It has been some time since The Third Kryslin War. All sides in the galaxy had lost a big deal, some probably never to recover with how far they have been set back. And the wake of the war did not bring about peace as some would hope...no, rather the wounds that were inflicted had began to fester, and new struggles were starting to form. The many factions in the galaxy fruitlessly struggling to reclaim what was lost, and then gain even more. None knew this better than the Alliance. The largest governmental body in the entire galaxy and even they had to contend with the newly ravenous and enraged outsiders within the Fringe. And it put a toll on its military personnel and their budgets to have to keep warring just to defend themselves and keep some sense of stability. One of the many signs of the Alliance's struggle was the mass construction of many residential starbases formed at the edges of their territories. Built and placed down to make proper footholds and to keep their military at the furthest edges of space. Sure, it left the inner-territories to fend for themselves with policing, but the Alliance had to ensure they would be safe. And it was on one of these starbases, will looking into a particular woman. A woman whose husband is still serving in the military and have been on long tours in the territories between Alliance and the Fringe expanses. For most of their marriage, she has lived on this starbase and have lived alone. Let's see what the everyday life for an Alliance citizen is like through her eyes.
Veronyka Stylz hated Downbelow. The specific section of the station had an official name of course, as all the sections did, 'Block 218' or some other shit like that; but to the residents of the station it was 'Downbelow'. Nestled in the bowels of the station its nickname was well earned. Beneath the command decks and communications arrays, beneath the docking ports and cargo bays, beneath the merchant sectors and diplomatic forums, beneath the residential and recreational sectors was Downbelow. The sewage and waste reclamation facilities of the station. It was tight quarters and unsavory sorts all around. Downbelow was home to hustlers, wanderers, criminals and worse... Veronyka hated coming to Downbelow, but it was the only place she could get what she was looking for. It was hot, humid and cramped, with poor lighting Veronyka clutched her overcoat tighter around her as her heels clicked against the metal deck-plating. She tried to make herself as small and unnoticeable as possible, but that was hard for her at the best of times. Pipes carrying god-knew-what ran overhead and along the corridors while somehow the deckfloor was wet, with what she didn't want to know. Her feet carried her quickly because she didn't want to take anymore time here than was necessary but fate had other plans. She stopped at the regular spot and waited. Others, far more down on their luck than she passed her by and eyed her up. A human in Downbelow, while certainly not uncommon, was a rarity when they looked like Veronyka. Most of the inhabitants here were malnourished, diseased, disheveled and dirty. Their clothes were ragged, and their statures bore the poise of those who'd been beaten down by whatever world they came here from, and then beaten some more when they got here for good measure. A stark contrast to Veronyka herself. Her clothes weren't dirty, instead they were clean and modestly fashionable. She wasn't malnourished, instead she had a voluptuous form with large breasts, wide hips, and a slim waist. Her hair wasn't disheveled, instead her long red hair flowed gracefully to her shoulders. Her face was pretty, with high cheekbones, full luscious lips, and striking green eyes she had a hard time not drawing attention to herself in even the most opulent of company. And while she wasn't diseased, she also wasn't healthy. Her hands, and indeed her whole body shook slightly. A drop of sweat rolled down her temple and her skin was pasty and pale. She itched all over and fought the urge to scratch herself as she waited. No one came to Downbelow willingly, but everyone who had no other option came here eventually. What seemed like hours passed as she waited, growing more and more nervous as time went on. A couple of men propositioned her and she would have been offended if it didn't happen so often. For most a sharp look did the trick of sending them on their way. Her breathing was coming faster when the voice came from behind her. "Hello Red."
The voice was synthetic and artificial. Turning around, she would see the familiar frame of Theta-Del. Del was an android of unknown make that didn't have a personality of its own nor even looked like any other species in the galaxy. It sported a human-like frame but really it could have been of any of the humanoids in the galaxy. Veronyka could see the exposed circuitry and other hardware on this android. It was hardly an android, she had seen androids that had became their own people during her service. This was a puppet controlled directly from her supplier, and even its voice was just a garbled synthesized version of the dealer's voice. Her dealer never did business face to face. Normally an android wouldn't last in the Downbelow...but this android at the markings of one of the most brutal gangs that owned this part of sector. Of course, it really wasn't one of their androids. But the intimidation tactic worked...no one dared question it nor try and scrap it. Despite the fact that good robotics, electronics, and cybernetics would buy many people a one way ticket to anywhere else. Del's chest had opened up to show the chest compartment it had there. As it did, a hiss was heard as air escaped from the pressurized space and a fog started to lazily roll out of it. Within its refrigerated compartment sat a storage rack that was in the form of a circle. It had a rest plate with indentions, and higher up was another slate of metal with holes through. And in each hole was a long, small vial of a foggy, light pink liquid. She knew what those vials contained... X-Cite... But before she could do anything, Del talked again, "I'm sorry, Red. But there has been...complications. The price for this drug has drastically gone up. It was already hard when the Alliance had stopped mandatory injection, and only produced to help those they forced to get addicted to it. But now...well, one of the Alliance's major chemical plants came under attack by Bulor terrorists. Until we can get set up with a more suitable source of this stuff...I'm afraid you may not be able to afford the price."
