Kloo (1)

A short story about the slave planet of Kloo. Led by an Ikaanan official, Plume of Lavender, the planet of Kloo has fallen into disarray and criminality. Gang wars run rampant on the planet as the entire planet, dedicated mainly to praying with it’s temples strewn about the desert planet, is overwhelmed with attempting to keep the peace. An anti-crime campaign is largely symbolic, as there is little to no police force to enforce whatever law and order may have prevailed prior. A last ditch attempt to appease criminals plunged the planet into further chaos when the governor decided to simply distirbute luxuries. These were quickly taken by the gangs and hawked at exorbitant prices. Corlanconi Consumer Product ads are all over the planet as their branche office advertises to join their local research center, or help diplomatic efforts at the corporate embassy. Their entire district is walled off and highly protected by security droids and local officials that are paid handsomely for the service. As a result it is a highly sought after place to be. The population of the planet is 100% Vhellet, a necroid species that are highly adaptable and quick learners, yet they are very wasteful and the planet of Kloo resembles a children’s play room: chaotic, jumbled, and full of things no one needs. Corclanconi Consumer Products (CCP) take advantage of this by advertising their various wares, and services, that no one really needs but the shine of having anything from that megacorporation makes one look wealthy and taken care of on Kloo. The makeup of the planet’s orientation is as follows:

Percentage of Alignment in Kloo

The Vhellet continue to proliferate under the Ikaanan rule, an avian species that is enslaving the Vhellet on Kloo and though they enslave them, there are almost no Ikaanan on the planet to rule them. As a result the slaves basically own the planet and make it look bad in the process, thus undermining the Ikaanan viewpoint to indicate that the Vhellet should be slaves because they are so unruly, rather than realizing that the circumstances around the Vhellet’s existence on the planet pushes them to live in the situation they are in. The story begins on this planet, Kloo:

Whispers of the Wind

The dust whirled around relentlessly, hitting Obtok in the face without mercy. He pulled his mask up higher as he made his way to work. The Dusters would not ask him for their protection task today, since they had asked him yesterday and he paid dutifully. But there was no certainty in that, sometimes they asked once a week, other times twice a day, sometimes you could go months without paying the gangs so you could make it to work, to the restaurant, or anywhere really. Further off he could see a Duster multi-terrain vehicle parked with a gunner on the top, fleecing a transport driver. Obtok hurried by so they wouldn’t notice him.

A nearby lamp post held a banner pridefully and in gold letters “New Temple unveiling!” with the date and location. Yet another temple to feed the priests from the little that they had. The bottom of the banner was tattered and parts of it had holes in it. The local bureaucrats made sure to hang it high enough so that they could not be destroyed, burnt or taken down, which was usually the case.

As they approached the fenced off gate to the Corlancan compound, where Obtok worked in the embassy to the megacorporation that had a branch on the planet, a slave driver waved him over.

“Show your papers,” the Ikaanan guard looked down at him from his security tower, high enough to get a good overview, close enough to the ground to be heard. Obtok fondled his garments and realized he had left them at home. The Ikaanan started to become impatient and let out a gruff cawing sound. Obtok knew what he had to do and picked up some money from his pockets. “All I got…” he told the guard sheepishly and the Ikaanan snatched hit from his hands with his claws, and waved him through without a word, as it counted the bills.

Obtok shook his head, he could have saved himself with the identification papers, but it was never a guarantee. As he entered the compound, clean and pristine thanks to local Vhellet like Obtok who worked there diligently to ensure it stayed that way, a local Corlancan passed him and greeted him cordially. “Good day!” It’s translation device said to Obtok gleefully, pleasantly unaware of the issues surrounding the compound. Perhaps they were aware, but they were powerless to change anything. Obtok greeted the Corlancan and continued on his way. As he walked to the embassy a cloud of dust whirled by and slapped a poster against his leg. He picked it up and read it.

“Meeting of the Righteous — 0800 on next full moon” was all it said. The location was not indicated, nor who the righteous were. There was a symbol on the poster that looked similar to something he had seen before, but he could not be sure. Three dots, in a circle. The writing was in black. As he looked at it a Vhellet like himself approached him and snatched it out of his hands. “This is contraband! Where did you get this?” he jabbed at Obtok with his words, forcefully. “It just flew against me. Who are the righteous?” Obtok asked and the other Vhellet frowned “No! Don’t mention them.” He approached Obtok “Be wary… If they-” he gestured to the Ikaanan guard outside the compound, barely in sight “see you with this, you’re dead.” Obtok was confused and nodded, as the guard scurried off. A loudspeaker blared out a new discount from Corlancan Consumer Products and ripped Obtok from the situation, as he realized he had to head to the embassy to get to work.

Ads above ads with ads all around filled any void within the compound. Advertisements for a new insurance of any type — anything you could imagine insured was being advertised — or for services to help, cleaning services, accounting supports, new vehicles, and much much more were thrown at you at any moment. They were visual, they had sounds, and they only quieted down once he approached the embassy building direct. It was guarded mainly by Vhellet, and only had Corlancan inside. Obtok realized he would need his identification to even get in and cursed under his breath. Perhaps today they would let him in without it? He nodded to the guard at the gate who recognized him and waved him in.

Today, he was lucky. A fellow member of his species flanked him as he walked in “Obtok! How are you? Have you filled in the recent survey on worker satisfaction in the compound?” A cheery Vhellet grinned at him, dressed in flashy yellows and greens. “Yes, but you can write me down for another 10 of 10. It’s better than anything out there, Kitlo, you know that.”

Kitlo nodded “Indeed! It is true. We also need you to agree to the new information waiver, as well as the cyborg-exclusion waiver.”

“The what?” Obtok asked as they waited by the door to be let through after being scanned.

“Cyborg-exclusion waiver. The Corlancan are assimilating all in their corporation, it’s a huge thing. We have to sign the waiver that we will not be assimilated. They won’t let us become cyborgs either, we are not in their empire despite this embassy technically being on CCP ground.”

Obtok sighed as the door swooshed open and they entered the embassy, a dry air filled the room and the various elevators wizzed up and down as they approached the information desk. Not to ask for information, but simply to be seen having entered. A formality that was common on Kloo, to be seen. Just to be noticed that you are doing something. It doesn’t have to serve a purpose or be efficient. As long as you look busy.

“Do you think we will get the approval to visit the CCP?” Obtok asked and Kitlo shook his head “Ikaanan officials blocked them. They are using the war against the machines as a pretense.”

Obtok sighed “We need to get…” He leaned towards Kitlo “I need to get me and my family out of here, Kitlo. Kloo is falling apart. Did you hear what happened with the lottery?”

Kitlo laughed a hearty laughed “Yes, I heard! That’s why the gang war started.”

“There’s a war here now too? Don’t tell me the Ikaanan mean the war on Kloo is the reason we can’t get off.”

Kitlo nodded “One of many reasons. Look, we are slaves here and the mercy of the Corlancan government keeps us alive better than outside of this compound. If you play your cards right I can get you an apartment in here, it’s safer than… Well, you know.” Kitlo nodded sheepishly “Anyway, I will meet you at lunch.”

“Oh one more thing, Kitlo. What are the righteous? I saw this poster that -” Kitlo shushed Obtok.

“Are you insane? In here? Don’t talk about them here. I will tell you at lunch. See you then.” Kitlo stormed off and left Obtok at the desk, mouth slightly agape as one of the Corlancan snails passed by and greeted him. He muttered a barely audible “G’day…” as he wondered what was going on.