The inner sanctum of the Crimson Syndicate in Rusthaven was a far cry from the chaotic squalor of the Sump.
Accessed through a series of disguised blast doors and scanner-choked corridors beneath Oracle's now-abandoned information booth, it was a surprisingly opulent suite of interconnected chambers, all gleaming chrome, plush synth-leather, and softly glowing holoscreens displaying galactic market fluctuations and UGF patrol routes.
The air was cool, filtered, and carried the faint, expensive scent of Delphian spice-wine.
Alex, Voss, Kai, and Lena were escorted by Oracle's heavily armed guards, their own weapons confiscated "for the duration of the discussion." Anya and the other injured Crows were being tended to by Syndicate medics in a separate, well-equipped facility – a gesture that could be seen as either compassionate or a way of securing hostages.
They were ushered into a circular chamber dominated by a large, obsidian-black holographic conference table. Seated around it were three figures who radiated an aura of cold, ruthless power.
The central figure was a striking human woman in her late forties, her silver hair styled in a severe but elegant cut. She wore a tailored crimson business suit that did little to hide the toned physique of a seasoned fighter. Her eyes, the color of glacial ice, scrutinized Alex with unnerving intensity. This was, Alex guessed, 'The Baroness,' the reputed iron hand that guided the Crimson Syndicate's operations in this sector.
To her right sat a massive, reptilian being with scaled, dark green skin and a latticework of cybernetic implants around its slit-pupiled eyes – K'Tharr, the Syndicate's infamous enforcer and head of security. To her left, a slender, androgynous figure shrouded in dark, flowing robes, their face obscured by shadows and a complex optical visor, tapped silently on a datapad. This was 'Cipher,' the Syndicate's intelligence master, a ghost in the machine.
Oracle stood respectfully to one side.
"Alex Ren," the Baroness began, her voice smooth as cultured velvet but with an underlying edge of tempered steel. "Or should I call you Chimera-Alpha, as our mutual acquaintance Commander Zane seems so fond of doing?" She gestured to a chair. "Please. Make yourselves… comfortable." It wasn't an invitation so much as a command.
Alex sat, acutely aware of K'Tharr's unblinking stare and Cipher's silent, analytical presence. Voss, Kai, and Lena took seats beside him, their expressions wary.
"Oracle informs us," the Baroness continued, steepling her fingers, "that you possess… unique talents. Talents that have caused considerable disruption to United Galactic Federation operations. And, regrettably, to our own."
"Zane ambushed us," Alex stated, his voice level despite the undercurrent of exhaustion and the lingering dread from the Alaris device. "We didn't bring the fight to your Sump."
The Baroness arched a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. "Perhaps. But your mere presence seems to attract UGF attention like carrion flies to a corpse, Mr. Ren. This 'Alaris Call,' as Oracle's initial report tentatively labels it… you have entangled our organization in matters far exceeding typical UGF harassment."
K'Tharr let out a low, guttural hiss. "Zane's forces damaged valuable Syndicate assets. Blood was spilled. Restitution will be made."
"Restitution," the Baroness echoed smoothly, "is indeed the topic of this discussion. Oracle's timely intervention saved you from whatever unpleasant fate Commander Zane had in mind. Such services are not rendered… charitably."
"What do you want?" Kai asked bluntly, cutting to the chase.
Cipher finally spoke, their voice a synthesized, genderless monotone that sent a shiver down Alex's spine. "Commander Zane seeks 'the lock' for which the Chimera is the 'key.' Outpost Alaris, Zeta Reticuli system. Our deep-net intel confirms its existence and its… unusual nature. It is a UGF black site of the highest secrecy, involved in xeno-artifact research. Extremely hazardous. Extremely well-defended."
"We want to go there," Alex said, surprising himself with his own directness. The pull of Alaris, the need for answers about his origin and the true nature of the Absorber Gene, was becoming an undeniable imperative.
The Baroness smiled, a chillingly beautiful expression. "Do you now? How ambitious. Zeta Reticuli is a restricted UGF military zone. Approaching it is tantamount to suicide for any independent vessel."
"You have ships that can bypass UGF patrols," Voss interjected. "Untraceable routes. That's your business."
"Our business," the Baroness corrected, "is profit and power, Doctor Voss. Aiding wanted fugitives on a suicide mission to a UGF super-fortress is… high risk, low foreseeable reward."
Alex met her icy gaze. "Zane won't stop. That Alaris device… he said it would make me a 'receptive vessel.' If he gets his hands on me, and I become a puppet for whatever is at Alaris… what do you think that means for everyone else? For the Syndicate? For the balance of power in this galaxy?"
A flicker of something – calculation? concern? – crossed the Baroness's face.
Cipher spoke again. "The entity or intelligence at Alaris… preliminary threat assessment suggests it could be a Class Five Xeno-Contaminant, potentially a gestalt consciousness or bio-mechanical intelligence with warp-capable influence. UGF's attempts to 'control' it are, to use a technical term, idiotic."
"So helping us is in your interest too," Lena pointed out, her Mind Core subtly probing their reactions, though she kept a careful psychic distance from these powerful, dangerous individuals.
The Baroness chuckled softly. "Perhaps. Or perhaps, Mr. Ren, you are simply a more manageable, albeit volatile, asset than a UGF-controlled Alaris entity. Options, Mr. Ren. The Syndicate always appreciates options."
She leaned forward. "Here is our bargain. We will provide you with clandestine transport to the Zeta Reticuli system. A fast, stealth-equipped courier vessel, 'The Shadow's Kiss,' piloted by one of our best. We will also provide you with baseline UGF security codes for that sector – outdated, perhaps, but better than nothing – and basic provisions."
"And in return?" Alex asked, knowing the other shoe was about to drop.
"In return," the Baroness said, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, "should you survive and uncover anything of… significant technological or strategic value at Alaris – be it alien weaponry, advanced energy sources, UGF experimental data, anything that could give the Crimson Syndicate an edge – you will provide us with exclusive access to it. Copies, schematics, samples… the details to be negotiated upon your… unlikely return."
K'Tharr rumbled. "And if you betray this bargain… there is no corner of the galaxy where the Syndicate cannot reach you."
"Furthermore," the Baroness added, her gaze intense, "Oracle will accompany you."
Alex, Voss, Kai, and Lena exchanged surprised glances. Oracle, who had been silently observing, gave a multi-eyed blink.
"Oracle possesses unique… sensitivities," the Baroness explained. "Particularly to unusual energy signatures and xeno-influences. Consider it our insurance policy, and perhaps, an additional, albeit eccentric, asset to your team. It has a vested interest in understanding what Zane almost unleashed."
It was a devil's bargain, wrapped in silk and veiled threats. They would get their ride to Alaris, but they would be leashed to the Syndicate's agenda, with a Syndicate overseer among them.
Alex looked at Voss, Kai, and Lena. Their expressions were grim, but also resigned. They had no other viable options. Alaris was calling, and this was the only path forward.
"We need our Crows protected while we're gone," Kai stated, his voice hard. "Especially Anya."
The Baroness nodded. "They will remain under Syndicate protection here in Rusthaven. Consider it a… gesture of goodwill. And collateral."
Alex took a deep breath. "We accept your terms."
The Baroness smiled, a genuine, if still chilling, smile this time. "Excellent. 'The Shadow's Kiss' departs in six standard hours from docking bay Omega-Nine. Oracle will brief you on the vessel and your pilot. I trust you'll find passage… stimulating." She rose. "One final piece of advice, Mr. Ren. Alaris is a place of echoes and whispers. Be careful whose voice you choose to listen to. Some keys unlock doors best left sealed."
Her words, cryptic and ominous, hung in the air long after she and her lieutenants had departed, leaving Alex and his small team to contemplate the perilous journey ahead, and the true cost of dancing with devils.