What Is Omega Station?

Omega Station, aka the Rock. A barren, airless asteroid on the outermost edge of the galaxy, home of the richest of the rich and the poorest of the poor. Dotted with commercial, military and residential domes, the outer surface is the place to live for those who can afford it or are lucky enough to work there.
But the vast majority of the Rock's residents don't live in the surface domes; instead, they have tunneled downwards, moving ever further towards its fiery heart. The upper levels are safe, comfortable, secure—or as secure as anyone can be on
Omega Station. The lower levels, now; they are home to the detritus of a double dozen races and species, all living in uneasy juxtaposition, fighting, loving, eating—and being eaten.
The Rock's location in space, the last real port before exiting the galaxy, has made it a valuable commodity to many governments and private corporations, as has the addictive drug straz, which grows only in its recycling vats. Control has been taken and given in a hundred bloody battles over the years, but those who live in the lower levels—and further down, in the Depths—are often barely aware of whoever claims to be in charge.
No one, really, rules the Rock, whatever they may claim, however many weapons and warriors they throw against it.
For the Rock is eternal…and it has many secrets...and many stories...

Saturday, April 26, 2014

Part 4 of SCUM by J. A. Johnson

Captain Carle Eversyn read over the incident report as it scrolled across his desktop holoscreen. Unless he was mistaken, there hadn't been any explosions in any of Omega Station's sewage treatment plants since long before he'd arrived as head of the Consolidated Guard a few standard months ago. An addendum tagged to the end of the report confirmed what he'd already been thinking, and then some.

There hadn't been an explosion in over a hundred cycles.

He wondered how he should take the incident. On the one hand, it was just the sewage plant, and the Rock had more than enough of those.

On the other hand, this was Omega Station and everything meant something more than was apparent at first glance.

Eversyn sighed and called his secretary.

"Yes, Captain?" The young Halsan woman's voice practically sparkled over the intercom.

"Please call Master Dyll and express my apologies, but I will have to cancel our dinner meeting. Explain to him that an emergency has arisen and duty calls."

"Yes, Sir. Will there be anything further?"

"That will be all, Lisolia, thank you."

He clicked the comsys off, then took his standard issue sidearm from his desk drawer and holstered it, picked up his data pad and stylus, pocketed them in his flack vest and headed for the door.

He hated missing his meeting with Rudof Dyll. From what he knew of Dyll—and that wasn't very much—Eversyn was fairly confident that the most influential sentient on the Rock would not take offense. On the contrary, thought Eversyn, Dyll always seemed to take particular interest in his job. Why was beyond Eversyn's ability to grasp. Politeness? Dyll didn't need to be polite to anyone; he was too rich. Sincere curiosity in the routine headaches of the head of the Consolidated Guard's presence on Omega Station?

Or perhaps Rudof Dyll simply sees me as an equal.

That was a comforting thought and it kept him smiling all the way down to the still flaming tanks of the sewage plant.

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