Ruby Mage

by Dan Raxor

  Fun fact, it was exactly one day after my capture. What I mean by that is - my dimension, and this dimension's timeline after the big bang, were exactly the same. The differences… well, there were trillions. Humans evolved in a whole other galaxy.

  I looked up Earth… it was tied to Mars orbit - out of the goldilocks zone. There was no Seattle or Trustmark bank to swindle. I… I was in a galaxy far far away. Literally.

  That was a tough pill to swallow. So if everything I knew was gone. What did I have to work with?

  Well, to start Laring was home to fourteen thousand species, not one thousand. After a terraforming, there was a mass migration.

  The Jardanain Empire was vast, encompassing millions and millions of star systems. Healthcare, if you paid your taxes, was stellar. To the point that people rarely died of old age. There was peace too… meaning a whole lot of souls were seeking out a reasonable living.

  There was zero AI except in some central basement dungeon to monitor for other AI. Robots were banned in their entirety to prevent job erosion. Programs could be smart but not self-aware. The currency of the Jardanain Empire was Jarsecoins or just J with an asterix in the middle.

  Society was broken down into about ten classes. Neil Yorky, or me, was in the grouping of super wealthy. I checked my accounts. Holy shit balls did I pay a lot of taxes. However, I had so many investments it didn’t matter.

  When I dug into my investments, I learned a few things. A previous me… likely the rich original had set in same safeguards. Which made sense when I saw there were five failed investments already from today. That was fine, because there were a million that were working.

  I was given a slush fund that was a single percent of revenue generated. The ninety nine percent of profits went to a thousand different management companies that I had zero control over. Not even the original Neil could tinker with the system.

  The only person who could dip into the excess funds not given to a current Neil, was Mage Dr. Elfor. Who… was immortal with his own back up plans.

  I had to give it to the original Neil. The guy was amazing. He… literally saw the future, more importantly, especially for me, he predicted his death and fixed that by hauling duplicates of himself into this dimension.

  There were ex-wives, children, friends, and even old business partners who had stacked up a billion messages. The last two travelers to become Neil Yorky were recluses. I looked at some of the notes and vids. I couldn’t clear them, but I did ignore them.

  I earned enough J a day for a billion breakfasts delivered. Hell, there were excess funds here from the drug addict that he failed to spend. He… I watched some videos on him. He had hookers come by with drugs.

  A month ago he overdosed with a hooker. She didn’t have the medical ability to be saved, he did. This infuriated his suppliers. So he started trying to buy something known as X from street dealers. Problem with that was he got bad drugs.

  Instead of finding a new dealer he stormed down to an alley to bitch about his bad score and ended up with three blaster holes in his chest. What an idiot.

  A device on the wall rang. “Answer call,” I said.

  Elfor loomed large on the display. “Last message from me. Part of my contract. Glad to see you adapting because here is some bad news. Your former iterations number three, yeah the third iteration had about fifty children. He promised all of them that if he passed his inheritance would go to them.”

  I scoffed when Elfor said this. I replied, “There is no way. I read my stipulations. Doesn’t work that way.”

  “Yeah, you’re right. Lords of all types have similar setups so it's not a surprise to see one. Except… There are a hundred galactic cycle clauses. You’re tied into one that equates to about ten thousand Laring years. Basically, if the estate owner does not validate their claim, then a new claimee can stake the rights. You have to travel to the core worlds and renew your claim.

  “Fourth Neil did this while almost being killed. He confirmed his identity and reset the timer. Iteration five was the sex fiend and six the drug addict. Four and five lived a long time. Meaning it's time to run the gauntlet again. There will be pirates, rebels, and even aliens with hive minds to get around. We’re literally on the edge of the Empire.”

  “Wait, you’re saying I have to make it to the core worlds?” I asked, not hating the idea of a road trip on a swanky spaceship. “I don’t have a ship or a crew.”

  “They need to kill you and the next iterations of you for at least another hundred years. The timer started a few years ago on sixes’ watch, which I don’t think he ever noticed. You’re a smart man Neil. Buy a ship, and hire a crew. Look into the markets. I suggest a pilot, someone to protect you, someone to help manage your finances, and well you know, a full crew.”

  “So, a former Neil’s children want money, can’t I just bribe them?” I asked.

  Elfor hesitated, the intercom pure static. “It might work. Maybe some of them can be bribed or persuaded. Head to the core worlds. It solves all your problems. Assuming you make the journey. Here is a bit of help.”

  There was a ping and the video chat ended. On the screen he sent me an ad for a contracted worker auction. I scoffed.

  How did a super advanced society have a government forcing workers into an auction type system to find work? Debt… Debt was how.

  If you didn’t pay your taxes - which, I kid you not, I found a breathing tax - then you were given a punishment of sorts. You went to an auction house to be sold as a worker to pay your debts to the Empire. There were rules to an extent.

  The first being: pay your damn taxes. Failure to do so was an arrest, not that there was ever a fun kind, but these videos of such apprehensions were brutal.

  When you arrived at detention you could select what type of employment you wanted to do that hopefully would land you work.

  The more I looked into it, the less harshness I saw and the more forced work camp I saw, but honestly, as a former prison worker, it was morally gray. Not like my qualms about a billion year old Empire’s ways would ever change how the system operated.

  Understanding the system did matter. I could hire sex workers, cleaners, friends, peta, and the list went on and on. Basically those owing J would work their debt off to someone with J. If no one bought their contract then into forced labor for the Empire they went.

  Guessing by what most of those up for sale were willing to do, anything was better than an Empirical work camp.

  After three years of being a prisoner, well, I was going to go buy a crew with a slight inclination that I might hire based on looks.

  I chuckled at the fact that I was an insanely rich man with a mission..

  CHAPTER 3

  After a refreshing shower, I changed into some high tech armored spacesuit. Last idiot wore robes into the slums. The Neil before him was smart, buying a dozen suits of armor capable of going into space. I had to look up his death.

  Died by asphyxiation during a sex act. Yeah, no joke, he was into choking. So maybe he was an idiot too. The dame who killed him tried to steal his stuff and it didn’t go well for her. Valuable lessons.

  Feeling ready, I hired a shuttle to go to the local hiring market. My driver was a young punk and the passenger section smelt like fresh shit. The young asshole looked like a gnome and a goblin fucked over a witch’s cauldron. Hideous little creature and rotten to the core.

  Yeah, he told me to shut the hell up when I asked a few questions. I fired him for the ride home. Buying an expensive aircar I saw a disclaimer. Automatically sold upon my demise, even if a new dimensional was summoned.

  A quick search had me learning that there were a few trillion dimensions, so… there would never be a lacking supply of Neil Yorky.

  I grumbled, mumbled, and kicked the seat of the cheap aircar. Going forward, no more skimping on items. I made five hundred times more a day, then what the yacht car cost. In a single day.

  Screw it, there were like six gazillion J in the account. I doubted
I could even spend it all. Probably why I was on this shitty alien filled planet. I had looked it up. There were human dominated systems with some sexy ass ladies seeking handsome men. Except I was a rarity on Laring. A human among a sea of aliens.

  Nothing proved this more than when I arrived in a covered valet section. The dickwad let me out cursing rich tower lords as if I had personally shit in his cereal. I flipped him the bird when he sped off.

  “Asshole,” I muttered.

  Taking in the view of the building, I felt like I was entering a gala or a cruise ship's esteemed deck. The fancy section before the casino and blingy lights. Columns of fine architecture depicted unique animals.

  Many of those animals had some hybrid varieties in extravagant dresses walking the large waiting area. I saw fox girls, bunny men, a wolf man in a puffy suit due to his fur, and the list went on. The main takeaway was these folks were loaded, their wealth on display with gems, metal, and technology.

  Me... I was shined brighter than them all in my expansive armor. Instantly eyes flocked to me, wondering who I was, and why was I alone. A salesperson in a market outfit approached. Person obviously being a misnomer. The uniform the attendant wore was red with gold trim and the squid-like alien beamed a big fake smile.

  He had a human head, human arms with fingers, a beak type mouth, and about ten long tentacle legs he walked on. If I had to guess, those legs start at mid-thigh, sticking to a very human and very alien look.

  “I’m Quinish and welcome to Laring’s Market. Where all the unfortunate need saving. Are you here to rescue the desperate today for the good of the Empire?”

  “Uh…”

  I had to research why all the aliens were similar to humans. All intelligent life shared genetic bondings from an original source. As if some kid was playing god and said, ‘all males will have a penis, and muscles. All females have a vagina, smaller frames and two tits.’

  In my search, I’d found variations. A four breasted wolf girl. A centaur or deertaur. Hell, there was a pigman with two dicks. So there were variations, and some sights I could never unsee. Just like the internet on Earth, the Jardanains had some freaky things to see.

  “Are you there, Tower Lord?” Quinish asked when I failed to respond.

  I huffed, pinching the bridge of my nose. Tower lords were extremely rich citizens who ruled from atop towers. My wealth class put me in that category. If I ruled from a fleet or managed a planet, I’d be a fleet lord or planetary lord.

  “Yes, I desire a crew. Generally of the opposite sex. Are there any female humans in debt to the empire?” I asked.

  He went to a kiosk station of sorts, typing rapidly. “No.”

  I grumbled. That sprindla was hot. Sex would be awkward but the porn videos I saw showed they could really achieve some epic coupling.

  “Then a tour of those with the most human-like aspect to start,” I said.

  He leveled an imprint pad. I was being charged by the hour for his time. The amount was regulated by the planetary lord and there was like six bazillion lines of fine print. Most of it said he was not to guarantee my happiness only to make the process of finding hired help easier.

  I let him ding my account.

  My eyeball tracked the progress, digitally showing the fraction of a fraction being removed.

  He led the way in and I used the options my optic had. Testing them for the first time had me disoriented as I tried to follow Quinish. I was able to see how tall he was in some unique measurement system. What he weighed, his temperature, and then details on his biography.

  He had twelve hundred children. I was super taken aback by this fact. To the point I stumbled into a door.

  I saw he was over fifteen thousand years old, and that he was currently on wife… no he had thirty wives. I gulped. There were not only aliens all around me, but also alien ways.

  The more than one wife thing wasn’t a surprise. Choker Neil had four lovers and even a cuck for when he wanted to watch. All were loyal to him. Until he died, of course, and they were disbanded, tossed to the fates of time.

  “You okay, Lord Yorky?” Qunish asked.

  I shook my head. “Neil. And nope, but will be soon.”

  I followed him out of the fine reception area until we arrived at a circular space of empty air. Floating platform awaited us to shift up and down.

  We got on and he waited. Then he waited some more. Finally he cleared his beak, or well, the noise was gruttal, catching my attention.

  He said, “You need to select a private room to interview in, or view the unfortunate where they are staged.”

  “Wait, I can interview candidates privately? That about casting couch type of manipulation,” I blurted and he frowned. His completely black eyes squinted and I could tell he just figured out I was a replacement.

  “There are many rules in private because not all seek crew. Some seek sex only. I suggest you avoid the potential fines,” he said and I nodded.

  “So… I guess you’ve deduced I’m new. Anyway I can grease your palms for advice.” When I said this, he glared at me. I was surprised he understood my meaning. Maybe the eyeball was delivering my true message. I held my hands up defensively. “Wait a gosh darn minute. I know you get in big trouble with bribes or tips. But I need help.”

  He handed me a tablet imprinted from his vest. I accepted the offering that was extended by a human hand. I noticed his fingertips had suckers. That was kinda cool.

  Reading over the offering I saw it was an agreement to make Quinish my representative for the market. I merely set a time to book him and going forward he was my helper. I scrolled down. He made a commission. There it was, the part I needed to ensure I wasn’t stuck with a dead weight psycho.

  I imprinted my palm, agreeing to the digital document.

  “Okay, what do you seek?” he asked.

  I jostled my head side to side. “I seek those that will better me, and help me form a team here in the Jardanain Empire to travel to the core worlds. This is hard to admit, but I don’t want to not be alone. So companionship, but not forced. I definitely want females that want me as much as I want them. They need skills that complement each other.”

  “A harem?” he asked. “I have one myself. Start small is my recommendation. The new recruits tend to gravitate to a solid core unit. This is something I understand and can help with. While love is not a goal of ours, I think I can help you find it. Actually I know I can.”

  “That sounds wonderful.”

  Quinish nodded. “So let me ask a few questions to remove some options. Love is built upon trust and commitment. Do you want those things?”

  I smiled. “Damn skippy.”

  “Take that as a yes. Okay that removed like 97% of the candidates.”

  “Wow,” I muttered.

  “Well, you need a vulnerable young lady who is unattached, open to human men, and can use a rescue. Not exactly a lot of women willing to enter a harem either. Okay next question and I know it’s odd. Are you into pain?” Head shake no. “Anal, egg holes, or fetishes?”

  “Ermm… soft and tight vaginas for now.”

  “Breeder?” he asked and I shook my head no. Children weren’t off limits, just wanted to get established first. “Limits on species?”

  I scratched my chin. The whole time we were descending floors slowly, each level was empty so far. “Um… not quite sure. While most of these questions are sexual, I’m more worried about their team attributes. Can they be on my crew is what really matters. I got a long way to go.”

  “Ah, you see, that is the easy part. Finding skilled females is simple. If I find you a Cremix who scratches your back off during a coupling, but is a great guard would you be happy with me? No, no you wouldn’t.” His sharp nails tapped at the device. Sliding, tapping, and even doing circles as he eliminated candidates. “It is a delicate balance. Okay the Harem aspects. More than one female at a time?”

  “Hell yeah!” I blurted.

  “Do you want them to interact durin
g intercourse?”

  I snickered, “Does a bear shit in the woods?”

  “In the wild, yes, yes they do.” He enjoyed that saying for whatever reason.

  “Milk, squirt, or other fluids okay?”

  Again, I scratched my chin. He had a point that there was more to this than just skills. I did feel like a creep saying these things, but maybe more relationships would last longer if people were honest about their desires upfront.

  A female that lives for hair pulling with dirty talk finds love with a man who only lies on his back and makes her be silent. Those kinds of scenarios, it comes as no surprise that they split, both too hesitant to admit what they want.

  “I mean, there’s showers so it should be fine. I want big breasts, female human-like, and eager. I don’t want to be pleading or have a domineering female.”

  “Answers the next few questions. Last one. How much are you willing to spend?”

  “For the right girl, with the right actual skills, a lot. Though I would have to assume the high amounts would be a deterrent,” I said, folding my arms.

  His face wrinkled. “Not how it works, and yet, it is. There are exceptions where the innocent are betrayed by the systems.

  “For example, debts to the Empire are passed down. A father who dies in an Empire work camp leaves behind debt. The other half of his taxes results in his children owing the dues. Not fair, but it is how they work. If they fail…”

  I grimaced. “Awful. Just brutal. I do get the desire to pay your taxes though. You see the harm it can cause the ones you love.”

  “For a man like you with deep pockets… it's wondrous.” Quinish stopped the descending platform, docking it at a new level.

  The platform docked against the ring, revealing something that reminded me of a mall. Wide corridors, bench seating, planters with fruit trees to break up the monotony were in between left and right units. There were different sized cells that came damn close to looking like a full glass shoe store. On the exterior at least.

  Inside were housing areas with natural type environments. Waterfalls cascaded in corners, a walled off section had toilets evident by an open door. The aliens on display, well, they were sleeping or lounging on the terrain. A few stood, heading toward the glass with signs held up.