Skritch had done it.

The tsabhua successfully immigrated to the world of Xiunus. After settling on a site smack-dab in the middle of the ocean and completing at least two minutes' worth of grueling forms, it was official. The colony of Sea Cucumbers had been founded with the pure and noble purpose of massive profit.

"What, did you think this was a charity?" Skitch shrugs, "So what? Other colonies may say they care about science or exploration, and that's lofty and all. But you know what I care about? Drilling all the crystals from this planet and logging every forest I can get my paws on. And this… Is the start of something bea-utiful."

The white tsabhua stares out peacefully across the construction of the underwater base. He stands within the central colony dome, a massive structure underwater formed from tempered glass. Surrounding the dome is a deep sea reef of glowing kelps and spiny cactuses fluttering up toward the lighter waters high above. To the edge of the structure stands a tall underwater mountain range with jutting cliffsides, an unexplored cavern, and the bubbles of volcanic vents.

Skritch walks around with a clipboard and pencil in hand, observing the workers far too closely for their comfort. A green tarkee stares over uncomfortably while he tightens the rivets to a decompression chamber. Outside, a set of reef belemoid gestures to a crane high above on a research vessel, slowly lowering a residential dome into place.

When it came to the safety of these elaborate structures, Skritch had made absolutely sure to cut all corners possible. "Shouldn't we install a backup generator?" A draconic take warns as he uses his tail to screw in a loose bolt, actively spurting water. "Backup generator?" Skritch sighs dramatically, "I'm already paying for one primary generator!"

Everything about the location was perfect–he'd picked the deepest ocean corner to be as far from DPIP transmissions and as close as possible to oil deposits. The only issue was the complaints from the mechanics. "This tempered glass can't withstand this depth-pressure ratio," one had complained. "I don't think it's safe to work on this job without a diving bell," another had whined.

Well, Skritch was tired of hearing it! "Don't go around trying to convince me of anything else I need," he growled, "Until you show me that bill." He snatched the paper away from the the construction manager, a buff belemoid. "A million xen?" Skritch read aloud in horror, his chest tightening in a torturous pain. "You–" he whirled around, randomly pointing at and accusing a plumber, "Can't expect me to pay all that, can you?"

The yellow-vested mechanics all turned towards him suddenly–even a pipe lifted high into the dome was suddenly dropped. The construction manager leaned in close, whispering into Skritch's ear. "You… Can't pay for this?" He labored. "Not on this planet, not on any planet!" Skritch boomed, slamming his foot down furiously. The ground trembled, forming a small splinter that split outwards, running to the dome's edge.

"No!" Skritch cried. The fissure hit, striking a massive crack up the central colony dome. "If I'm not getting paid, I'm leaving," the gruff manager complained. The nearby mechanic dropped his tools, and the reef belemoids outside raised their noses and swam away. "We can work this out," Skritch called out frantically, "C'mon, I can pay you very fairly… How about… 10 xen?" He gave a wary smile as the last electrician snorted and shut the decompression chamber in his face.