Slave of Fignters "Champion of the Black Star Part One

The Coalition's reconnaissance dreadnought was traversing the vast expanse of space. Such dreadnoughts are the smallest in the fleet, as they are not designed for open combat but rather serve as reconnaissance headquarters.

The colonel of this dreadnought sat in his white office, the walls adorned with subtle blue and dark simple patterns, waiting for someone.

The colonel appeared weary, with faint wrinkles etched across his face. He wore a distinguished commander's uniform, and only his face, framed by a patch of hair that didn’t touch the front, revealed his origin from the race of Guboyrians.

“The Guboyrians — are a race of humanoids resembling primates. Their facial features are a mix of a human and a gorilla. The coarse features of a gorilla are combined with the eyes, nose, and ears of a human.

Their entire body is covered with a short, velvety coat of fur, except for their face, palms, and soles of the feet.

The length of their arms and legs is standard.”

A knock echoed on the steel door, and without hesitation, the Colonel said:

— Come in!

A short man entered, with light green skin and hair, wearing powered armor and pilot goggles on his forehead.

— Senior Lieutenant Tork, reporting as ordered.

The Colonel gestured for Tork to sit with him at the table. As soon as Tork sat down, the room darkened, and a hologram of the universe's star map unfolded from the center of the table.

— I trust you had a good rest during your six-month leave? — the Colonel asked Tork.

Tork replied:

— It was wonderful. It’s just a pity I didn’t get to choose the vacation spot myself.

The Colonel smiled:

— Didn’t you like Molibu? It’s a magical place. I’d love to go there myself someday. So, where exactly did you want to go?

Tork hesitated:

— Yes, I had a desire... But it’s unlikely I would’ve gotten there, even if I had the choice.

The Colonel tilted his head:

— So, where did you want to go?

Tork answered:

— Avalis. But, alas, it’s listed as an undeveloped planet for contact.

The Colonel extended:

— A-a-a-h, you wanted to see your local friends. I doubt that would’ve worked out for you. The planet... what was it called? Ah, Avalore.

— Avalis, — Tork corrected the Colonel.

The Colonel nodded:

— Yes, Avalis. The planet narrowly escaped destruction. They were lucky that Brevon’s ship merely crashed instead of bringing his army with him. If it had been the second scenario, the local heroes wouldn’t have stood a chance. And, thanks to your help, they’re still alive and thriving.

Tork sighed and said:

— If it weren’t for Lilac, Carol, and Milla, I wouldn’t have been able to handle it.

The Colonel rubbed his chin, smiled faintly, and said:

— But you know, I have some good news for you.

Tork looked at the Colonel attentively.

The Colonel continued:

— Since Avalis made first contact, though not a peaceful one, the Planetary Coalition is considering its application for membership.

Tork almost jumped:

— Does this mean...!?

The Colonel:

— Yes, soon you’ll be able to officially meet with your friends, — with these words, the Colonel straightened up, and his face shifted from a friendly, joyful expression to a serious one. — But first, we need to deal with a problem that’s far more important.

Tork focused, his gaze darkened and became heavy.

The Colonel continued:

— After the incident on Avalis, Lord Brevon disappeared. He’s nowhere to be found, there’s no word of him or his terrifying conquest campaigns. It’s as if he vanished. And normally, that would be fine: if he’s gone, the universe has become a little quieter. But... — the Colonel paused, — it hasn’t become quieter. Brevon has started selling his weapons to other enemies of the Coalition. Various small pirate groups, mafias, and assassins have started acquiring Brevon’s technology, making them much more dangerous. Brevon never did anything like this. He would never have sold his weapons, because he didn’t care about finances. Why would he make money if he didn’t buy anything, but instead took everything by force?

The Colonel ran his hand over the table, and the holographic map of the universe came to life, stopping near a small black hole. The image zoomed in on a section of the map and showed an asteroid.

The Colonel:

— It’s still unclear what Brevon is after. The command suspects he’s trying to weaken us, and is preparing for a major attack — possibly even on Avalis. The only thing we know for sure is that Brevon himself is not personally handling the weapons shipments and sales.

A humanoid face of the same race as Lord Brevon appeared in the holographic map next to the asteroid. A thick, puffy face, with short, bushy eyebrows that drooped at the corners. On his head, a flat, dark cap with red-and-white stripes along the edges, with a ponytail on top. His jawline was short and wide.

The Colonel:

— This is Sclaer, or as he’s called, the Treasurer. He heads up all the weapon sales. He is currently in the neutral zone of the black hole DI-0308M00000001, on an asteroid that orbits it. This asteroid is one of the largest black markets in the criminal world. At the moment, Sclaer is there. Our agents cannot conduct direct surveillance on him because he’s well-protected by Brevon’s system.

The Colonel deactivated the hologram, and the room became brighter again.

— You’ve dealt with Brevon’s security system before, and have hacked it more than once, so you have experience. The command has ordered you to go on this mission to the asteroid as a spy mission.

Tork:

— Wow… I can’t refuse, orders are orders. But I’m a hunter and a fighter. Yes, we sometimes work undercover, but that’s not what spies do.

The Colonel:

— There’s a first time for everything. Don’t worry, you won’t be alone: Senior Lieutenant Squid, who will be waiting for you, will quickly bring you up to speed. But for now, get ready for takeoff.

Tork stood up from his chair, saluted, and said:

— It will be done.

He was about to leave to prepare for the flight when the Colonel called out to him:

— Wait. Where are you rushing off to? You’ll be equipped with special gear. Buddy, you’ll have to forget about your power armor for a while. Instead, you’ll wear civilian clothes and you’ll be flying not in a space assault ship, but in an old, beaten-up cargo shuttle.

At that moment, a woman from Molibia entered the room.

“Molibians — a race of humanoids with long necks and wide hips.

They have small heads with prominent, round eyes.

A flat nose, and no ear lobes.

Their arms are long and thin in proportion to their hips, with long fingers.”

The woman was dressed brightly: she wore a t-shirt that exposed her stomach. Her arms were adorned with various bracelets, and her hair was styled in the center and gathered into a pink-blue colored bun. She wore tight-fitting jeans and sneakers.

Colonel:

— Nata, let's get this guy ready for the mission.

Nata saluted:

— It'll be done, — and turning to Torc, she said:

— Well then, green rookie, let's work on your look. That armor of yours is just awful.

—————–—————————————

The reconnaissance dreadnought had an entire beauty salon, which slightly confused Torc. Noticing his discomfort, Nata said:

— What’s with the look? How do you think you’ll infiltrate the enemy’s ranks without any disguise? It’s better not to show your face — who knows, one of the enemies might recognize you.

Nata sat Torc in the chair and began working her magic, like a Barbie shop. She darkened Torc’s skin a little and messed up his hair, then started creating a layered haircut, making several sharp strands. A few strands fell over his forehead. She decided to leave the one sticking up from his head, as she liked it.

After finishing his hair and skin, Nata began picking out clothes.

The choice was a tight-fitting jumpsuit with a high collar, emphasizing Torc’s athletic build. Shoulder pads resembling armor plates — the hit of the season.

There were straps and buckles over the shoulders for attaching various accessories. A belt with a star emblem, fingerless gloves, and high boots.

Nata:

— Magnificent, you look like a successful smuggler. You’ll fit right in over there.

Torc:

— I don’t think that’s something to be happy about.

Nata:

— You’ll get used to it. Now go head to the hangar launch bay, they’re waiting for you.

Torc left Mrs. Nata’s room and headed toward the hangar launch bay.

There, waiting for him near an old, slightly worn cargo shuttle, were two guys from his home planet, but with bluish skin, and an old Glatrilian.

“Glatrilians — a race of small humanoids with brownish skin.

They have three eyes on their head, two placed in the usual spots and one on the forehead. The eye sockets are slightly elongated.

The mouth area of the face is protruding, with no distinct nose, just two small nostrils instead.

Men are always bald, while women have what resembles hair on their heads.”

The old Glantrin approached Torc:

— Ready for the trip? I may not be a pro like you, but I know these space routes, so don’t worry — we won’t get lost. Your job right now is to look like an important entrepreneur.

Glantrin signaled to the two men to board the shuttle. Turning to Torc, he said:

— You’ll sit with me in the pilot’s cabin as the second pilot. I’ll explain everything along the way.

Torc and his company settled into the shuttle. The power engines hummed, lifting the shuttle off the ground. The shuttle, like a helicopter, could take off vertically without needing a long runway or a launch pad.

They flew out of the hangar through the force field of the gates into open space.

The reconnaissance battleship hid in the asteroid belt, so their route led through a dangerous path. It was impossible to fly at hyper-speed or make a hyperspace jump since they could easily crash into a flying rock.

While they were flying, the old Glantrin turned to Torc and said:

— There’s a case in the passenger compartment. Take it; it has your fake documents and Kalirum ingots. One ingot is worth 450,000 (T) Tikitos in local currency, and there are fifteen of them in the case. So, you won’t be short on money.

Torc remembered seeing a container attached to the shuttle and asked:

— What’s in the container?

Glantrin answered:

— It’s merchandise that you’ll be selling.

Torc, slightly surprised, asked:

— Selling?

Glantrin smirked:

— Literally. What did you think? On the market, you either buy or sell. If you just show up and do nothing for a long time, they might get suspicious. You’ve got a lot to learn in the spy business, but you’re a quick learner. By the way, — Glantrin extended his hand — my name’s Tem. You don’t have to introduce yourself, I already know everything.

Torc shook his hand:

— Sorry about that, I should’ve introduced myself first... for courtesy’s sake.

— Yeah, yeah, don’t worry, — Tem interrupted him, — you’re flying on a mission as a spy for the first time, not as a warrior. That’s why you’re so tense. Relax, Torreki.

Torc interrupted:

— Actually, my name is Torc, not what you’re saying.

Tem smirked:

— No-no, I know what I’m saying. From now on, until the mission is over, you’ll be called Torreki. It’s written like that in your documents. Be careful not to slip up, no one should know your real name.

Torc thought for a moment:

Yeah, Torreki... Couldn’t they have come up with something a bit more creative? Since they’re hiding my name, they could have made it something not so similar to mine.

— So, I take it you don’t have your real name either? — Torc asked curiously.

Tem didn’t respond, just nodded in agreement.

———————————————————

After an hour of flight, passing through asteroids, they emerged into open space. The asteroid was artificially formed, perfectly round in shape. It looked like a sphere, and its surface showed a strong division into three parts. One part was quite dark, where a launch pad was located. The second part was lighter, and there were buildings on it—its surface was covered by a special terraformed shield, creating favorable conditions. At the very top, there were luxurious buildings, clearly inhabited by the most prestigious representatives of the criminal world.

Their shuttle was approaching the launch pad strip, but before that, they had to stop at the KV-Checkpoint. These were two small rods that created a special barrier within the protective force field. A voice came from the rods: — "Conducting identity and vehicle check."

Lights from the scanners poured out from the rods, scanning the ship. After the scan, the voice sounded again: — "Shuttle IUGR-20 T 7889 scan complete. Temom, welcome to the Black Star."

The rods lit up green, and Temom guided his shuttle forward to the launch pad strip.

After parking, Tork grabbed his case and exited the shuttle. He looked around and noticed the surrounding environment. The place was a complete mess: there were no designated parking spaces, and the spaceships were parked haphazardly.

Occasionally, he could spot a couple of ships parked neatly in even rows. In some areas, separate launch strips could be seen—cleaner and more comfortable for takeoff, clearly intended for the wealthier visitors of the place.

While Tork was surveying the surroundings, a cargo truck with a magnetic trailer pulled up to their shuttle.

The driver was a girl from the same race as Tork. She had light green skin and long, dark green hair. After getting out of the vehicle, she walked up to Tork and said:

— "Toreki, I’m so glad you’re safe! I’ll be even happier if our cargo is in one piece too."

For a moment, Tork didn’t understand why she was so abrupt. She was speaking to him as if they were acquainted, but then he remembered that on the way here, Temom had mentioned that they would be greeted by a girl named Emali—definitely not her real name. He realized he had to play along and pretend he knew her too.

— "Emali!" Tork said enthusiastically. "Of course, the cargo is perfectly fine. You can check it yourself."

The girl looked at Tork with approval, waved over two guys who had come with him, and told them to handle the container. Then she stepped aside, calling Tork to follow her.

— "Tork," Emali said, "I see you’ve got the case with you. Excellent. Let’s go, we need to exchange the Calirium for (T) Tikiti as quickly as possible."

They walked between the parked flying vehicles. Local men were watching them, especially Emali. Some of them were licking their lips, while others called out:

— "Hey, cutie, come hang out with us, we won’t hurt you."

Emali ignored them and walked quickly straight to the local equivalent of a street stall.

It was an exchange kiosk where (T) Tikiti were exchanged for real currency or valuables, and vice versa, but only for money. This exchange kiosk resembled a stall embedded into the wall. It consisted of a single force field window, behind which sat a person from the Glatirian race, just like Temom. He was sitting cross-legged, his head resting on his hand, trying not to fall asleep.

Tork approached the window. The guy inside straightened up, stretched, and asked in a hoarse, recovered voice:

— "What's up, newbie?" He looked at Tork’s case and added: "Come on, open it, let’s see what’s inside."

A sliding drawer opened in front of Tork, large enough to hold several cases like his. He placed his case inside, which closed with a loud snap and then slid back out.

The Glatirian took the case, set aside the documents, and unpacked the ingots into a separate container. The container scanned the ingots and confirmed they were pure Calirium. The worker, seeing this, made an approving face. He took the documents, which resembled a steel electronic file folder, and placed them into a designated slot.

After typing something on the holographic keyboard, the worker started asking questions.

Exchange worker: — "So, your name is Elianort Toreki Vainzovich?"

Tork confidently replied: — "Yes!"

Worker: — "A merchant of clothing made from the hides and wool of rare animals?"

Tork: — "Yes, that's correct.”

The worker leaned over, fiddled under the desk, and pulled out a flat card. On the top of the card, in the center, was a letter (T) crossed out by two lines, located inside a diamond shape. The card shimmered with rainbow colors in the light, like a prism.

The worker placed some device on the table, put it into the container where Tork had just placed his case, and slid the container toward Tork. Then, abruptly asking, he added:

— "Which hand do you jerk off with?"

Tork was taken aback by the question. He started looking around, trying to figure out what this was about. Had he already been suspected, and now they were just stalling for the guard to come and detain him?

The worker, noticing the confusion in Tork's eyes, couldn't hold back a chuckle, and then, in a half-whisper, started laughing:

— "Ha-ha-ha! Dude, are you lost? I’m just kidding, god, put your fingers on the fingerprint scanner to record your naughty fingers!"

Tork sighed, but now his annoyance only grew— the worker was clearly being too careless. This place was chaotic, as expected. It was a haven for the most vile outcasts and criminals.

Tork placed his fingers on the scanner. After a quick scan, the container with the device returned to the worker. The worker took the device, inserted the card into it, and after a moment, took it out.

He took the documents and the card, placed them in the container. The container opened again on Tork's side, and he grabbed everything. In his hands, he held the card and placed his finger on the back of it, where a dark circle was located. The balance appeared on the screen— 6,000,000 (T).

Tork was outraged:

— "What do you mean, six million? One ingot costs 450,000 (T). Where did the 75,000 (T) go?”

The worker at the exchange, leaning forward, pointed with his index finger to where several armed people were standing, and said:

— "Let’s ask those gentlemen over there."

— He pointed at the armed guys who were standing nearby and chatting. Without thinking twice, the worker shouted: — "Hey, guys!"

Tork realized he should have guessed: here, the words “law” and “honor” meant nothing. Quickly, he said:

— "Alright, alright, I get it. I’ll head back, I won't bother you anymore."

The worker stopped shouting, fortunately not loud enough for his voice to reach the armed guys, who didn’t even notice.

Tork hurriedly walked away from the exchange booth and, reaching the narrow street, saw a cargo truck with a container attached. Behind the wheel was Emali. She waved at Tork, inviting him to get in.

Tork walked around the truck and sat opposite Emali. The truck started moving, and they headed toward the transport tunnel that led away from the launch pad.

Once they exited the tunnel, they arrived at the third level of the asteroid — the lowest level. This was where small-time criminals, thieves, and pirates lived, who came here to sell their loot. Sometimes, more enterprising traders could be found, selling more valuable and intact goods or offering illegal services.

The entire third level was located inside the asteroid and resembled an underground city. Narrow streets crossed with wider ones, and those, in turn, connected with the main road.

The streets were dirty, with dust, sand, and trash scattered everywhere. Clearly, no one bothered with cleanliness here.

The cargo truck turned into a narrow alley and stopped at a dead-end. On the right side, on the wall opposite the container, there was a closed compartment. It opened, and the container with the cargo was pulled inside by a magnetic grip. After that, the compartment closed again.

Tork and Emali got out of the truck and approached the door in the wall. It was clearly a back entrance for staff. Emali placed her bracelet, which was on her right arm, and the door clicked open. She opened it and stepped inside. Tork followed her.

They entered a corridor that resembled the typical entrance to a home, where people usually change their shoes before going further. On one side of the corridor was the entrance to the kitchen and a resting area. On the other side was a room where the container had been unloaded.

It was a storage workroom, and in this room, there was a door leading into the main part of the shop.

Tork stepped inside. There were two customers inside — a man and a woman — who were looking at the clothes the seller was offering. The seller was from the Oktavine race.

“The Oktavines—are a humanoid race that leads a semi-aquatic lifestyle. They resemble humans with a few differences. Their ear lobes are rounded, and inside, you can notice gills, indicating that they feel comfortable in water. Their skin color is blue, and on their heads, they have a dome-shaped, striped growth. Instead of palms, they have split claws.”

The Oktavin offered an elegant coat made from the hide of an Abarsatsky Khlëstokhlessets, adorned with precious minerals.

The woman:

— Deryl, it’s absolutely exquisite! I didn’t think you could find such things here.

Deryl:

— Indeed, such items are only found on the first and second levels. But to sell something like this on the third... You know, we’ll take it. Such beauty, and for only 75,000 (T)! It’s an incredible price—on the other levels, this would likely be sold for 100,000 or 120,000 (T). You should consider moving to the second level.

The Oktavin noticed Tork and, surprised, said:

— So, you’re buying?

Deryl confidently responded:

— Yes, I’ll take it! — then Deryl added — I manage a couple of accessory and fabric stores on the second level. If you want, I can take you under my wing, and you’ll be up on the second level in no time.

The Oktavin:

— Oh, that sounds great. I’ll think about that offer.

Deryl:

— I recommend making a decision quickly. I think after the tournament, we’ll be able to discuss it.

The Oktavin called to Emali:

— Emali, pack the goods.

Then he turned to Tork and led him to the backroom.

— Well then, — said the Oktavin, — you must be Toreki? My name is Squid, I’m your boss and commander. I think you’ll do well at your job.

He shook Tork's hand with his split right claw.

Then Squid pointed at the container:

— Here’s your first task. Take out all the goods from this container and sort them by type.

He patted Tork on the shoulder and, heading back into the shop, added:

— You’ll enjoy working at our shop.

The door slammed shut. Tork looked at the container. A slight irony appeared in his eyes, and memories of his military service came rushing back — the first days when they gave you not a rifle, but a mop, and instead of running through combat drills, you were hauling supply boxes.

Tork opened the container. Inside were various costumes, of different styles, sizes, and materials. Tork wasn’t too familiar with fashion.

— Well, how am I supposed to sort this?