THE MULTIVERSAL CRIMINAL

Chapter 12: Interrogation

Infiltrating into the headquarters would be a sensitive measure. Since the old days, The Blue Dolphins had relied upon invisibility as their primary means of hiding, blending in with the boundaries of the mystical cloud of Orion.

Darkness is what we enrobe ourselves in, to hide, but here, the whole place was shrouded in brilliance, the place of least suspicion.

The station had no fancy shield of invisibility or anything like that. There were numerous holographic projections placed to perfection on each and every part of the station that were opaque and hid the place perfectly, as they showed the same features of the background. Like pixels on an enormous screen.

Modifications were eminent. But what kind? More invisible guns? A ship or two in guard? As Juvo neared the location, the questions started revolving round his head, attacking his thoughts and permeating their way inside, separating his primary objective in a wall of reasoning. Without answering these, or finding reassurance in other ways, he was afraid the mission wouldn't go smoothly.

He pressed himself back on his throne and closed his eyes. "How longer?"

The driving bot, with its skeletal mechanisms and protruding circuitry- an intimidating appearance for those who first lay eyes on him- rotated his head in a buzz, replying, "An hour at most. Awaiting commands for after completion of the task at hand."

"Stand by."

Juvo pondered a while.

"Okay, run a scan once we stop. Full three sixty," he moved his hands in a circle around his head in a swift motion.

"Understood, my lord," the Sinturvs and the driver, chimed in unison.

He needed to know exactly what he was getting himself into. The scanning would give him some preconception of what to do next.

"Hmph," Juvo sighed and laid back.

Around the ship there were numerous black stains. Moreover, rust could be seen outlining the edges of many panels.

He needed to do a maintenance soon. But his ship was too well known. Stopping by any place would give his identity away, leading to all sorts of trouble. He needed to do a complete makeover by maintenance bots, instead of labour. That way, once the job was done, he could discreetly pay the head for the work of the bots, and he wouldn't even know who his client was.

But it was difficult to find any such operators, as most used slaves to work on the ships instead of robots, and he couldn't afford to keep witnesses- the reason for the present condition of the ship, which was once a shining gem... now dulled in appearance to be equivalent to a sedimentary rock. At times he felt bad. Being a lord, he didn't deserve to travel with his ship in the present manner.

The groups in the cleaning department were hostile, mostly belonging to jails of the old. Instead of indulging in crimes, they took hold of the cleaning business to earn money wisely.

But slaves were a commodity they had refused to give up, and the situation being in control till date, the Galactic Patrol couldn't do much to aid the slaves as, if they did take away them, there'd be barbarous attacks on numerous systems by the slave-owning races, making it out of control for even all of the personnel in the department.

The slaves were of varied races, bought from places like the Galactic Black Market. They toiled throughout their operating times to get sufficient food but should they rebel, they'd be denied food for two galactic days straight, and tortured in order to strike fear in the others, so that they do not repeat the actions.

But many being born into the system as slaves, were happy with their lives as it was, because it was how their life had been from when they could remember. They were ignorant of leading life like other intelligent inhabitants of the galaxies, and lived to death knowing nothing about the greater system.