[b][u]Excor-Tek Headquarters
Esevrenn City-Hive
Ske'sta'Rvastre[/u][/b]

To anyone in the Vacuus, the name of Excor-Tek would not have brought to mind associations with any particular aesthetic, much less a given people. It was the epitome of the cosmopolitan, shiftingly multifarious corporate body, almost unrivalled in magnitude and reach in the stellar region. Indeed, Issrin could barely think of a handful of non-national groups that could plausibly have been competitors in its league - Istri'ar, Uglath, maybe KhuurTseri (full of Qiormu, too) - and such a size inevitably brought with itself equally great variety, like a gas cloud becoming less dense the more it spreads. Thus it was on every world Excor-Tek had a foothold on, which was all of them: their bases were of that brand of standardised anarchy which dominated Confederate public spaces taken to an extreme, with skewed floors, smooth motion ramps between levels, large, broad passages, generic podiums for members and visitors alike and a mingling of shapes and smells it was hard to describe to someone who had never been there. By all reason, the physical apex of that behemoth, the headquarters on S's'Rvastre, should have been the fullest expression of that spirit.

And yet, what Issrin found on the highest floors - the most important ones were the highest, she had noted, despite the company's Ulthari-like name - bore no trace of that condensed diversity. Doors and surfaces were stark, smooth and a of white-grey colour which slightly irked the eyes, and the ramps had asymmetrical dents suited for Zsresriir-like steps. The blankness of those rooms and corridors, far from cosmopolitan, clearly spoke of Atnar Vistan Qiormu tastes. And, by the looks of it, it was mostly Qiormu in high-end custom forms that prowled about them, barely sparing Issrin a glance from their dull, immobile eyes, and that crouched behind the membranes in the walls, judging by the name of the one she had come to meet.

It still surprised her that, in all the Nests, she had been recalled for this task. It was difficult to believe that things in the core were so bad that a bio-culture plant inspector was the Assembly's best choice for negotiating with one of the Directors of Excor-Tek. Granted, she was technically one of the Pacifiers, who had swallowed the diplomatic services a few cycles ago, and, as far as she was concerned, anything beat shoving those infuriatingly placid fat slugs around, but it was difficult to believe that those paramilitary actions she had been briefed on had truly gobbled up every competent agent on the planet. Well, there was no more time to wonder at this now - the portal to the last locule in the gallery was already open. Director UtkalDar awaited.

The Qiormu superior's room was a perfect continuation of the corridor outside. The only trace of colour other than the ubiquitous white-grey was the metallic body crouching in its center, whose carapace was an earthy red as per the prevalent Atnar Vistan custom. There was virtually no furnishing, save for two uncomfortable-looking split podiums, one for the Director, another for its visitors, and a set of variously angled small lecterns between them which would have been impractical for anyone with less than four forelimbs.

As soon as Issrin stepped into the chamber, her foremost eyes focused on UtkalDar's dim, inorganic visors. The Qiormu had eschewed any attempt at realistically imitating a natural Zsresriir body: besides the disproportionally long upper arms and almost atrophied lower ones, oddly reminiscent of a typical war-form, the shape of the head was distinctly off, with vestigial mandibles and three abnormally large pale circles instead of eyes. Although these circles were entirely featureless, she knew that at least one of them was following her now, however those circuits behind them might have worked. It was no sooner than she had approached the podium on her side of the lecterns that one of the shrunken mid-limbs motioned for her to squat upon it. The surfaces were just as painfully small and slippery as they had seemed, and Issrin struggled not to topple down from them with all her bulk, awkwardly curling her clutches around the smooth edge.

"The Assembly wants our support." The Director's mandibles did not twitch to match the otherwise flawless, though overtly metallic vocalisation. [i]And they sent you to do their business,[/i] Issrin mentally concluded its statement. Her split back shell rose up in reflexive irritation, which the Qiormu obviously gave no sign of noticing.

"Not only your support. We ask for your participation." She had no idea what the Excor-Tek representatives at the Assembly had been told, but she knew her own part well enough.

"The Assembly would not be satisfied by support." A tinge of inflexion finally appeared in UtkalDar's tones. It was almost a question. "Any meaningful contribution to the recruitment network alone would have to be a large expense. The weapon supply scheme would drain our stores. The Directors are not eager to commit to all this on faith alone, and you want more."

"Your involvement would not need to be more than logistical assistance. The Assembly is not offering an expense, but an investment, and we have more than faith to show. Our analysis shows that -" she caught herself beginning to tap on one of the lecterns with her claws, and slowly lowered her forearm "- your market expansion has already suffered from the conflict."

She paused, all but motioning for UtkalDar to confirm it. The Qiormu made an acquiescent gesture with the same faux-vestigial arm.

"Ending it, or at least pushing the front back, would not only reopen the local states," she continued, "but immediately give you a place in the Empire. And Mars and its allies. Public opinion would be favourable. You know the advantages." Issrin stopped again, for a shorter time. The Director made no sign of wanting to reply, so she continued, perhaps a little too soon. "Your access to foreign space would make you a better link for rim companies. With this leverage, you could have privileged contact with Vostork."

"The Assembly wants us to do its diplomatic legwork." It was by now clear to her why UtkalDar preferred a mechanical form. The intimidation of ambiguity was one reason - even though physically smaller, the Director had the advantage now - but, more than that, it must have been a matter of economy. Whatever it might have been, UtkalDar was certainly not a deviant by Qiormu standards.

"In addition," Issrin quietly swayed her tense lower arms, as if almost about to strike those odious blank eyes, but subdued the motion and let the Director's remark slide, "We offer an immediate return investment." She was about to make an inviting pause again, but, thinking of UtkalDar's remark, decided against it. The worm was a little too good at taking opportunities. "A selection of mercenary units, free of taxation, for the Assembly's uses. Some Tkarixxi."

As could be expected, there was no noticeable change in the Director's countenance. Nor was there any delay before its answer, though it must have been calculating a series of more or less optimistic estimates based on contextual data. "You have detailed information."

Issrin gestured affirmatively and produced a sleek storage spine from her side-sac. UtkalDar took it with a flawlessly smooth motion - she did not even feel the weight of its talons pulling away the item - and stabbed it into a small fissure in its steel carapace. "Provisional. Satisfactory in that function." The body's eyes seemed to grow even dimmer for a moment, though that might have been an impression. "The Assembly's projections have been factored. The Directors will consider its proposals."

Issrin rose, knowing this was all she would get from the Qiormu. From what she could see, Excor-Tek accepting the entirety of the Assembly's conditions, and perhaps remaining open to further negotiation, was, if not a certainty, very likely at the least. Yet something else remained unclear. Nothing she had said to the Director could not have been relayed remotely, even without a direct communication. Even the information of the spine was nothing so sensitive it could not risk a virtual transfer. And yet, the Assembly, despite obviously being short on people, had decided to send someone in person. Unless there was, somewhere along the administrative line, an improbable knot of laziness and incredibly bad terminal interfaces, she could think of no better explanation than someone high above was scraping together everything there was left for some greater purpose. Times being what they were, this did not seem unlikely.

All things considered, she had done well to tell her nest she might be offworld for a while.