I'll get straight to the point: The sample you provided has proven to be just as effective as the samples I had managed to secure in the past, and put to use on subject Willows before his tragic accident... The molecular structure of the substance would lead me to believe that the method of processing this substance is vastly different to the rather industrial methods used by the nation.
While I am not a man who enjoys guesswork, I'd have to say that this substance is derived from an organic source, and that makes the methods of your benefactors all the more interesting. I think it's time we met and discussed a proposal which might benefit both our sides. Shall we say... ten-o-clock this evening inside of your private booth in the club you fancy so?
While you think about that you might wish to take a gander at my latest attempt of replicating the substance. It will be delivered to your quarters. I do not think I need to say this, but don't consume the substance. It's still highly experimental.
I'm eagerly awaiting your answer regarding our rendezvous. Please don't keep me waiting. Have a nice day in the meantime.
The club Jameson mentioned, widely known as "Abyss", is located at lower levels of station Ibiza in Omicron Alpha. Takes place in former docking and cargo holding areas after most manufacturing facilities has been moved to newer and larger Valetta shipyards as Ibiza could no longer sustain increasing needs of the nation. "Abyss" is quite famous across the Omicrons to those on good terms with Outcasts. Junkers, mercenaries, freelancers of all kinds. Slavers, drug dealers, smugglers, couriers. Other than providing entertainment it also serves many other important functions: this is the place to go for information, goods outlawed across all four major houses. Hiring crew, mercenaries or trading slaves at the nearby market. More recently contraband supplies coming from new-founded house of Gallia have spawned several black markets, increasing flow and expanding operations. Outcast aristocracy can be found hanging around the place pretty often, whether to to do business or simply to relax.
It is said the "Abyss" is owned by three influential Outcasts. The two founders whose name no one seem to know, and the third one apparently being none other than Angela Corino. So say the rumors. Whether that is true or not few may know, but fact remains she has a private lodge on the third floor.
To anyone coming first time the place would feel like an enormous bee hive. And most notable for being extremely loud, earning itself a title of the loudest entertainment place in whole Omicrons. Stylistically the "Abyss" follows a mix of aggressive architecture themed into some sort of hellish version of "Orange dream". Common choice for aural support is hard electronic themes overwhelming the firstcomers, in certain cases even causing temporary loss of hearing. Despite overall anarchic feeling the place is tightly controlled by it's own security force that seem act on basis "knock out and ask questions later", sometimes going over the edge and throwing troublemakers right into airlock. The law of "Abyss" is law of power, influence and money.
After the long flight Anje took a few days off for a rest, going back to her favorite place...
For one so used to seeing so many things at once, the sight of Ibiza was... strange. Normally when approaching this base one singular thought flowed through the neural contacts of the drones; One singular emotion, if a machine is capable of such a thing... but now that emotion was amplified through the loss of all the other impressions Jameson used to feel when watching this relic, this... archaic reminder of how thin the line between the Corsairs Empire and the Maltese Nation used to be. Fear is an ugly emotion which does not fit a man of his unique mindset.
Docking bay seven-omega of Ibiza was to remain barren at all time, for this was the chosen repair bay of the administrator when his eyes and ears were in need of aid, and could not make it home to Carinea in time... but this time, the ship was not filled with the regular merge of mutated organs and machinery, but rather the warped form of the administrator himself.
The nimble fighter's hull split open and a form was spat out onto the floor, dust stirring as it landed on its feet. The man pulled out an ancient-looking pocket watch and looked at it for a second before proceeding out into the public zone of the station.
He wasn't worried about stepping out of his comfort zone to be here, for true enough few had ever seen this man and fewer still knew what he sounded like... but he did bring his usual protective measures just in case somebody mistook him for easy prey, and soon enough he stood at the gates to the shrine of mortal rapture known as the Abyss.
"A shrine... what a fitting description given who frequents this place." - He whispered to himself as he stood in front of the sign.
Passing through the crowd and knocking out anyone who wasn't quick enough to step aside a group of security guards approached to the entrance, followed by Angela.
"Welcome to our humble abode, administrator. Knew you would come sooner or later." - noticing Jameson's unpleasing stare at the club she smiled and added: "Oh, don't mind the dwellers."
Reaching private lodge via elevator Anje made a gesture for security personnel to leave. Interestingly enough the lodge itself wasn't filled from bottom to the top with shining luxury items and jewelery as one would expect to see in VIP areas. Contrary to that it felt somewhat sterile, a little unusual and perhaps even unsettling with asymmetrical decorations and rather unique interior design. In a contrast the room was filled with bright and warm light, casting soft shadows and strange reflections from crystalline-like decorative column, overall creating relaxing picture to look at.
She approached the large table at the far end of the room, picked a bottle of old and fine liquor, an odd looking vial, slowly pouring into glass one and then the other.
"My latest, inspired by visit into Bretonia. Have a try. Perhaps you may find it a little familiar, may even remind you a taste of the long gone past." Anje gave the glass to Jameson.
Walking around the table she continued: "The message, yes, I have received it. You've mentioned the substance. And from what I can see it has... positive effects on your well-being and health. Flattery it may sound but you definitely look better from the previous time we met at research facility."
Anje sat down into her chair leaving the other one at the opposite side of the table for Jameson.
"But I've guessed you wouldn't come in person if it wasn't extremely important."
Jameson picks up the glass of liquor gentle and twirls it around while crossing his legs and relaxing into his seat.
"Yes, well I should say that some of the damage I have done to myself in the search for knowledge has been repaired thanks to your lavish gift... Oh, but don't worry. I'm not stupid enough to waste such a gift entirely on myself, there is still a sufficient amount left for my studies."
He ceases to twirl the glass around, brings the glass close to his nose and inhales deeply.
"Mmm... Bretonian rum, is it?"
Without hesitation he takes a sip and puts the glass down before relaxing back into the chair.
"Ah, but I did not come here to discuss the finer things in life, now did I? I wish to speak of many things, but my main curiosity is the Scorpion I have seen in the Tau-systems... or at least that is what my friend in Rheinland calls them."
Jameson sits up straight for a moment before leaning forward and looking into the eyes of the emissary.
"But I suppose you already know I have a rather personal interest in those things already, yes? Would you be inclined to talk about the matter, or shall I jump ahead and talk of the other thing I wished to discuss?"
"Scorpion? Is that how you call those things?" - she paused for a moment, seemed a little surprised and continuing in lower voice: "Semi-organic hulls, shimmering edges, black as the cosmos, as if consuming light around it... Yes, I may know a few things about those."
"They're... not really what witnesses may seem to think. They are constructs. Machines in a certain way, though not fully. What I mean is that they're mostly organic, but not sentient beings, so to that end machines still they are. Likely they're similar to manmade artificial intelligent units equipped for space flight, equivalent in certain functionality, considering combat and recon uses. However there is no warm feeling to these constructs, nothing inspirational, they're really just cold machinery. As far as I know they are deployed in Omegas, and only recently began showing up in Omicrons and Taus to see effectiveness in various conditions and environments. However these vessels are not fully automated, and like I said earlier they're not sentient. I think the autonomy limitations are not technological but rather has to do with certain beliefs, if such word is applicable, beliefs held by the benefactors, alternatively it may be a security measure, and may be even both... it's complicated and hard to explain. Though I know from time to time these devices are being controlled remotely whenever the need arises and able serve as proxy layer. Makes them a transitory sta..." - Anje explained briefly but abruptly cut it short at the end never finishing the sentence.
"Ah, never mind. To put it simple these ships are remotely controlled drones. They're not really interesting... Unusual - perhaps, but it's only a novelty factor of the technology largely unfamiliar to ours." - she shrugged and leaned back into the comfort of the luxury chair.
"My friend down in Rheinland describes the drone in a similar way, although he did not go so far as to call them remote-controlled drones. As far as I could tell in what little time I spent down there the drones carry with them a stripped down consciousness which is almost a direct copy of whatever creature which the programming was derived from.
I'm sure you realize why such technologies are of interest to me, and why I have since yearned to take a closer look at the drones and see if they could be applied in roles which are quite frankly too dangerous for piloted vessels to partake in, much like my own drones do."
He leans forward and clutches the glass placed in front of him once more, speaking before taking a sip.
"But... we'll get to that once I have asked a simple question: How do you feel about slowly introducing the technologies of the benefactors into the Outcasts so that we might eventually evolve past the role we have been forced to take upon ourselves?
Now, I know what you might think, but rest assured that we are not talking about complete technologies here, we're merely speaking of bits and pieces which what little people you and I trust will be permitted to... experiment with in an attempt to... transcend the aforementioned limitations of our species, and as a people."
The liquid inside of the glass is further reduced in quantity as Jameson takes yet another sip.
"Suffice to say that I believe that I, as well as select few brilliant minds of the nation can contribute things to the benefactors after we have had a chance to educate ourselves.
Now, I can see that you are eager to provide me with a rebuttal so I shall cease barraging you with words and take a chance to enjoy this lovely beverage some more.
A raspy chuckle is produced followed by a mechanical sound which seems to be coming from his chest cavity. He inhales deeply before sipping the liquid once more.
Anje seem weren't surprised at all, remaining as calm as ever, only the eyes, that look, there was something in it, a mixture of disappointment, barely noticeable notes of uncertainty.
"Is this what you want, Jameson?"
As Jameson was thinking of elaborative and comprehensive reply she continued:
"It surely hasn't escaped your notice their technology is vastly different to anything we've ever built. We make these bulky ships and they... grow things. Besides, sharing, in their terms it implies passing a certain trusting threshold. Benefactors would like to know not only what is it you want but also what are you prepared to do for it. Contributing to each other's success like a good family is part how their society works, code of their life if you will, part the way trust works. Dealing with them means you have to think in a similar way as well. This is what most do not understand, believing that offering worthless junk would do the trick, but it doesn't - they see through it."
"What I can tell you is that they actually take a great interest in... items of the past. Things they say carry memories of significance. They're onto something, I can feel it, but what it is I do not know."
Anje sighed quietly. Poured another glass, this time gallic wine and some other exotic components.
"Do you know why I am here? And why I've made this choice?" - her voice becoming quiet. "Yes, it was a choice. One that is bound to this." - she put an oddly decorated vial on the table, similar to the one she gave to Jameson when they first met. "Help them and they'll help you too."
Finished with the glass of wine she stood up and walked to the nearby window.
"Come with me, they're waiting... But not for long." - she whispered to Jameson while passing by. "The transport is ready."
The sly smile normally seen on Jameson's face vanishes in an instant with the mention of a transport and at the thought of leaving the relative safety of Maltese space.
"I've lived on that lethal planet I call home for well over a decade now, if they wished to meet me in person all they'd have to do was knock on my gate... in a manner of speaking. And I am sure they have had ample opportunity to destroy me in the past so... I accept."
He rises from his chair and approaches Corino before speaking once more.
"Trust is a rare commodity, even here in the nation. I do hope mine shall not poorly placed."
After taking one step in front of Corino he gestures towards the door and says, calmly...