Chapter 69: Book 1: Chapter 25 (Part 2 of 4)

When we were settled in, Dean began the conference. “Well, it’s been a fucking exciting week, hasn’t it? I hope you’ve enjoyed living it as much as I’ve enjoyed watching.”

I gave him a piercing look.

“Maybe not,” he went on. “First, Torin, I just want to say I’m super frigging sorry about pulling the wool over your eyes about Shana’s class change. It was a dick move.”

“Apology accepted, I suppose,” I answered warily. “As long as you ‘fess up to what else you may have done to ‘guide’ me along the way.”

“That’s fucking it, I swear,” Dean said.

Anastasia leaned forward a mildly miffed expression on her face and spoke with false civility. “So, you didn’t turn me into a dungeon, so that the captain could make me his.”

“Ah, yeah. I may have done that. But hey, once you get past the whole ‘ownership’ hurdle you’ll be quite satisfied with the arrangement, just ask Shana,” Dean excused himself with a chuckle.

Anastasia huffed in response, unhappy with his glib reply.

Then it was Shana’s go to turn the screw “And placing her dungeon in Ionia. Essentially giving us no other logical route to take afterwards, except to pass through Grand Rapids, which happened to be the growing power base of a greedy, Twin-Souled, crime lord?”

Dean’s eyes edged upwards as he mulled something over. “Fuck…Yeah, I did that too. But there was no guarantee that Luca Gattosi would pull it off or try and fuck with you guys.”

Listening to Dean confess to the degree of his interference shook something loose in the back of my mind. A little something that had seemed off from the beginning, but I hadn’t put it together until now.

“Dean, the power went out when the magic from the Aperture hit us, right?” I said slowly.

“Yep, what of it?” Dean shrugged.

“Then why did it take several minutes before we went through character creation? Dean, did you delay character creation for me, Shana, and Victor until they were inside my apartment?” I demanded.

“What? No, I couldn’t delay character creation for just three people,” he spluttered unconvincingly.

“OMG!” Shana exclaimed. “Did you delay character creation for the whole fucking world so I would be in Torin’s apartment afterwards?”

Dean said nothing for several seconds. “What the fuck,” he swore with resignation. “Yes, I delayed character creation on Earth, but I didn’t just do it to set the two of you up. There were others who needed a nudge or two and I had a good reason for doing so. It shifted the overall odds for your planet’s survival a few percentage points in the right direction.”

“You need the right people in the right places, building up their strength to counter what is to come. On Earth, it’s more important than anywhere else due to the proximity of the Aperture spewing magical energy into the galaxy. You guys are part of that, as are others elsewhere.” 

“Fucking hell, Dean,” I griped. “That is a serious level of assfuckery.”

Although his confession that he did all this to help people survive robbed my disgruntlement at his monumental meddling of some of its bite. Once more, as with his secretary earlier, I had a sense he was being on the level with us, but how could I be sure?

Logic overrode my suspicions.

They controlled the Framework; would they really need such an elaborate manipulation to get their way. There were much easier methods. Saying that though, Dean was undeniably enjoying himself, so I didn’t shed every iota of my doubt about his motives.

“Is there anything that’s happened you haven’t had a hand in?” I said, fumbling for more information. “Were you the one that linked me to the Shattered Goddess?”

“Oh! Oh! Oh!” Dean cried, bouncing on his bean bag like an over-excited puppy. “That one wasn’t me, but what an epic fucking plot twist. She must have sensed your potential, just like I have, Torin. Although as sweet as her picking you for special attention is, it will add some complications to your life down the line.”

“Yes, we get it. They are expensive buildings to buy, and people will want them when they find out,” I sighed, half at thoughts for the future and half at Dean’s blatant change of topic.

Dean made a small, almost sub-vocal, squeak and shook his head slightly from side to side.

“There is more to it, isn’t there. Come on, spill it,” I told him.

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“The two markets included the Prime badge as part of the purchase price,” he said slowly.

I remembered something about that in the description when I examined them a few minutes ago.

“And that is significant because?” Anastasia prompted him on my behalf.

“Well, it opens up a new podium function on Earth a bit earlier than expected, allowing something which doesn’t usually happen until your planet is connected to the Plexus network in six months’ time. With a Prime Black-Market present, provided a podium is not in a Law-Abiding settlement people will be able to offload their stolen or illegal goods to the podium or official podium tablets for a knockdown price.”

“Those goods will then be offered to the owners of nearby Black Market’s and as the holder of the Prime marker, you have the right of first refusal on the goods. If you do then they will go to the wider market and if no other black market executes a purchase after a week, the goods default to you,” Dean explained.

“Alright, I see. But once the economy is up and running that is unlikely to happen except for chaff nobody wants,” I commented, still a bit confused as to why he was being so cagey, but then he had said the Slave Market was Prime too. “It’s how I’m going to react to the Slave Market being Prime that’s got you jumpy. Just spit it out, Dean.”

“Yes, well I do remember how you fucking reacted the first time I brought it up, but maybe your recent experiences will make you less of a whiner,” he shrugged.

“I think he got over that particular moral hurdle, quite quickly,” Anastasia snarked.

Then she winced when she heard my low sigh of discontent at her continued insinuations.

Dean grinned at that and continued. “The same is done for the indentured, but there is a slight difference in how it is handled because you can’t store living beings in interspatial pockets reliably. They tend to lose their fucking minds or have their brains melt after very short periods.

“Therefore, the whole ‘offering to the markets’ part happens a little differently. As you hold the Prime marker, the funds given to the seller are automatically deducted from your account and the indentured are transported to the holding pens of your slave market.”

“Whoa, stop,” I cried. “How the hell does that work? If somebody sells a slave, they are automatically bought by me. That can’t be right.”

“Only if they are sold via a podium or tablet. The prices offered compared to selling via an actual slave market or auction are garbage, so it isn’t the preferred method and you’ll be getting them for a steal. Most often it’s used when someone has slapped collars on some monsters that aren’t worth the XP to kill, or slavers who need to dump their stock fast.”

“That still seems horribly broken,” I argued.

“I’m not finished, you impatient cunt,” Dean huffed. “Although at least you aren’t moaning about morality, which is progress I suppose,” and he made a zip it motion with his fingers, as he admonished me. “You can ignore what’s happening if you wish. Any property you or a designated factor don’t claim within a day will be automatically auctioned on the local slave market network. If the sale price doesn’t cover your upfront costs you will be recompensed the initial purchase price and a little extra for their keep and care. If you claim them then you can keep them and put them to work or sell them on yourself.”

“And if I want to free them?” I asked him pointedly.

“Uhhh,” Dean groaned theatrically. “Here comes the moral quandary whine-fest. How fucking predictable.”

“Stop being an ass, Dean. I didn’t say I would do it. I’m well aware of the bind my pledge has put me in. But I need to know my options and you’re supposed to be helping, so help,” I demanded.

“You could talk this over with your imp, you know. It’s what he is motherfucking there for,” Dean griped sullenly.

I crossed my arms and glared until he relented. “For fuck’s sake, fine I’ll give you a little taste. For the Contracted and Convicted there is fuck all you can do to change their status. They are in it until their time is up. If you let them go, then your ‘ownership’ will expire but the contract they are under does not. That will just make them free for the taking by anybody, which includes thinking monsters, that come across them, so I doubt they’d thank you for that.

“Those in collars can be freed by you, but you’re a Notorious Soulbinder, freeing the indentured is contrary to your nature. There will be blowback, loss of notoriety is likely at the very least. You might get away with freeing one or two but if you make a habit of it, expect penalties. Heavy ‘your impending doom’ level penalties.”

“I understand,” I told him. “What about transferring? Say I want them to sign the Canon instead?”

Dean mulled it over for a few seconds before answering. “Sure, that would work, but you have a limited number of berths in your crew, and it would be unwise to waste them on anyone not capable of contributing to your piratical endeavours.”

“However,” he followed up with a thoughtful expression on his face. “You could offer those in collars, a term of contracted servitude in exchange for uncollaring them. That way you can set an expiry date after which they would be free to go their own way if that would help assuage your conscience.

“The contract would need to be of a proper length, and you would need to hold them to real terms. They would have to work, serve, whatever. The Framework will intuit if you are trying to commit manumission by the backdoor to avoid the consequences and apply those consequences regardless. Quixbix should be able to help you on that front. Be warned, those you offer this too may turn it down. As I mentioned before contracted servitude is inescapable, collars are not.”

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