Daniel took a deep breath, loosened up his neck and heard his spine crack like bubble wrap being popped as he stood up. He'd been doubled over hacking at the crops for far too long. The blade in his hand was getting dull and he went to go sharpen it on the whetstone back in the farmhouse. On his way inside he checked in with the machento on break and asked how long until his shift was up. To his surprise, the hulking farmhand told him his shift had ended a short while ago.

Shit, Daniel thought to himself, late again for dinner.

Daniel ditched his blade in the bin with the rest and hung up his uniform in the changing room marked "humans". On his way out, the offensive stench of whatever process the farm went through to turn the raw barleen into edible food stung his nose and almost made him cough. He was getting used to the scent, but not nearly fast enough. His new job in the barleen fields hadn't been kind to his aging joints, but the job was helping to pay for his family's hovel in the gut of Primarch External. On his way out he exchanged a few kind words with the arorem that had been supplying the farm with praneesh, the tiny critters that helped to keep the vermin in the fields under control.

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As he made his way towards one of the macrophage chambers, Daniel saw an intimately small family of arorem traveling together decorated in the regal red and gold of The Macrophages (Primarch External's premiere Leshiball team). The youngest of the group, not yet fully able to control his floating height was bobbing up and down, hitting the ground if he drifted too low, or being guided back towards the floor by a paternal hand if he drifted too high. The other two children were arguing intensely, their tails almost entirely unwound with agitation, clearly upset about the mother's verdict regarding who would be sitting next to the youngest when they got to the stadium.

The macrophage docked, and the crowd of sports fans and commuters disembarked into one of the transfer chambers for Primarch External's CTS. The pod Daniel had found himself in sped off down the arterioles, transferring where necessary to make its way to the stadium, only stopping once to pick up another passenger on the way.

This new arorem passenger drifted its way into the pod compartment and the conversational background noise within the pod dropped considerably. The arorem was missing a chunk of it's nose, and had three massive scars running vertically along its belly. Daniel avoided eye contact, painfully aware of the space next to his seat that the arorem was heading for. For a moment, the entire compartment had their attention focused on the newest commuter, staring at him while simultaneously trying to pretend like they weren't. It wasn't working, and the arorem picked up on it right away.

Unfortunately for Daniel, the arorem decided the best way to disperse the attention was to strike up a conversation with the human next to his chosen spot.

A viscous, gooey excuse for a vocal greeting bubbled up out of the arorem's mouth before he was thrown into an intense fit of coughing. Daniel averted his gaze, the awkward interaction only making him feel all the more uncomfortable. In the midst of his hacking, the arorem slipped him a small capsule and and envelope that fell on Daniel's lap, then quickly exited the pod at the station they had stopped at, his deep barking retreating into the transfer chamber outside.

The rest of the pod was staring at him. All conversation had come to a hard stop and the silence was deafening. Absolutely confused, and with no idea why the hell everyone had decided that he was more important than the conversations they had been having, Daniel slipped the capsule inside his jacket pocket and searched the envelope for answers. Inside the envelope were a ticket to that evening's leshiball game, a sketch of what seemed to be a blueprint with arrows and stars on it, and the words "More To Come" printed on the inside of the envelope. By the time he had looked up, the crowd of sports enthusiasts had started moving towards the exit and conversation had (thankfully) returned to normal levels. The pod came to a rest, and Daniel followed the crowd of sports fans outside, curiosity dictating that he should get off at the stadium stop rather than in the residential districts.

Once inside the stadium, Daniel could hear the muffled, booming sound of an announcer heralding the evening's guest speaker, and the domoring-made tapestries outside advertised a speech by Grand Priest Blaythe. He checked his map to try and get some sense of what he had been asked to do, but couldn't make sense of it.

Just then, another arorem, in almost equally bad shape as the one in the trasnsport pod, took the map out of his hands, spun it around so it was right side up, and indicated to Daniel where they now stood. Realizing that they were at the tail end of one of the last arrows in the row, and practically adjacent to one of the stars, Daniel cautiously thanked the arorem before noticing that they had disappeared into the masses and let himself get caught in the flow of foot traffic moving towards the star.

Curiosity was again taking precedence over his better judgement.

At the center of the location on the map indicated by the star, Daniel approached a small nondescript booth and took the capsule out of his pocket. The shady man tending the counter acknowledged the small black pellet and took it from Daniel, dropping it into a pile of others just like it. Still confused but relieved of the responsibility, Daniel asked the man what the letter meant, to which the character behind the counter replied

"Don't sweat it bud, just a community outreach program to get free tickets into the hands of the public, we collect those to track how many people actually give it a shot when they're handed tickets from random citizens on a CTS pod." indicating at the pile of little black capsules.

Three hours later, after The Macrophage's win, Daniel found a note on the door to his home. On it was printed the words

"You've been identified as an individual who could take advantage of the benefits our group and demonstrated a proficiency for taking directions without making a scene. If you have any interest in being of further assistance, you'll find plenty of work that needs to be done, just so long as you maintain the same level of discretion."

Shit, Daniel thought to himself those Smuggler's Guild assholes are getting desperate if they're reaching out to the likes of me.