It was once written that the vast expanse of space was daunting, that a complete and overwhelming sense of nothingness can overwhelm even the strongest mind. These were the words of Amurek Tulin, a legendary Varnian astronaut and early space pioneer, philosophical and introspective in their day but now almost a phrase of comedy. Such was the dynamic nature of change, where the stars had once been worshipped as gods and beings of unimaginable power, they now only represented opportunities to exploit. 

The Varn had managed to perfect the art of exploitation, forging a corporate behemoth out of the once scattered and disparate tribes they’d once been. It was an entity of unrivalled wealth and wonder, at least to any of their records, but unrivalled oppression too. The lower class to the Varn, anyone not Varnian by their standards, were brutally mistreated and abused no matter where they stood in the corporate ladder. Looking up the ladder, many saw the Varns as distant, mysterious even; many even considered them extinct and the pretence of their existence was only upheld to keep order in the corporation. Yet the one overwhelming argument for their current existence was the constant, unyielding and intimidating presence of Varn Star IV and its continuous expansion. It was rumoured to be a utopia-like space station that supported the life of the Elder race in the epitome of comfort and luxury. Its presence, beyond its immense size, was the notable lack of space traffic, in this congested star system, due to the enforced no-fly radius around the star station. 

Elsewhere in the system, an enormous flux of cargo, mining, trade and manufacturing ships travelled through the system from warehouse, to factory, to starport or even designated jump zones. A multitude of drones and small patrol ships zipped around the columns, monitoring and scanning; keeping the columns safe and under control. Where the threat of small patrol ships didn’t enforce adequate threat, there was the other intimidating presence of the solar system.

The [i]Unbroken[/i].
A monolithic ship that was as imposing for an entirely different reason to Varn Star IV; it was capable of annihilating any and every ship in the solar system, even the warships that guarded it. It was a mainly silent threat, given that it would never come to that, at least so hoped every denizen and visitor to the system could wish for. 

Overlooking but dwarfed by Varn Star IV and the unbroken was the Orbital Headquarters of the Varn Corporation senior management. It was the major decision making hub of the corporation, mostly autonomous with its primary focus being the continued profits of the corporation. It was a vast, circular room that had a 360 degree view of the stellar activity around it. The room was dominated by a massively long, glasslike table which stretched almost the length of the room with nearly a century of chairs lining either side. It was currently inhabited by twenty or so people, the highest level of the managerial chain below that of the Varn themselves. Despite the enormity of the room, the multiple offerings of places to be, they were huddled in a group near the head of the table debating each other in a somewhat fervered manner.

“But how do we explain the most recent failure? We don’t even know if it was a failure of manufacturing or procurement?” one accusing voice murmured.

“IT WAS NOT MANUFACTURING” an anger laden voice fired back, belonging to a neatly dressed Grom wielding his rage against the Slugarth facing off against him. 

“Calm yourselves gentlemen” a clipped, precise voice chimed in, bearing the authority of Deputy CEO along with the unspoken threat of easily-abused power. “Now none of the reports we’ve got back have been conclusive, for all we know it could be a terrorist attack and not even a fault of any of our departments.”

“You mean you want to try and pin this on me?” retorted another Grom standing in the circle, his neatly pressed uniform conveying the military discipline along with the dark material conveying his role as Intelligence. “We’ve had no reports of any potential threats and this is over our extensive information gathering network, don’t think I’m going to take the fall for this.” The rest of the circle backed away a little at the last words of the Grom; Alter Jirum wasn’t known as “The Butcher” for his selection of fine meats. He was known for his tendency to commit mass murder and a brutal taste for blood when he felt the desire, or in other words whenever it could be useful.

“Plus there was no sign of any foreign ship signals from anywhere near that area, any terrorists would’ve had to have stolen a properly designated ship for that mission, none of which were reported stolen. It increasingly sounds like a fault of something inside the factory but all I know is we’re missing one of our largest munitions factories which is putting a sizeable dent in everyone’s budget.” The assembled group nodded sagely at the speaker’s words; he was a highly respected war hero who just happened to be the highest ranking military officer in the Varn Corporation, Supreme Marshal Tunmer Glokel. He was seemingly infinitely old, by a far distance the oldest person in the room and his words carried with them the weight of wisdom and legitimacy. 

“Okay” a distinct, raspy voice piped up from the form retreated into his quite imposing chair placed at the head of the table. At an instant all of the chatter ceased and the twenty-odd managers turned to face the newest person to speak up. CEO Drium Gunnen was the one supposedly in charge of all that lay before him but his tenure had been a bit of a sinking ship; falling profit margins and failed ventures had killed any chances of him retaining the job. “There is a relay set up with the board, or at least whatever robot they have programmed to do so. They won’t know the cause of the explosion so we have to stay unified on this. Our official line is this, there’s been an explosion at the Systemac plant but the initial engineering reports have been inconclusive. There’s been no warning signs of failing plant integrity so it must’ve been an accident. Is that clear?” The assembled group nodded and acknowledged the policy; it was important for them all to appear unified before the board; even Glokel and Alter Jirum were showing the signs of fear when the windows switched to display the harsh, angular lines of the remotely humanoid robotic face. 

“Prepare to receive landing shuttle, designation VS-402, take no hostile action or face termination” the mechanical voice boomed over the speakers in the room, causing the senior managers to look around at each other. A landing shuttle? This was highly irregular, was it some new piece of information that the search crews had found? Or surely it wasn’t the unthinkable happening, that one of the Board was coming down here.

“VS – that is the Varn Star designation” murmured Glokel, noticing the few worried looks that were shot towards him and the CEO. If one of the Varn was choosing now to break their millennia-long absence from public appearance then it couldn’t be a positive thing for the men assembled here. It was more than likely the case that none of them were leaving the room alive if a Varnian stepped off that shuttle. 

Time seemed to take an eternity to shift for the assembled managers, every moment was tense, every second excruciating until they heard the unmistakable sound of a pneumatic hiss, the entrance door from the landing pad was opening. It revealed two highly advanced battle droids, the prototypes that Glokel had spent years trying to get deployed into the conventional forces but had mysteriously been shelved at the stage of deployment. The eight foot tall bipedal robots, with graceful movements befitting their slender frame stepped into the room, raising their weapons before intoning “Keep your hands in clear view, take a seat at your respective chair and await further instruction.”

Any thought of resisting such a command was dispelled by the laser rifles pointed at the group that were more than capable of mowing the group down before they could take any action against it. It was yet more technology that Glokel hadn’t been able to deploy into field use which surely would’ve raised their ground forces to another level. It was swiftly becoming clear that the Varnians didn’t take their safety lightly and were more than aware of the possibilities of seeing their armed forces used against them. As they were taking their seats, a further stream of robots stepped into the room taking the total number to twenty with the majority taking positions around every entrance, conversely every exit, from the room. Glokel bunched his hands into a white-knuckled fist as he gritted his teeth to prepare himself for his end. He was determined to go out as proudly and dignified as he could, with a quick glance across to Alter Jirum revealing the agent had recognised the signs and was preparing himself for his death too. 

A few of the managers looked around the room, beginning to notice the extra robots in the room with one deciding to somewhat pitifully begin blubbering. A quick glance revealed that it was Mirium, the manager of manufacturing who’d been more of a prissy academic than a hands-on manager so it was little surprise that he was the one that cracked. He glanced back up at the door to notice that there was another being standing in the room, a slender dark grey figure dressed in a pristine white robe with the hood pulled over his head and standing quite menacingly behind the chair of Drium Gunnen. No-one had noticed the being entrance, not even Alter who’d been trained to always be aware. Drium became aware of a presence behind his back and turned slowly to investigate just as a knife entered his throat causing a spurt of black blood to burst out, narrowly avoiding the sleeve of the being that could only be a Varnian. The Varnian twisted the knife in the CEO’s throat and grabbed the Grom’s face his other hand and twisted his face around until it was almost enveloped by the white hood. 

There was a barely audible “consider yourself fired” before the dying CEO was thrown from the seat in a smooth, effortless movement. The body crunched against the floor, eventually coming to a rest as it slammed into one of the robotic guardians which didn’t even register the body lying against its feet. Everyone in the room was still in a state of shock when a few of the robots stepped towards the table pronouncing the dismissal of the managers of manufacturing, engineering, procurement, law enforcement, accounting and mining. Their severance package was a shot through the head as the bodies were tossed to join that of their CEO in a crumpled pile. 

The Varnian calmly sat down in the now-vacated CEO’s chair, somehow bereft of blood despite it’s former occupant’s grisly death before dropping the hood back and simply stated in the coldest manner Glokel had ever seen “Congratulations on retaining your job through this period of organisational restructuring.”