Guild Master Drakon stood on the diamond-plated auction stage, his chest heaving under his embroidered green velvet robes.
Although Lin Mo’s one-hundred-billion-coin cashier draft had cleared Elder Mo’s debt, Drakon was not an amateur crook. He had spent three centuries rising through the ruthless, cutthroat underworld of Cogwheel-Prime, surviving corporate wars and planetary purges.
He smoothed down his rumpled silk lapels, plastered a wide, oily smile across his scaly reptilian face, and turned toward the fifty thousand corporate delegates in the circular arena stands.
“Honored dignitaries, esteemed investors, and distinguished defense ministers!” Drakon called out, his amplified voice echoing with smooth, practiced theatrical eloquence. “Chairman Lin’s sudden payment of one hundred billion coins proves that he possesses deep pockets. But paying an overdue laboratory lease is mere commercial obligation. If Chairman Lin truly wishes to be recognized as an authentic champion of scientific progress, he must prove his commitment to the broader welfare of Sector Seventy-Seven!”
Drakon raised his hands toward the ceiling.
Behind him, three massive holographic certificates sprang into the air, stamped with the golden seals of the Cogwheel-Prime Philanthropic Association:
[Certified Interstellar Philanthropist: Guild Master Drakon]
[Founder: The Orphan Defense Research & Humanitarian Care Fund]
