TNC Office
Sitting in a hastily furnished office rented in an office center, I sifted through the data provided to me. First, I looked at Tinnar's requirements. The sooner he sets out for deep geological exploration, the better.
Essentially, the man needed little. A rented ship, a crew for it—including several specialists separately—and appropriate equipment. Renting a ship is inexpensive; a Corellian light freighter will do just fine, and besides, there are tons of them here—pick any. The pilot or pilots come with the ship.
Personnel? That's more expensive. Tinnar knew where to get staff and had already taken the responsibility of inviting several aliens for interviews. The salary is relatively small, only three to four thousand credits, but here's the kicker—solid bonuses. In case of discovering good ore deposits or other minerals, as well as providing high-quality samples, the group will be issued good bonuses.
The most expensive thing here was the equipment. High-quality equipment for geological exploration cost as much as a brand new Corellian light freighter, but it's a one-time purchase, and a necessary one at that. Of course, I could find crawlers right now, and I'll deal with that soon, but those aren't designed for deep drilling.
After reviewing the documents, I signed and gave them to Ordo; let him pay. The company's account is open and topped up with fifty million; that should be enough for the first time. Next in line was Derick.
As expected, my deputy provided me with an entire package of digital documents, including an estimate. So... Well, drilling rigs, five units, each at two point one million. Let it be. Opening the info on one rig, I quietly gasped. It's such a behemoth that it seems you could drill through the planet with it.
And looking at the data, I realized I wasn't far from the truth. It won't drill through, but it'll easily go four hundred kilometers. Derick even left a note saying, "Maybe we shouldn't play small and get the next model? It costs seven million, but you can drill down to the core itself."
And here I seriously froze. Tatooine is a dying planet. Truly dying. It has a solid core, cooled down. At least compared to other habitable worlds. The magnetosphere is gradually weakening, solar radiation continues to burn the surface, making life at the equator impossible already. The salvation—points of magnetic ore concentration. I have no f*cking idea how it all works, but apparently, it allowed for the formation of islands of calm where solar radiation hasn't reached yet. A century or two, at most—a millennium, and Tatooine will completely turn into a lifeless world.
On one hand, it's bad; on the other, it's good, as it opens new frontiers for mining ore from the planet. And a planet is a planet; at great depths, there will be everything we need; it's just that no one gives a damn about putting in so much effort to extract minerals. Right, why—when there are countless asteroid-rich ores in space and you can get all the same things in larger volumes and with less expense.
Mulling the thought over, I agreed with Derick's note; let him take the second model in the same quantity. I didn't intend to play small from the start, and this way we'll have a guarantee of high-quality raw materials. Next—enrichment plants. We don't need many, just one or two, but serious ones. Communication is better provided with magnetic levitation trains, but it's more profitable to build them ourselves. Until that exists, we can use crawlers for... Damn! I'm an idiot!!!
The crawlers have mobile enrichment plants. Take them off, put them right next to the drilling stations, and send the finished raw materials to the alloying plants on those same crawlers! It's a good, hardy machine; we can even attach a couple of trailers; it'll pull them easily. It'll be a variation of a wheeled... I mean, tracked train.
And then we can set up a factory for the production of magnetic tracks and trains for them; the missing materials can be purchased. Once that's done, we build a normal connection between the factories, build a full-fledged enricher right away, and so on.
Now, headquarters. As soon as I looked at the approximate data and the illustrated examples, my eye started to twitch. Calling Derick with a growl: "What the hell is this?!" I shook the tablet at him.
"Well... Headquarters. You didn't specify its characteristics," the man spread his arms.
"I'll only ask one question—what the f*ck for?"
"?!"
"What are you trying to build? A forty-story skyscraper, five hundred by five hundred meters?!"
"I thought you wanted to emphasize the status of our company... Usually everyone does that."
"I am not 'everyone.' That's one. And two—we don't need that. Who gave you this data?"
"The company I approached. They provided illustrations of their creations too."
"What company?"
"A famous one, Naboo..."
"Swap them out, f*ck that!" I growled at the man.
"Yes, sir!" the poor fellow practically stood at attention. The burn was well-deserved; I was provided with a beautiful and impractical something. No, really, it's unthinkable. A Naboo palace in the middle of Tatooine... That's fcked up! The wind will fcking blow it away.
"Find another one, preferably from the Outer Rim... better yet, from the Corporate Sector; those guys don't ask stupid questions. I need a relatively small, fortified, and well-thought-out structure. Three or four floors, where the first floor will be entirely dedicated to security. Another three floors—down. Are you writing this down?"
"Yes."
"Build it on the concept of a truncated pyramid, with armored shutters on both windows and doors. On the roof—about four turbolasers."
"Chief, are you sure you want a headquarters and not a bunker?"
"One doesn't interfere with the other. The structure must be built next to the spaceport. Oh, by the way, let them look at Mos Eisley. The spaceport must be fortified without fail, so that no bastard can take off or land without permission."
"The spaceport isn't the only place for landing."
"That's not your concern, but the security service's."
"Got it. Boss..."
"What?"
"What about the staff for this?"
"They're on their way. I'll introduce you soon."
"Got it."
"I've made corrections here; take a look," I handed over the tablet.
The man quickly scanned the changes, pausing in places and thinking something over.
"A good option," he delivered his verdict.
"Wait here a second. I'll finish reading."
Derick returned the tablet and sat in the guest chair in front of my desk.
Right... What's next? Personnel. Well, I'll rely on our recruiter here. Salaries, sample contracts, social security—Arina provided for everything. The number of people is also acceptable, especially for the beginning, so I had neither remarks nor suggestions for her.
The next point was droids and automation. These two points stood separately and depended directly on the previous ones. Though, I'd swap them. I doubled the number of droids, both for mining and auxiliary ones. I also put automation higher. I'm not rich enough to pay for cheap slave labor. And it's more reliable, which I told Derick directly.
I thought about skipping the power station topic, but no. Derick stubbornly didn't want to put in solar panels.
"Why?"
"Frequent sandstorms scrub the surface of plates or mirrors like sandpaper. It's not worth it."
"Hm... Didn't think of that."
"A good old nuclear reactor is easier and cheaper."
"What about a hydrogen one?"
"Or a hydrogen one, but it's a bit more expensive."
"Then let's put in a hydrogen one; our ecology is already hanging by a thread. Oh, remind me, what provides energy to the city now?"
"Wind generators. But they won't be enough for an industrial plant. Especially for drilling stations; each station needs its own reactor."
"Thanks for the explanation."
We also touched on the social part. Currently, living conditions in the cities on Tatooine leave much to be desired, and that's not right, especially since our workers live there. To solve this issue, I was provided with an estimate for providing utilities. First of all, water and sewage. Ideally, everything should be built in a new place, but Mos Eisley is simply conveniently located. It's not as hot there as in other places.
Following utilities come the houses. Entire districts will be demolished, and new normal houses will be built in their place. Plus a small hospital, a kindergarten with a school, the police station will be right opposite the headquarters. We'll have to squeeze the license to open the school out of the Republic, but thank God we have a lawyer who's already running around all the authorities like she's been stung.
Interestingly, furnishing the town will be cheaper than everything else. The top price is ten million, and we took that from the maximum. We haven't even touched on pilots and the transport service in general. There are notes on it too, but for them not to stand idle, everything else needs to be finished.
With that, I handed the data to Derick, signed off on the funds, and with a clear conscience went to the spaceport.
"Su cuy'gar, Nerra," I nodded to the girl coming down the ramp.
"Su cuy'gar, Shade. Warren."
"Su cuy'gar, vod'ika."
The other five descended behind her. After greeting everyone, we headed to our ship, where Zerronis and Kaut were waiting for us.
For the first time in my memory, almost all the chairs at the table in the lounge were occupied.
"So, Shade. What have you decided to stir up here that you required our help?" Nerra asked, leaning back in her chair and crossing her arms over her chest. Everyone sat as they were comfortable, and if not for the knowledge of these guys' mentality, one might think they just didn't care.
"I'll start by saying that everything is very serious. What you hear here must stay within these walls. You don't like to blab, but the trouble is that this must be kept from your clans as well. At least—until I myself deem it necessary to enlighten someone."
"This is..."
"This is what, Nerra, you came to me about and what I hid from you in our last conversation. You all know that I intended to become one of you, but ultimately changed my mind. Moreover, Warren erased all traces. The reason for that is the presence of observers among you. Among you as Mandalorians."
"What are you talking about?" Torque, the unspoken leader of Nerra's squad, leaned forward.
"Mandalorians carry the title of dangerous beings. You aren't just kept in a grip; you are being slowly exterminated. They don't let you raise industry; they don't let you breathe freely. The Republic is doing everything so that the Mandalorian threat stays in history once and for all."
"And that's why you decided not to get involved with us?"
"Shut up, Tron," Dis twitched his cheek. "Shade is a Mandalorian, one of us, period."
"Then I don't understand."
"It's simple. Mandalore won't be allowed to rise independently and explicitly. Therefore, it needs help secretly and from the side. I can and intend to do that."
The audience began to exchange glances.
"I'm slowly building a company. Quite versatile. Initially, it was conceived as a front, but it turned out that this firm has good prospects. Shipments to Mandalore will go through it, money will be laundered, and feasible material assistance will be provided. Most importantly—no one will know about it. Construction will soon begin on Tatooine; a waypoint for Mandalorians can be organized there. A quiet and peaceful haven where you can rest away from home and restock. But to do all this, I need help. Your help."
"Who to kill?" Norq asked. And it was a perfectly serious question, as if—point to the target and these guys will pull the bastard out from underground right now.
"No one needs to be killed. Not yet. I need security."
"Security?!"
"Yes. In the Outer Rim, it's very dangerous; as soon as the company begins its activity, someone will immediately appear who decides to profit. And this is where your help will be needed. Warren—will take the position of Security Chief. The others—as his assistants; distribute the roles yourselves. I'll explain how this structure works, point out the subtleties and tricks; I have some experience."
"Maybe we should involve more of our people then?"
"No. You'll have to work with less qualified personnel; don't forget—it's not worth linking us to Mandalorians unnecessarily. We don't need extra attention. At least, I don't know of any other pretext than hiring to involve more Mandalorians."
"Hm..."
"Yes, regarding payment..."
"There won't be any," Warren said flatly, cutting me off. "May I?" arching an eyebrow, I nodded slowly. Interesting... "Provisioning is at the expense of the company. Food, weapons, equipment—we will be provided with everything necessary. The salary will be large only on paper so that no one has questions. We will transfer funds home from my account; we have a certain reserve set aside specifically for this case."
Surprised by such a revelation, I inquired:
"Worr, are you sure?"
"Shade, taking money from you is taking it from my future home. I'm not that mercantile."
"But I am," Kaut chimed in. "I'm joking!" he added immediately as everyone turned to him.
"Ahem. Especially since you'll provide everything necessary."
"I agree," Dis raised his hand. Kaut and Zer immediately raised theirs behind him. The others didn't hesitate, following the example.
"Excellent. Then let's not put it off. We'll start by having you repaint your armor."
"What?" Dis practically sat up.
"Well, what did you expect? You need to show your affiliation. Besides, 'Black Mandalorians' has a proud ring to it!"
"You want us to paint our armor in the style of yours?"
"Something like that; mine just looks epic," I demonstrated the image. "In general, we just need a memorable uniform, relating you to one structure. At one time, in my homeland, they wanted to assemble RAVEN. That's the Rapid Advanced Vanguard for Exceptional Neutralization. They consisted of Force-users. But something didn't work out... Now you can become those troops and eventually a PMC."
"A good idea..." Nerra thoughtfully rubbed her chin. "But can we somehow do without repainting?"
"Won't work. You aren't loners anymore. Besides, you have a certain reputation, and I want to strengthen it. So that any bastard who crosses our path hides in the cracks at the sight of you. And I'm sure many will want to warm their hands on a newcomer."
"You want to create an elite among the elite..."
"Exactly."
"Well... in principle, it's possible. At least it'll be fun," Zer smiled.
"If anything, you can just paint it back later," I put an end to the dispute. On that, the people agreed, and we moved on to the next point.
Thus, the meeting smoothly turned into training, in which I explained what was being done, why, and for what reason, and also familiarized everyone with the list of necessary measures to ensure the security of the facility, personnel, and a specific person.
When we gathered again the next day, I could see the already repainted armor. The guys remembered the style in which I created mine and tried to repeat it. It came out unrealistically epic; even in me, something like that, latent, was born at the sight of the squad.
Since they were forbidden to hang around the city, I had to call Derick directly to the spaceport. When the man saw ten Mandalorian grim mugs in identical armor at one table, he almost had a heart attack, but thank God.
"Derick, meet the new TNC Security Chief," I pointed to Warren.
"Derick Lars," the man croaked quietly and hoarsely.
"Warren Stick."
"Nice to meet you."
"Likewise."
"Derick, I feel you aren't very happy with this whole venture anymore, but just keep in mind that these guys will protect your soul from other people's encroachments. How many people do you think will want to hurt you?"
"None..."
"That's my point. So don't worry," I slapped the pale office worker on the shoulder. "These guys..."
"Ahem."
"And ladies, of course, won't let you be hurt."
After the introduction and exchange of contact data, I let the cheered-up man back to the office and suggested the Mandalorians fly to Tatooine. We needed to return the crawlers and clear the area of pests.
***
While we were flying, I continued to give lessons, being distracted by a single call in the process.
"On the line," I turned on the communicator, accepting a new card. We didn't take two ships, and there was no need when we could all fit in one. And yes, as you might guess, we were playing pazaak again. Warren, Dis, and Kaut already know how I play, so they just mocked the others when I won one round after another.
"Hello. My name is Rodn Tnor," a Rodian's voice rang out over the speaker.
"Rodn Tnor?" I asked back in surprise and tried to remember the name.
"I... I am the director of Kessel Chemical Industries," ah, so that's who's calling. "I was given your contact data and told that you are looking for suppliers."
Here I laid out the cards and someone swore in a burst of feelings, someone howled painfully, and Nerra slammed her fist on the table, drilling me with an angry look. Mmm, cute. Reminds me of Hadiya. As with her, it's only cute for me; anyone else would already be building barricades or digging a grave.
"Yes, yes, you weren't deceived; we are indeed looking for suppliers in a number of areas. What can you offer?" hm... silence. "Rodn?"
"Y-yes, w-we can o-offer m-medicines. P-painkillers, d-disinfectants, d-drugs..." strange, why did he start stammering?
Tilting my head slightly, I dodged a helmet flying past.
"Cheat!"
"Sorcerer," I whispered back.
"And I said it was a bad idea," Dis whispered loudly.
"Shut up, Dis."
"Wh-what?"
"That wasn't for you," I replied immediately. "Rodn, I am very grateful that you called us; I promise our cooperation will be mutually beneficial! Could you send a list of the drugs you supply and their maximum quantity to my mail? Naturally, with the price indicated."
"Y-yes."
"Splendid. Then here is the mail address. As soon as I familiarize myself, I'll contact you immediately. Thank you very much in advance!"
"A-and you, Shade Aero."
And he disconnected. What's wrong? I wanted to offer him some military services too, so to speak, as a sign of friendship. Could the extraneous sounds be bothering him? Shouldn't be...
"Again!"
"Again, then again," I shrugged.
"Sister, you're already sitting in just a jumpsuit; maybe that's enough?"
"I'll get him!!! I will!"
Dis exchanged a glance with Warren, and Kaut laughed maliciously.
"Listen, does the scar on your neck stretch to your chest, or not?" I added fuel to the fire, fingering the dice. Using the Force now would be truly fraught; they might guess. "You don't have to answer; we'll see soon."
"Grrrr..."
"Isn't she cute?" I glanced at Warren.
"You're suicidal," the Mandalorian sighed.
"A total psycho. By the way, Warren."
"Yes?"
"How are things with your medical industry?"
"Crap. Everything has to be bought at triple the price. Why am I saying that? You were in the hospital yourself. And you stayed for five thousand, though they didn't inject anything serious, just general care and attempts to bring you to your senses."
"I remember. Listen, then can you arrange a meeting with the clan leader for me?"
"Want to propose shipments?"
"Yeah."
"I'll arrange everything."
"Splendid. So, where was I? Oh yes, basically, those f*ggots fired a rocket..."
Continuing the game, I told the guys stories of the assassination attempt on Hadiya and the ingenuity of the assassins. In any case, it's useful for them to hear, if they themselves need to eliminate someone or, on the contrary, protect. Though, after another round, I had to interrupt the game because someone actually tried to strangle me.
No, on one hand, it's fun. I stood and laughed when a half-dressed Nerra, burning with righteous anger, tried to get to me. I didn't go as far as to hang her with the Force, so I just blocked all the blows. The other Mandalorians preferred to stay away so as not to fall under a hot, tender girl's hand or foot.
Upon arrival on Tatooine, when everyone calmed down and I returned the woman's armor, we simply turned on the beacons built into the crawlers. Twenty-two machines were wandering through the sands in disarray.
"What are we doing?" Warren clarified.
"Cleaning?"
"Negotiations," I shook my head.
"Like last time?" Dis laughed.
"Maybe. If they don't get it. Jawas are scavengers, at most small thieves or minor pests. Но they too can be used. At least from what I've read about them."
"For me, just shoot them and be done with it," Nerra said, biting a toothpick.
"We'll have time. Relax, Nerra, and if you're bored—go read the technical material I provided you."
In response, she just threw that same toothpick at me and, tilting her nose up, walked out the door.
"You finally got to her."
"She'll come around."
Flying to the nearest crawler, we landed a short distance in front of it. Descending the ramp first, I walked toward the machine. For some time, nothing happened. Then the ramp lowered, and a group of Jawas, numbering seven aliens, came out to meet me, while a whole crowd remained staring from the crawler.
The language they addressed me in was amusing and unfamiliar. As far as I know, Jawas also use smells for communication, and for communicating with others, they came up with a simplified version of their native tongue. The translator in my helmet worked properly and displayed the words on the screen:
"What do the outsiders want?"
"I am the Sorcerer. Who am I speaking with?"
"Skn'Truk. Son of the leader of Clan Truk," the Jawa gestured actively, first pointing his palm at himself and then his finger at the crawler.
"Skn, you took what doesn't belong to you. This crawler," I nodded at the machine, "is the property of a company."
"This is our home. We found it honestly!" the Jawa protested, poking me with his finger.
"You stole it honestly. It and twenty-one other models were in storage at the equipment parking lot near the mining town of Mos Espa."
"To-to-to-to-to-o-o-o," the Jawa shook his finger. And I couldn't even be angry at such insolence, because it looked just too funny. And even funnier, feeling his sincere indignation and outrage.
"The outsider Sorcerer is wrong. The outsider Sorcerer should leave. The clan will not trade with the outsider Sorcerer."
"Tch..."
For demonstration, I raised my hand, and with it, the Jawa above the sand.
"Wa-wa-wa-wa-wa-wa!" the desert dweller kicked his legs, trying to reach the ground, while the others scattered.
"This."
Smack.
"Is our."
Smack.
"Equipment."
Smack—the Jawa sprawled on the sand, arms and legs spread out.
"Effective..." Dis commented, tilting his head.
"I like his negotiation methods more and more every time," Kaut nudged Dis.
"And every time like this?" Nerra clarified.
"Something like that," Warren jerked his head.
"Oh-oh-oh-oh-oh," Skn sat on the sand and shook his head.
"Skn," I caught his attention. "Listen. If you misbehave, we'll kill you all. Ang'hyer?"
"But this is our home!"
"You stole this machine. You and other clans. And you won't admit it."
"But we need it! Very, very much!"
Lifting him from the sand with the Force, I put him on his feet.
"Call the clan leader."
Turning around, the Jawa just screeched loudly. Original... The clan leader didn't keep us waiting and arrived quite quickly.
"Do you admit that you stole this machine?"
The clan leader didn't even have time to say a word before Skn pushed him and whispered something quickly.
"Yes, yes, we admit-admit," the Jawa nodded after that.
"And do you want this machine to stay with you?"
"O-o-o-o!"
"Come. Come. We have much!" Skn immediately caught himself, inviting us up the ramp with his hand.
"No, we don't need your trash!" Nerra barked, scaring the Jawas.
"Nerra," I raised my hand. "Skn, show me what you have. Bring it out."
"Are you serious?!" Even Warren was stunned by my decision, but as soon as I turned to him... "Alright," he immediately raised his hands.
The Jawas, meanwhile, caught themselves as if stung, everyone in a friendly crowd bringing out absolutely everything that was in the crawler. Melancholically observing the fuss, I examined the mechanisms, droids, watched this organized bustle. Everything was clear and orderly; everyone knew what to do. Someone was quickly tightening screws, someone was hauling spare parts, someone was wiping droids. In this chaos, there was an ideal, albeit almost invisible, order.
Examining the devices assembled from junk, I took the most beaten-up thing I found here, in the form of a droid actually assembled from sh*t and sticks. And the most amazing thing was that this thing worked. A protocol droid having wheels instead of legs, rough old manipulators instead of arms, a patched-up body... And it worked. It spoke, translated, didn't even glitch. And the database of this miracle was wider than the standard one. Since the droid was used to repair or maintain the crawler's reactor, the firmware on it was corresponding.
Approaching the Mandalorians with this scrap metal, I demonstrated the craft.
"So what?" Kaut didn't understand. Only three were left here now. Kaut, Warren, and Nerra; the others preferred not to fry in the sun and wait inside.
"What do you see?"
"Scrap metal."
"Scrap metal that works, Kaut. These devils assembled a working device from sh*t and sticks. The only original parts in it are the brains, and even those are reflashed. I don't want to know where, how, and with the help of whose mother they did it. But imagine what will happen if we give them normal equipment, a workshop, and a couple of modern textbooks with specific knowledge?"
"..."
"Don't look at me like that; I'm serious."
"And you think they'll listen to you?"
"They have a rigid clan structure. You can't see it, but they have everything organized quite well. Control the leader—control the clan. No one will do anything without his permission. If he says no—it means no, and none of these kleptomaniacs would even dare touch a forbidden object with a finger."
"I see you've decided to ruin your factories in an original way..."
"Thanks, Nerra. I knew you had a better opinion of me!"
"Anytime."
"Actually, I thought about remaking their crawlers, giving them cranes, shovels, and letting them roam the desert—pulling out ships and parts. Metal and spare parts for us, fun and profit for them. Well, if we manage to raise some basis of skills for them, there will be a higher probability of getting something working. Again, they didn't get kleptomania from a good life; they survive as best they can," I kicked the sand.
"This is a bad idea."
"This is a questionable idea," I corrected Kaut. "But it has a right to life."
"Why?"
"The crawler runs on a nuclear reactor," I pointed my thumb at the machine. "And these weirdos keep it in working condition. Judging by the fact that even more ancient specimens are still roaming the desert, it seems to me that their hands grow from the right place."
"Argument..."
"In any case, it won't be worse. I remind you that we have a severe shortage of paid qualified labor, and here is a crowd of workers out of nowhere."
"Warren, why are you silent?"
"Shade knows what he's doing," the Mandalorian shrugged.
"Thanks, vod! Here, take an example from him, you unbelievers."
"Right away," Nerra snorted. "Shade, you said you wanted to assemble trains from crawlers. Changed your mind already?"
"No. We just don't f*cking need twenty-two machines. Take three or four and it's fine; let the others roam further."
"Hm..."
"Kaut, bring a couple of jugs of water and a box of rations."
"Right now."
Turning around, I walked toward the whispering Jawas. Skn and his father immediately separated from the crowd and came to meet me.
"Do you maintain contact with other clans?"
"To-tu," a nod.
"Excellent. I want to offer you a job. The point is that you, as before, will ride in a crawler through the desert, but this time you will collect not what lies on the surface, but dig up entire ships and bring them to us."
The Jawas exchanged glances.
"I know what you're thinking, but no. Not with your hands. I'll ask to have the crawler remade for you; then you'll be able to find and pull out such things. As payment," here I turned to Kaut and Dis bringing the supplies. Waiting for the guys to lay them next to me, I nodded at the provisions. "You'll have clean water and food, enough for everyone."
"O-o-o-o!"
"We agree!"
"This offer isn't just for you. I get little use from one clan. Announce this to everyone else. If you agree, gather near Mos Eisley."
"Good."
"If not, we'll just take the machines, and in case of resistance, we'll kill everyone," with these words, I raised the clan leader above the sand. "Did I explain clearly?"
"Ta-ta-ta-ta-ta!" the Jawa nodded quickly.
"Splendid," the Jawa plopped back onto the sand with a short cry. "This is for you."
Leaving the products, I went to the ship first. Yes, this is little for an entire clan, but they'll be able to taste it.
"So? Is that all?" Nerra clarified.
"No, of course not. I want to clear the territory near Mos Eisley of Tuskens, Krayt dragons, and other riff-raff, so I'm declaring a hunt."
"So that's why you loaded the speeders into the hold!"
"And you thought we'd be riding them after Jawas?!"
"Well... yes."
"Nerra!"
"What else was I supposed to think?"
"I have better things to f*cking do. And in general, while everyone is having fun, I'm leaving you to get acquainted with the future protected territory!"
The girl froze in place.
"You wouldn't dare," Nerra said slowly, syllable by syllable.
"Don't doubt the leader."
"You're the leader?"
"Do I hear doubt?" I turned around.
"You imagined it!"
"Splendid. Let's go; no point treading the sand."
***
Read the story months ahead of the public release — early chapters are available on my Patreon: patreon.com/Granulan