It is often said that if one wanted to give the galaxy an enema, Orion is where they would stick the tube. It had not always been this way, but after the war of independence, the Galactic Empire had little tolerance for the criminal element, but the empire also recognized that a certain amount of corruption and villainy was inevitable. Orion became the unofficial place that the Empire would sacrifice, but only up to a point. The syndicates could generally read the intent of the Empire, and would generally stay within the unofficial limits that were established. As was typical in such situations, the syndicates would periodically test those limits, and meet swift and brutal corrective action from their overseers. The Empire was generally benevolent, but not to be trifled with.
Although Orion had representation in the Stellar Alliance, it was almost always through a proxy. Orion was a dangerous place, and a politician who fell into disfavor here would find himself falling out of an airlock, or getting sucked into an intake. Senator Coolph had been Orion's proxy for going on thirty five years. He was smart, streetwise, well-connected and charismatic. People either loved him and worshipped him or hated him and wanted him dead. There was no one on Orion who didn't have some opinion about Senator Theodore Coolph. Coolph came from old money, on old Earth. After North America was destroyed, first by a super volcano in the late 21st century, and then finished off by a mega tsunami that struck its eastern seaboard in the early 22nd century, most of old Earth's political power was wielded elsewhere. The wealthy and well-connected survivors of North America immigrated to Asia, and reestablished their power bases in the eastern cities of Tokyo, Shanghai, Beijing and Bangkok. The criminal elements generally immigrated to old Russia, and were absorbed by the far more powerful and ruthless eastern European mobs. Ultimately, when mankind ventured into the stars, the culture that blossomed would be from the dominant Japanese nation state, which had consolidated much power after the fall of China and the execution of all of its corrupt leaders at the hands of many millions of righteously indignant disenfranchised citizens.
North America and much of Europe had made significant strides in the promotion of equality of all humans, but with the norms of human behavior reestablished in the halls of Japanese government and corporate circles, women once again became relegated to arranged marriages, reduced political involvement, and other, similar old-world norms. Coolph really knew how to enjoy the world as it was. He had a wife and a few mistresses, and soon his son would be the proud master of the daughter of one of the most powerful and influential corporations in the known galaxy. It seemed a pity that his son had little interest in women, preferring to entertain vast platoons of men aboard his private ship, the Glorious Coolph. Still, he thought to himself, if his son chose to only keep Jenny Doolittle as a trophy wife, perhaps he himself would welcome her to his own little harem. One way or another, the family name had to be passed along to an heir, and it made little difference in the big picture if Jenny's offspring would sprout from Junigh's seed….or his own. As he strode confidently through the lobby of his office complex, one of his many obsequious aides rushed up to him. "Senator," she said breathlessly, "there's an urgent call on the FTL channel for you. It's General Doolittle." "Fine," Coolph smiled. Whether it was good news or bad news, it was always the high point of his week to talk to his old school chum. He walked briskly to his office, and activated the comm line. After several transfers and redirects, a familiar face lit up his screen. "Ted," Doolittle greeted. Coolph nodded back. "My aide said it was urgent. I heard that Miss Doolittle crashed her ship in the Nebula Cup. I trust she wasn't 'damaged'" "Nothing like that," Doolittle chuckled. "The impact was bad, but she's still confirmed as a virgin. Don't worry about that."
Doolittle continued, his face turning serious. "There's been a setback to the plan. Someone threw a wrench into the works, and I have a feeling I know who it was, but it can't be helped. MacDougal is involved, so it's only a matter of time before others may take notice." Coolph knew that he meant the Empire. "How can I help get us back on track?" Coolph inquired. Doolittle smiled. He could always count on his old friend, which is why he promised his niece to Coolph's son. "Two things, for now," Doolittle responded. "First, regarding the gift I promised you, we may have to postpone the measures that we discussed." He had to speak vaguely, because he could see from the comm display that the line was not secure at both ends. "Honestly, the little ragamuffin that Jenny has taken a shine to may be useful to us at a later time, and won't even know it. Second, we need to hold off the performance of our three divas for now. They're still not ready for the big show just yet. Find someplace for them to stay and – practice."
Coolph nodded knowingly. The three 'divas' had managed to sneak across the frontier after a Stellar Alliance patrol had been called off its route to respond to the Calmwind disaster. "I know just the place," Coolph replied. "I'm sure the ladies will find it to their liking."
Doolittle and Coolph had always been able to speak cryptically, and yet fully understand each other. "One last thing that occurred to me," Doolittle intimated. "I had really wanted to have them perform for the Stellar Military, but before such an important debut, perhaps we should present them in all their glory to a less – shall we say – disciplined audience…?" He leaned back in his comm seat, and then surged forward for effect. "Pirates!"
Coolph grinned broadly. "…yes…." Coolph pondered. "A perfect audience for our lovely ladies…but have you found anyone capable of handling these fickle vixens?"
"In fact, I have," Doolittle nodded. "And she's perfect. One of the few who finished the race – and nobility, to boot!"
Coolph suspected he knew who Doolittle meant. "Will she take up our cause?"
Doolittle laughed. "I think we can provide the necessary motivation to the disenchanted princess." They shared a laugh, both knowing that their puppets would never realize who was pulling their strings.
"I'll contact you when everything is in place," Doolittle assured him, as they signed off. As he exited the comm pod, a young lieutenant approached him. "Sir, you have a secure communiqué from Saldanas Prime. It's from Lord Takeda…" Staff level officers were often intimidated by communications directly from the Empire's home world, but Doolittle was quite accustomed to them. And in this case, was expecting it. "Thank you, lieutenant," Doolittle replied, and stepped back into the comm pod. He knew that it was Lord Takeda's brat that had betrayed him, probably at the behest of his own younger brother. Keiko was probably hoping to provoke him into canceling her betrothal to his son. He wasn't going to let her off that easily, and he would hold the elder Takeda to his promise, at the risk of sacrificing his honor. Old world Japanese were so predictable and easy to manipulate, he mused to himself. He perused the text of the message, and decided to digest it for a while before answering. It wasn't the answer he had expected. It would take some time and some more bantering back and forth to see exactly how much the Empire and its High Court knew about his plans, if they knew anything at all. He snorted at the audacity and pompousness of the Empire and its high-minded "benevolence." It was an old, dated hierarchy that reeked with the stench of death. And the Stellar Alliance and its military forces were simply stooges that kept the local systems in line with the Empire's grand plan. Soon, though, a new order would emerge. Already, the seeds of dissent were being planted in kingdoms such as Serenity. Soon, with his corporate fleet, and with a new generation of gravity controlled battleships, and his allies throughout the known galaxy, there would be a new order, and the old Imperial guardians of benevolence would be written out of history for good.