Ties that Bind: 1
24 Mar 2017Tarm Wallunga
Some background before getting onto the story. As mentioned in Tarm's bio, he is the only son of the CEO for Wallunga Corporation. While it is still undetermined if I will ever try my hand at forming a wing or player group to take a stab at the BGS, it is my intent for Tarm to eventually take over the "family business" at some point in his lifetime. What that means for him, or how he even gets there, is still somewhat up for debate. This story is an idea that I have had for some time, and this is but the first chapter of that path for him. Granted, for those that have been following Tarm, he is currently 20-odd thousand light years from Beagle Point, and it would appear that he has roughly no interest in taking over the company. As an only son, though, one can safely assume that he will, inevitably, have to come to terms with the fact that his adventuring days may be coming to a close.This story is an exploration of that idea, told through the lens of the Elite Dangerous game-universe. As a story, it is the first time I have made an effort to produce a work of fiction confined, as it were, to this structure (I have dabbled in writing character stories in other games, of course). Obviously, I hope you enjoy this, and I will strive to regularly release more bits of the story. It will be limited, to a degree, to the actions of Tarm in-game, so there won't necessarily always be new material on a timeline that I can easily commit to.
For those so interested, if you have ideas, characters you'd like to have interact with Tarm or others presented in this piece of work, you are invited to do so. Please send me a PM either here or on the Elite Dangerous forums, and we can explore the potential opportunities at that point. I welcome any and all to participate in whatever way may work, but please also understand that there is a rough framework in progress here, so some ideas may have to be adjusted, or outright denied, in order to fit the direction I feel the story should go.
In the meantime, please enjoy Ties that Bind!
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Earth
Sol System
24th March, 3303
Murien VanDerSpar settled onto the park bench and leaned back against its upright. The weather was pleasant and the sun bright, a cheerful match to the man’s present disposition. He rested one arm along the length of the back of the bench and crossed one leg over the other; a lazy smile of peaceful content spread over his face as he soaked in the sun’s rays. In the distance, kids played on playground equipment that resembled, vaguely, some massive version of a many-legged creepy crawler. Others climbed up, over, or around other structures that resembled an Asp or a Cobra, ships that were more than just common throughout the human sphere of influence. It was a nice day, Murien considered, and he enjoyed every bit of it that he could.
More than likely, his next meeting would change all that.
A flicker of motion from the corner of one eye dragged his attention from the playful children and imagined galactic heroes to that of an older man, slender with a receding hairline turned silver, and an impeccably tailored and fitted suit the color of charcoal gray. Wordlessly he approached the same bench Murien occupied, and took a seat at the far end. Murien offered a polite smile to the older man. It was not returned.
“Everything clean?” was his only response, in a tone that spoke of cool impatience.
Everything clean? Murien scoffed inwardly. “Of course,” he replied with an easy, reassuring smile. I wouldn’t have been hired if I weren’t as thorough as this… task.. required. “Here is the confirmation you will need,” Murien continued. The arm along the back of the bench fluttered for just a second; a small piece of plastic, no more than a centimeter to a side, was offered up between two extended fingers. The older man nodded, and took the proffered datachip. It was quickly pocketed, and a replacement given to Murien. He slipped it into a pocket of his leather coat.
“You’re not going to check it?” the older man asked.
Murien simply smiled. “Hermat, my friend, if I had to check it, I wouldn’t have taken the job. Besides,” his smiled darkened into a cool smirk, “I think we both know what happens well enough when I am disappointed by my… employers.”
“Indeed,” was the only answer the older man gave, and even that had taken a moment to extract. “You will find a new offer awaiting your approval.”
Murien repressed something of a groan, but maintained a more pleasant countenance. In truth, he had been hoping to take a day or two off since he was back in the Sol system, but such, it seemed, was not to be. “I’ll look it over soon. How long until you need an answer?”
“Tomorrow at noon should be enough time, I am told,” Hermat replied.
“Good,” Murien said, standing. “I’ll be in touch.”
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As the aircar settled onto the landing pad, Hermat collect his errant thoughts. A walk of only a few minutes took Hermat from the pad and into the building, down a secure hall and through a door watched over by a power-armored security guard and his employer’s personal secretary. A quick nod to both and Hermat stood before the desk of the man who ran it all: Hamish Wallunga.
Hamish stood staring out the main window of his private office, the view through which showed a look out over the bay and out to the ocean covered horizon. “Well?” the boss asked flatly.
Hermat retrieved the chip Murien had provided from a pocket and inserted it into the desk-top reader. On the window, Hamish stared out of, a life size image of an older woman appeared. Her eyes were closed as though asleep.
“And we’re clean?” Hamish asked, staring at the woman’s face.
“Yes, sir.”
“And for the next assignment?”
“Noon tomorrow,” Hermat replied.
Hamish nodded, distantly tracing a finger along one cheek of the woman’s digital face. “Excellent. Destroy the chip and reformat my computer. I’m sure the authorities will be in touch soon.”
“Yes, sir,” Hermat nodded as he extracted the datachip.
The image faded after a moment, but Hamish’s hand lingered on the glass. “Goodbye, my sweet Talia,” he murmured softly.