Knox Pashaa: Chapter 3

Knox approached. “What can I say? I’m a slow typer.”

“You can say: ‘here you go sir, won’t happen again sir.’ You know I decide what level of housing you have? I could send you to a griv-damned broom closet next to the sewage collectors if I wanted.”

Knox rolled his eyes and placed his data tablet down on the desk in front of his undulating boss.

“Hey, I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, well dictate next time.” The editor’s chins shook once more as he picked up the device.

“I better get an upgrade for this one.” Said Knox while the editor waved a hand.

He swiped a few things on the screen and without warning a whirring printer at the back of the office began spooling out pages, which almost immediately upon entering the world flew into the air among the breezes from the fans to join the small cyclone of other papers.

“Why do you even do that?” said Knox “Where do you even get paper?”

“In a business that involves getting dirt on powerful people, it helps to at least have one copy that can’t get hacked into by just any fubari with a data-tablet.”

“Yeah, if you could find it. Never mind the firewalls.”

“I’ve got a system.”

Knox didn't say anything, but snikkered. Just like a dhom to claim there was an order to chaos.

The Editor skimmed with an intensity which constituted a few more moments of silence between them, the printer spouting out pages, and blowing papers.

The Dhom looked up from the Tablet once again.

“Alright, looks like you did your homework. Now what am I looking at?”

Knox rocked on his bare feet. “The FTU is doing what it normally does: selling to both sides of the war. The Bolmorreans and the Mirrani-Skivers.”

“So? Thats nothing new. Those two hate each other, and the FTU supplies arms to pretty much everyone unless it’s the human black-market.”

“Yes, but in that report in your hands is a noteworthy piece of info.”

“Okay, so here I am, lay it on me.”

“The Fubari Trade Union can’t keep up with the war. The rate that armor and equipment are going, they sell faster than they can produce.”


“So, they need to de-escalate the war. How? By selling inferior products.”

The Dhom spread his hands and cocked an eyebrow. “What?”

“They are selling Dormant quality goods that can pass an inspection, but in the rigors of battle, they will fall apart. The hope is that both sides can take enough casualties, there will have to be an inevitable ceasefire.” Knox leaned in closer. “And here’s the kicker, they are selling those to everybody now, for the same prices, as if they’re the real deal.”

The Dhom’s eyes penetrated Knox. Then, the Dhom smiled.

“This is good.”

“I better get an upgrade.”

The Dhom leaned back and ran a greasy hand over his head. His chins wobbled.

“This info can drive the FTU down, WAY down. War Profiteering is a matter of course for them, it’s the nature of monopoly, but a scandal around inferior products...that's never happened.”

“It’s never stuck.”

“What are your sources?”

“They are my sources. We’ll find out if my tip is true, but I’ll bet my third eye that it is.”

The Dhom heaved a sigh.

“You screwed me on one thing though Knox.”

“What's that?”

“I had this slotted to go out tomorrow. Usually I like to keep the burn pieces around for a little bit of time. See if whoever we are burning can pay to keep it quiet. This time, I’m up against the wall. I wonder if it’s too much too fast.”

Knox smiled.

“That sounds like a problem for you. I’ll be going out anonymus, as usual.”

The Editor chuckled with big heaving ripples of his chin.

“Get out of my office Knox.”

Knox grabbed his data tablet, swiped a piece of paper out of his face, and obliged with a curt nod as he turned to exit. The Dhom was left alone among the swirling papers, a smile still spreading his face.

By Jason Pratley

Jason Pratley joined the team sometime in 2013 when he created the concepts for the gods of ODR. He has since become the Writing Director and de facto loremaster for DDG. Check out some other stories and content at and