"I remember you!" She beams, leaning over the bar and giving the veteran merc an eyeful. "You ordered a Rancor Spit the other night. Well I looked it up. That ain't even a real drink! But me and Jiss were thinking about how nasty that sounds and then we decided to try to invent it with all the hardest stuff we got. Wanna try it?" She winks and leans on one hip, beckoning the other girl with a finger. Jiss sees Otho, laughs, then skips over to her coworker, grabbing two unmarked bottles from under the bar on her way. The two conspirators giggle as they line bottle after bottle on the bar in front of Otho, building a wall of glass and dark elixirs between him and them. Then, from through the murky wall, the distorted shape of a mixer is set down, and one by one the bottles are tipped over it.
"No, this one before that one," says Jiss. "And then that one before, hehe, you know?"
"Oh, I almost forgot!" replies Tressa. Laughter.
As the wall is deconstructed Otho looks about. There isn't a person in the entire Lounge that isn't giving this spectacle at least some attention. Finally the last bottle is lifted and a splash of metallic blue liquid trickles into the plasteel mixer. A sizzling sound precedes a whiff of grey smoke from the vessel. The girls shriek and clap, head-tails flailing in their glee. Tressa retrieves a flat polished stone saucer, placing it front of Otho. Then she takes the mixer and slowly starts to turn it over, smiling at Otho the whole time. The immediate contingent draws breath and holds it. But as she turn it completely over, nothing spills out. She laughs, then slams the mixer down on the saucer. With two hands she gives it a hard twist, then withdraws the mixer, leaving behind a translucent brown puck of gelatin. Jiss reaches in and flicks a lighter, and the blob catches red flame.
"A Rancor Spit!" They squeal in unison. "Slide it into your mouth like this," explains Tressa, sticking out her tongue and pretending to hold the saucer as she tilts her head back. "Try it!"
Jiss returns to Page after the production at the other end of the bar. "Sorry handsome! I'm so happy for you, but my boss will have my tails if I give you a free drink or something. 'Sides, some systems they have life-days every like, thirty hours, what with the proximity of the planet to the star and the orbital velocity and all. But you seem happy about it, so I'm happy for you!" The Twi'lek girl flashes a deceptive smile only a practiced bar maid from an enslaved race could muster.
ReplyDeleteShe places the cred chip back down in front of Page and a dusty rubber cup, spilling out a quintet of five-sided dice which from the grime and wear appear to have been tossed by every swindler in the galaxy.
"Good Luck!" She hoots and returns her attention back toward the standoff around the Rancor Spit.
"I'll give 'em a throw," announces the gravel-throated patron on the stool to Page's left. The aged human wears the simple duster of a freighter captain, his face rough and eyes deepset. Scooping the dice into the cup, he shakes it vigorously, his eyes drifting back to the forms of the bartenders. Then he slaps the cup down, waiting to see if he caught one of their attention. Then, frowning, he withdraws the cup. His eyes beam. "Hey, three bones, ha!" He scoops and shakes again, and reveals the two more singles.
"Haha! Tough luck, son, but happy life-whatever all the same." He reaches for the cred chip, and transfers off 50 creds.
"Hey girly!" he shouts down the bar. Jiss returns to take his drink order.
Three sets of shakes later and Page's cred chip is tapped out. Hearty slaps against his back seem to be the only consolation for his poor luck. On the flip side, a group of gruff men is now hovering around him looking for action.
OOC: Sorry, I could not resist. Was this how you were hoping things were turn out?
DeleteHm. Yes and no. But I would assume that they probably cheated. We'll see. I'll have to think on this one for a bit.
DeleteYou could assume that, but more than likely they're just good gamblers. From a mechanics standpoint, games of chance use the same Gambling skill as a game like Poker which requires you to out-maneuver your opponent. A dice game is a poor choice in this context since Page's Gambling skill is modest, and the Freighter captains skill is high, and because you called the game, "first to roll 5 singles" instead of, "whoever rolls the most singles", which would at least give Page a chance to roll.
DeleteNo matter, you're attracting attention and making friends!
Taro spits his sugar water back into his cup when Java walks up, then coughs and tries to pretend that didn't just happen. While wiping his face, he slides his finger under his nose, pointing to the last booth along the south wall.
ReplyDelete"Buzik" he coughs into his hand. Then, speaking more composed, "Sorry friend, I don't play. You must have me mistaken for someone else."
Java shoots a quick look in the indicated direction. Four men sit at the booth, trading amused glances as they take turns observing the commotion at the bar. Buzik could be any one of them.
Approaching Otho, Java feels the thick air of anticipation. The flaming blob quivering softly on the bar in front of the merc seems to have an intense gravity about it, as if everyone in the lounge had become trapped in the event horizon. The attractive Twi'lek bartender glares seductively at Otho, trying through the power of her personality and physics of her physique to break his resistance. The combination is shockingly effective, causing Java to look at his chrono and calculate the exact number of minutes until he would rendezvous with Sienna.
"Look how it jiggles!" she exclaims, bouncing up and down. Nobody is looking at the blob.
"Oh, good plan!" acknowledges Red. "Well I noticed the comm array on this old bucket is optimized for interplanetary traffic, but I think I can work on the short wave band emitter for ya." The mechanic seems genuinely enthusiastic to be working with Honey, finding something of a kindred spirit in someone who shares his love of machines.
ReplyDeleteAfter some work between the three of you (Rex is helping, Ethgarnon is trying to order beer through his comm link), Red gets the array chirping at frequencies the local chatter understands. Much of the traffic is unencrypted - boring banter about shipping protocol and tonnage transfers of this or that ore from one container to another. But there are intermittent burst of encrypted relays. Locating the transmission sources will be the easy part, and will still take some doing. AFter that you'll need to hack the encryption.
OOC: First roll Communications to trace the signals. The starting Difficulty number is in the Moderate range. You can lower the difficulty by one point for each 20 minutes you dedicate to tuning the communication array. Tell me how long you work on that and give me your roll. Keep in mind that this whole operation is running on Rex' battery, which is limited. You'll still need time to listen in and do whatever else you want to do after you trace the signal and hack the encryption (next roll...)
I'm loving what's happening at the bar up there. Also, here, I came into knowledge of this neat online roller a few days ago, so I think I'll be giving that a shot. Not sure how to create a link in a comment, so I'll just have it plain.
ReplyDelete3D6.EXTRA(6) = [4, 3, 5] = 12
http://www.coyotecode.net/roll/lookup.php?rollid=140641
Honey thanks Red for his offer of help, and get's to work combing the local bands available to her. Not having trained herself into doing things like this, she's surprised she's managed as well as she has. Locating the transmission itself was a deceptively easy task, one she spends almost forty minutes at while keeping an eye on Rex's battery levels. Hacking the encryption itself is going to take a bit of luck, a dash of skill, and a hope to the techno-gods that there's something familiar she can work with.
Honey patiently traces the filaments of energy, nimbly filtering the lattice of frequency overlays crisscrossing the local landscape. The extra time pays off, as she is able to eventually isolate the Davika encrypted band from receiver to transmission source, connecting the Port Authority to the Davika Tower.
ReplyDeleteNow to break the code, Honey will need to collected transmission samples and analyze for common threads. This can be a painstaking task. It's theoretically possible to break the encryption with only one sample, but that would be an Heroic (9D+) effort. It will take 10 minutes to collect each transmission sample, and for each sample you collect, the Difficulty number goes down by 1 point. Rex can't do this all night, and at some point you will also get diminishing returns.
Once again, tell me how long you want to collect samples, and then roll Computer Programming. If you fail you can try again but will have to repeat the process of gathering samples.
"Boo beep?" asks Rex, concerned that Honey may be exposing herself and the ship to risk of being caught.
Honey gives the droid a comforting pat, and chirps back to him with a confident pitch."Don't worry, this is the very thing I've built myself for." With that, she turns her attention back to the screen, and holds out her hands above the terminal's keyboard. To the likely shock of her human companions, her hands suddenly split apart into several dozen individual digits which proceed to work furiously to aid her process. She spends an hour at work, putting in her best effort in order to slice through he code and obtain something valuable for her trouble. If this isn't able to obtain something useful, then she'll decided to call it quits there with the knowledge she gave it her best.
ReplyDeleteComputers: 6D6 = [2, 5, 5, 6, 4, 4] = 26
http://www.coyotecode.net/roll/lookup.php?rollid=140957
Exploding: 1D6.EXTRA(6) = [2] = 2
http://www.coyotecode.net/roll/lookup.php?rollid=140958
No additional dice, but hopefully a 28 and a -6 DC will bring something useful to bare.
OOC: Normally I wouldn't say what I rolled, but this was cool. I rolled a 34 on 9D6 - you succeeded on the number!! I can't use the online roller - my company firewall thinks that's a "gambling" site. So I'll keep doing things the old fashioned way, but good suggestion for others.
DeleteAlso, as a reminder to everyone, you all have 1 Character Point, which can be used as a one-time bonus wild-dice. You can use it after you learn the outcome, so in this case if Honey had missed her roll she could still roll one additional wild dice if she chose to use her Character Point. Of course it should be saved until some critical moment. Finally, if a Character Point is used heroically (and successfully), the GM will often reward the player by bestowing anothe Character Point on the character.
ooc: Hot damn! I jut made it, that's awesome. I had debated between half an hour and an hour, and finally decided to go the side of caution. Glad I did!
Delete(OOC: BLargh! Yes, Mike has decided to crank his narrative up to "Excellent" on the very weekend when I disconnected and just spent time with the family. But now I'm here to at last give his much improved and now compelling narrative the proper attention it deserves. Makes me wish these posts had a "Like" button because I really LOL'd at a few of them. Ranger, I think you've found some NPCs that finally move your Muse. =))
ReplyDeleteOtho cooly receives the bubbling bartenderess' effervescent advertisement, thinking himself inured to such things, and he lifts mildly eyebrows as the Wall of Bottles is formed. But as one bottle and then another is poured into the crucible, his expression continues to morph from mild amusement, to surprise, to barely contained wonder. He has counted himself a guzzle-man of no small talent, but whatever unholy beverage were to result of this would be truly special indeed!
As the resultant mixture is less 'liquid' and more 'solid' he feels a feeling of true admiration, and that the whole thing is set alight finally breaks his hardened visage and starts chcukling in earnest.
In the back of his mind only now does it dawn upon him that he'll actually have to ingest the flaming creature from the depths.
"Ha ha! Well done, ladies. Well done! Well, indeed you have outdone yourselves. Ah, but I never slam unknown flaming gelatinous masses without a suitable chaser. Please do have a mug of spiced ale--whatever kind you wish--to hand so I might wash down this mixture. Ah, okay, good, good."
Having bought as much time as he dared, he took up the platter and held it doubtfully before his face, the mild heat warming his already flushed skin as he prepares his defenses for the coming onslaught.
At last, with surely every eye upon him, he tips back the plate and clamps his mouth down on the flaming puck to extinguish it as quick as he can.
'Twould be an insult not to let the thing shake hands with tongue to at least appreciate the unique experience, so he savors as much as he can before taste and heat combine to force him to swallow the strange concoction.
He hefts the proferred mug and takes a generous sip of ale so at last his mouth can be comforted with a familiar flavor of poison.
From every corner of the lounge, there is a pause in the conversation as all eyes turn toward Otho. As the flaming mound of goo slithers down the slate, voices start to rise in unison, led by the cheerful hooting from Tressa and Jiss. The gigantic flaming bogey singes the merc's nose hairs before passing between his lips. The lounge comes to crescendo, with hearty cheers and claps. The young busboy drops his tray, doubles over and dry heaves. There is another round of cheers.
ReplyDeleteOtho immediately regrets his decision to let the Rancor Spit settle on his tongue. It has the consistency and flavor of the waste from a solid fuel rocket. Time will tell how it will play in his gut. He almost gags, but half a lifetime spent in backwater dives worse than this have helped acclimate his palate and his involuntary reflexes to similarly caustic concoctions, usually in less desirable company. Otho swallows hard, feeling the resistance of the blob break apart in his esophagus, trickling into his stomach like a fistful of regret.
Otho can barely keep it together as the ale goes down, eliciting a room full of laughter at his plight. The face of his reflection is as red as the planet's surface. He sniffs and blinks away moisture welling in his eyes. Stifling a cough, Otho puts on his hardest facade, but he's not fooling anyone.
"I got his next round!" offers one of the freighter captains milling around Page, his cred chip having just been padded with dice game winnings.
"Mr. Buzik would like to invite you to his table." The deep voice from Otho's right almost startles him. The large bodyguard had sidled up during the aftermath of the experience, catching the merc slightly off his guard. Otho addresses the man and follows his extended arm back toward the last booth.
"Put that on Mr. Buzik's account with the usual tip," the bodyguard instructs Tressa.
"Sure!" The bar maid giggles and winks toward the booth, then clears the bar and turns toward the register.
Otho staggers under the gastrointestinal attack and props himself heavily on the bar, holding on for dear life lest he fall straight through to the planet's core.
ReplyDeleteHe coughs and sputters a few times, making sure his lungs still work, then recovers enough to carry on a bit of cheek. "Ah! *cough* Good! *hack* Well, if I have a patron, then let us see to every lack. Tressa! My eternal love Tressa, be a good girl and fetch me a fine bag of pretzels, or whatever snacks should pass in its stead. *cough* Well, two bags, fair Tressa. We might have a long night ahead of us." From habit he manages a salacious wink, but then just focuses on staying upright.
As a snack of somekind...any kind, really...he tears in to it, chewing with gusto as would a starving man. As the salty/blandness scours his mouth and reinforces his stomach, he feels himself stabilize, at last ready to move on.
"Ach. Yes. Yes! Lead on, my good man! This Mr. "Buck-zack"--was that the name you said? He must be a fine fine fellow to have one such as yourself in his employ! Fine then, fine! Lead on, brave knight and let us see to thy lord! Tressa! Again, thank you for a most memorable night, my love!"
Otho pops another treat into his mouth and, wondering just how drunk he is, takes up snacks and ale and follows where his is lead.
'I've got a bad feeling about this....'
The bodyguard spins his finger in the air, the universal symbol for another round. Tressa gets to work on that after finding a jar of salted nuts for the weak-kneed merc. Otho recognizes them as Banbury Tree nuts, stock junkfood in every cantina from here to, well, anywhere. Banbury trees are amazingly hardy and adaptable to most any climate, making their nuts very inexpensive to cultivate. It's remotely possible they could even grow on Red Barren, although in such nutrient-deficient biospheres the already poor quality of the nuts would render it nearly toxic. The salt helps give them flavor if nothing else. But no, the jar clearly says, Product of Tatooine, wherever the heck that is.
ReplyDeleteJava and Page see what's going on with Otho. Right now they are in a tangle with Freighter captains, a rubber dice cup sitting on the bar like the holy grail. They also realize that Jek is no longer with them, and a quick scan of the room does not reveal the pilot.
Otho composes himself and manages a steady and purposeful walk to the back of the lounge.
Occupying the inside seat opposite Otho is a stocky middle-aged man with onyx black hair and deep set eyes. A goatee silvers at the corners of his mouth. He gestures to the open seat in the booth.
"Please, friend, have a seat! There you go. That thing the girls made for you at the bar, that was really something. I wouldn't have tried it myself, but you showed real moxie, and gave the whole place a good laugh. Even some of my peers at the center tables cracked smiles - haven't seen that happen in too long.
"I know my associate here gave you my name, but that's hardly an introduction. I am Kal Buzik. I work at Davika, but please do not hold that against me." He offers a smile so well-practiced it borders on genuine. Maybe it is.
Tressa comes by the table with a tray of highballs filled with green-blue concoctions, setting them in front of Otho and Buzik. Glasses with red liquid are given to the two other men at the table.
"Thank you, my dear. Kindly let the staff know we'll be transferring up to the suite soon. Have the usual fare brought up, and of course you and Jiss are more than welcome to come by when your shifts end."
Tressa giggles and winks at Otho, then hurries off.
"Asurian brandy, mixed with squeezed acava fruit," offers Buzik, admiring his drink. "I have it shipped in from Ritana-Four; costs a small fortune. But anyone who has to live on this husk of a planet deserves whatever luxuries he can acquire." He sips at it, and Otho notices the large ring on his middle finger, a Regimental commendation ring from the Clone Wars, Imperial special forces. In the dim light Otho can't quite read the battle inscription around the edging.
"Buzik sets his glass down. You've already met my chauffeur Sixon," he points to the large bodyguard hovering a couple meters away. "This is Barrus and Jorn, my latest technical recruits." The two other men nod as their names are called. They appear to be relatively fresh-faced, almost eager.
Buzik takes another sip of his drink. "And you are?"
Capt. Ethgarnon squirms in his chair while he watches Honey work. "Kinky," he offers when her hand splits into gadgetry.
ReplyDeleteNow able to decrypt the transmissions, Honey listens in for a short time, but the chatter between Davika and the Port is not at all interesting. Clearly, the Port Authority has not yet informed Davika HQ of the incident with the Elysium Pale. Still, having cracked the code, she can now listen in anytime she wants. Just as importantly, she could attempt to broadcast her own coded transmissions, appearing to be official chatter.
On to the next step, hacking Davika HQ through its wireless network. Hacking the encryption gives Honey access to the command protocols, but she is immediately stymied by a security layer guarding the database. She has options:
1) Crack the security layer. She could try a brute force attack with hash tables. There's no guarantee that will work, as the character sets are often non-standard. It may be that Davika is such a massive corporation that process requires the basic+147 syntax, for which Honey is equipped. Then its only a matter of processing power and time while the has tables grind away. This approach can be enhanced by either cranking up the processing power of the attack computer, or by limiting parameters. If you knew whose security you wanted to attack and also something about that person that might be used as a passkey, you could get lucky and dramatically reduce the crack time. The Elysium Pale's computer is not ideal, and cannot be improved without new parts. Rex' battery is another limiting factor. The attempt can also be identified if it takes too long and is discovered by a packet sweep.
2) Spike the source. If you could get inside the building and access a terminal physically connected to the server stack, you could hardware spike it. That would destroy the security layer. There's risk that the stack could have secondary protection from such an attack, which typically doubles as protection from electrical storm surges. She would then need to get into the stack room and terminal directly to the database. Honey has heard stories about legendary hackers who brought down a security grid by causing a sever weather event to trigger the secondary, but all of those stories seemed to include massive outlays of time, planning, and a cloud-seeding starship. A bolt of lightning might do the trick, but the problem is you never know where or when it will strike. Honey does not have a spike, but could potentially manufacture one - the droid parts she confiscated would be useful in such an item. It's unlikely she could acquire a spike on this planet through any other means.
3) The front door. You could also try to acquire your own security clearance or coerce someone to give you theirs...
OOC: If Honey decides to give the Hash table crack a shot, roll Security and let me know how long you are willing to let the crack run. If you choose to build a spike, roll Computer Repair. With the available parts, it will be nearly impossible to craft an effective spike for use against a formidable network like Davika. Honey could choose to cannibalize her personal wetware to improve the spike, but that could negatively impact some of her skills (GM discretion). Spikes have levels of effectiveness, 1-5. An easy network security layer is a 1; a Galactic Corporate network is usually a 5, although backwater Outer Rim locations are usually not as well protected. With the Droid parts she scavenged, and the odds and ends on the ship, Honey thinks she could create a class 3 spike (pending rolls). Cannibalizing from non-critical systems could get her to a class 4. Leveraging her synaptic enhancements would get her to class 5, but would likely reduce her abilities in some unpredictable ways.
Of course, having the spike is only half the challenge. You still have to get inside the Davika building.
She let's out a shallow, shuddering breath as the pieces just click into pace. What was once incomprehensible static and numbers has been smoothed out with her fine toothed comb, the frequencies singing in her ears as success hits home in the best possible ways. This is what she lived for, the rush of success that caused relays to fire, dopamine to floods what's left of her human brain, and her adrenaline pumps to spike in production. Slicing was truly the most intense and rewarding of artforms one could practice.
ReplyDeleteBut no- she shouldn't let such intense success override her basic precaution protocols. With greater effort that it had any right to have, she manually shut down the biological and technological rewards her body was implementing, choosing to instead think about things with a cool, clear head. Honey's hands snapped back together, and she flexed them to test their mobility as she leaned back in her chair.
"I've cracked their encryption," She starts. "Barring them feeling the need to re-encrypt their transmissions during the rest of the week, I should be able to tap in with little issue. Good news is that I could send out seemingly official chatter, more then likely actually make security droids listen to me at any greater length of time. The neutral news there, none bad so far, is that everything going on there is useless and uninteresting. However,"
She leans forward again, absently tapping through a few screens as she surveyed her options. "Decrypting the information is only step two of a three to four step plan. Now I'll need to actually gain access to useful data with their wireless network. There's a few options there, none of which are very appealing. I can try to simply force my way into their private servers, but that takes time and energy we are sadly lacking. As well as a more advanced computer which'd provide to me a reliable edge. There's also the downside that we'd be at great risk for discovery.
"Option two would be to spike the sourcecode and destroy the security layer. But I would need to both get inside the building itself to do this, and acquire a sufficiently equipped spiking tool. There are other issues of course, but those are the most prominent. Without risk to self, I might be able to create a... reasonably effective tool. Good for most situations, but not the worst. It's usefulness would depend on how well protected a galactic corpiration's outer rim location is...
"The last option is the most simple, but almost guaranteed to be the hardest. Gain security clearance from someone willingly. We would have full access to everything we could possibly need from the network, but what moron would just hand over their own security clearance to a stranger?"
She shakes her head, "I'm going to see about what we have worth turning into a rudimentary spiker regardless. I need something to distract myself before I move on. You two may discuss between yourselves the merits of my suggested options, please feel free to transmit anything useful to our gambling friends. And Rex," She faces away from the two humans, looking at Rex. Her faceplate splits apart to show the droid her smiling, feminine face. "Good job."
She's going to wander off obviously, and get to work on creating a spike. She's hesitant about using her own parts, and is willing to play it save with just a class 3 spike for now. It's possible she may decided later to "upgrade" it at the expense of parts, but this is the extent of things for now.
Computer Repair: 6D6 = [4, 6, 1, 1, 5, 6] = 23
http://www.coyotecode.net/roll/lookup.php?rollid=141286
Exploding: 1D6.EXTRA(6) = [4] = 4
http://www.coyotecode.net/roll/lookup.php?rollid=141287
OOC: Java, what medical equipment, if any, are you carrying on your person right now? Page and Otho, what weapons do you have on you? We should establish a kit for different situations - I wouldn't expect you to enter the Lounge in full body armor, although I guess you could but you'll want handy a good story about it.
ReplyDeleteHoney will be working on the spike for a while - we'll get back to that as the others catch up. Honey can communicate directly with the other's comm links. For now, they have heard everything about the security clearance.
For his own part, Otho had been congratulating himself as his various systems were nominally coming back online. He assigned Threat Levels to each of the persons in the room, taking Buzik's number up quite a few notches when he noticed The Ring.
ReplyDelete'Must get a better look at that, at some point' he thought to himself.
Indeed, he had been able to manage a rather cool facade...
...and then Tressa winked at him.
It was a like pile driver spiking down through his skull into his knees.
'Whoa. Damn. Like, baaaaaaaaaalls. Whoa. That girl can f'n _wink_. Do, do they teach her that? Did she take classes? Can Buzik _really_ get her into my bed? Okay, ya, well, she's probably paid for it. And maaaaybe even a slave. Okay, if she's a slave I will -totally- liberate her and get her on my ship. Just...just long enough to put her down wherever she wants.
If she wants to leave. Of course.'
Otho honestly misses the next few words that Buzik is saying, but manages to clear his board when he gets around to introductions.
"Heh. Me, ya, I'm just new to this planet. Came lookin' for work, but I don't really know much other than t' fly a stick like my pants 'r on fire, or put a lasbolt through a hole at hunnert paces. I picked up this deck'a'cards along th' way, but haven't got much chance to learn t' play. But might you fancy a game? I'd not mind losing a couple credits for the chance to learn sumthin' new, y'know?"
Otho sips his drink and nods appreciably. "So, what do you do at Davika that I'm not gonna hold against you?" Otho follows with his Smile #6--a mix of dopiness and friendliness. It's not quite an "Awe-Shucks" but it's in the same family.
OOC: Otho, roll Con/Perception. Consider you're talking to an experienced gambler. At this point you're not bending the truth too much but you still need to roll wel enough to convince him of your story. Also, you may want to give him a name - he gave you his, and your gut experience tells you that not giving yours would be a huge red flag. In general, any time you attempt to deceive an NPC, roll Con.
DeleteBtw, this would be a great time to try to get Page involved with his silver tongue.
(OOC: Actually, I'm not lying...too much. How's Persuasion? Also, that picture wins the internet. =D)
ReplyDeleteNope, you'll need Con for this. Not lying too much makes the difficulty somewhat easier...
DeleteBuzik seems a little put off by Otho's question and ignores it. "A pilot then? Hmm, we have no shortage of those around here." He reaches into his inside breast pocket and flashes a slim smoking case, flips it open and puts one of the slender wrapped cigars into his mouth. Sixon reaches in to offer a light and Buzik settles back, enjoying the smoke while never taking his eyes off the merc. The sweet smoke reminds Otho of the dry rustling winds of... Well, that's a memory he can't quite place at the moment.
ReplyDeleteBuzik extends the case toward Otho. "Another luxury - contraband from Tarrus Prime. Smoke?"
Otho quite simply -doesn't- know if he wants a smoke. He takes a heartbeat to stare at the proferred case...and is greeted by an appetite that seems to come to the conclusion that he has smoked, but has no bite of addiction, which means he must not have done it regularly.
ReplyDelete"Don't mind if I do," he replies amicably, taking a smoke and accepting a light. "The name's Otho, by the by. Mmmm, that is a fine, fine smoke. Why are they banned?
(Con: 6+5 = 11)
"The Sumerian Embargo, of course," replies Buzik. "Do you run freight, then? How did you come to Red Barren, of all places?"
ReplyDeletePage takes a large sip of an ale and peers at one of the freighter captains. "Salacious crumbs! Next lifeday I'm bringing my own dice! Where'd you learn to roll like that!?!!" He's careful not to make it sound accusatory - more incredulous and fairly intoxicated. He grimaces and burps a bit. "What's a spacer like you hanging around here? You should be moving onto a Core world and find yourself a good casino ship! Or does Davika pay that well?"
ReplyDeleteThe first captain to take Page' money shrugs. "Beginner's luck," he says, stifling a smirk. "Davika actually does pay well, but you should know, right? Everyone in here that doesn't work at Davika or the Port is space dog of some breed or other. Otherwise you wouldn't get past the pirates. I guess you might not know that if you're new, but anyhow, the pay is what it is. Davika's contracts are high because Red Barren is awful and the security is absurd. You'd think we were actually hauling diamonds out of here, but unless you believe the rumors passed along from crusty miners, there aren't any. Rusty ore goes out and foodstuffs and water comes in, and we get paid both ways.
ReplyDelete"Tell you what, I'll give you a chance to win your money back. Double or nothing, and we can change the game - whoever rolls the most bones on three shakes wins. What do you say?"
OOC: Roll your Gambling skill if you want to play. If Page actually doesn't have any money and the first 200 was extended credit, then that's going to have to come off Otho's stick, so you might want to go hit him up for it, and while you're at it, bail him out with Buzik.
Otho smirks. "Ha. Why does anyone go anywhere? Money, dear boy! I heard there was a lot of activity this side of the 'black, so I figured where there's activity there's money! 'Course I didn't figure on getting fired upon as soon as I came close to atmo' for a look-see. Got shot up a bit. I'm hella skilled, so I walked away from it, but it's gonna take some cred to get her in the air again. At least, if I don't fancy getting sucked outa various new holes, that is.
ReplyDeleteWhy. You hiring?"
Otho immediately regrets that last statement, but this guy probably is not. But if he is who he says he is-an out of work pilot- he'd have to ask at some point. It never hurts to ask and one can always say no.
"Indeed," replies Buzik. He addresses the young men flanking him at the table. "Why don't you gentlemen head up to the flat. I'll meet you up there shortly."
ReplyDeleteBarrus and Jorn excuse themselves and Otho makes room for them to exit. Sixon turns his back to the two of you remaining in the booth.
Buzik finishes his drink before continuing. "I may actually have some work for someone with your talents. Of course I don't believe you came here on your own, and I am aware of the wounded freighter that arrived yesterday. Be aware that I tolerate no deception, and I value discretion. The fact that you have kept some of your true motivations close to the vest validates your ability to do the latter, though your attempt to obfuscate could not be more plain. Work on that. So now we can dispense with pretense and speak freely."
He leans forward and speaks just above the din of the surrounding patrons so that only Otho can hear him. "You must first prove your usefulness. I cannot simply hand out contracts to anyone who stumbles into town and manages to capture my attention. I would be a fool to take you at your word, and I am no fool. Now then, there is an area of the city where the locals transact their baubles, commonly referred to as the Bazaar. Within that maze lives an old man named Desaraek. Simply put, the man is a terrorist. He is known to be actively working to subvert the lawful operations of Davika on this planet, with the expressed intent of killing its lead representatives.
"I fear for my life and the lives of my associates. I want you to eliminate Desaraek and his co-conspirators. Discretion is paramount, as he is a member of the local community and we don't need the political fallout. That's why I need you, or someone like you.
"This contract is worth 2000 credits. Will you accept?"
Page peers at the captain. "Ehhh. No thanks. But tell you what. If you need some help on a run, I'm probably going to need some cash." Page starts back towards the table where Otho is talking to Buzik. He drops the drunk act and makes sure his hold-out blaster is handy. Ignoring Buzik for now, he looks at Otho. "You ok, boss?" Looking at Buzik, "And you are?" Page sees no need to advertise that he's heard the previous conversation over the comms.
ReplyDeleteBuzik grins, satisfied that his read on Otho was accurate. "Good, you'll have help. Now accept this assignment so we can get on with the part I like best - celebrating the deal."
ReplyDeleteOtho returns the grin. "Heh. I...never said I came here alone. I simply said I came here.
ReplyDeleteMind you, I didn't say I was a hired killer either. But, asuming I was to do this thing, and I haven't said that, but, hypothetically, if I did, I'd need some support. If I, say, ask for a thing, because that thing allows me to do a thing which allows me to NOT do a thing that involves walking into a place with pants down and just start shooting people, but does allow me to do a thing with subtlety and a certain sense of charm. To wit, that it might look like an accident, then I don't need you, or anyone, assuming anyone asked me something, which is not yet known, but I don't want that person denying that thing. If I ask for a thing, it's because I need the thing.
You can tell me what to do or how to do it. But not both.
If you're good with that. -Then- we can celebrate."
Otho turns to Page. "Sub-zero chillin'. This here is Buzik, our new best friend. Have a seat. We're gonna get sloppy an' fuck those two waitresses. I assume you're down?"
As Buzik expected a hitman, Otho began to slide into his part.
Once again, Buzik seems put off by Otho's charm. He slides out of the booth, making room for Page to sit down. He's an impressively large figure, and when he raps his commendation ring on the table it gives a weighty clank.
ReplyDelete"I don't care about what you need, or how you do a thing. Do the job tonight. You bring me Desaraek's head in a box and you can join me in my suite." He looks at his wrist chrono. "Get it done it in the next three hours and I'll throw in another grand."
Buzik and Sixon begin to head out of the Lounge.
OOC: Page, Otho, and Java - roll Perception.
OOC: Perception 10+6!+6!+6!+2 = 30.
DeleteTime slows for Page as his senses suddenly register the minute detail of every filament of immediate space within the observable, detectable universe. The acrid waft of smoke from Buzik's cigar contains traces of brown dye no. 17, used for false coloration of foodstuffs exported from Outer Rim factories often populated with slave labor, a sure sign of a knock-off, and clearly by his demeanor, Buzik is not aware.
ReplyDeleteA fragment of conversation from the table of Davika stooges stings Page's ear: "...sure he's a pompous ass, but he's also the best man in the sector for this. But if we could get either of those new recruits doing the same job inside of three months, our old friend might just have an accident. Probably find himself poisoned - we could frame one of those Twi'lek's he's so disgustingly fond of..."
Simultaneously, Page eyes the slinking form of Jek hurrying out of the Lounge, doing a very good job of being inconspicuous. No one else seems to notice him at all. The mischievous young pilot vanishes into the stairwell.
Page blinks, taking it all in. He mutes his comm and leans over to Otho.
ReplyDelete"Otho, don't ask me how I know, but this guy's in trouble. Davika wants to take him out, maybe poison him. If you want to get in good with him, try this; his cigars are knockoffs and he doesn't know. I think Davika supplies him with them as part of his pay. Go after him and work him. I don't think playing dumb worked, so try a new angle. I think we can sway him. I'm checking something else out."
Page quickly moves to follow Jek, working hard to remain equally inconspicuous.
OOC: Page, roll your Sneak skill
DeleteSneak: 6+6!+1 = 13
DeletePage follows Buzik out of the lounge, keeping his distance, but trying not to look like he's keeping his distance. He manages to avoid attention, and as Buzik and his bodyguard wait for the elevator, Page slips into the stairwell. He hears a clattering sound from high above, then a door opens and closes. He races up the flights on Jek's heels, breathing heavily by the time he reaches the executive level. The remnant of a security box sits broken on the floor.
ReplyDeleteOpening the door a crack, Page looks out into the hallway. Satisfied the coast is clear, he steps out and scans the elevator bank. The car is ascending but its only halfway up. There's still time to act. His powers of Perception lingering, he manages to hear the sound of withdrawing footfalls from behind him. Deftly he follows the hallway east and peers around the corner to the south. A trio of doors are spaced evenly about ten meters apart along the west wall. There is a ceiling hatch at the end of the corridor.
Given this is the top floor, these must be the Davika suites. Page doesn't have to wonder what Jek is up to - the faint trace of perfume in the hallway is the same sensory profile as what Tressa was wearing.
Jek seems to have run out of ideas, and stares angrily at the keycard slot in the door. He reaches for his blaster. The elevator car will arrive at any second.
Page takes a deep breathe to clear his head, then steps out into the hall and lets the door to the stairs close firmly. He waits for Buzik in the hall, leaning casually against the doorway. When Buzik approaches, he stands up with his hands well clear of his body, empty and unthreatening. "Mr. Buzik," he says, "My boss sent me to talk to you. He's got something else in play, so he couldn't break character, but he wants me to explain a couple things."
ReplyDeleteBuzik, stops short, a look of incredulity crossing his face. Sixon takes a menacing half step toward Page but then Buzik breaks into a boisterous laugh.
ReplyDelete"You, my friend have some serious balls! I don't believe for one Pico second that you have security to this floor, so either you are more resourceful than I judged or I need to have a talk with the property manager." He looks at Page with those dark eyes, calculating...
Finally, he breaks the uncomfortable stare. "We'll take this conversation into my suite. Of course you will be relieved of your weapons, but they will be returned to you when you leave."
Sixon moves in to pat Page down, relieving him of all weapons. Then the bodyguard leads the way around the corner punches the key code for the door, and waits for Buzik and Page to enter.
OOC: tell me if you choose to resist the pat down or do anything besides entering the suite. Jek is nowhere to be seen
Honey continues to exist, still working on her spike.
ReplyDeleteA post for the sake of posting.
Page mentally apologizes to Honey for the slowness of his postings.
DeletePage submits to the patdown without a word. Meanwhile, he scans the suite, looking for any more knockoffs.
ReplyDeletePage doesn't have any background that he is aware of in alien art, so no help there.
DeleteRats. And there goes the hope of being Grand Admiral Thrawn with amnesia.
DeleteThe contrast between the drab and red-stained facade of the Metrotel and the interior of Buzik's suite could not be more stark. In the large main room the walls are draped with alien canvasses and art. A hollow generator is suspended from the center of the ceiling and encircled by a plush looking lounge, with velvety pillows strewn about, comfortably seating at least twenty. Along the far wall windows open to the darkening east. To Page's right are an open kitchenette and full bar, and two doors lead from the main room along the north wall to Page's left, presumably to the bathroom and bedroom.
ReplyDeleteBarrus and Jorn are taking advantage of the well-stocked selection of exotic intoxicants, mixing unknown bluish concoctions in clear glass tumblers. Buzik sits on the lounge, withdraws another cigar, and proceeds to light and smoke it with satisfaction.
"I haven't decided yet," he addresses Page. "My opinion of your boss, as you say, is low. He speaks like typical Outer Rim rabble and makes no pretense about his intentions. My initial excitement at his bravery was quickly diminished by his abuse of Galactic Common, which I abhor. Now here you are, claiming it was all an act." Buzik smiles and waves his cigar, clenched between his thick fingers. "I am once again intrigued," he delights.
Sixon takes a seat in the northwest corner of the room. Jorn and Barrus pretend to ignore Page and continue their technical talk. Unfortunately for Red and Honey, who might otherwise be interested, Page's comm does not pick up their quiet dialog.
Buzik chomps his cigar and rests his arms along the top of the lounge, reclining deeply and crossing one leg over the other. Extending his fingers of one hand, Buzik motions for Page to have a seat on the lounge.
"Alright," he asks. "What's your play?"
“Let’s talk about your first problem.” Page pauses and lowers his voice a bit. “Davika thinks you’re replaceable. They’ve gone so far as to come up with a plan to frame one of your girlfriends. And they haven’t put much work into their security for this floor, because this was ridiculously easy to get into.”
ReplyDelete“Think about this. Have they asked you to train anyone? Because they seem to think they’ve got multiple replacements waiting in the wings.”
“Whatever you’re doing for them, they think you’re just another hired hack,” Page says, prodding Buzzik’s pride.
“Your employers think you’re too expensive. In fact, they’ve been cutting costs on you for some time. Here, let me demonstrate.” Page walks over to the bar and pours himself a glass of water. Then, for good measure, he fills two tumblers with some of Buzzik’s top shelf whiskey. He puts a tumbler in front of each of them and the glass between them.
“Here, let me borrow your cigar.” Page stubs it out and carefully snips off the ash. Only un-smoked cigar remains. Then he drops the cigar into the water and begins to swirl it around. “Do you smoke this brand much? Because I have. They’ve been selling these to you as the real thing. It isn’t the real thing. This particular knockoff is made on R’yloth, usually by slavers in the underground. They’re dyed to look real. Watch.”
Page takes a long sip of the whiskey, hoping it’s not a knockoff. If this little show doesn’t work, it’ll be the last drink for a while.
Bemused, Buzik leans forward and hands his cigar to Page, the smile on his face speaking for him. He watches closely as Page conducts his demonstration. Clearly uncomfortable with the accusations, Jorn and Barrus are very interested in the outcome, knowing that more than the quality of the cigar hinges on the result.
ReplyDeletePage instantly regrets the decision to drink the whiskey. The taste is like spicy peppers and dumpster waste. He chokes it down though and withdraws the soggy cigar, demonstrating the diluted coloring.
The expression on Buzik's face goes instantly from amusement to anger when he sees the cigar and the whiskey, but he recovers just as quickly.
"Good procurement people are so hard to find on these backworlds," he laments sarcastically. His eyes switch to Jorn and Barrus.
Affecting a smile for show, Buzik instructs, "Nothing to worry about, but obviously my friend and I have to discuss matters privately. See at the office." Jorn and Barrus swallow hard and leave the room immediately. His bodyguard Sixon remains.
"You have discriminating taste in cigars," he starts anew. "I respect that. But it is one thing to identify a counterfeit cigar on sight, and entirely another to indict my employer so brazenly. ANd what are you threatening exactly? Frame my girlfriends? I don't know what that means? Am I to be killed and the waitress made to look like my assassin?" He laughs. "Ridiculous!"
Nevertheless, Buzik seems to be chewing on Page's words. He grows agitated. "I could have those recruits thrown into The Hole for just looking at me with a furled brow! And you," he redirects, "You've just had your last glass of whiskey unless you get very specific about what you think you know and how you came to that information!" He takes a deep breath, running a hand through his hair. "Keep talking."
Page keeps his posture serious and businesslike. "How do I know? We've been in and out of this place a few times since we've gotten here. We've been feeling out the land. And the big players are Davika and the Suns. It's easy to see. They've got the most tables and they're in the center of the room. So of course, we've been there, working leads and making new friends."
ReplyDelete"That was where it came from. More specifically, they mentioned poison and the Twi'lek that you," Page cocks his head and quotes, "the pompous ass, are so disgustingly fond of." He leans forward. "Does anyone in that middle table have a problem with you or the Twi'Leks?"
He sits back. "You're right. It is a significant accusation. But you have to be seeing the signs. We haven't been dirtside for more than a few days. We're newcomers. They should be leery of us. Instead they've been talking about it right in front of off-worlders. If that's the case, then there's no way they're not getting ready to act."
OOC: Con = 11+6!+6!+4 = 27 *I swear this is a legit couple of rolls. Random.org. 6-sided dice roller...why can't I get this lucky in craps?
DeleteBuzik's lower jaw works through his thoughts, grinding at some particle of dinner that had been caught in his teeth. He stand abruptly and marches over to the bar, gruffly pushing past Page, still holding his glass of fouled whiskey. The larger man slams down a tumbler of his own and briskly sloshes it half full of something red. He tosses the liquor back hard and wipes his face.
ReplyDeleteLooking sideways at Page he demands, "What do you care? Do you think you can just break into my suite, accost me with your gathered observations, and then what, demand something of value in return? You want money for your ship probably. Maybe you believe there are diamonds on this blasted rock. Why does everyone think that?"
He pours himself another half glass and tips it back less violently. Then he chuckles. "Like I told your man Otho, I am no fool. I know what some others say. I know how Matok's influence has poisoned this place." He turn and waves the glass at the room. "Red Barren has always been awful, but I managed to procure things of beauty here, to make the best of it. I shouldn't be here, of course, but that's another story."
He stands silently thinking for a couple minutes. "What do you want, and what are you willing to do for it?"
Java takes the open seat opposite Otho in Buzik's booth. They listen to the dialog between Page and the Davika tech boss and order some food. Tressa brings it by not long after. The plate features some unidentifiable meat choice, shipped in from offworld, and an array of root vegetables. No sooner does Otho take his first bite than he knows something is very wrong in his gut. The violent sensations he first experienced after consuming the Rancor Spit spin out of his gut and shoot straight into his head. Suddenly his image of Java turns sideways in his left eye. The disorientation is sever but not limited to his visual sense. He is accosted by every smell in the Lounge; the stench from every pair of soiled underwear on every stinking spacer blasts his olfactory gland. Then the colors in the room start changing. The kaleidoscopic blur further impairs his sight.
ReplyDeleteOtho coughs out the slice of meat, alerting Java to his dilemma.
"Are you feeling alright?" asks Tressa, her voice thundering in Otho's ears.
The merc's hands start to shake.
OOC: Otho, roll Strength again. You didn't really think there wouldn't be consequences, did you?
"Damn, Otho, you need to get that piss out of you."
ReplyDeleteSeeing that the bathroom is closer than the exit, Java half guides, half carries his companion to the nearest hole.
If the movement isn't enough to prompt gastral evacuation, Java pulls out his meds and gives Otho's system a little help (shouldn't need much).
Once Otho has relieved himself of some of the poison, Java injects him with what little saline he has. Then for good measure, he gives him a shot of adrenalin in case this is anaphylaxis.
"Your antics are burning through my supplies, you big lout."
Java knows that Otho may need the medical center if this is more than just alcohol poisoning.
OOC: Doctor 5D: 13+6!+5=24
DeleteOtho stabilizes but feels terrible, like he just died a little inside. Then the adrenaline hits. He bursts out of the restroom, dashes into the lobby of the Metrotel and goes stumbling full speed, sliding face first along the polished floor. Java hurries after, medical kit in tow. The elevator pings.
ReplyDeleteKneeling, Otho fights off a case of the shakes. He feels a boot press against his side and push him over. A tall, resolute-looking man stands over him, dressed in stiff brown military tunic. Twin heavy blasters trim out the longcoat draped across his shoulders. A narrow-billed cap and dark goggles obscure his face.
"I see the rabble is out tonight," he intones mockingly. He stands half a head taller than the medic, and his gate is purposeful. Paying the doctor no attention, he enters the Lounge and the place goes quiet.
Java watches the man approach the Davika table. "Are you aware that there was an altercation at the Port tonight?" he asks rhetorically.
"Sergeant Lutwitz" one man stammers, "We're not responsible for--"
"We will all be made responsible if this planet does not produce, or if the shipment is delayed for any reason!" Lutwitz thunders over him. "Rogue actions within the Port are especially egregious! Why was I not notified?"
"But Sgt., the Port manager on duty should have called immediately."
"I know the protocol!" Lutwitz slams a fist down on their table. The Lounge is completely still. The imposing man straightens his tunic. "I will investigate and issue a full report to Mr. Matok." Lutwitz spins on his heels and marches out of the Lounge, this time casting an appraising look toward Java on his way out of the building.
OOC: Actions from Everyone.
"What do we want? Well, my team - we deal in resources. We do things that gain us credits, but those are the boring ones. Otho likes those because they keep our bottom line working, but he picks them out of necessity. What we really want and enjoy is information, favors, trickery, and chaos. We even do things to shut up our consciences, so we help the good guys sometimes. From what we've seen on this planet, Mr. Matok isn't the good guy, and neither is Davika. They also have the most resources and things to blow up and steal. Which makes for a wonderful, beautiful combination."
ReplyDelete"You think you shouldn't be here? We think the same. We're looking to get off this rock in the most profitable and interesting way possible, making as much money and chaos as we can on the way out. We want to steal their largest ship. We want to destroy or steal their fine, pretty things."
Page looks at Buzzik and gives him a big smile, full of teeth. "You, Mr. Buzzik can be our way in. We want access to Davika's inner workings and all the opportunities you've seen, but can't exploit. You want wealth and a way off this backwater planet, complete with a golden escape pod. And yes, before you consider it, I'm well aware you could try and double-cross us. But, I think you'd be dissatisfied with what you're left with-" Page gestures pointedly at the disappointing cigar "-and the thoughts of what you could have had. So, what do you say?"
"Mr. Buzik," Sixon starts, on his feet with his hand inside his jacket. "We gotta kill this guy. Matok's gonna find out about this." He steps forward menacingly.
ReplyDeleteBuzik stands aside as his bodyguard withdraws his blaster pistol and points it at Page's head. "Of course," says Buzik evenly, "Matok must never know what has been said here."
Page has no time to react; his weapons are sitting uselessly on the other side of the room. The sound of a single blaster shot slices through the air. But Page opens his eyes to see a hole through Sixon's head. The bodyguard falls to the floor - Buzik stands behind him, his own pistol raised. The angle of the barrel adjusts two degrees lower, now aiming squarely at Page.
Buzik twsists his head and cracks his neck. "Oh, it's been too long since I've done that! I forgot what the rush is like." His eyes widen and then narrow on Page.
"You want credits? Information? Chaos? You couldn't have picked a more interesting world in all of the Outer Rim. But was it luck? Not a chance. You know more than you let on. Alright, there may be a way for us to work together.
"I want Desaraek dead tonight. That's condition number one. I'm planning on taking over this operation and I can't have that bumbling insurrection get lucky. We know how bad security is in this place; it's a wonder The Family hasn't made a play already.
"Second, You kill Matok. He doesn't stay here at the Metrotel with the rest of the brass - he has a suite at the top of Davika Tower. I can get you inside, and then you can cause whatever chaos you want. Hell, I don't even care if you raid the network and steal the barabond cache, but I won't give you my access code. I'm taking control, so my I'm not involved, is that clear?
"Finally, once the job is done and you get what you came here for, you get the hell off this rock, and you don't speak of it ever again. I've got old friends all across the galaxy, and if I hear that some braggart claims to have knocked off Davika on Red Barren I'm going to hire an army of bounty hunters to take you out.
"Kill Desaraek tonight, then come find me, and I'll get you inside Davika Tower."
Buzik still has his blaster pointed at Page. "Deal?"
Buzik lowers his blaster, a large grin spreading across his face. He looks down at the still figure of his late bodyguard. "I'll give you two options. Kill ZDesaek yourself and drag his corpse outside the back of the Metrotel, or bring him here, up to my suite alive, and I'll deal with him myself.
ReplyDelete"Now, what's it gonna be? You want my help or not?"
Page looks at Buzik. "I'll talk to Otho. He'll probably want to do the kill. Live captures are much more messy. We'll be in contact with you."
ReplyDeletePage isn't sure of any such thing, but it's worth talking over as a group. Buzik seems a little unhinged, which could complicate any relationship. Page trusts Buzzik precisely as far the man's greed goes. The second that runs out, it's a free-for-all.
"Acceptable," replies Buzik. The edge starting to wear off, he lowers the blaster, looks down at his dead bodyguard, and frowns. Page leaves him to this dilemma, heading for the stairwell at his briskest walk. Throwing open the door to the stairs, he is faced immediately with yet another blaster barrel, but this one has Jek holding it. Enough to get the blood pumping for an instant, but that is all.
ReplyDelete"How'd it go in there?" Jek asks. Page can tell the brash pilot is feeling a little trepidation. The two of them leap down the stairwell and spill into the lobby to find Java helping Otho to his feet. In hushed tones Page quickly recounts the terms of the "deal" and his reaction to it. Of course, everyone already knows because of your headset comm links, which nobody thinks to question your wearing all the time - it is completely normal.
Inside the Elysium Pale, Captain Ethgarnon is putting the finishing touches on his list of needed supplies. He has been taking his time, carefully balancing the required quantity of beer to meet the needs of his new, hopefully temporary crew. Satisfied he steps up to the quiet tactical station. The soft red glow of the emergency lights, and a couple ion sticks, are all that illuminate the interior of the ship.
ReplyDeleteHe snaps his fingers and Rex comes back around. The droid has been busying itself with Red, affecting the hull repair with the cannibalized interior shield door from the cargo hold. Red curses after it, something about unfinished welds.
Extending its wand, Rex injects a bleed of power into the console, bringing it back to life. Ethgarnon brings up the radio, intent on calling into the Port Authority for some kind of delivery service. Instead, the channel that crackles throughout the ship is the Port Command band, the signal hacked by Honey. Almost on queue, a brusk female voice breaks the static.
"Approach vector acknowledged. Vendetta will set down in Bay 4."
Honey hears a wrench drop in the cargo, followed by an expletive. Then an entire box of wrenches clatter to the floor. Red is in the Lounge two seconds later.
"I know that voice! That's the Raider captain that tried to kill us when we first got here. We gotta get the hell outta here!" He stuffs his sonic screwdriver into his pocket and grabs one of the makeshift breathing masks.
Rex beeps, his wand spinning in the tactical slot. The viewscreen blinks on, connected through to the exterior door camera outside Bay 3, where the Elysium Pale rests. Outside, a landspeeder pulls up, and a serious looking figure disembarks and approaches the comm panel at the door.
"This is Sgt Lutwitz representing Davika Security. I demand that you open the Bay door at once!"
Seconds later, Lutwitz' voice erupts again, this time over the hacked Davika line to the Port Authority. "Open this door, and be ready to present a full report of this evening's emergency response." He's speaking to the Port now, and sure enough, the door to Bay 3 begins to open.
At the same time, you hear the engines of another ship approach.
Ethgarnon flinches when he hears about the Raiders. "I'm in no shape to fight this time!" He blurts out, double-timing it toward the sleeping bunks. He reaches into an unseen crack. Honey and Red hear the sound of a pressure seal releasing, and a panel opens in the floor, leading to a crawlspace into one of the forward booms.
ReplyDelete"Nobody knows we're in here, right?" he asks, one leg dangling over the secret crawlspace.
Ethgarnon is already dropping into the secret alcove before Honey can respond. Red brushes past her and follows the captain. Rex bumps against Honey's leg and beeps with urgency.
ReplyDeleteHoney looks around as things happen so fast, she barely knows how to react to any of this. Really, she's tempted to dive into that alcove as well, but she's not exactly comfortable with being trapped in a small space with both of them. She swears aloud, and tries to wrack her processor for any advice on how she should properly react.
ReplyDeleteOOC: What sort of skill could I roll here? Tactics?
Sure, roll Tactics. Then also throw in rolls for Security and Planetary Systems. They may or may not be useful but we'll have it.
DeleteTactics: 4D6 = [6, 2, 5, 5] = 18
DeleteExploding: 1D6.EXTRA(6) = [2] = 2
Total of 20
Security: 4D6 = [2, 5, 2, 3] = 12
Exploding: 1D6.EXTRA(6) = [1] = 1
Total of 13, not great. Can't always have good rolls though...
Planetary Systems: 3D6 = [1, 6, 6] = 13
Exploding: 1D6.EXTRA(6) = [4] = 4
Total of 17. Too bad one of those sixes wasn't my exploding, but ah well.
The electrical connections between the remaining organic tissue and the wetware in Honey's brain snap into overdrive as the tactical threat analysis calculates. There's something familiar about this scenario, but the specific memory is missing from her databank.
ReplyDeleteShe doesn't know about Sgt Lutwitz beyond his position as head of Davika Security. And now he's about to enter the Bay, presumably to demand answers regarding the earlier altercation with the White Suns and subsequent destruction of the Port's security droids. It is unclear as to where his role begins or ends, and to what extent it overlaps or supersedes that of the Port Authority.
OOC: Honey could overhear much of the dialog between Lutwitz and the rest of the team at the Metrotel over her comm link, but since no one provided a description or alerted her to this possible threat, she does not know that he is armed, but may presume that he is.
BIC: Honey's exposure to Tiora and the pirates is similarly limited, since she was not part of the initial confrontation, and chose to stay behind during the ascent to the base. She knows her voice, though, and together with Red's fear, knows that the woman piloting the Vendetta is a significant threat. But if the testimony of the captured White Sun can be believed, Tiora may only a mercenary with a thief's code, her loyalties malleable.
Both parties are currently converging on the Elysium Pale. The path of least resistance would be to join the others in the secret space and wait it out, until either they all leave or there's an opportunity to use the element of surprise. She could also choose to greet them at the ramp, answer their questions, and handle the situation as it progresses. It is entirely possible they will see her as a cyborg with droid dominance, without free will and in the service of her masters. This can have advantages if she plays it right, but will require subterfuge.
A third potential action is to attempt to ambush Lutwitz as he enters the ship. This is the highest risk action with the most unpredictable outcome.
Sgt Lutwitz will be arriving at any moment. Tiora and her henchmen are not far behind.
Steeling herself, and actively refusing to comment on that potential pun, she decides it might be best if she was to go out there as a 'droid' to deceive and misdirect them. Honey makes her way toward the ship's exist with swiftness while quickly organizing a series of routines which would inhibit involuntary process such as twitching or fidgeting. Anything that makes her seem human. To top off her disguise, locks her elbows into a fixed position in mockery of protocol droids.
ReplyDeleteThe fixed elbows was a design she was never pleased with personally, but she could suffer though it if it meant success. With her disguise ready, she briefly modulates her voice to appear more robotic, before giving a wireless order to the ship for the doors to open. The not-quite-droid shambles down the ramp in order to meet Lutwitz, silently cursing the others for not giving her more information beforehand. But she'd deal with it as best she can.
"GREETINGS. I AM SERVICE DROID H0-N3. HOW MAY I ASSIST?"
ooc: Decided to roll the dice here instead, and seem to have received an apparently /very/ good disguise. Not sure if I should be pleased or not to get so many 6s, so I'll choose to be so. ;P I haven't rolled fast talk or con yet since I don' think I need them quite yet, but I can do so now in order to set an overall tone.
Disguise: 1+6+2+4+6!+6!+6!+2!=33
Lutwitz does not break stride as he ascends the open ramp into the Elysium Pale. Only when he stands mere inches from Honey does he stop to acknowledge her salutation. He does not immediately respond, instead staring down at her, into her eyes.
ReplyDelete"Where is the crew?" he demands, withdrawing a light stick to scan the ship before brushing past Honey. He stomps about, doing a complete run of the interior. He returns to confront Honey, his agitation level high. He's just about to speak when the crew of the Vendetta rush up the ramp, light sticks and blasters raised. Four men wearing the White Suns jumpsuits fan out. Behind them, a strikingly tall woman strides up, cradling a blaster rifle. She flips up the visor on her environmental helmet and looks Honey up and down, then turns toward Lutwitz.
"You're overstepping jurisdiction," states Lutwitz. "Why are you here, Tiora?"
"Recon," says Tiora to her men. They split up to search the ship. "What is this?" Tiora asks, referring to Honey. "It's creeping me out - looks almost human."
Lutwitz sighs condescendingly. "A cyborg, but at this level of implantation, it is more droid than human." Lutwitz cocks his head toward Honey, the tension in his face breaking imperceptibly to all but enhanced visual sensors. "I have encountered a being like this once before - a Kaleesh named Grievous. He commanded an army of droids when I was coming up the ranks of the Army of the Old Republic. His mind had not yet turned cold, as this one apparently has."
"So it's a droid then, sort of," Tiora says with obvious disgust. Her men return, having found the ship otherwise unoccupied.
"I received a call from one of my men at the Med Center," she says, answering Lutwitz' question. "This ship damaged one of mine and killed three of her crew during entry, so when I learned it was here at Rushtown I sent a team to investigate. Two were brutally murdered, and the other was interrogated before being sent out to give me a message."
"And what was the message?" replies Lutwitz.
"They're coming for me next." Honey hears the lie and looks for Lutqitz' reaction. He's looking back at Honey.
"Indeed. So you've come here to do what then? Exact revenge, or get them before they get you?" Lutwitz is mocking Tiora. "I handle planetary security, not you, and just because you failed in your primary mission as gatekeeper, apparently overmatched by this bucket of scrap, does not give you permission to come here."
Tiora does not back down. Instead, she advances toward Lutwitz, actually looking down at the large man. "Don't give me that bureaucratic bantha shit. Who do you think is more valuable to Matok - you or me? You don't think he can find some other Imperial flunky to be chief dickhead?"
Lutwitz' upper lip curls and his chin quivers with rage, but he knows when he is overmatched, surrounded by five raiders, their weapons hovering in his general direction.
"Matok will hear of this," he says with barely restrained anger. He gives Honey a last look and stomps off the ship.
Tiora exhales deeply, then turns her head back to finish her appraisal of Honey. She removes her helmet and sets it on the tactical station and has a seat on the couch in the Lounge. Honey and the men follow.
ReplyDeleteThe imposing woman smooths back a frazzled mass of dirty red hair, revealing deep set lines under her eyes. She radiates a mature beauty born of confidence, or perhaps of a sense of resolve to fate. She is also curvy in ways that would be appealing to men, certainly a useful trait in her less confrontational days before Red Barren.
"Assessment?" she asks one of her men. The shadows cast by the light sticks only augment her aura of authority.
"There's no one else here," he replies. "The ship is without power and not at all spaceworthy. It's amazing it managed to land at all. It's nothing we'd want to try to repair but has potential for salvage."
"Get a note out to the Port. This ship is not to leave Rushtown."
"Now you," Tiora directs to Honey, "Before I tear this ship apart - and know that I will find the secret chambers where all smugglers keep their best contraband - why don't we start with the basics. You don't look like any kind of service droid I've ever sen, and I can only imagine the self loathing needed to tear out your own brain and put a computer in your head. What's your story, and what are you doing on this ship?"
She kept her commlink open, hovered close enough to conversation so that the everyone else was made fully aware of the situation at hand. Personally, she didn't exactly care what happened to this vessel, but she knew that men hiding away were at serious risk. Having been compiling a story and converting into something droid-ish, Honey didn't hesitate in her response. "IN ACCORDANCE TO MY INTERNAL RECORDS, I AM PLEASED TO INFORM YOU THAT I WAS LEGALLY PURCHASED AT-- ERROR: DATA HAS BEEN PURGED. AS A SERVICE DROID, I HAVE BEEN PROGRAMMED TO PERFORM VARIOUS TASKS IN ORDER TO PLEASE MY MASTERS."
ReplyDeleteShe's not sure why she choose to shot everything like that. But she had already set a precedent, so she might as well follow through. Truthfully she was disappointed that the other man was able to spot her as a cyborg instead of a droid. Her clothing didn't exactly show any skin, what could have given it away? Ah, she had forgotten to switch off her breathing regulators and switch to internal oxygen stores. Something to remember next time.
OOC: Droids are notoriously non-humanoid in appearance, with protocol droids most resembling humans. As such, Honey, even in full armor, would be hard-pressed to pass for a droid, unless it was some sort of custom build or pleasure droid. Service droids more often are of the most remedial quality - boxes of bolts. Hence, for an experienced soldier such as Lutwitz it was a straightforward deduction that he made instantly, thanks to your impressive Disguise roll.
ReplyDeleteBIC: Tiora's eyes narrow on Honey. "Call in for the manifest," she orders to one of her men. Then to the others, "Watch her, um, it."
The massive leader of the raiders gets up and performs her own inspection of the ship. Honey hears a procession of tapping and clanking noises from the ship's core. Tiora returns a few minutes later and the guy who called in to the port hands her a datapad. An eyebrow spikes.
"No cargo?" she asks rhetorically. "And that hyperdrive has not been in service for some time, which means you limped in to Red Barren without a job." She waits for a reaction from Honey but gets nothing. "The problem with that story is that there's nothing else in this quadrant of space - no where else to go. SO why get yourself stranded on sublight with no job in the works? That doesn't make sense." She chews her tongue and begins to pace the Lounge.
"Could be smugglers for The Family - my man at the Med Center reported seeing your group return from somewhere with a couple rough-looking locals. It's possible your hyperdrive malfunctioned during the astrogation, you shot off course, the drive failed, and you sputtered into the only system with a port. We assumed you were here on a non-sanctioned run and tried to take you out, but here you are, and now you just want to get off this rock. Yeah, that's what I'd go with in your position."
Tiora seems pleased with herself. She spins round on Honey. "But I don't believe that. The odds are too long that such a twisted thing as fate would bring you to Red Barren, of all places, especially now, when Davika is unearthing some massive gem down in The Hole. No, that's why you're here.
"Huh," she scoffs, "Word has gotten out, boys."
She paused for several secconds, giving the impression of a droid awaiting for new input while processing current data. Determing enough time has passed, she speaks up again at her improvised yell. "THE ELYSYUM PALE IS NOT EQUIPPED TO PERFORM MINING OPERATIONS. THE ELYSYUM PALE HAS AN 84.121% CHANCE OF NOT HAVING STORAGE SPACE FOR A QUOTE "MASSIVE GEM"." That percentage is her actual estimation rather then some bullshit number, she really doubted this ship could hold whatever's being dug for back there.
ReplyDeleteHoney pivots her waist to observe one of the armed men, tilting her head at an awkward angle for normal humans, before turning her attention back towards Tiora while righting herself. "I HAVE BEEN INSTRUCTED TO REQUEST PROPER LEGAL PERMITS FOR YOU TO REVIEW OUR MANIFEST. I HAVE BEEN INSTRUCTED TO REQUEST PROPER LEGAL PERMITS FOR YOU TO REVIEW OUR COMPUTER DATABASE. I HAVE BEEN INSTRUCTED TO CONTACT LOCAL AUTHORITY IF DOCUMENTATION IS NOT PROVIDED. MAY I PLEASE SEE YOU YOUR PERMITS?"
"Of course not," Tiora rebukes. "Davika's gonna need the whole merchant fleet in for this one. You're only here to steal a few samples. Let me guess - the Rebellion, right? That makes the most sense." She's clearly thinking aloud again. "Look, I'm not interested in your politics, but nobody's screwing this up for me." She waves a hand at her men. "We've all given up too much for this to have some rancor's ass of an outfit like the Rebellion to finally show up and torpedo it.
ReplyDelete"And you killed my men, so you gotta pay for that. So tell me where your captain and crew are hiding and we can settle this." She levels her blaster rifle on Honey. "Don't think I have any problem blasting droids."
She tilts her head to the side, "WHY WOULD YOU WISH TO DESTROY ME? I AM A VALUABLE AND FULLY INTACT SERVICE DROID WHICH COST MY MASTERS 50,000 CREDITS TO LEGALLY PURCHASE ME AT- ERROR: DATA PURGED HAS BEEN PURGED. MY MASTERS OF WHICH HAVE ALREADY INFORMED ME THEY WERE VISITING THE MARKETPLACE, AND I SUSPECT HAVE NO REASON TO HIDE."
ReplyDeleteooc: Fast talking, 5D.
4D6 = [4, 4, 2, 6] = 16
1D6.EXTRA(6) = [3] = 3
It should be noted, that Honey is trying to come across as an apparently enslaved cyborg since her droid ruse was so easily foiled. One which cost this seemingly villainous crew of rebel smugglers a lot of money to buy...
Delete"Fifty thousand!" exclaims Tiora. "Boys, this is one hot piece of tin. Hah! Well there's no point in chasing these nerf herders all over town when we can impound this unit and force them to come to us. Take it back to the Vendetta."
ReplyDeleteTiora takes out a vibroblade and etches a note onto the table of the Lounge: GOT YOUR DROID IN BAY 4. COME GET IT
Two of the men sling their blaster and grab Honey under her arms. She's much heavier than they expect, but with considerable exertion they manage to lift her enough to carry her off ship.
OOC: Honey can resist or be taken to the Vendetta. Your call. If you go willingly, Tiora and all of her men take Honey back to their ship. (which will require a new map!)
Tiora leads the way from the Elysium Pale to Bay 4 and the sharply angular twin wedge design of the Vendetta. It is a muscular ship, befitting its captain, as wide as the bulky stock light-freighter Honey had just left and twice as long from bow to stern. It stands half again as tall, with the transparisteel cockpit nested in below the primary hull, immediately behind the open V between the forward booms.
ReplyDeleteThe ramp descends and the group of White Suns and Honey enter the ship. The aft portion of the ship is taken up by a hemispherical cargo bay. In the center of the ship is a common area, with private bunks, a large kitchenette, and another closed area that would likely be the shop/machining room. Armored conduits runs like veins along the ceiling, branching out from the center of the cargo hold to all parts of the ship. A circular stair leads up and down in the core of the common area, to the top-mounted laser cannons and the cockpit below. A relatively modern looking tactical station sits idle to the fore of the common area. Three more White Suns turn to watch as Tiora returns, a humanoid droid included in the party.
"Put a restraining bolt on this one," orders Tiora. Honey cannot recall ever being treated with such lowly disdain. Certainly no one has ever tried to bolt her, and she's not sure how that would affect her cybernetics. One of the crew heads into the machining room.
"Alright," the female captain turns to the three that were with her before, "We're going to the med center to get Seren. If anyone shows up, radio me, then point the cannons at them and tell them to wait until we get back."
With that, Tiora and three of the men leave again. Honey stands inside Vendetta with three remaining crew. They each carry a blaster pistol on the hip and are lightly armored. They appraise Honey but shake their heads, not sure what to make of her.