Allanea
29-01-2005, 13:37
Somewhere in Tarasovka
The immense tanker finally ground to a halt, and immense, snake-like tubes where connected to it from the shore. Slowly, a disgusting, semi-liquid brown substance was poured into it it, as the Allanean sailors covered their noses. It was not anything precious – it was crap. Literally, hundreds of tons of human waste – the bowels of Tin-Vilena.. Back in Allanea, thermal depolimerization would convert it into priceless black oil – for untold profits from Allanean Arms, Incorporated, and the horrible ruin of the competitors.
Back on shore, in a small office, Semyon Petrovich Sidorov smiled as he signed the last papers. The Taraskovyans would be paid ten Universal Standard Dollars per ton of the stuff, in a currency of their choice – golden Allanean Dollars, Mulligan Dollars, Menelmacari Credchips or anything else they desired. The price was to pay the Taraskovyans for the trouble of pouring the filth into the tankers. He did not go for Allanean suppliers, since they were already selling it to various other uses and he didn’t want to haggle. Here of course society was not as commercialized. Also, if he did it in Allanea, the news would spread too fast.
Even now it was pretty bad – the CEO of Allanean Oil shot himself when he heard of the new technology, and when it was heard that projected prices of the new oil would be at ten Universal Standard Dollars per barrel, several of Allanean Oil’s biggest shareholders committed suicide as well. Some shot themselves, some slit wrists, and some just took a step forward out of the windows of their offices.
He poured himself and his Tarasovkan partner a glass of vodka.
- На брудершафт? – he suggested.
It was the sixth glass in the last hour.
The immense tanker finally ground to a halt, and immense, snake-like tubes where connected to it from the shore. Slowly, a disgusting, semi-liquid brown substance was poured into it it, as the Allanean sailors covered their noses. It was not anything precious – it was crap. Literally, hundreds of tons of human waste – the bowels of Tin-Vilena.. Back in Allanea, thermal depolimerization would convert it into priceless black oil – for untold profits from Allanean Arms, Incorporated, and the horrible ruin of the competitors.
Back on shore, in a small office, Semyon Petrovich Sidorov smiled as he signed the last papers. The Taraskovyans would be paid ten Universal Standard Dollars per ton of the stuff, in a currency of their choice – golden Allanean Dollars, Mulligan Dollars, Menelmacari Credchips or anything else they desired. The price was to pay the Taraskovyans for the trouble of pouring the filth into the tankers. He did not go for Allanean suppliers, since they were already selling it to various other uses and he didn’t want to haggle. Here of course society was not as commercialized. Also, if he did it in Allanea, the news would spread too fast.
Even now it was pretty bad – the CEO of Allanean Oil shot himself when he heard of the new technology, and when it was heard that projected prices of the new oil would be at ten Universal Standard Dollars per barrel, several of Allanean Oil’s biggest shareholders committed suicide as well. Some shot themselves, some slit wrists, and some just took a step forward out of the windows of their offices.
He poured himself and his Tarasovkan partner a glass of vodka.
- На брудершафт? – he suggested.
It was the sixth glass in the last hour.