Chapter 30
Gods, Exel is hungover. It was a long night of excess with Credenzo and the three pilots in her TIE group. Exel didn't get their names, but he got everything else he wanted as they took turns pleasuring him.
And they say money can't buy happiness.
Now, in the Factor-1, Credenzo flies him back to the Ex-Factor for a critical meeting with a very important stakeholder. He sees the sweat on her brow as she fumbles with his shuttle's engine power, fighting the pull of the black hole.
He texts his stakeholder's current residence. "Ease up a little. This moron can't fly."
Credenzo mutters "Oh!" as the engines gain purchase against the black hole's grav. She fires the throttle, and they close the distance toward Exel's own frigate.
The truth is, Credenzo is not a very good pilot. She is, however, an above average lay and a passable politician. But absolutely no skill behind a throttle and yoke. It's a small miracle that she's lived as long as she has.
Probably a testament to Slake doing all the heavy lifting for Obsidian, if Exel's honest with himself.
"I've mastered this gravity," Credenzo brags. Exel senses her looking at him through his peripheral vision, scavenging for his approval.
Terminally bored, Exel checks the latest download from civilized space. Stock reports, news headlines about the war, message boards. It's on these forums where the whole galaxy convenes to disparage him. Fame, wealth, power – these assets always breed jealousy among the plebs without them.
It's fine. He accepts it. But one particular vituperation always stings more than others. It's when these manure-spreaders claim that he's not a self-made man. That he was handed a fortune by his father.
It's true that the old man was a ruthless corporate raider who conducted hostile takeovers of small, underdefended mining worlds with mercenaries. As the Old Republic had its hands full with the Clone Wars, Exel's father could acquire any mine they weren't watching closely. And there were a lot of mines. Say what you will about the "morality" of the senior Exel's actions, it was very profitable—and margins are what define a businessman's success. Never patience. Never compassion.
Did his father give him some stake? Certainly. Did he bail out Exel on his first half-dozen ventures? Yes. But Exel never went to Academy or University, so he views it as a more practical education, overseen by his own gumption, not by some dirt-poor teacher. And what father doesn't pay for his child's education? It's ludicrous to Exel that these jealous fucks don't see that.
Exel pulls his burner datapad from his left pocket now to type that exact argument onto the message board. He wants to post instantly, so he overrides the transmission schedule and executes an unscheduled burst from the hyperpulse aboard the Profundity. He keeps the channel open long enough to see his comment downvoted to irrelevance in mere seconds.
"Broke fuckers," he says.
"What was that, Master Exel?" says Credenzo in her typical kiss-ass sing-song, tinged with a hint of lasciviousness. She's a fine-looking woman, blonde and lean, but this neediness makes her ugly to him.
"Just fly the shuttle," he hisses. She shuts up, her throat and face turning red.
She does just that, bringing the ship in for a landing on the Ex-Factor in merciful silence. The shuttle suddenly rattles and jerks on its approach as Credenzo notices an Interceptor locked into one of the racks at the back of the hangar. "What the hell is that doing in here?"
They're heading straight toward a maintenance crane. Exel points and shouts, "Watch out, you dumb pig!"
"Shit-shit-shit," Credenzo sputters as she yanks the yoke and kills throttle to duck under the crane. The shuttle rattles down to the floor of the hangar, breaking the starboard landing gear and scraping the bottom on the hangar floor. When they settle to a stop, Exel cycles through the cameras and sees Credenzo laid down a significant patch of gold on the hangar floor.
"Sir. I apologize."
"Clean it up!" Exel shouts. "I want every micron of gold that you lost back on this shuttle in an hour. Use a fucking toothbrush if you have to. Dipshit!"
"Yes, sir."
Exel storms off of the shuttle in a huff, and Aliston Credenzo can just die of embarrassment for all he cares. How fucking hard is it to fly a shuttle from one capital to another, three klicks apart? Bullshit.
As he makes his way through the main thoroughfare in the frigate's middle spindle, he sees Roderick being tended to by a handful of fixers by the elevator. They're fussing over him, and he's insisting that he's fine even though it's obvious that he's been weeping like an infant. Displays of emotion have always made Exel uncomfortable, so he proceeds to the turbolift without stopping.
As the lift descends to his office, Roderick's presence onboard the Ex-Factor troubles him. Didn't Credenzo ground him? What was he doing here?
Did he speak to the stakeholder? Unsettling if true. While Exel has an agreement in place with that thing, he is aware that it knows no loyalty. It only cares of its own needs. Is it dealing with Roderick to get what it wants?
And if someone else is delivering Slake to it, of what use is Exel himself? Or anyone else associated with this project?
Before Exel can push the button to stop the lift and head back up to the hangar, the doors open. He steps forward into his lobby, which looks horrendous. That black slop is everywhere, just like it was in Dismas' quarters. When Nixus couldn't control itself.
Exel uses a handkerchief to wipe off the intercom then throws it on the floor with the rest of the garbage. Hits the button. "We need to talk."
The voice inside says "Enter."
Exel has taken to thinking of Nixus as a stakeholder because they are partners. The black hole doesn't understand money or fame, but the third leg of the stool on which Exel's life rests—power—now, that, it understands. The simple act of allowing Exel permission to enter his own office shows Exel just who's in charge here.
"Lights," Exel says. He feels instant regret for the command as the fixtures activate. Tav's nude body slumps face down on the desk. He's rail thin with long strips of tarry dark matter oozing out of a dozen sores in his back. The strips lead to black, fleshy sacs of goo in every corner of the room, cloudy and formless, pulsing as though they're breathing.
"I love the redecorating you've done. The oil-spill-in-hell motif is sublime."
Tav's body lifts like a marionette with a novice at the strings. Nixus wrestles the Major's face into a dead rictus smile. His teeth are black.
Exel is unclear on the exact rules that govern Nixus' existence. Based on what he saw with Dismas, Exel suspects that the black hole can't physically act in the material plane without a host. It can, however, enter the dreams of mortals, induce hallucinations, and communicate telepathically. Once someone has been significantly manipulated and whittled down by those tactics—then, and only then—can Nixus take possession of them.
"My apologies," belches Tav. "I always forget how… delicious you apes are."
"Is he dead?"
"No. But his light will burn out soon enough."
And therein lies the problem. Nixus always devours its host from the inside. It can't help itself – just like it couldn't help itself from driving Dismas to space those brain-dead slaves into its belly. Three trips back to the core systems now, and each time, the host that Exel has chosen for Nixus has become a greasy, rotted corpse before arrival. Like Tav will be any minute now.
"The containers are almost full. We're leaving in two days for the Core systems. You need to find a new host, and you need to control yourself. Or you need to learn how to transfer hosts during the trip."
Tav's head tilts at an angle that looks painful. "Do you always speak to your betters with such an impudent tone?"
Betters. Impudent. Tav's still in there. His language is banging around in all that empty space.
Exel grins to defuse the tension, not that this galactic-scale moron will understand it. "I'm trying to help you because we have a deal. I want you to get to the core systems. I want you to gain purchase, take control, eliminate my enemies, my critics. Make me a god. Then when I'm dead and gone, like you offered, the galaxy is yours to have your way with. I want what you want. You're just making it very hard to do that."
Of course, with enough resources, anything can be toppled. Even a sentient black hole. Exel can find a way. Then he can be a god and a hero to the galaxy.
After that, Exel dares anyone to suggest he's a nepo-baby.
"Ssslake. She can contain me."
Exel sighs. "Are you sure? Some random fixer or janitor's death, I can explain. A Baroness of the Empire will generate questions. Especially if you fail to hold her. Again."
Black tendrils shoot from the sacs of goo in the corners. They wrap around Exel's arms, legs and neck. Nixus raises him to the ceiling of the office and wrenches his limbs in painful angles. Exel urinates himself.
Tav slams his fists down on the table, again and again, maintaining that dead-eyed smile. "WHY CAN SHE RESIST MEEEE?"
Exel chokes from the burnt hair smell of the tendrils, the grip on his throat. "She's a… jedi," he manages to say.
"THAT MEANS NOTHING TO ME. EXPLAIN."
"Jedi, or Sith, or whatever they're called, they're what Vader is! They can do things with their minds. I don't know… fucking telekinesis.., psionic shit… GODS… you're hurting me! Let me go!"
Nixus releases its grip a touch. Not nearly enough. "MORE. SAY MORE."
"Okay, it's like, genetic or something. There are only a handful of them, so it's not like anyone's a fucking expert okay? They have special powers. Their minds are stronger. It's probably why she can push you out!"
"Ahh. She has so much mind to eat! I could never fill up."
"And that's the idea! All we need to do is sedate her right before we jump. We strike, and then you enter her. Virta will give her a quick injection to dull her senses. She won't be able to push you out. We'll keep her medicated for the whole journey home. Your job will be simple. Don't kill her and you will be a whole new black hole, in a whole new galaxy. You'll be small, vulnerable at first. I'll protect you as long as you help me get what I want, and then… THEN… you can eat until your heart's content."
"This is our arrangement?"
This absolute fool. "YES! NOW PUT ME DOWN!" Exel shrieks.
"Hm. Yesss. You are a very smart ape, Exel. You are my most favorite monkey."
The torque on Exel's body ceases. Nixus sets him down on the ground and Exel promptly collapses, panting and tasting the disgusting floor. In his whole life, he's never felt pain like he has in the burning, twisted sensation in his shoulder. But he's going to live and Exel decides to take his wins where he can.
Exel speaks to the floor. "I'll talk to Virta. Be ready to jump into her when it's time."
"I will keep this husk alive until then. You will weaken her. Terrify her. Mortify her. Then I'll take her."
"Excellent." Exel brings himself to his feet. His left arm is useless, the shoulder is dislocated. "Good meeting." He turns to limp out of the office.
"Exel. One more thing."
Fear washes over him.
He stops in his tracks. Turns back to face Nixus. What else can he do? "Yes?" he squeaks.
"Ssslake. She's planning a revolt. The cooks will poison your food. The four-armed ape is her key conspirator. The tall dog-things and the bugs and the blue apes are all involved. She can't wait to kill you, Exel. You and Virta both. If you are not careful, you will die very sssoon."
Exel feels horribly betrayed. How could Slake even think to do this? Sure, he made a show of killing Pyre, but that was an actual Rebel spy. The move was intended to wake Slake up to reality. He did that ungrateful bitch a favor, and this is how she repays him? By plotting against him?
"Thank you for sharing this," Exel says. "I'll account for it. Our plan doesn't change. Our deal doesn't change."
"Exel," Tav says, spreading his arms out wide. Loose skin hangs from the upper arms and waggles with every gesture. "You should know that if you fail me, it will be worse for you than anyone. Worse than Dismas, worse than the insects who used to worship me, worse than Slake. I'll keep you alive, torment you for eons. You'll be my only plaything. Until time's collapssse."
"Don't worry," Exel says, feeling fresh, warm piss fill the crotch of his trousers. "We'll be fine."
He almost believes it.