The Eristic Illusion

[Cadmus]

Domingo Warehouses, Malta, Omicron Alpha System

Several Days Later:

I have the goods for you right here, senor, just like you requested.

Cadmus glanced down at the sea of crates in the warehouse, one arm crossed in front of him and his other hand touching his lips in a pose of troubled thoughtfulness. He quickly cast a glance at the greasy Outcast, furrowing his brow . Requested? I didnt request anything from you.

The Outcast shrugged. Well, someone did, for you, I do not know who if it was not you; and now I have the goods here for you, senor Cadmus, ready to leave on your ship, if you will only transfer the credits to me. He offered Cadmus a datapad, smiling behind his greasy mustache.

Cadmus was puzzled - flustered may have been a better word. Cadmus seldom was flustered. "I did not make any arrangements with you beforehand, Senor Domingo. And that is all I have to say on the matter." He was still trying to find a way out of this corner he'd been forced into.

The Outcast looked positively inscensed, as far as Cadmus could tell from what he could see past the large mustache. "Senor, there was a man named Hermy who called me and said to prepare a load for a man named 'Cadmus' who would be here in a few days and that it was very important. I would appreciate it if you got the artifacts out of your pants and paid for your Cardamine."

Cadmus stiffened at the mention of the name and realized just how long the dead end he was in was, and knew that it was pointless to try to resist the will of the gods. Sometimes, this job didn't seem so very appealing.

He sighed and accepted the datapad. It was similarly greasy.
Outcasts. Cadmus almost shuddered. Only slightly better than the Corsairs in personality, and behind in hygiene.

Only slightly deterred, he proceeded to facilitate the transfer of the several million credits that would pay for this massive amount of vice that lay before him, in crates across the warehouse floor.

With a flourish of his fingers, he completed the transaction and handed the datapad back to the Outcast.

Well, then, my Outcast friend, you should assemble your rather diligent workforce and ferry the goods up to my transport - it is moored in space. Ill be waiting there for you. Dont take your time.

The Outcast looked at his lounging employees, mostly family, and then looked back at Cadmus. Senor Cadmus, there is much you can do in Malta - go to a bar or Cardamine lounge and pass your time there surely you need not stay in your ship and watch us load the Cardamine while you could be doing something more enjoyable?

Cadmus turned, heading towards the warehouse door. No, there is much for you to do in Malta if you have spare time, but there is little for me to do. I am not an Outcast, nor do I pretend to be friendly with you. He paused at the doorway. Your vices, senor, are best kept to yourselves. I want no part in them.

With that, Cadmus left the Outcast shrugging quizzically.

Barked orders in Spanish soon echoed through the hall, along with the footsteps of Cadmus, which had echoed so many times in places of a higher echelon, in the halls of rulers, tycoons, and gods.