Scientific Ambitions... And... Successes? - Part VI
Marvin walked down a long, illustrious, marble hall in the Glorious Advance.
It had been a long time since he'd "visited" this particular deck on his ship. He'd hardly had a reason to in the past. It was the envoy dormitory/ballroom/meeting space deck. Not the type of ballroom that Marvin hosted his infamous masquerades in, either. The stuffy, all business type deals that Marvin never wanted to be a part of happened down here to various guests, both of a legal standing and those who were less than reputable... who want to rent the spaces.
Marvin had adequate spaces for diplomatic meetings now aboard Freeport 11 he was entitled to, being its Administrator.
Various crew holding holoclipboards with calendars, meeting schedules, and other documents turned to look at Marvin as he walked by...
And there he was, like a child looking for their classroom at the first day of school.
Meeting Room #1
the plate beside the door read.
Marvin confidently pushed open the door - to what he expected what would be a full room of Samura External Commerce executives.
Just one man sat at the large table in the center of the room.
He was short, much shorter than Marvin, and quite obviously a Kusari native.
The two men approached eachother, cordially shook hands and sat at opposite ends of the table.
"I understand, you need logistical support for some kind of new... project of yours?" Captain Hideo Ogawa said.
"That is correct. I hope Samura can supply the neccesary goods to make us both a lot of profit... in different forms... for each of us... of course" Marvin said
"Indeed"
Capt. Ogawa said, understandingly.
"This base will ideally be put somewhere in a classified, out-of-the-way location, with little interference from outside forces for my people to do their work." Marvin said, and continued
"The exact desired location of construction will be sent to you in an encrypted communication." Marvin said, confidently.
"For all we know, this very room could be bugged with microphones... "
Marvin stated.
"I understand that you want this outpost constructed with haste, but the building process is long and expensive..."
"Due payment will be sent to your accounts when the base had been succesfully built and supplied..." Marvin stated flatly.
They continued in a back and forth business conversational motion and tone, very uncomfortable for Marvin.
He'd never had to deal with supplying anything but his SynthM, let alone supply an entire base.
The success of this whole venture, Marvin thought, still rides on a bunch of overpaid whitecoats...
Freeport 11 Part VII: Archive of the Great Delta War
Background:
The Great Delta War began as a war between the Bounty Hunters Guild Core and the Zoners, but soon involved two other parties, the Corsair Empire, allied to the Core, and the Order and TCG, allied to the Zoners.
The apparent reasons for the agressions by the Bounty Hunters Guild against the Zoners of Omicron Delta was due to the suspected alliance between the Zoners and Order. The Bounty Hunters Guild Core's most hated enemies, due to the fact the Order is restricting and/or blocking the access of dangerous Nomad technology to anyone not 'qualified', in their eyes. The Core is fighting the Order to obtain access to the technology. The Great Delta War could therefore be classified as a proxy war, of sorts.
The Zoners had been using Order technology for years, mostly the now defunct-Zoner Consortium and other ships using the much more powerful Hathor-class Gunboat in leiu of the Conference-class Zoner Gunboat. For what reason beyond pure profeciency of defense, is not known. These acquired Order Gunboats were used to defend Omega and Omicron shipping convoys from various pirates that plauge these areas, but for the most part the majority of the attacks came from the Corsairs. This was the main reason for the war, along with some lesser differences, many light skirmishes occuring between Zoner and Core forces due to the Core feeling the need to demand Nomad specimens from innocent Zoners.
The increase in Corsair piracy on Zoners was mostly due to the percieved lack of food exports to Planet Crete, although Zoner shipments to the planet have been decreasing in recent years perpetually due to the hostile environment of Omicron Gamma, in some cases, the Corsairs would pirate their own exported Artifact shipments. These reasons, combined with the recent Order/Corsair schism, in which the Corsairs abandoned the alliance with the Order due to alliances with the Blood Dragons, and curiously, a short Corsair alliance with the Core| for unknown reasons, culminated in The Great Omicron Delta War, a proxy of the greater Corsair/BHG - Order conflict, with sporadic Zoner activity intermixed on the Order side in a few select battles, including the Battle of Freeport 11.
Battle Summary
RESULT
Draw, status quo of territoy of all parties. Phyrric strategic victory for Core|
Elizabeth Tate resigns from The Administration of Freeport 11
Marvin James Orphelia, Primary Guardian of Freeport 11, Becomes Administrator
Core| and Zoner relations normalized, Zoner use of Hathor heavily regulated and hidden much better than before.
Order/Zoner relations remain status quo ante bellum
Corsair and Zoner relations strained, hostilities between the parties in Omicron Delta ceases but continues elsewhere in Omicron Theta.
BATTLECAM ARCHIVES, BATTLE OF FREEPORT 11, DESTRUCTION OF ESTAL*
*note, the destruction of the Estal was not a direct part of the Battle of Freeport 11, but was a part of the Great Delta War.
Formerly the leader, trainer/drill master of Marvin's personal and ship guard/garrison, he is the newest of Marvin's 'indentured servants' as he calls them, at least to the public. Jeffery Lordeux Peters was born in the later 760's, on Planet Los Angeles, in the California System. Born to a rather brash, abusive father, and a battered, shaken mother, he was a quiet, shy, and reserved child, slight in stature and in size.
His father, Edward, came from a long line of lower class Synth Paste 'farmers' as Synth Foods, Inc, calls them... He spent the better part of his life in front of a conveyor belt of empty jars, and it was his big job, to fill them... He mercilessly beat his wife, and occasionally, even his children.
Geraldine, his mother, was a pharmaceutical test subject. She was purposely infected with diseases of many kinds, and those at Cryer would make all sorts of potions and drugs to try to cure her. The 'job' could have been called legal torture, but it put food on the table for her precious sons, and it got her away from her maurading, abusive, demeaning husband. She was planning on divorcing Edward when Jefferey turned 18, according to public records on file in the court in L.A., Planet L.A. One day when Jefferey was only 10, she never came home from the Cryer Labs compound. She may have indeed died from an injected disease, or could have possibly ran away, although the likelyhood of the latter is unlikely as she would never leave Jefferey and her other son, Dervan, alone with their brute father.
Jefferey wanted no part of the Synth industry that his father... did nothing with. He was teased in primary and much of secondary school for his sullen attitude and slight physique. He wanted to prove all of those bullies wrong, that he could be tough...
At age 18, he applied for West Point Millitary Academy, and was accepted, on his 3.66 GPA, he felt entitled to it... He decided he wanted to become a drill seargent. Yelling at people 'below' him, at least in rank, would perhaps bring some of his confidence back, and his classmates back at home would be shocked to hear of Drill Seargent Peters... and that he did...
Graduating around 784 A.S. with flying colors, he was assigned to train recruits in one of the many Planetary Guard camps around L.A., Planet L.A.
After nearly fifteen years of serivce, in 799 A.S., he was discharged dishonorably for 'innappropriate conduct' with a subordinate soldier, caught with his hands in the cookie jar, as the report put it.
According to exit polls from soldiers going into active duty, and performance reports from his superiors, he was known as a quick, effective, strict seargent.
Jefferey decided for a new start after leaving that year, wanting a change from the ordered, forced routines and conformist ways of the Liberty Millitary, and with the rumors of a multi-house war in the future, he wanted to get as far away from the center of Sirius as possible. Journeying eastward toward Rhienland, he saw the full force of the buildup of Rhienland during the Nomad war, further pushing him away from civilization and the increasingly millitarized ways of the houses. Escaping most of the war-torn areas of Sirius, he ended up in Sigma-17, hearing of a Zoner Freeport 7 where he could make a new living for himself, possibly as a mercenary, bodyguard... something, anything to do.
All he found was sad, ruins, rubble. The presence of Atka Research Station, a Cryer Pharmacuetical laboratory not restricted by house laws, turned him off to the system even further, not wanting to be anywhere near the company that likely killed his mother.
Journeying into Omicron Theta, he discovered Freeport 9 among the strange, green clouds filled with living creatures and sticking to his Defenders' solarwindshield.
He felt he could make this cold system home. Untill he found work... He disposed of his Libertonian ship, with the smells of home and symbols of what he considered evil...
Becoming a mercenary of sorts, Jefferey worked for the Bounty Hunters Guild on and off, contract-killing many Corsairs and pirates of the like that lurked in the mysterious clouds of the Omicron system cluster. New systems around Theta were discovered every day, and Jefferey found the prospect appealing, rumors of the origin of the Nomad War coming from these parts swliring around like a sandstorm on Planet Mojave.
In early 802 A.S., during a hunt for a famed Corsair in Omicron Gamma's Maldava field, he was ambushed by at least 10 Titans, and in his Hawk, he stood no chance.
He ran, deeper and deeper into the cloud, Corsairs close behind. Wrecks of similar Corsair ships blurred past the fighter, and Jefferey departed into an unknown jump hole, willing to escape at any cost.
After existing the jump tunnel, and emerging into a huge system with a tunnel-like starsphere, and strange asteroids resembling naval mines, he flew further. He'd heard of a new outpost being constructed by the Zoners in a recently discovered system, quite close to the Nomad home systems. Could this be it?
Unforuntately, no, as it seemed his scanners detected nothing. He drifted for several days, what seemed like months or even years to him, in the cold, strange darkness of this place.
Scanners picked up faint telltale signals of another jumphole, but gravimetric readings labeled it 'Unstable'
Jefferey was sick of waiting, and if he turned back what would await him? More Corsair hordes? Unacceptable. He took the chance and flew into the hole. The jump tunnel ripped and tore through the space-time continuum, Jefferey feared he was caught in an endless loop...
Then, a bright flash of light...
and a new system beckoned, with a smilar tunel-like starfield, a huge blue gas giant planet as well as a smaller moon. He journeyed closer in to the small moon, no long after his scanner bleeped... A huge, bulky Zoner Transport whooshed past his view.
He followed it, not sending nor recieving any communications from the transport. The three, bright, huge suns grew closer and an asteroid field came into view. Not long later, the transport slowed to a crawl, and several more huge transports lumbered nearby... as well as several Heavy Lifters.
He found it. A new Freeport construction site! Freeport 11 was 3/4's of the way complete when he arrived in 802, a rather unknown outpost in the great frontier systems during this time. He continued his mercenary line of work, with the Corsairs so nearby, the Zoners had to hire someone to protect their unarmed transports... He made quite the top dollar doing this for almost 9 years, seeing the Freeport gain a bar and a biodome.
In 816 A.S., years afer he 'discovered' the outpost, making a happy living protecting Zoner transports making the journey from Theta to the new outpost in Omicron Delta, the jumphole to Omicron-74 in Kappa appeared. According to the long time locals and builders of the station, a straight, safe shot to Omicron Theta had not been possible since the jump hole to Omicron Theta from Kappa collapsed in the late 400s.
He suddenly found himself out of a job, the Zoners no longer needing his services on such a safe route and with construction of Freeport 11 done for quite some time.
The new Administrator of Freeport 11, Marvin James Orphelia, coming in after a brief but bloody war with the BHG|Core and Corsairs, replacing Elizabeth Tate, rather reminded Jefferey of the home he left so long ago... but not in a nostalgic, good way. It reminded him of the corrupt politicians, millitary leaders who profited from war, a prime example being President Jacobi.
When Marvin put an add out for someone to lead the garrison of his spacious, luxurious Juggernaut Glorious Advance, Jefferey jumped at the chance, while he hated war profiteering, becoming a hypocrite himself of sorts, the pay was high.
Higher than escorting transports.
Much higher than training green recruits for an Evil Empire...
After all, what sort of damage could just one man do?
(See Post #3, The Alpha Battalion and the Camp. See Post #6, the Addiction)
(See Post #7, the Innocence of Evil, mostly, however)
Marvin watches his money with an eagle eye, that of the greediest accountants and lawyers. While he did respect Jefferey Peters because of his age, and his very exemplary work training his shipboard/personal garrison/guard, he could not have theivery in his midst.
He tortured the poor man, not unlike what Jefferey's mother faced, although much, much worse, and unlike her, there was no escape.
Not even death.
After a year of being tortured on and off, locked in a padded cell in the far depths of the 'Skeleton Closet', as the other slaves call it, of the Glorious Advance, Marvin indoctrinated Jefferey into indentured servitude, on the reason that he owed him for stealing his money, at least outwardly to the few who know, or discovered, the 'servants'. But Marvin knows...
Jefferey will never be leaving.
Put back into his old, childlike shyness, from months of torture, he appears to be sliding into the father figure of Marvin's slaves, being the oldest of the group, yet the newest member, it is an odd place to be. Jefferey had no idea who he was replacing, or what to expect... although, based upon the marble-clad halls and jeweled chandelieres, how bad could it be?
Jefferey Peters acts as a footman, of sorts, both for Marvin and some of the higher level bridge staff, although, the first time he was ever used for more than serving drinks and lighting smelly cigars was for Doc Holliday's Zoner Meeting...
Johanna is the 2nd newest of Marvin's slaves, after Former Drill Seargent Jefferey Peters.
It is unknown her exact date of birth, although she is believed to be in her early-to-mid twenties, a 'Nomad War Baby', as they call them. She is five foot nine and around 115 lbs, with bright blue eyes and drab, blonde hair.
She was accquired during Marvin's codenamed psuedo-covert operation "Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap" (Post #9, Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap) when she was in her teens, one of the most expensive ages to buy a female slave, for... obvious reasons.
The mission itself was planned by Marvin and his AI Heartless, to get revenge upon the Slaver only known as "Giraldo" aboard his own ship, the Fortune of the Night. He would lure Giraldo on the guise of wanting to acquire more slaves, which, in itself, was not at all a lie, as Marvin planned to 'buy' more 'indentured servants'...
He just never planned to pay for them.
This revenge mission was caused by a dispute between Marvin and Giraldo several years earlier, over a young girl, 'ripe' at the age of 13, for the 'service' business. Marvin won the bid easily, over the few creeps and weirdoes that came to that particular meeting.
It was not the regular crowd of rich, affluent, secretive government officials or pervese Junkers looking for a cheap good time. Marvin should have expected something, or at least found something odd.
This meeting was not advertised for a very good reason. This girl was tainted.
Giraldo wanted to teach Marvin a lesson for cheating him years even before the above incident, on some very 'approachable' 'clean' 'fresh' 'property' that Giraldo had acquired from an charity orphanage on Planet Los Angeles. The only reason Giraldo continued to deal with Marvin after being swindled is because Marvin was his highest paying customer, and a regular one at that...
The girl was infected with a very nasty, possibly deadly, STD that would render Marvin impotent, among other things.
Luckily, while they may be slaves, Marvin tests every single one for any kind of infection, slaves aboard his juggernaut Glorious Advance have nicknamed it 'Bleaching'. It was originally put into place due to the Magnetar Incident, of whose near entire report has been classified by Marvin, due to possible Order intervention if they'd ever found out just exactly what happened...
Marvin ejected the girl into space, and swore revenge.
Johanna was one of the few slaves that Marvin 'purchased' before the Fortune of the Night exploded. Unfortunately, her sister Yolanda was not so lucky, and this pushed the already mentally unstable Johanna into deeper psychosis.
Johanna's origins are, again, quite unknown. Marvin did not acquire her 'papers' before the Night exploded, a process that would normally occur after purchase, which itself did not happen.
She is most likely from Planet Houston, as her right wrist carries an identification tattoo that ties her with a now-closed insane asylum on the Planet. Patient medical records are classified by the Liberty government, so the exact nature of her psychological state is unknown.
When she acted out, or acted, well, crazy... Marvin would merely try a different drug every time.
Eventually, one worked, a potent antipsychotic prescribed only for the worst cases of paranoid schizophrenia, named Lorpralorazamathol.
Everytime Marvin requires her 'services' he loads her up on the stuff, to the point she is nearly commatose. While it is not expected she will last long, Marvin is not afraid of losing her as he is with several other, more physically and mentally capable slaves he has in his possession.
And if she ever does escape...
Marvin can always pick her up at one of the many asylums that are bound to discover the extent of her mental illness...
Marvin was giggling like a schoolgirl that kissed her first boy.
He looked at his Juggernaut the Glorious Advance for the last time out of the Administrators Office, happy to be finally leaving the retchid hole.
It was never quite suited to his tastes. The office was far too small, was lacking a hot tub, and a walk-in-humidor for his collection of bud.
Most of the people on the station smelled as if they rolled around in mud, frankly.
Marvin only chose to defend the place to get his fix for plasma, it did have a smell of home, however, one that he would miss deeply. Luckily, he could come back whenever he wanted.
It was time for a change of scenery.
Besides, with this development, he could leave and explore the new, furthest reaches of Gallia, the Omicrons, and deeper into the Omicrons.
Dozens and dozens of boxes were being loaded onto shuttles, marking the end of the Orphelia Administration. While he was sad to be leaving, he was interested to see what the new guy would do with the place.
In fact, he hoped it to be a female administrator... ...
Marvin shut off the lights in his office, and peeled the stickers off of the windowed, wooden door reading
"Marvin James Orphelia,
Administrator of Freeport 11"
He crumbled them up, and threw them away.
He walked down the hallway, empty cubicles filled the room.
The mass of people that boarded the shuttles was staggering. They were the Orphelia Administration staff, split from the Glorious Advances' when Marvin first acquired Administratorship of the station. They would be merged back into the crew of the Juggernaut, which means, much to the relief of Marvin, he'd be even more qualified to laze around and let other people run his ship. The secretaries, repair crew, equipment and commodity dealers of various colors mumbled to themselves as they saw Marvin board his personal shuttle.
They were being paid.
It didn't matter where they were.
He'd just do what he'd usually do...
Party, drink, smoke, and spend the newest addition to his fortune.
He giggled again as the mass of shuttles flew from Freeport 11's docking bays, landing securely on the Advance, as it blasted toward the far, purple cloud, in Omicron Delta.
At least, hotter than space was, for sure. Marvin could not stand being hot. Nearly his whole staff onboard his Juggernaut wore woolen sweaters because he kept the AC so very low. If it was hot, he got rageful.
Quite quickly, and without fail.
The Zoner delegates were on recess from the meeting at Doc Holliday's mansion. Too hoiety-totie for Marvin, personally, and he relished escape from all of those holier-than-thou corporate simpletons.
He sat on a bench an airy, lovely courtyard, that quite reminded Marvin of some of the spaces in the biodomes on his Juggernaut. The songs of the avian variety filled the air. He sat alone and thought.
This meeting has gone well, although, it is no different from the usual Zoner 'lets get along' rhetoric.
Rather reminded Marvin of some ancient childrens' cartoons he's read about in the hundred-plus volume Ancient Earth: The History and Culture.
He yawned loudly, as delegates walked by, eyeing him wearily. The people talking seemed to deafen Marvins' ears. They're potent verbal poison was beginning to get to him.
He decided he needed a break from the planetside. Recess would last another 2 hours, as it was.
Marvin left the house full of mindless ignorant creatures, working their way to their own destruction, and headed toward the landing pad where the Stranger In A Strange Land was parked.
It's pilot, whose name Marvin never learned, was smoking a cigar he'd probably gleaned from the party.
Marvin found it easier to fire people whose name was unbeknownst to him. The only crew of his ship he cared to know more about were his exemplary bridge crew who actually meant something to him, as well as his indentured servants, who -really- knew what Marvin desired...
Marvin strictly, yet arrogantly, eyed the pilot and he sighed.
Putting his cigar out on the shuttle, and carelessly discarding it on the ground, he walked up the ramp as Marvin followed behind.
He sat himself in one of the luxury velvetine flight chairs and waited for the G-forces from the liftoff to come.
They did.
He held himself down in the chair untill he felt the characteristic momentary weightlessness, and then the artificial gravity kicked in and everything felt normal.
It was only a short flight to get to Nichols Station, and the trade bazaar that resided there.
While Marvin was nuetral to the OSI, he was growing more suspiscious of them after hearing that they legally could trade with Gallia, after the whole JZ/Gallic Prince/FP11 affair brought Gallia to his humble station.
The shuttle sat down on the landing pad after being shown in by a runwayman. Marvin walked out of the shuttle, waving to the pilot to wait for him to return.
The Nichols Bazaar was crowded as a street market on Gran Canaria. Vendors selling their wares, Tomokian Furs, cages and tanks full of exotic Gaian and Holstienan wildlife, and not to mention the smell of Gallic and Rhienlandic cigar smoke.
Thousands of people muddled about, hundreds of millions credits exchanging every day in the Bazaar.
Marvin was not looking to buy anything, he was looking to offload a Hyperspace Scanner he acquired through a mutual friend for around half its market selling price.
It was a steal in itself.
He quickly located the Nichols Equipment Dealer, there was a large hoard of people around him, credits waving in the air as he auctioned off various advanced equipment.
It appeared to be an auction for a Jump Drive MK III.
The ending bid won at $500,000,000.
As the crowd thinned, Marvin caught the smell of a strong malt liquor eminating from the Equipment dealers' booth.
Perfect
he thought to himself, plotting.
What a great way to get back at an evil, Interspace-like corporation. Their greed had been ruining the image of the good, hardworking zoner for years.
He approached the drunkard and offered him a deal.
$800,000,000 for a new, shiny, kind of Hyperspace Scanner.
"Heartless... override the neural-net on that scanner" he whispered to himself, Heartless would recieve it via nueral link.
The short, tired looking drunk said
"AYE!" and sent over the money as Marvin ordered Heartless to drop the Scanner to the station.
The dealer slumped over a chair, passed out.
Marvin giggled like a schoolgirl, picked up a box of Rhienlandic Erlangen Cigars from one of the vendors, and left the Bazaar.
Marvin's third newest slave is one of the more mysterious of his strange, dysfunctional, psuedo-family.
Cornellia Mayer, as she was named before Marvin acquired her and changed her name... was an overworked seamstress who worked on Planet Denver, in one of the dilapidated, cold factories manufacturing cheap clothes for export. She is a woman around 35, tall, rather pretty, although not a bombshell.
Her 'on again, off again' husband, Halford 'Hal' Mayer, as he was known, was a infamous gambler in the back streets of Denver, Planet Denver. He created the profession after he won a few Blackjack games gambling away the last of his savings after losing his job. Halford was a sailor aboard one of the hundreds of hoverboats fishing Denver's cold oceans.
The company employing him and a hundred other sailors went out of business when Denver reached its centennial glacial maximum, the resulting deep-freeze killed all of the squid that sold for quite heavily in foreign markets, and henceforth destroyed company profits.
Hal won quite a sum in a long run of blackjack playing in Denver's backstreets. He even was accused of card counting, and in these tough backstreets that is quite a charge. Little did they know, however, Hal was nowhere near smart enough to pull cardcounting off, and was merely on a lucky streak.
His winnings and luck both ran out.
In fact, his ever-prevalent gambling continued and took the family into a deep state of debt. Hal had no job, and felt as if he'd be in an endless loop forever.
Cornellia was working throughout this entire time, her salary was nowhere near enough to keep up with rent as well as Hal's -awful- loans to the various sharks that resided in Denver's basement.
One day, he brought Cornellia to one of his games, hoping to impress her on one of his winning streaks, as he thought she was going to leave him, with his massive debt looming, she could escape nearly scott free if she secured a divorce as the debt was purely in his name.
His luck was not coming back...
So he did what anyone would do in such a situation, wanting to impress his 'friends'...
He bet his wife on the next hand.
She didn't know of course, not yet, at least...
The sharks smiled and, with their endless stream of brilliance, eminating largely from their X-Ray Specs they'd been using the entire time with Hal...
Won Cornellia Mayer.
Hal ran from the bar, door slamming behind him. One of the accompanying sharks guarded the door from Cornellia's escape, and another, as she was trying to push her way out, knocked her out with a blunt object squarely to the back of the head.
She awoke, half naked, in one of the holding cells of the slave market in which Giraldo kept his wares untill they were sold. They were filthy, and cold, almost like a kennel for the average dog.
It was brightly lit, with a central aisle. There were at least 30 other peices of 'property' in this chamber, and there were several more chambers like it aboard 'Giraldo's ship, the Fortune of the Night.
Cornellia screamed untill her lungs burned like fire, about how she would get back at Hal for the predicament he placed her in.
Like in a prison, she became attached to her fellow captives. They would communicate with notes slid across the floor underneath the cell door, in a diagonal fashion, as the cages were built directly across from one another, so if one wanted to communicate, they'd first have to slide their note to the cell in front of them, and then he/she would have to slide it again to the original sender's adjacent cells.
She became sort of a godmother to the two girls who were adjacent to her on either side, both in their early to middle teens.
They were sisters.
When they were both sold to different masters, Cornellia threw the fit of a lifetime, like a mother being seperated from her pups.
She threw such a fit that the prisonmaster had to put her in chains.
She remained that way untill one day, a depressed, lonely Marvin came looking for a good time.
He never really had a mother in his life, and was looking for one...
with benefits.
He spotted Cornellia, and scooped her up like a family itching for a new pet after their own had died... as if to get the kids to forget about the one whose departed...
Marvin disliked her last name with great intensity, due to the fact Mayer was the last name of a rather loudmouthed teacher aboard Corinth he remembered and hated, she was incredibly mean to young Marvin. Always knowing he was the best of his class, yet never showing appreciation to him.
So he changed her name to Savior, as that is what she was to him when he was feeling lonely...
Fulfilling him in multiple ways.
Ever since she was acquired by Marvin, she has fit in rather well, in comparison to all of the other slaves.
Like former Drill Seargent Peters, she fits securely in the 'mother' spot to Marvin's slaves, comforting them when they are down, provinding for them what she can.
As for Marvin, when she is not 'servicing' him, she acts as a waitress to his large, luxurious balls.
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