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Najan wants to be reassigned? That's fine by you. You'll give him a lofty promotion, an <span class="mu-s">Overseer of Culture</span>, a new office that you hope will help the Hegemony stand out from the current Aristocrat dominance in the artistic and cultural spheres. You also make sure to tell your AI to <span class="mu-i"><span class="mu-s">not</span></span> set aside the material stockpiles for a fleet as of yet, after all, we live in a time of peace...
You are now <span class="mu-s">Brutus</span> again. Unfortunately, your attempt to follow the mysterious Aristocrat and his weird blue monkey companion were put to an end when you saw them slink into a <span class="mu-s">Gold Membership VIP Room</span> in the Grand Casino. Despite having to be in the top galactic 1% to even be here, looks like there is even more exclusivity in certain parts. The 1% of the 1%. The door guards can tell your <span class="mu-i">GDP</span> isn't high enough to even touch the door, so you're forced to mingle with the common folk. Damn. If only there was a way to work your way up to it...
In the meantime, you've preoccupied yourself with <span class="mu-i">gambling</span>, one of the few ways you've found to make money aboard the palace. While not exactly very reliable, a big win could set you up for a good while. You try to keep the stakes low, given your situation, but you might have to cut back on your food intake if you end up losing your bets. At your level at the casino, you're only allowed on the general floor, which is full of people from all over the galaxy, gossiping and talking.
<span class="mu-r">”...Yeah, and the Oon attacked them just for trying to communicate with their ship's instruments. Spiteful little buggers. I mean, that is how they <span class="mu-i">fight</span> after all. Can you believe some people like carry them around as a pet? A hostile alien? That's crazy.”</span>
<span class="mu-b">”The Consortium Credit has taken over all of Freespace and is being used everywhere. Even the Esaal are using it to pay their soldiers. They've got a lot to pay. The Aristocrats? Oh no- they're losing. Bad.”</span>
“...And- And they move with grace. Like water. Long tails, supple limbs, strength and grace.”
The last available seat is being taken up by some crazy guy. Rocking his head in his hands and babbling to himself. Dammit, your race is starting in just a few minutes!
<span class="mu-g">”Hey buddy can you... move damn it! You aren't even playing! Paying costumers only! Where's a member of the staff?!”</span>
“Are you listening to me?! They aren't normal! They're insane- fascists who will genocide anyone who stands in their way! They'd rather wipe a planet clean and let the natural world grow back then let those they view as inferior live there... and they mean it!”
In his raving, he jumps up to grab your coat, your <span class="mu-i">last</span> coat, and you can hear the seams starting to get pulled apart.
“They cut me, but they didn't kill me! Do you want to see the scar from their wicked curved knives?!”
