ONE WEEK BEFORE CASE OMAHA

!NEBULA STEAM WINS LANDMARK CASE!

UCN - No'osmo'o

In a surprising turn of events the Lanaktallan owned registered franchise company Unified Nebula Steam (Negative Liability Company registered in Unified Council Space) has won its case against the Executor Council. The company found itself cut off from its parent company Confederate Nebula Steam Game Provider LLC with the disconnection of Gal-Net from the Confederate SolNet. The Executor Council moved to forbid Unified Council Space citizens from accessing software they had purchased previously before the state of war existed between Council Space and the Confederacy.

Citing interstellar commerce law, Unified Nebula Steam sued the Executor Council for lost profits, damage to commerce, interference in legal exchange, and breach of contract. The Executor Council had countered with the fact that Unified Nebula Steam is an authorized franchise of the Terran owned Confederate Nebula Steam Game Provider LLC and thus falls under interstellar warfare clauses.

In a surprising 2,5874 to 0 decision, the Unified High Legal Council found for UNS, as well as fining the Executor Council after it was found that the the Great Grand Most High of the Executor Council had attempted to create his own digital distribution program hosting pirated Terran entertainment media. Additionally, the Unifited High Legal Council determined that each member of UNS is to be paid nearly eight thousand credits in in-store currency to be paid for by the Executor Discretionary Spending Fund for 'illegal seizure of assets not related to a crime" due to their UNS accounts being locked.

Unified Nebula Steam has, as of this writing, opened its electronic doors once again and Terran media, often considered subversive and psychologically dangerous, is available to any Unified Council Citizen who opens a free account or currently possesses an account.

Unified Medical Council has warned that Terran entertainment media may cause addiction or psychological stress.

Despite this, market analysts estimate that UNS has, of this writing, done more than 132 quadrillion credits of business.

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As the Great Most High of Planetary Maintenance Da'amo'o knew he should publicly care that half the systems were no longer working right, but to be honest, the only people complaining were those suffering the 'accidental' 'malfunctions' that kept occuring. The people who fixed the systems were happy with Da'amo'o, because he just hit the "AUTHORIZED" button on their overtime without any argument. The people who lived in the areas were happy, as many towers and hab-blocks were seeing maintenance personnel for the first time in generations.

Da'amo'o couldn't believe how easy his job was now. All it had taken was boredom after the Pink Panty Fairy and her wildly and excitingly subversive friends had been locked behind the Executor Council's stupid rules.

He rubbed all four hands together as he looked at the clock. At last, those no-fun killjoys over in the Executor Council Palace had lost their stupid lawsuit and now had to chew sour cud. He had heard the lamenting over their Discretionary Fund being robbed all the way to his offices.

For his own part, to punish them for being no-fun killjoys, he had made sure that the offices of the High Executors and above suffered from environmental system failure and ordered work crews to work in overlapping shifts around the clock to fix the problems. He had ordered only the smelliest and lingering of cleaners to be used in their offices and buildings and estates. He had ensured 'malfunctions' had made their personal galloping lawns turn brown and brittle, had made sure their private kitchens and cud dispensers always broke down.

He rubbed his hands together again.

It was so easy to do. A few weeks lessons on computer interface programming and other systems programming, some discrete hiring of some coders through a Mr. Johnson entity on the seedier parts of Gal-Net (which he loved), and the entire planet was now controlled from his interface. From the smallest valve and tiniest micropump to the largest turbine and reactor.

All controlled from his overlay. It finished booting up and he smiled. The little 'splash screen' of dancing neo-sapients depicted as big eyed cartoons all waved wrenches and tools over their heads as they chased a flaming Terran made him smile.

He was proud of that screen. It brought him great pleasure to see.

It brought about a sensible chuckle.

Which was the best kind of chuckle.

Da'amo'o examined the mass overlay when it came up. The computer overlay program had generated problems for him to handle as well as had identified actual problems. He quickly checked his pool of workers near each location, looked at their skill ratings and talents and class skills, and quickly sent them to each spot.

Sure, the game actually shut down valves and caused sewer backups in Most High estates, or wiped the memory systems of the cud dispensers, or reset the clocks, and made a hologram of a flaming Terran walk around asking inane questions (taken from articles about boring conversations that Da'amo'o had placed in a weighted list), but Da'amo'o had ensured that the interface generated problems never affected the people who worked and did jobs.

After all, if the hab complex his prized Level 8 Pipe Maintenance Crew (with the Endurance Perk and HiKruth Patience Perk) inhabited suffered maintenance failures, why, they took a hit to their morale and family bonding stats! That could damage their repair scores! Which meant the real world repairs took, gasp, longer and could lead to cascading failures!

It had been difficult to codify the real world into variables and mathematics that his overlay graphical user interface could understand.

Da'amo'o had heard rumors that some neo-sapient and Lanaktallan maintenance workers had taken to lighting candles that had his image upon them as the paychecks had been cashed and the 'doss' (to use that wonderful phrase from his favorite subversive game) had flowed into everyone's pockets.

He wasn't sure how to add that into his interface and it nagged at him.

Still, his interface beat the long grinding decades long boredom he had endured before he had gotten copies of those wonderful Terran entertainment media.

The Pink Panty Fairy and her friends had opened his mind, he had to admit.

His interface pinged and he saw an alert pop up.

Oh no, a wild wandering Terran had appeared!

Almost trembling with glee he clicked the icon and watched it open up.

The Second Great Most High of the Executor Legal Offices had his personal bathroom fail. Oh, a rare shiny failure.

Plumbing Backup

Door locked

Environmental system malfunction - uncomfortable chilliness

Flickering lights

Trapped Citizen

Interactive Burning Terran VI manifestation!

The job was worth 12 seconds of leisure time if he got it done quickly and cleanly, another 5 seconds if he managed to banish the Terran before it could destroy the cud-dispensers!

Do'omo'o rubbed his hands together and checked his nearby maintenance teams. He was pleased to see his Pukan Exorcism Team was well rested (getting a bonus) and had spent family time (another bonus) and were eligible for Terran Manifestation Hazard Pay (more bonus).

He quickly tapped the icons, dispatching a real world maintenance team to rescue the Second Great Most High from the bathroom, to fix the lock, the plumbing, and the lights, as well as dispatching the Exorcism Team to banish the Terran before he damaged more of the Executor Legal Center.

Done, he checked his rewards.

Ooh, he was permitted one line of cocaine!

He activated the limited VR, finding himself in a comfortably furnished room. There were three white lines on the table and snorted one, feeling NOTAVIRUS.EXE race through his implant, leaving him slightly tingly and euphoric.

He backed out of the program and leaned back against the swivel back of his chair.

Long months gone was the time he just stared out the window for hours at a time.

There was pinging and he checked his desk's holographic display.

What he saw made him gasp.

Unified Nebula Steam NLC (A licensed and bonded subsidiary of Confederate Nebula Steam Game Distribution LLC) was back online!

Do'omo'o rubbed his hands together in glee and hit the bouncing squeaking icon with a thumb.

The interface opened and he trembled in glee again.

All thirty two of his games were updating! He quickly went to his library and prioritized his favorite game, activating the VR overlay of his office.

Outwardly, nothing changed. He had spent long days carefully building his office in VR space while he taught himself interactive VR construction.

He saw his wallet and began to tremble. Credit icons were seeping out of it and it was bulging with credits.

Eight thousand credits!

He quickly went to the store page and a suited Lanaktallan VR construct materialized in his office.

"Great Most High Da'amo'o, what a pleasure it is to serve you," the VR salesman said.

Despite being such a young and primitive species, the formality that Terran built VI's displayed made Da'amo'o swoon with delight.

"It is a pleasure to be served," Da'amo'o said.

"Welcome back to your personalized store. It appears you have acquired a personal VR room. Would you like it linked to your account and store page at no extra cost?" the sales VI asked.

"Yes, I would enjoy that. I programmed it myself," Da'amo'o said, feeling something strange when he admitted that.

A Terran could have told him it was pride.

"One moment, our technicians are error checking. Would you like to see them virtually rendered?" the sales VI asked.

"Yes, I enjoy seeing subordinates work," Da'amo'o said. It was true, he often watched his work crews through sec-cams. A few times beings from the Unified Security Council had attempted to forbid him from using the cameras, but after a few 'maintenance problems' they had, to use that delightful phrase the profanity spewing red-headed Terran girl had taught him, they had 'fucked off' and let him 'do his thing.'

Small robots with big heads, made of shining chrome, appeared and began checking under the virtual couch cushions, the walls, where the paneling hid streams of code.

It only took moments before the robots stood behind the VI.

"This room suffers from zero critical errors, nine major errors, six hundred and three minor errors. Would you like it to be automatically repaired and a detailed list sent to your Galmail?" the VI asked.

"Yes. I would like to watch them work as I shop," Da'amo'o said.

What was the use in hiring beings to work if you didn't watch them rather than stare off into space?

He tapped the floating icon with what the Pink Panty Fairy had taught him was a 'bro-fist' and watched as only fifty credits dropped from his account.

"It appears that there is now a Gal-Net compatible personal VR overlay for your favorite game, offering an additional sixteen outfits per girl as well as six hairstyles, ten pair of shoes, and over two hundred gifts and interactive decorations and entertainments," the VI said.

Da'amo'o's eyes opened wide. All six of them.

He held out a wad of 'cash' in the VR and shouted "TAKE MY MONEY!"

"Excellent choice, Great Most High," the VI said. The money vanished.

"Heeeeey, Da'amo'o, looking snazzy, baby," he heard from behind him.

His hooves clattered as he turned around and say the Pink Panty Fairy sitting on his windowsill.

"Long time no see," she smiled.

Da'amo'o smiled back.

He had made the Executor Council rue the day, rue it!

And now it had all paid off.

"So show me this game you made out of your work," the Pink Panty Fairy said, sliding off the windowsill and sashaying over to him.

The world was right again.