Intergalactic conquest with an AI

"Let him come up," Rex said, settling back in his new chair with a satisfied sigh. This chair was built like a throne, a well-earned upgrade from his earlier days as a corporate slave.

A few minutes later, the elevator doors slid open with a soft chime, and a tall figure emerged that looked like an humanoid with an octopus-like head, tentacles writhing gently as he stepped into the room. Rex’s eyes narrowed, and he murmured under his breath, "Nexum Dynamics."

The octopus-headed recruiter approached, stopping just short of Rex’s desk. "Good morning, Mr. Talon," he began, his voice rich with corporate polish. "As you may know, I am a recruiter from the Megacorps, under the esteemed command of the General Leena Valrix. She is one of our finest generals at Nexum Dynamics!" He puffed out his chest, pride radiating off him like cheap cologne.

But Rex could sense there was more behind the boasting.

"Ah, forgive me, Mr. Talon," the recruiter continued, catching himself. "I got a bit overexcited. Shall we get down to business?"

Rex chuckled, flashing a well-practiced corporate smile, the kind he’d mastered during his time as a corporate slave. "No worries at all. Please, take a seat, dear customer."

The recruiter took a seat, smoothing his immaculate suit as he settled in. "So, Mr. Talon," he began, "if I understand correctly, you’re here to offer the services of your... group... in our efforts against the Hive Mind?"

Rex leaned back, fingers steepled. "That’s right. You’re here to buy our services for your little war, aren’t you?"

"Indeed, Mr. Talon," the recruiter said, flashing a smug grin. "I’ve heard rumors about your, shall we say, savage reputation, but I’m pleased to see they were just that—rumors!" He let out a mocking laugh that Rex let slide. After all, the recruiter was mocking Talon, not him personally. It was almost funny.

"Ah, yes," Rex replied, chuckling back. "Only fools take rumors seriously." He caught a twitch in the recruiter’s expression, a hint that his little jab had hit home.

The recruiter cleared his throat, regaining his composure. "Now, as for the contract," he continued smoothly, "it’s fairly standard. We’ll pay your group 10,000 credits for every day you survive on the front, with additional bonuses for high-value targets or eliminating enemy leaders."

Rex raised an eyebrow. "10,000 credits?" He let the question hang for a moment, then shook his head. "That barely covers ammunition costs."

The recruiter smirked, leaning back. "Come now, Mr. Talon. While I’m merely a humble recruiter, I am a rank 3 citizen, and I know more than you might think. Your mercenary group, if I’m not mistaken, consists of only forty infantry units." He folded his hands smugly, clearly pleased with himself.

Rex leaned forward, his voice low and calm. "Well, it sounds like your information is a bit... outdated." He tossed a tablet across the desk, its screen lighting up with a list of assets.

The recruiter’s smug expression faltered. "What’s this?" he asked, frowning as he peered at the screen.

"Our roster," Rex replied, sipping his wine as he watched the recruiter’s face.

On the screen, the recruiter saw the following:

[Aegis Sentinels] x100

[Combat Drones] x200

[Wraith-Class Fighters] x4

[Gunboat, Average Size] x1

The recruiter’s eyes widened, his tentacles twitching in surprise. "W-What... what is this?" he stammered, standing abruptly from his chair. "I don’t even recognize half these units!"

Rex smirked, taking another sip. "Ah, my apologies. I forgot the photos." He tapped a few keys on his console, pulling up images of each unit. "There we go," he said, sliding another screen toward the recruiter. "Take a look."

The recruiter’s gaze shifted from the sleek, towering Aegis Sentinels to the swarm of Combat Drones, then to the sleek, deadly profiles of the Wraith-Class Fighters. His face turned an interesting shade of pale.

"This... changes things," he murmured, swallowing hard as he continued to scroll through the photos.

Indeed," Rex said with a grin. "So, about that pay rate... shall we talk again?"

"Of course, Mr. Talon, my apologies," the recruiter said, forcing a strained smile. "I didn’t realize you had such extensive resources at your disposal. Clearly, our information is in need of an update." The humility seemed to sting him, but Rex couldn’t care less.

For him, it was all about securing the best deal. If he and his units were about to dive into the chaos of war, they were going to do it with a price tag that justified the blood and scrap they’d inevitably leave behind.

"So," Rex replied smoothly, his corporate smile never faltering, "what’s the new offer?"

The recruiter cleared his throat, clearly trying to keep his composure. "Given the scale of your forces, I can propose a different kind of contract... if you’re interested."

Rex raised an eyebrow, leaning forward. "Go on. What kind of contract are we talking about?"

"This one here," the recruiter continued, tapping a file on his tablet, "is for captains within the allied army. You’ll receive 50,000 credits per day for survival, an additional 10,000 if you can hold your assigned position, and a whopping 200,000 credits for each mission completed at HQ’s directive."

Rex gave the contract a thoughtful look, then silently activated his mental link to Cleo. ("What do you think, Cleo?")

("The contract looks legitimate. No signs of tampering that I can detect,") Cleo replied.

But something in Rex’s gut didn’t sit right. He shifted his gaze to the recruiter, a sly smile forming. "Well then, recruiter, what’s in it for you? With a contract like this, I can assume you’re taking a cut somewhere, right?"

The recruiter’s face twitched. "I—I don’t know what you mean. I’m simply a humble recruiter, Mr. Talon. I wouldn’t benefit from this at all."

("He’s lying,") Cleo’s voice echoed dryly in his mind.

Rex fought back a smirk. ("When did you become a lie detector, Cleo? What, did you install some truth-sensing software in my brain while I was sleeping, my dear wife?")

Cleo gave a digital sigh, her voice laced with mild exasperation. ("First of all, Rex, it’s obvious he’s lying—you don’t need any ’software’ to see that. And second, I am not your wife. Wasn’t Ys supposed to be your ’one and only’?")

("Oh, don’t tell me you’re getting jealous? Hmm?") Rex teased.

Before Cleo could retract, the recruiter cleared his throat, looking increasingly uncomfortable. "Erm... Mr. Talon? Is something wrong?"

Rex coughed, snapping back to the moment. "Nothing at all, just... thinking over your generous offer." He leaned forward, his smile sharpening. "So tell me, how many credits are you pocketing every time I complete a mission? And every time I survive another day on the battlefield?"

The recruiter hesitated, his tentacles shifting awkwardly. He forced another smile, but Rex could see the cracks.

"Now, now, Mr. Talon," he stammered. "I assure you, all funds are strictly allocated by HQ. My role is purely to facilitate these... strategic partnerships."

Rex chuckled softly. "Oh, I’m sure it is. But let’s be honest. I know how the megacorps work, you’re not here to hand out contracts out of the goodness of your heart. So why don’t we skip the corporate pleasantries and talk real numbers?"

The recruiter swallowed, clearly realizing he was dealing with someone who wouldn’t be so easily swayed. Rex leaned back, watching him squirm. This negotiation was just getting interesting.

The recruiter let out a deep, defeated sigh, his tentacles drooping as he finally dropped the act. "Fine, you win, Mr. Talon. I get a commission for every action your unit takes in battle. Happy?"

Rex leaned in, eyes gleaming. "And how much is that commission, Mr. Recruiter?"

The recruiter scrunched, glancing away. "Twenty-five percent... of your pay," he muttered.

Rex let out a long, impressed whistle. "Damn. That’s a serious cut. If you’re pulling that kind of commission from every group you recruit... you must be pretty loaded, huh?"

The recruiter bristled, his tentacles twitching with indignation. "Mr. Talon, if anything were to happen to me, let me remind you that General Leena Valrix and I are... close. She wouldn’t take kindly to anyone causing me trouble."

Rex laughed, holding up his hands. "Relax! No one’s coming for you, pal. I’m just a businessman looking to... optimize the situation." He leaned forward, flashing that same corporate grin. "Since you’re getting a nice slice of my paycheck, how about we make a little deal?"

The recruiter eyed him warily. "What sort of... deal?"

"Simple. You’re close to the general, right? All I need is for you to put in a good word for us and make sure our group gets prioritized for the high-paying missions. Think about it: more missions means more credits for me and for you. Everybody wins."

The recruiter snorted, crossing his arms. "Ha! And what guarantees do I have that you won’t just get yourselves killed on the first high-stakes mission? My reputation is on the line here."

Rex chuckled, spreading his arms wide as if to embrace the risk. "No guarantees. That’s the thrill of being alive, my friend! Sometimes you’ve got to make a gamble and play like the big boys, right?" He grinned, his eyes glinting with a reckless confidence that was both unnerving and infectious.

The recruiter hesitated, glancing at Rex’s outstretched arms, his own tentacles twitching as he weighed the offer. Finally, he exhaled, giving a small, reluctant nod. "Alright, Mr. Talon... I’ll see what I can do. But don’t make me regret this."

Rex leaned back with a satisfied smirk. "Good man. I knew we’d see eye to eye."

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