Though a few others contributed to bits and pieces of the universe in question, the vast majority of it's material was developed by me. Recently I had some thoughts on fiction set in this universe. Those who developed material for it are fine with me using it, and tonight I had a stroke of inspiration and put together what would be the intro chapter to one of the stories. I'm also posting this crappily-drawn map to show you the basic layout of the universe in question.
Here's the story material itself.
I'll note that this wasn't actually what I had in mind when I started putting the scene together. Things would've ended differently. But I decided to take a new route.
Opinions are desired, though I imagine nobody will bother posting them anyway.
A desert wind blew through Skikda, the signal of an incoming sandstorm so typical to the planet of New Algeria, twin of the lush planet called New Morocco that was one rotation further from the system's star. Skikda's population went about their business, pedestrians clad in heavy robes and face scarves while canvas-covered jeeps with sensitive IR viewers zipped through the streets.
Skikda was on the large al-Butani plain in New Algeria's Northern Hemisphere. The attempts to terraform al-Butani to the same levels of habitability as the other desert plains on the planet had failed. Skikda and the handful of neighboring hamlets and villages around it might have been abandoned if not for the plentiful resources in the nearby Benley Mountains. Miners working for off-world corporations mined the raw resources, which were shipped out of the dedicated commercial spaceport in nearby El Fadih, with some trickling through the smaller private spaceport in Skikda. Skikda was a favored spot for the miners, who often came in during their weekend holidays to celebrate another week of hard work.
Though an Islamic theocracy by law, the Emir of New Algiers never enforced sheriat as vigorously as the clerics desired. There were purist movements that demanded his overthrow, but the Emir was well protected as a vassal of the Sultan of New Morocco - who himself was a vassal to the ruler of the New Hedjaz, King Husayn ibn al-Abd'ul-Allah VI, Head of the House of Hashem and Supreme Caliph of Islam. As such, alcohol flowed freely in the taverns of Skikda, as did the gyrating bodies of exotic dancers who often doubled as prostitutes for the enjoyment of miners with the dinar or British pounds to pay. Most of the dancers and prostitutes were not free women but slaves bought from the markets of Fez and Algiers. Mostly Arabic and Berber women, with a handful of foreigners kidnapped by pirates raiding the local spacelanes (with the occasional unlucky tourist). Caucasian women sold well, especially if they had accents from Britain - British women were so rare due to the power of the British Empire - though Israeli women were the most valuable of slaves well worth more than their weight in gold and the mere handful in captivity throughout the Caliphal States were in the private harems of the great regional lords and merchants.
Skikda was a favorite port of call for the kinds of cargoes that weren't fit for being transferred through the efficient foreign-hired security at El Fadih Spaceport. Alcohol, drugs, and various other taboo products were brought in by smugglers, who sometimes left with holds filled with pilfered material from the mines or with filled bank accounts.
It was in a warehouse near Skikda's Spaceport that Hachim al-Bahari conducted some of his business, buying slaves for his tavern and brothel as well as fine wines for himself and cheap liquors and beers for his usual customers. Hachim lived wealthier than he really was, always wearing fine robes and seating himself in piles of colorful and lush pillows, usually with a nude slave girl of his personal harem (which really consisted of any of his slaves he took a liking to for the moment) seated beside him to smile and otherwise distract his usual clients. This time, however, he had no slave girl, as his favorite - an Arabic girl named Sagirah - had died of illness and he had not yet picked one he wanted to bring from the tavern to the warehouse.
Hachim's two bodyguards allowed a sandy-haired Caucasian into his office. Fabian Comeau was a Corsican in his fifties - which to a 20th Century mind would look to be in his twenties due to anti-agamic treatments - and a long time sailor of the stars who now had his own private vessel, the forty thousand ton Melanie (supposedly named after his first lover). He was dressed modestly, in a brown leather coat with a blue cotton buttoned shirt underneath and dark brown trousers. Fabian's ship was settled in one of the larger berths outside, one of the largest starships capable of planetary landing. "Ah, Comeau. It has been too long since you last came to Skikda." Hachim gestured to the pile of pillows opposite him. "Have a seat, my friend."
"Heading into the Caliphal States is always a risky prospect, Hachim, you know that." Fabian's voice had the slight hints of a French accent, though it had degraded from years of heavy English use to the point that even Fabian was now thinking and speaking in English as habit. "And I've been busy elsewhere."
"Too busy to visit for these past three years?" Hachim shook his head. "I missed your company. I trust, though, that this is not merely a social call?"
"I have ten standard crates full of diamonds mined straight from the Sierras on New California. They're your's for a million pounds per crate."
"Ten million pounds? That is a rather steep cost, my friend. How about a quarter million per crate?"
"I'm not taking anything less than a million, Hachim. It's a lot of money, but not completely out of your reach, especially as I know you can line up buyers. And we both know how many sheiks like to make fancy diamond-studded things for their wives and concubines." Fabian looked back to the door. "Let me show you something I brought along to help smooth out the deal."
Hachim nodded and Fabian went to the door and motioned for something to be brought in. Hachim's eyes widened from the pleasure of the sight. Fabian had with him a young lady, a Caucasian brunette, who had a very lovely body. She had a jeweled sash around her waist and nothing else, save for the gold necklace around her neck attached to the cross between her beautiful breasts and the golden chain and shackles that bound her wrists together. The chain looked to only be a foot and a half to two feet long, and was every bit as functional as it was ornamental. She had all the aspects of a well-maintained slave girl. The brunette settled into his lap, allowing Hachim to put a hand on one of her breasts to see if it was artificial or not (though there were natural ways to augment breasts in the 29th Century that made the use of artificial implants rather moot). He was clearly delighted by what he felt, even as the girl sipped an arm around his neck and clung tightly to him. "Very good, Fabian. What is she? A harem girl to one of the regional sheiks who had to sell her off?"
"Not quite," Fabian stated, being entirely truthful. "Now, we were debating the price you were willing to pay?"
"The only way I could personally give you ten million pounds is if I sold off most of what I own, my friend. It can't be done. I can, however, pay you half a million for each crate. That's all I can afford"
Fabian smirked at him. "I'll tell you what. You pay me half a million for each crate now, and a quarter million for each after you find your buyers."
Hachim put his hands together for a moment. "That is a fair price. It shall be done. And what about this lovely blossom of the desert?" He stroked one of the brunette's thighs, drawing a pleased giggle from her.
"She's a gift. I have nowhere to keep her, and where I go, they would declare her free and I'd lose on the investment." Fabian smiled at the girl and stood up, even as she stroked Hachim's cheek lovingly. "Enjoy her."
"Oh, I will." Hachim looked to the girl and added, "I will indeed."
"
- PeZook
