((Presidential Penthouse and Private Residence, Level 801, Saladanian Corporate Hegemony Headquarters))
Seething with fury at his wildly inept personal staff Pitorian Tolo’Sal’Lat’Ut’Kel’Tras Anroc tore off his outer coat and cast it into the nearby vaporizer. The suit had fit perfectly of course, and had been made of the finest materials money could buy and to his exacting personal demands, but it was simply wrong, and the imbecile ephemerals he was forced to tolerate had failed him yet again. This was the ninth outfit he'd rejected.
If he had been an honest or self-aware creature, Anroc would've realized he was nervous about meeting these aliens. The Corporations communication with their vessel had been monitored and carefully dissected by a huge group of supposed experts in the fields of consumer psychology and dealmaking analysis but their conclusions had been worthless, and Anroc had terminated the entire project team.
And their families.
The very idea that these aliens could be genuinely altruistic in their nature, or truly willing to offer assistance out of generosity and kindness, was laughable.
It didn't occur to him that he could be anxious anymore. It had been centuries since he'd last experienced even a hint of apprehension. His every whim was anticipated and catered to so comprehensively that the very concept of worry had simply fluttered away from Anroc. In its place was a vast pit of rancid black rage that he directed towards whoever had most recently perturbed him in any way. He was of the First Eternals. He had enough wealth to demand and expect nothing but perfection.
So far, none of his outfits had reached that intangible peak. He was certain that whatever the failing was, it most certainly had nothing to do with him. His mood had also dictated his opening negotiating strategy.
He'd demand everything. He'd bleed these gullible alien saps for all they were worth. It would affirm his legacy for another thousand years. It would ensure the Saldanian Corporate Hegemony stood above all others for the rest of time. As he would. Magnificent. Eternal & Forever.
Scampering assistants and dressers, desperately trying to go unnoticed, stepped into his chambers with another potential outfit. The material glimmered with an internal radiance that was subtle but eye catching. Tasteful. Sophisticated. It spoke of precision and restraint.
Anroc hated it and cast it into the vaporizer before they'd even gotten it on both arms. He snarled at the nearby underlings and they fled in terror.
((Several hours later, one of the lesser negiogation chambers, Level 793, Saladanian Corporate Hegemony Headquarters))
Awaiting the signal that the 'Starfleet Delegation' had been seated and forced to wait on his arrival, Anroc sipped a narcotic tonic that heightened his perceptions and gave him a pleasantly agreeable lift. He felt sharp and certain.
At the correct moment known only to him, Anroc extended one bejeweled finger on his left hand ever so slightly. Staff sprang into action, and the doors were swept open for his arrival.
First, of course, were the children.
Deemed the most aesthetically pleasing and musically adept by their consumer profiles, the choir began a complex multi-harmonious arrangement of the Saldanian Corporate Anthem. Even Anroc, who knew the words had been drawn up, focused grouped and surgically crafted to elicit an emotional reaction, was ever so briefly touched.
Choir: *We praise you dear President, to the limit of our credit! Loyally we'll attend you in all our duties, grateful of your largess!*
Next two columns of attendants took up positions flanking the doors, carrying various object d'art from his personal collection, along with an assortment of beverages and narcotics for his own amusement. They stood silently, holding the heavy burdens in front of them at arms length. Anroc could've easily had them all replaced with floatdrones long ago, but there was something about watching an ephemerals arms tremble with strain that affirmed his ego gratifyingly.
Choir: *We'll always remain loyal customers, our faith always in you! To our eternal leader we sing, guide us always!*
As the performance peaked Anroc himself entered, his gilded kline borne on the backs of yet more ephemerals. None dared give him the hint of an uneven journey and set him on a raised portion of the floor at the head of the room. He sat above all, his radiant bioluminous coat swirling and glowing in a constantly shifting pattern, subtly responding to his body heat and moods. The effect was quite dazzling. Blazing even brighter were his collections of flamestone jewel rings, one on each of his long slender stalks.
Choir: *To our beloved President Eternal, forever profit more!*
The anthem concluded and the choir, kline bearers and other nameless support staff rapidly departed, their purposes temporarily fulfilled. Anroc immediately forgot they existed as he took his first look of the new creatures. Their scent was faint and pitiful, their dermis bland and monochromatic, and they lacked any aspect of authority whatsoever. President Pitorian Tolo’Sal’Lat’Ut’Kel’Tras Anroc stood at a historic moment for his corporation, his worlds and all Zet, yet as he took in these aliens his thoughts condensed to one word.
He had imbalanced them early as he had hoped, a common tactic in corp to corp communications. He decided to swing in a different direction to keep them imbalanced. He kept his tone languid and took a sip from his drink before speaking.
Anroc: Well, I suppose I expected you to be a little better dressed at least. Those drab sacks hardly seem befitting of a meeting with someone of my status. I thought you were supposed to be advanced beings?
Anroc rolled all six eyes and let out an exasperated sigh.
Anroc: Oh I see, underlings at that. Your President or Shipowner couldn't even make the time in his schedule to see me in person?
Anroc: If I must suffer underlings I will expect to be well compensated for the experience, of course. My time does not come cheap. I may be Eternal but think that makes my time any less precious. My corporation blossoms only due to my constant attention. I assume your employers feel the same?
Tags and TBC
Pitorian Tolo’Sal’Lat’Ut’Kel’Tras Anroc
Owner & Guildmaster Extraordinary,
President for Life of the Saldanian Corporate Hegemony,
Beloved & Benevolent,
Everlasting & Magnificent,
Supreme Conqueror of the Void,
Near Vanquisher of the Edge,
Venerated By Children