EPISODE I - ELEVEN: Hearing is different from listening...
From his vantage point inside of his office, Benemer Strim only felt peace and calm. He was so far removed from the inner workings of the operation he was heading up that the words and issues being related to him by one of his installation managers were falling flat. The voice that spoke behind Benemer just droned on, lulling him into a trance-like state as he stared out to the green conifers and deciduous trees that stretched up the side of the low mountains.
The voice became louder as his mind faded back into the reality of the moment.
"...and there have been rumblings of sabotage by some of the workers, but despite our investigations, most of the reports have remained unsubstantiated." Merek Bandalo waited for a reaction from Strim. Bandalo, like Strim, wasn't a member of the First Order, but the cut of his uniform was at least inspired by those of the lower level officers. He felt like he fit in and was willing to put in the work as long as he was properly compensated for it. Even if that meant he was occasionally selling his fellow Aparoi down the river. This was taking too long. "Sir?"
Strim turned slightly in Bandalo's direction and huffed, "Yes, I heard. Don't think I don't know what's going on down in the collection levels." Merek wasn't impressed because this was just the type of response that Benemer Strim always seemed to give. He was all-knowing and had the answers to everything regardless of who was informing him of an issue within one of his businesses. "I'm not worried about a few disgruntled workers who have no access to weapons or munitions. They're still being checked, right?"
"Of course they're being checked," he responded. "They are still being checked upon entering and exiting the transport. We also don't need them taking any pieces of hardware off the site when they get dumped back into town."
"I'm not going to worry about this."
Strim, if nothing else, was confident. Perhaps he was overconfident because every failed endeavor in his history found a team of people fixing what had broken so he never had to do the work. He would already move onto the next business deal without a scratch and maybe that was the thing motivate his success--that he never hit rock bottom and didn't understand the concept of abject failure.
This time was different, but he didn't appear to have a grasp on that. The First Order wouldn't take too kindly of failure. Their promise of command was merely a figurehead position and those who were paying attention could easily see that. The First Order kept him close to their vest whether or not he realized that. They wanted to protect their investment and make sure their prize moof kept producing milk.
Bandalo also had to protect his investment and make sure he didn't descend the ranks and end up in the pits as a laborer. The pay was good, better than he or most Aporoi had ever seen. He began to wonder about the reports of migratory population increases from the other parts of the planet. If there was a problem, he wanted to ensure that he was viewed as a valuable addition to the First Order and that he would eventually be promoted and someday taken away from this backwater planet.
"Of course you shouldn't. I just wanted to make you aware of some of the conversations that had been overheard in the bunkers so you wouldn't be caught off-guard if someone higher up reported this to Tanga." Marek paused momentarily to read the room and quickly added, "Because, of course, I am only here to serve and protect you from anything that might take you out of favor with the First Order."
Strim grimaced and it was hard for Bandalo to interpret whether or not that look was displeasure or just the unpleasant resting expression of the mogul. "Thank you," he finally replied. "Thank you for your loyalty. I appreciate it."
The knot in Marek's stomach relaxed. He scrambled to find a proper way to make his exit and ended up with a slightly insincere offer. "Is there anything I can get for you before I head back down?"
"No. I think that will be all for today, uh..."
Marek stood just a couple meters away from Benemer and hoped that his aggravation wasn't apparent. He was in this office constantly and Strim couldn't remember his carking name.
Strim smiled and finally spoke a name. "Malak Bandor."
It wasn't his name at all! It mattered not. Marek gave a slight bow and turned to vacate the office. He couldn't determine if this was merely a test to see if he would correct the man in charge or if Strim sincerely had no idea what his name was. Marek decided that it was better to not argue the point. What difference would it make? Chances were pretty high that if this was a mistake, Benemer Strim wouldn't remember his error the next time they visited anyhow. It would probably be yet another name that wasn't his or maybe it would be his name at long last. He could hear the clicking of Benemer's boots on the floor plates as he went back to the window and the door closed between them.
"I'm not going to worry about this."
Strim, if nothing else, was confident. Perhaps he was overconfident because every failed endeavor in his history found a team of people fixing what had broken so he never had to do the work. He would already move onto the next business deal without a scratch and maybe that was the thing motivate his success--that he never hit rock bottom and didn't understand the concept of abject failure.
This time was different, but he didn't appear to have a grasp on that. The First Order wouldn't take too kindly of failure. Their promise of command was merely a figurehead position and those who were paying attention could easily see that. The First Order kept him close to their vest whether or not he realized that. They wanted to protect their investment and make sure their prize moof kept producing milk.
Bandalo also had to protect his investment and make sure he didn't descend the ranks and end up in the pits as a laborer. The pay was good, better than he or most Aporoi had ever seen. He began to wonder about the reports of migratory population increases from the other parts of the planet. If there was a problem, he wanted to ensure that he was viewed as a valuable addition to the First Order and that he would eventually be promoted and someday taken away from this backwater planet.
"Of course you shouldn't. I just wanted to make you aware of some of the conversations that had been overheard in the bunkers so you wouldn't be caught off-guard if someone higher up reported this to Tanga." Marek paused momentarily to read the room and quickly added, "Because, of course, I am only here to serve and protect you from anything that might take you out of favor with the First Order."
Strim grimaced and it was hard for Bandalo to interpret whether or not that look was displeasure or just the unpleasant resting expression of the mogul. "Thank you," he finally replied. "Thank you for your loyalty. I appreciate it."
The knot in Marek's stomach relaxed. He scrambled to find a proper way to make his exit and ended up with a slightly insincere offer. "Is there anything I can get for you before I head back down?"
"No. I think that will be all for today, uh..."
Marek stood just a couple meters away from Benemer and hoped that his aggravation wasn't apparent. He was in this office constantly and Strim couldn't remember his carking name.
Strim smiled and finally spoke a name. "Malak Bandor."
It wasn't his name at all! It mattered not. Marek gave a slight bow and turned to vacate the office. He couldn't determine if this was merely a test to see if he would correct the man in charge or if Strim sincerely had no idea what his name was. Marek decided that it was better to not argue the point. What difference would it make? Chances were pretty high that if this was a mistake, Benemer Strim wouldn't remember his error the next time they visited anyhow. It would probably be yet another name that wasn't his or maybe it would be his name at long last. He could hear the clicking of Benemer's boots on the floor plates as he went back to the window and the door closed between them.
