Illegal Game
Sleeth had celebrated its promotion with a good, long sleep in its comfortable nest. It had expended all its energy in reaching the Slothainian ideal state of a completely emptied mind, to better let in the dreams. Sleeth was about to start on its second helping of me-doree leaves, the mild narcotic its species used for exactly that purpose, when the room signalled the arrival of a priority call. The leaves were well on their way to Sleeth's mouth, neatly impaled on one of its claws. It kept them ascending slowly as it briefly considered ignoring the call. The lighting turned an alarming shade of lilac. The Slothainian sighed a long, deep, sigh. He had disabled autorun scripts for normal messages, which meant that ... “Sleeths,” this was a message from the central office.
“Sleeths, Contact has received a tip that a new species is being exploited at this very moment.” The captain still extended her s'. “Apparently, the chief caught it while browsing the new live stream channels.” Sleeth was not aware that the chief was into such things. “At first, it looked like one of those new virtual reality game streams, but rumours have been going around that you can strike out the virtual part in that description, as it were. You are hereby tasked with investigating The Hunting Game. By virtue of the authority vested in me as Representative of the Office of the Triumvirate, you are granted Class One privileges, to be used exclusively for investigating and judging all actors involved.” Class One meant no restrictions. It also meant a full personal report to the entire Triumvirate. How tiresome. “I know we are interrupting your holiday, Sleeths, but this cannot wait. When you see the recording of one of the streams, you will understand.” Sleeths jaws gaped in a lazy yawn as it signalled for the room to display the attached video.
The wall sprang to life, a mass of foliage curtained to display the moving images. Sleeth silently watched the bipedal alien preparing and using its knife to efficiently slice into its victim. If this was the real deal, then it was, indeed, very serious. This sort of thing tends to spoil first contact and that did not even mention that this was obviously murder. It looked like the perpetrators would verily deserve their punishment for interrupting Sleeth's rest when it found them. Another huge yawn as it looked at the moss that had grown on its fur. First, though, Sleeth would need to visit the barber.
After a thorough grooming of its long fur, Sleeth felt it and its fur could handle just about anything the galaxy would throw at it. It was time to leave for the local Contact branch for a fresh outfit. This would be the first opportunity to use whatever The Triumvirate's Research and Engineering gave to Contact for a Class One. Good. It would save it from expending any more energy than strictly necessary.
The cab, basically, looked like a clothes rack on wheels. Instead of coats, there was a first class Contact agent dangling from the bar, firmly holding on, using the claws on all fours. Sleeth swung outwards when the cab took a turn, keeping its nose firmly pointed forwards. Unlike many of its compatriots, Sleeth loved to feel the strong breeze blowing through its fur. Sleeth imagined it to be quite an undignified sight, which may have had something to do with the others' professed dislike of windy conditions. The other advantage of this cab was that it could easily snake through the busy traffic, which contained a wide assortment of vehicles to accommodate the different species of The Triumvirate. From the little bowl-shaped carts for Itsumboes here, right up to a huge mobile aquarium for a Kujillian zooming past at break-fin speed. The cab easily evaded all to arrive well on time for its appointment at the lab. Sleeth crossed over to the branch favoured by most arboreal species, letting it rise majestically to the building's 26th floor before entering. It was, so Sleeth thought, a fine day to rest. Or would be, if there didn't happen to be a job which needed doing.
The team of Meercians was excited when he entered the meeting room. Meercians are almost always excited, moving on all fours, tails straight up in the air and chattering with their characteristic energy. Something to do with being small and growing up in a predator rich environment. One head raised itself. “Hey Sleeth, come over!” He blinked, looked around, then crossed over to hang nearby, head at the level of those of the gang. “So you're the one being sent to handle that nasty hunting business.”
“It's for real, then?” Sleeth inquired.
“Yesyes, definitely not VR, too flavourful for that.”
Many an experienced peruser of VR could distinguish a created world, or that of a game, from that of a recording of a real physical environment. Computer generated VR in The Triumvirate was good, the best known amongst the different known intelligences, in fact. It still was far from perfect, with its flaws obvious for most of those who could experience it. Sleeth itself got too nauseous with both to tell the difference. Of course, those hyperactive black-eyed, short furred, long nosed, little beasts got to enjoy it all, regardless of how artificial it was. They even enjoyed the more abstract stuff. “Absolutely horrible!” another one of the Meercians barked. Naturally, their sympathies would lie with the prey. “It's got to be stopped, and it's got to be stopped yesterday.” They all barked their agreements, and even Sleeth nodded at that.
“Any clues to where?”
“We got a good view of the star-scape from most streams.”
“And?”
“We have a star system,”
“Hit me.”
“It's close to the Empire.” One of the gang directed the meeting room to display a map of their common border. “Over there,” she pointed to the purple mark.
Sleeth considered in silence for a while. “You know what that means don't you?”
The mob looked confused until Sleeth clarified, “Everything related to this is now classified to an even-if-you-need-to-know-you-won't.” It silenced the protests before they even started. “Not even the Triumvirates get to hear about this until my official report.” Sleeth would need to move fast before the Empire claimed this new species' world “for their protection”. “I won't depend on them not knowing about it until it's too late, but ...” it pierced the team with a sharp glance, “... we, most certainly, should not help the Empire find out before.”
This new species' location meant that they would either have to get on track to be incorporated into The Triumvirate or gobbled up by the Empire. Sleeth intended to make sure they would get the time to have a say in whichever outcome they got. On top of that, it needed to tiptoe around that new touchy foreign minister of theirs. It would not be the first, or the last, war sparked by the fight over a species' future. This job was getting more interesting by the minute. Sleeth glanced at the excited faces. Oh dear.
“I will also require,” it put it delicately, “that this entire research team,” meaning every single last one of these gossipers, “will join me in the expedition to prepare for this species' first contact.” That should keep them silent for long enough. Big stunned eyes answered this pronouncement. Great. Now Sleeth would have to endure their hyperactivity.
Sleeth considered the message it would leave behind. The disappearance of one The Triumvirate's foremost research and development teams might cause some consternation. Sleeth had better make it clear that they were not kidnapped or such.
“Record, please.” The room sprang to life. “Captain, Sorry to be borrowing team thirteen. I promise to return all of them in one piece.” Sleeth displayed one of its slow smiles. “Most of them, anyway.”
That should do the trick. “Send message.”