Untold Vignettes of the Transworld Challenge #3 and a bit: Wheeling and Dealing

Originally posted on Tales of the Paradoyverse.

Characters in this story are owned either by myself, or other posters on the Board.

Manga Shoggoth as depicted by Dancer

"Ebony? It's Fleabot. You know the part with the naked Vizh and the Kerhsk? Yeah… that one. Tell me… How would you feel about substituting a rabid bobcat?"

Ebony's response was a rather out-of-character outburst, consisting of a stream of vitriol in Great Old One. Whatever it meant, Fleabot obviously understood the general intent of the message as he rang off almost immediately. That or the communications circuit burned out.

Ebony threw the communicard across the room.

I Don't know where you picked up that sort of language. complained the Shoggoth.

"From you. Mostly." retorted Ebony.

The Shoggoth wisely didn't answer, partly because it was the only entity likley to reach Great Old One, and partly because Ebony's phrase was indeed one that it regularly used to describe its old masters, the (Fairly) Great Old Ones.

Ebony was attempting what she considered the most inhuman, annoying and difficult task of her career: The adaptation of the Caphan Vina Drea ceremony of transference of ownership into something vaguely approaching tolerable for Humans.

There are many forbidden writings: The feared Necronomicon (Ebony had a well-thumbed version chained to the wall in her "office" back in Antarctica); "The Myth of Diancecht and Minach"; "Bavarian Illuminati"; "The A to Z Streetmap of Atlantis", the US Tax Manual and even Dr Suess' "Do You Know What I'm Going To Do Next Saturday?". Ebony was on the verge of filing Vina Drea alongside them. Preferably with a flame-thrower.

"Have you negotiated a price yet?" she asked.

No. Visionary would happily accept a token, but I do not think it would be advisable. If I understand the Vina Drea correctly, then the price must reflect the girl's true worth. I suspect that I do not have that much Anime.

The communicard started to buzz again.

"I think some research is in order."

Right.

It is also the brain, heart and - in all honesty - arsehole of the interstellar slaving trade. It has been said that not one slave is sold in the universe without an itemised docket passing through the hands, tentacles or other manipulative appendages of the Interstellar Slavers Guild.

The Guild's front office was, as ever, manned by a slaver Lovetoad (not the Lovetoad, of course - catch him doing a proper days work, the sybaritic spawn of a gallic Discoglossidae Bombina Variegata), an assisting slave, and at least five audio/visual monitoring systems of increasingly esoteric design.

Any slaver worth (the term is used advisedly) their salt quickly learns to appraise their customers. Take the attractive white-robed humanoid who had just walked in. She wore no collar, so she was not a slave herself. She was accompanied by what was clearly a skilfully summoned and controlled Elder Creature, bound in strips of cloth within an equally strange form of clothing (suits not being common Frammistat Eight), with a strange slave-collar covered in runes and strange symbols that dangled down its front.

This person was either a powerful mage, or directly employed by one. One who could control some serious muscle.

"Ah, Madame. May I help you?" smarmed the slaver.

"I am making an enquiry." Ebony replied, somewhat frostily. "Concerning Caphan slave girls."

The slaver immediately revised his opinions. The female was obviously much higher class than he guessed. (His revised opinion of her other tastes is best left in CSFB's imagination.)

"Ah yes. A rare and much sought-after line. May I ask, is Madame buying, or selling?"

There was a muted sucking and ripping noise, followed by two thuds.

"Wrong question." Noted Ebony.

"Errm. These p-p-p-premises are m-m-monitored by a number of security d-d-d-d..." stammered the slave.

Not any more, they aren't. Noted the Shoggoth, as several security systems were either rewired to the local equivalent of "Television XXX" (which did wonders for delaying Security), or underwent severe existence failures.

"Hang on." said the slave, "Aren't you that priestess from the team that kicked the crap out of the Hierophant of Frammistat Eight?". The contest in #181 Untold Tales of the Transworlds Challenge: Theological Debates and Ethical Quandaries was compulsory viewing for all slaves on the planet and had been viewed live across Frammistat Eight until someone in the hierachy realised exactly what was happening and pulled the plug. After that it was never mentioned, sometimes quite pointedly. It was amazing how many slaves ate kebabs these days, or kindly made fancy toys out of wooden disks and string for their Master's children.

Ebony smiled.

"I need to know the history and trade-in prices of some Caphan slave girls that were taken in conquest from the Slimy Slaver Lovetoad. Their names are..."

"Miiri, Deeela, Sayaana, Philaana, Noona, Odoola, Losiira, Luuma, and Kaara." completed the slave. "Have they... Have they gone to a kind Master?. It was bad enough that they were sold off-planet, but to go to the Lovetoad..." He paused. "You did take out the recording devices as well, didn't you?"

Not exactly. But all they can hear at the moment is excerpts from Great Old One Opera

"Won't that drive anyone listening to it simultaneously deaf, blind and insane?" queried Ebony.

And your point is?

"They might make a slave listen to it."

True. I'll substitute the soundtrack to Banno Bunka Nekomusume.

"Mistress, I would be honoured to help," commented the slave, "But the records are sealed on this computer that requires the paw print of my master to activate it."

He huffed on the sensor panel, then covered it with a blank printout sheet. A few seconds work on the keyboard resulted in the printing of nine heavily secured files. The Shoggoth quickly absorbed them.

"Perhaps you had better come with us." offered Ebony. "I suspect that your Supervisor will still blame you, especially with no evidence to the contrary."

"No." replied the slave sadly. "I cannot leave - I have family that could be harmed in my place."

He considered his predicament, then brightened up. "Besides, given a few unsupervised minutes I can cause some real havoc in the files."

Ebony thought for a moment.

"I have an idea. Can you get me a drink?" she asked.

"Alas, Mistress. The hospitality cabinet is kept locked, the better to prevent theft by unworthy and unscrupulous slaves."

He applied a judiciously placed knee to the side of the cabinet, next to the lock. "We have a very fine cordial made from oomozoo spice..." - here he poured a viscous, turbid and lumpy liquid into a glass from a bottle with a silver label "oozomoo" hung around its neck - "...and not containing any timov whatsoever."

Ebony accepted the glass with a smile, just as the supervisor arrived with the security team.

The supervisor was having a really bad day. One lousy security alert.

Firstly, he had caught the security team using the security monitors to watch the local entertainment channels.

Then he discovered that all the audio systems had glitched and were playing back some screeching alien voices. No manner of realignment seemed to help, and eventually the technician had had to resort to a large blunt instrument. Useless Z'Sox knockoff technology.

Then, to cap it all, the problem turned out to be that one of his slavers had insulted a prospective customer, who (quite rightly) commanded her servitor to rip its head off.

Gods! A female mage who could bind and control Elder Creatures! Fortunately the attending slave had kept his head and was entertaining the customer. The supervisor shuddered - the mage had been drinking undiluted oomozoo spice cordial.

Of course, he had promoted the slave on the spot. He had no choice, especially after the customer's rather frosty comments about the abilities of his staff.

Now he had to explain this to the Lovetoad. It was at times like this that he really wished he had listened to what his brood-mother has said when he was but a tiny toadlet.

"Have you got what we needed?" asked Ebony.

Yes. The records are very complete - I can easily calculate a value for the girls based on the human gold standard. What was all that acting about? I didn't like to interrupt as you usually know what you are doing, but turning that slave into a... slaver?

"You heard him. If he can cause havoc in the files in a few minutes, imagine what he can do in a lifetime; Plus we could always use a friendly contact in the industry. You also got to rip the head of a real slaver - what more do you want?"

The Shoggoth gave this due consideration.

A quick visit to Caph IX: I think a few personal gifts to the girls will be in order. The Caphans are quite primitive, so something like a shrunken head might be nice. I understand that the House of Nialliv may have a couple of useful specimens.

"And then?"

Then we are down to appraising the accessories. Those necklaces looked Markabian to me. Can you appraise them for me?

"No." commented Ebony, "But I know a man who can..."

The Inevitable Notes:

• "The Myth of Diancecht and Minach", "Bavarian Illuminati" and "Do You Know What I'm Going To Do Next Saturday?" are all real - or at least real fakes - found by Internet Search. "Necronomicon" is well known as a concept and "The A to Z Streetmap of Atlantis" is my own invention.


• Bombinatoridae Bombina Variegata is, of course, the Yellow-bellied Toad. Note the difference in family as quoted.


• A popular form of kebab is the Donner Kebab. The wooden toy is, of course, a yo-yo.


• Banno Bunka Nekomusume is, of course, All Purpose Cultural Cat Girl Nuku Nuku, a reminder to the world that there are worse things than Lisa's cat.