him another measure. The thin man nodded in acknowledgement and contemplated the rare spirit from old Earth for a while.

“Hey Skoome, something just occurred to me,” he said quietly.

“What's that Mr Zagra?” He replied politely while putting the cork back in the bottle neck. He put it carefully back on the shelf reserved for Mr Zagra. Next to the heavy crystal bottle of Brandy from Lave.

“If I cut another finger off your hand, my liquor would go further wouldn't it?” He asked while holding two Fingers up to the deep measure.

“If you were Skoome “Two Fingers” we could make better profits. What do you think? You want to help the family out?” He asked and smiled at his own joke. Only Skoome couldn't tell if it was a joke or not.

Before he had time to figure out the best way to answer, three of the local Under Bosses came in for their meeting. Mr Zagra forgot about Skoome and greeted the newcomers with hugs and kisses. There was no warmth in their greeting, only duty and tension. The Under Bosses touched their cheeks to his in a formalized show of affection that was to love what a knife was to a heart.

Three Fingers served them all drinks and went back to cleaning the bar. He kept his eyes to himself but his one ear stayed sharp. Their mood was dark and people were soon enough going to pay the price for that.

One way or another.

“There's enough explosive in that Hauler to blow the whole station. I'll be damned if I let them use it for another day. Not while I draw breath,” many years ago a knife to the throat had made sure Mr Zagra could no longer speak above a whisper but the anger in his voice carried his words across the room.

Diesel “Pimp Daddy” spoke up and questioned if it was the right thing to do. Three Fingers had known Pimp Daddy was stupid, but seriously, on a scale of one to ten that was exponential.

There was silence for about three heartbeats. About the time it takes for a man to slip open a hidden cuff knife. About the time it takes him to slip it open and let the rage into his blood. Then the silence ended and Pimp Daddy was opened up right there at the bar and Mr Zagra was on top of him slicing his neck and chest into ribbons while the others took a step back to avoid the pneumatic sprays of claret as Pimp Daddy paid a heavy price for having a loose tongue.

Three Fingers kept his eyes on the ground as best he could while the wet meaty punches rained down. He even tried not to hear the choking and gargling as Pimp Daddy ran out of breathing options. When it was over though, when Zagra was standing over the meat sack and eyeballing everyone with pure hatred he couldn't help himself but look nervously at the clock on the far wall.

Three Fingers had come up through the system of gangs and gained respect, he'd been tested by it and survived it, but Zagra, well Mr Zagra was the system and he hadn't got to be the boss of Bosses by missing the little things.

“You got someplace to be Three Fingers?” He asked and looked at the clock himself. The other wise guys found their weapons and enough of their loyalty to point them at the bar man. Three Fingers was in a tight spot to be sure.

“Or are you expecting someone?” He whispered quietly. “You been talking have you Fingers? You been talking to them? Telling them about this place?”

As he spoke he walked around the bar. Three Fingers knew enough about fights to know he could beat Zagra but he couldn't beat the guns. He’d never been one for running anyway and here was as good as anywhere else. Zagra stopped a few feet from him and Three Fingers didn't take his eyes of the knife that dripped so much blood you would think it had an open throat of its own.

Zagra reached out with his other hand and took down the tall bottle of black Opel Nera. He pulled the cork with his teeth and took a mouthful.

“You need to understand something about me Fingers, you need to understand that in this family I am the Boss. I am the knife in the dark, I am the Shark in the lagoon, I decide who lives and for how long,” he took another mouthful and then took a step forward. Three Fingers could see he had blood on his lips, blood on his face and in his hair. Zagra raised the knife so he got a real good look at it.

“You need to know that in this system I am the Alpha and,”

“Omega?” said a voice from the doorway and the Under bosses died in hail of automatic fire.

“Nah, you ain't Omega, you're too stupid to join our crew. Don't you know the wars over? You lost,” said the woman in the doorway with the automatic pistol. She wore light combat armour and shocking pink hair that matched the neon sign in the window perfectly. She walked into the bar and shot the Boss of bosses right between his angry little eyes.


Some time later Three Fingers poured Kara a drink from what was left in the black Opel Nera.

“And I get to run this bar as before but just swap the Comorra for you?” He asked. Kara made a face and pushed the Nera away.

“No, not me. I'm just a Consultant. Well a Pirate actually but someone will be appointed by tomorrow. And yes, same deal as before. From time to time we will likely use the bar for moving product but you'll see a cut,” she told him and leaned over the bar to choose another bottle.

“And retaliation? The Camorra come from the ground here. They will come looking,” he crossed his arms as he spoke and gestured toward the dead with a stiff nod.

Kara took a swig from the elaborate bottle of Lavian and then gave him her best dead eyed smile. The kind that only the means death.

“Oh we’re counting on it Fingers, we’re counting on that,”
 
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