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...

Monday, April 28, 2014

Part 5 of SCUM by J. A. Johnson

Simikus Giff was euphoric as he pried the floor plating up and looked inside the secret compartment. Icy air issued from the opening in white, misty swirls.

Although he had already checked more than once and knew himself to be alone in the maintenance corridor beneath the Wayamr district's atmoscyke plant, Simikus nevertheless looked about the shadowy space before setting the panel aside.

Deep within the compartment, nestled snuggly against the coolant pipes, were dozens of frosty vials—each laden with the frozen ka'frindi he had patiently smuggled from the sewage plant.

As ka'frindi, the fungus could have provide him with a comfortable lifestyle—by Nicovan standards anyway—for years to come. But, with the secret he had discovered about the delicacy, instead of comfortable, Simikus was going to be rich beyond his most outlandish imaginings.

He ran a hand across his chilly stash, noting his missing finger.

"Ah, yes. Time to fix that." He reached around one of the frigid conduits and brought forth his long absent appendage. Using the pilfered medical device, he thawed and reattached the finger.

"Welcome back, my little friend," he said, flexing the finger until it regained its former flexibility.

Dressed in Ograd's yellow suit, his ka'frindi horde safe, and his finger reattached, Simikus was ready for business. He replaced the floor plate and then quietly stole away from the maintenance corridor.

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