Multi-Dimensional Merchant System

Oliver was glad to be back on the Ark. Nearly fourteen hours spent on the salvage run and he was run down and ready for a break, even with his improved attributes.

How Vadrin had the energy to excitedly rush around, dealing with their newly collected resources, was a complete mystery to him. Even the other Rach were starting to look tired.

So, of course, he couldn't just head back to his assigned room for sleep...

Oliver was only part way back to is room when the (not so) sneaky Rach that had asked him to collect a few things popped out of a side corridor. Throwing furtive looks in both directions, he waved for Oliver to follow him before turning right around and scurrying off.

Oliver hesitated for a moment. Sure, he was curious to see where this whole scenario would lead... But was it really smart to follow this unknown person down a dark corridor to meet up with their equally shady friends and make what amounted to a drug deal?

“Probably not...” He muttered to himself even as he trailed behind the Rach... Whose name he only now remembered: Fridin. He still didn't understand the Rach's odd naming convention...

Shrugging off the idle thoughts, Oliver followed Fridin down a hallway nearly identical to the first he had seen on the Ark. Evenly spaced doorways lined the sides, likely more storage spaces, though all of them remained shut. Rounding a corner, the pair ducked through another door... And out into another section of the ship.

While similar to the previous section, this part was clearly more residential. Fewer work spaces surrounded the tree lined square, instead giving way to what looked like massive apartment blocks- one of which Fridin darted over to and immediately entered.

“Residential Block O-42? Nice.” Oliver chuckled to himself just before entering the building.

His soft chuckle cut off instantly when they entered the first apartment... and he saw what he could only describe as armed security- kind of, though they gave the impression of street toughs rather than some type of police.

Waiting for him were the two burliest Rach he had seen yet. Nearly five feet tall, and twice as broad as he was, they would have easily dwarfed most of the others he had met. Maybe not Omi, though they were still a bit larger. Both wore a laser pistol on their hips, and held heavy metal batons in their hands. He imagined that, to most of the Rach, these two would be rather imposing.

Mostly, he was just amused by them.

Oliver ignored the duo's posturing, looking past them at the smaller Rach that was waiting- Fridin's friend, he supposed... A rather plain and unimpressive looking fellow, though he could see how that would be useful for someone running some sort of illicit enterprise.

“It is nice to meet you, friend Silk. My name is-”

“I don't care.” Oliver interrupted quickly. “It's actually better if I don't know your name.”

Ignoring the looks of surprise and indignation, he took a seat across from the mysterious 'friend'. While the chairs designed for the Rach were uncomfortable for him, he couldn't care about that in the moment.

It was more about the calculated dismissal of the two 'toughs', and setting the right tone for the meeting.

“Let's go ahead and clarify a few things, if you don't mind. First, your goons aren't going to intimidate me. So there really isn't a point in them trying to show off.”

Shock flashed across their faces, but, before the toughs could work up a response, Oliver carried on as if they didn't matter. “Second, I've got no problems doing a little trading with you, but... If you're hoping to engage me for anything else, then it isn't likely to happen. I'm not interested in any sort of assassinations, coups, blackmail, or anything else to destabilize the Ark or install some new form of leadership.”

Horror flashed across all of their faces simultaneously, and the 'friend' shook his head vehemently. “I would never! That... That's just...”

He sputtered for a moment as he struggled to find the words. “We're... We are just business men, friend Silk! Our business is just... frowned upon. All we want is to make a few deals for resources, I swear!”

All four of the Rach present looked distinctly uncomfortable at the ideas Oliver had presented, surprising him a bit. Maybe they weren't the subversive element he had assumed? Then what...?

“So, what are you guys? Drug dealers? Bootleggers?”

“Boot...leggers?” Fridin mouthed the unfamiliar word.

Oliver chuckled softly, shaking his head at the minor culture clash. “A term from my home for a group of people that made alcohol illegally.”

“Ah, I suppose both of those would be accurate. Before the current crisis, we ran a rather booming business. But, with the damage to the grow chambers...” The unnamed friend shrugged. “We do not wish to hinder the repairs of the Ark. Just... find a few alternatives to satisfy our customers in the interim.”

A wolfish smile flashed across Oliver's face as it clicked: their business was struggling because of the damage to the Ark, and they were struggling to keep it afloat.

“Well, I'm sure we can make a deal. I have a number of items from that planet, as well as a few things I brought with me, that I'm sure would suit your needs. The question is... What do you have to offer? Personally, I prefer weapons... Or useful bits of technology. Maybe you have some other interesting things?”

“Well, we don't have many of the laser weapons available for trade... Perhaps an ancestral spear that was smuggled aboard? And technology... Ah, there isn't much... Well, depending on what you consider...”

The 'friend' struggled for a moment, clearly unsure of what to offer. After a moment, he shrugged and got up from his seat. “Perhaps I should just show you what we have to offer and we go from there?”

Oliver could only shake his head at the some-what foolish Rach. The goods they had to offer in trade... were in the room next door. Clearly, they weren't criminal masterminds.

But at least that simplified things for him.

Some of the objects were a complete mystery to him. A plain looking metal cube, what looked like a pair of steampunk goggles with orange crystal lenses, an eight inch long icicle that radiated cold but never seemed to melt... Odd items scattered about shelves or filled boxes throughout the room. He even saw what looked kind of like motorcycle, right down to the rubber wheels, sitting in a corner.

“Well... I'm going to need an explanation for some of these things.” Oliver smiled brightly. “But lets start with the motorcycle. What do you say?”

“Motorcycle?” Seeing where Oliver was looking, the Rach quickly grasped his meaning. “Ah, that is the term your people use for a two-wheeled conveyance. I believe our people called them 'scramblers'. It is an interesting item...”

The Rach walked closer to the object in question as Oliver looked it over. It reminded him a bit of a cross between a super bike with its sleek exterior and the knobbly tires of a dirt bike, though that also confused him a bit. Was it designed for racing speed or off-road mobility? Why mix the two?

“It has been carefully maintained by Old Cathrus since it was brought aboard, all the way down to the original morphic wheels. It-”

“Wait.” Oliver cut in quickly. “Morphic wheels?”

“Um, yes? Do you not know what they are?” Being on the receiving end of Oliver's flat stare, the Rach coughed awkwardly before continuing. “Ah, the wheels can shift between two forms: slick for racing, or this... whatever it is called... for rough terrain. At least, that is what Cathrus told me...”

Oliver nodded excitedly. Adaptive and multi functional? Yes, please! “How does it run? What sort of fuel is required?”

“Ah... I don't really know how it works... Though, Cathrus said that you just put water in this tank here-” He gestured at what Oliver thought of as the gas tank. “-and the miniature reactor does... something...”

He shrugged uncertainly. “I think Old Cathrus said it separates the elements, with part of it powering the scrambler? Then the other part is released as a harmless gas? I don't really understand it. I just know that it works. Of course, he can't really ride it anywhere. That is why it is here for trade.”

Oliver's mind was racing. Miniature reactor? Separating the elements? Was this a fucking nuclear powered motorcycle?

“Well, this is a pleasant surprise. Do you think Old Cathrus would be willing to include a detailed guide to maintain and repair it? If so... I'm thinking we can make a deal.”

The Rach hesitated for a moment as he considered it. “I may be able to convince him, though I'm not sure the plants you acquired on the salvage run will be sufficient for the exchange...”

Oliver nodded along, his excitement growing. “How about if I throw in a hundred pounds of various fruits and vegetables I brought with me? They are perfect for making alcohol...” Seeing the Rach waver, he pushed just a bit more. “I'll even throw in two bottles of alcohol from my home. Though, fair warning, I can't guarantee they are safe for your people. It's up to you to test everything first.”

“I think we have a deal, friend Silk.”

Running his hands along his new bike, Oliver couldn't wait to try it out... Though he knew he would have to wait at least until the next salvage run.

He was quickly distracted by a new system prompt.

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