For our continued adventures.

++Another step, another challenge to overcome. A threat to purge, souls to save.++



To say that Havelburg is experiencing bad weather would be an understatement, yet the small group of pilots makes its way through the heavy dustfall anyway, slowly trudging through ankle-deep sediment. The low hum of the far-off blow drones can barely be heard over the howling wind. Constantly undertaking a staggeringly Sisyphean task, these massive drones do their best to keep the landing pad clear of any built-up dust, blowing the debris down into the lower levels of the city. The hardsuits needed in these conditions make the trek from the nearest elevator no easier. The silhouette of the Dynast’s Embrace becomes more tangible with each thudding step, the floodlights all around struggling to illuminate its vast shape. To remove one’s enviro-helmet in these conditions would be to die, one inhalation enough to fill the lungs with dust and begin a slow and agonizing demise.

Dustfall is the name the inhabitants of Havelburg give to this phenomenon, and it has plagued huge stretches of the planet for the past decade – ever since the Disaster took place. While conditions aren't usually this bad, the Rio Grande and her crew have chosen a particularly poor time to make planetfall and link up with the Dynast's Embrace, a civilian transport and logistics ship that will be working alongside the Grande in an upcoming operation. That operation still lies in the future however, and in the meantime, the group has been tasked to meet with the Dynast's captain, Lyran Stavros. It is here, trudging through the swirling dust on the approach to the ship that we find our group of Lancers.

Please introduce and describe yourselves.

Well within the size range of a normal, unaugmented, human the hardsuit that comes out of Sunder's mech is very clearly of the Mobility suit and couldn't possibly have anyone of even medium height inside it.  Dark gunmetal in color with metal feather like wings that protrude from the back suggest the method of flight this suit is designed to use and stylish lines of dim light glow in key places to highlight it's silhouette unless engaged in stealth activities.

The dustfall doesn't seem to trouble her or the suit at all.  For the entire trip approaching the landing zone the wings stay tucked in tight to the back of the suit while she is walking as a way of acknowledging the difficulties or added risk while flying through such weather.

RT, callsign Rolling Thunder, stoically pushed through the dustfall in the forefront of the rest of the squad, using the casual strength and greater bulk of his heavy hardsuit to blaze a wedge of calmer eddies for some of the others.

The suit's military-pattern grey and brown was already scuffed by flying dust. Sharp contrast to the plain finish of the previous one - may it rest in peace -, this version had two jet-black stripes down the back of his upper arms ('Like your wings, but in reverse,' he'd joked with Sunder and then refused to explain). That and a small plast dog hanging from a chain on his left breast were his only adornments (*).

He looked back to the other four. The face now visible through his scuffed visor was young. Young and impassive - always impassive - with calm blue eyes peering through.

"Why are we doing this again?"

You just knew, watching him move, that he was fit, combat trained and in full health.


OOC: What do we know about the purpose of this meeting in the grand scheme of things? Who send us here: the captain directly? 1st lieutenant Kim maybe?

* = I'm thinking Maya likely bought it for him? It's clearly not a puppy though :)
This message was last edited by the player at 13:22, Tue 19 Mar.

Lieutenant Kim was the one who relayed the task to you, but the request was directly from Captain Stavros. The group hasn't had a whole lot of information as of yet - Stavros would explain upon the group's arrival. Generally, the vibe the group may get is that the mission is more discreet than usual. Why this is the case is unknown as of yet.

“’cause Union pays your med bills and has me by the throat,” came Maya’s matter-of-fact reply. She cocked her head to the side and her wry chuckle rang over the comms. “And probably because someone could use a couple frames to help shovel whatever shit they’re stuck up to their necks in. The usual, you know.”

She trailed a few paces behind RT, taking full advantage of the calm in his wake. When they’d first stepped down the ramp she’d been right there at this shoulder, proudly side-by-side, but as soon as the dire state of things planetside became apparent she’d slipped away behind with a cheeky salute. He was good for it, and she was more than happy to make the most of that generosity.

Her hardsuit had presumably been a pristine white once but was now more towards an ashy grey, pitted and scarred. It was a bastardised bespoke thing, its plates drawn from a handful of different sources, and still retained a number of emblems from her pre-Union days, bearing various scrawlings and kill-markings even after the worst had been excised. Details in dull crimson did enough to keep her from vanishing in the storm, and a sharp-lined helmet that gave away nothing of the face behind it lent her a slightly menacing aspect. She had the air of a bounty hunter to her, or perhaps (heaven forfend!) a pirate. The half-cape certainly helped with that.

“Real question is what kind of job they’ve got needs a squad like ours – and what's changing hands to make it happen.”
This message was last edited by the player at 01:29, Tue 19 Mar.

"I mean, I wouldn't know--I just got here and all that" Came a somewhat chirpy voice over the network.  "But I'm sure the work's going to be really exciting, one way or the other anyway!  It'll be fine!  I'm sure!"

The speaker--having drawn attention to herself was...  Honestly more noticeable in uniform than out of it.  Hair dark as deep space, with bright--almost twinkling red-brown eyes, further accentuated by a pair of thickly framed glasses that nonetheless looked appealing enough.  Ordinarily not quite the most intimidating figure, being barely over five feet and having the willowy figure of a born spacer, she had taken Steps to adapt to the difficulties of a career involving no small amount of action and adventure to simply take a little piece of space with her.  Namely, a seven foot tall Heavy Hardsuit that might better be described as a wannabe Mech than something more reasonable.  It was sturdy enough at least, with plenty of the redundancies expected of someone who's one bad day away from a depressurization accident--habits that were useful on a deathworld like this especially.  If lacking somewhat in grace, it at least had excessive firepower--as the shoulder mounted autocannon and integrated built-in vulcan guns dotting the frame had anything to do with it.

This was something meant to walk into trouble and stay in one piece, even if that trouble came in the form of oversized space monsters suddenly appearing in front of her.  You wouldn't know it though looking at her fresh face and wonder-filled expressions though, currently with the armored faceplate retracted in favor of a clear visor.  "So, what's the story folks?  I sort of got on the first contract I could find that looked reasonably doable, and haven't really had the time to get settled in.  I'm pretty excited actually!  Been waiting to give Starshower a spin, you would not believe how long it took to get things working just right for my baby, and this is a really great opportunity!"
This message was last edited by the player at 01:09, Tue 19 Mar.

"If they've been here for any amount of time, what they're going to need shoveled is all this dust."  Even wearing a hardsuit sealed for operating within a vacuum, Werner was certain the dust would find a way in.  Still, all his tools and explosives likely wouldn't suffer.

"I'm more curious why we're trudging through this dust storm to meet Captain Stavros.  Be a lot simpler to rendezvous in orbit."  His face shield was dark but Werner's voice came strong over the comms.  "We're being sent into a mess of shenanigans, count on that.  You don't send your pilots out like this without skullduggery on the mind."  He sounded more amused than concerned, "Makes me look forward to our meeting with this civilian captain."

Werner pivoted to speaking with the squad's newest addition, "Someone is underselling our job if they gave you the impression of 'reasonably doable' work"  A chuckle crackled over the comms, "We're mostly called in for situations that rank one step down from 'impossible'.  Keeps things interesting that way."

– which he'd answered with a rude gesture and smiling eyes.


"Contracts are for Mercs, Zephyr," the young pilot corrected in a softer voice. He knew all too well what t was like to be surrounded by brand new things on all side. "We – We are Union Forces, so we only go on missions." (A bit of that self-mocking humour tinged his words there.) "Or postings, if that's what you mean?"

---

"Well," RT shrugged armored shoulders with a mild whirr of servo-assists, "At least we know she didn't get kidnapped by rebels this time around?" There was always a bright side, wasn't there?

He gestured All Clear and silently pinged Sunder to see if she could see where the bloody 'lock was better than he could. Visibility was... not the best.


"What were they mining down here anyway, Old Man?" RT had - ah… - questionable taste in nicknames.

OOC: What would the squad know about Havelburg, and The Disaster in particular, if anything?
This message was last edited by the player at 16:10, Tue 19 Mar.

Havelburg is a planet far from Union's core space, a mining world owned and operated by IPS-N. While some may call it a backwater, it nevertheless supports a rare combination of deep-core and orbital mining operations. More related to the Rio Grande's arrival here, the planet also houses a spaceport at its capital, Port Conroy, where ships (including the Grande) can stop to repair and resupply.

Before the Disaster, Havelburg was a tumultuous world with vast jungles and several active volcanoes protruding from great ashen deserts. All of this was spread across a single continent. While the world’s ecosystem never evolved past semi-aware plant life, it had a very diverse range of flora. Now, Havelburg’s jungles are ruined – its plants dying, suffocating, and decaying, turning the jungles into festering swamps of decaying matter. Where Havelburg was once a warm and humid world, temperatures have dropped considerably over much of the surface as its poles have expanded. Life further away from the equator has become all but impossible. While Havelburg is inhabited – mostly by workers, miners, and other IPS-N company representatives – settlements are sparse and few and far between, doubling as mining camps and smelting factories. The few cities sprinkled across the planet are comparatively small and lack the amenities one might expect on the Core worlds. This is especially true since the Ganymede Incident – more commonly known as “the Disaster.”

To talk about Havelburg is to talk about the Disaster – a cataclysm that wracked the planet 10 years ago, changing the lives of the inhabitants in ways that will resonate for many decades to come. It all started when mining station Ganymede 362-5, located in close orbit, suffered a sudden, inexplicable reactor core malfunction. The resulting explosion, coupled with the massive amounts of debris it generated, culminated in a dramatic fallout across the world’s surface. While the initial impacts were the most devastating, minor orbital debris regularly showers the world to this day. For a time, these impacts – coupled with the vast plains of volcanic ash covering Havelburg – enveloped the world in massive dust storms. “Dustfall” has since become a regular occurrence, leading to significant environmental and societal changes over the past years. Eye protection and breathing apparatuses are now as commonplace for Havelburgians as umbrellas might be on worlds where rain regularly falls . While the Disaster itself spared the major population centers, some still had to be abandoned as a consequence of localized heavy dustfall. These abandoned, ruined places – called “dustgraves” – give off an eerie atmosphere to any who venture into them. Seemingly frozen in time; their buildings and spires still stand, slowly drowning in ever-increasing layers of sediment. While IPS-N subsequently launched a thorough investigation into the Ganymede Incident, the fact that most debris from the station itself burned up in the atmosphere made it night impossible to pinpoint the cause of the malfunction. Regardless, the corpro was heavily fined and has since vastly improved maintenance and safety protocols for all orbital ring mining platforms orbiting Havelburg.

"I've read a number of papers on this planet; pre-and-post Disaster.  Extreme volcanism, habitable biosphere, no extant animal life.  The volcanism is where all the value hides."  Werner began his response to RT; starting in on the long route to answering the given question.  "Havelburg is a very active geological marvel."

"Easily accessible rare metals.  That's what led IPS-N here."  He continued, "Gold, nickel, aluminum, zinc, copper."  Werner ticked them off on the fingers of his suit while he spoke, "Not to mention diamonds.  The volcanoes help bring these valuable minerals towards the surface where they get scooped up by the mining equipment.  All the raw resources that our highly technical lives are built on.  From cities and ships to lasers and mechs."

"The mining is just as valuable today as it was before the Disaster."  He gestured at the swirling mix of dust and ash they trudged through, "Of course this mess has done a number on the habitability of the planet.  Between this and Union breathing down their necks over safety standards, IPS-N is going to have a lower profit margin."  The shrug was audible, "Kill one biosphere and now no one trusts you to handle your own safety regulations."

"Not sure how our machines are going to hold up if we have to operate them in a severe ashfall.  Suppose we'll find out in the near-future, won't we?"

Maya had to scoff at that. "Well the jobs they give us are 'only one step down from impossible,' so I'm sure we'll be fine."

Her footsteps slowed as she panned about to take in all the nothing they could see through the storm.

"Fuckin' wild seeing the mess they've made of this place. Back home was mostly lead and iron and things seemed shitty enough off the back of that alone. Guess that's what comes with corpo involvement: they even do ecological disasters big." She sounded more wistful than amused, not that she wasn't amused regardless. "Thought it might be a little nostalgic coming here but right now I'm glad it's not ringing any bells. Always glad to know there's bigger dumps than Killhope out there."

"My heart bleeds," RT confirmed, not pausing in his buffeting advance, strapped shotgun swaying rhythmically on his armored back… "Got to be hell for the civilians though." Sombering.


RT's ears perked up. She'd rarely spoken about that part of her life, before they'd gotten together. To just volunteer info-

"Orbital-ring smelters might be more your beat, Vee?" he guessed. "Killhope was asteroid mining, right?" *

OOC: Or do I mis-remember that?
OOC2: Speaking of, is the Rio docked with (one of) the orbital ring(s) maybe, or on her own orbit?
This message was last edited by the player at 16:23, Wed 20 Mar.

The Rio Grande is planetside at the spaceport, as is the Dynast’s Embrace.

"Speaking as someone who spent much of her youth in that business, Space mining and smelting really isn't the panacea some people think it is."  Zephyr chimed in.  "Most rocks are silicates and carbon, with the occasional ball of water.  If that's all you need then you're just fine, but if you're looking for anything in particular, it's like looking for a needle in the middle of a dark void in space--except you'll die an awful death if anything goes wrong."  She takes another glance around the landscape.  "I mean, compared to that, this place is positively pleasant!  Just a good filter mask and some properly insulated innerwear and you're A-OK!"  Her hardsuit's arm pivoted up, the hand stretched into the universal sign to match her remarks.

"I mean, sure, it's a shame if things go wrong, and you shouldn't do that if you can get around it, but space mining really isn't a miraculous panacea unless the place you're setting up your claim in is Weirdly rich.  Even a place like this is definitely better than Space."

Light: "You're doing it again." Talking with Gert was sometimes like switching channels and falling on a random 'program already in progress' -- or maybe some random entry in an omni-log?
This message was last edited by the player at 15:43, Thu 21 Mar.

“And there’s nothing wrong with that,” Maya added pointedly. “Don’t recall you jumping down Werner’s throat a couple seconds ago when he was doing the same.”

She gave RT one last look with a little weight behind it, hands on her hips, or closest thing she could manage without her face on show – lay off the new blood.  She knew he didn’t mean anything by it but still … boundaries. It gave her a chance to seem the responsible one for a change too, and maybe even score some points of her own.

Maya sidled up alongside Gertrude, her body language relaxed and easy. She’d have had her hands in her pockets if the hardsuit only came with them. “I’ll have to take you word on - all that.” She gestured vaguely, lack of understanding clear. “Not my field even if I know a thing or two about making it out in the black. Plenty of ways to die out there, and there's only so many things worth cracking open if you’re out to make a living. Always pays to be careful.” Maya huffed a laugh. “Still not sure I’d call this place pleasant though.”


She threw her attention back RT’s way with an exaggerated shrug, picking the conversation back up as if she'd never dropped it. “Eh, I doubt orbital'd be any different. I was terrestrial, and I didn't spend all that long starside before well...” Her right hand rose, its aspect a pistol, to aim at his head. A pop of her lips marked the retort.

That familiar twist crept back into his voice: "He's too far gone to fix, Vee."

It usually took a lot to ruffle RT's feathers, granted, but now, in the last two weeks, it seemed almost positively impossible to get him angry or above barely-annoyed. About anything.

He tended to grin a lot too. (His version of it anyway)


Which the young pilot missed entirely since he'd been concentrating on making way forward.

He did look around at the sound though, and then up at her pistol-hand, puzzled. "Before you... killed the best thing that ever happened to you?" he mildly inquired.
This message was last edited by the player at 14:28, Fri 22 Mar.

Silenced stretched between them, not to the point of awkwardness but still too long to be missed. With Maya's face concealed it made it difficult to work out how his words had landed, let alone why. Then she spoke and made the former clear.

"No." Firm, incredulous. "Before I got my hands on a gun, stupid. Where'd that idea even come from?"

That pause though...

RT gestured. "Sorry?" For not understanding what this is about? He turned back around, black stripes evident on the back of his arms, and resumed trudging after Sunder's pushed coordinates, towards the Embrace's boarding ramp (Ladder? Stairs?). In a lighter tone: "You did shoot me first though, just so you know."

"Shooting your squaddies is a team-building exercise.  Like trust falls and Secret Santa."  Werner interjected, "Live-fire training for friendly fire incidents.  All these doom-lasers and missile barrages shooting every which way, we can't always be certain who is in the blast radius."  He paused, "Of course, that was the OpFor doing the friendly kills in our last mission, so good on them for that."

"And abount being too far gone to fix..."  Werner's face shield was opaque but the grin was audible, "They started calling me 'Fossil' for more reason than one, I'll have you know.  I think Old Man just didn't have enough oomph behind it."  He chuckled, "You think teaching an old dog is hard, try a dinosaur."

"So did they tell us whether this was a diplomatic, best-behavior kind of meeting?"  It appeared they had arrived, "Should have put on a suit and tie under this hardsuit.  Oh well, the civvie captain is probably expecting a group of ruffians if we have any sort of reputation at all."
This message was last edited by the player at 23:31, Sat 23 Mar.

Backtracking a bit:

"See?" RT told Maya with a laughing ping Werner's way. Plus, he'd asked *Werner* a question: Can't really blame a mine for exploding when you go out of your way to step on it, now can you...?

And, about Gertrude... You're too easy on her, said his eyes, if not unkindly.

Not that he really cared or anything.

---

RT 'frowned', trying to figure it out even as as his gaze patrolled through the dust wiping around him and the others...

Still a lot he didn't understand about her. She about him... They never had finished that conversation...

Oh.

He'd just joked about dying again, hadn't he?

... Ah Crap.

Foot in mouth. Insert up to knee.


Yeah. Distracted by his other thoughts. "I was pretty ruthless there at the end wasn't I...?" By which the others - those that had been there anyway - knew he meant Red.

Thinking about it didn't lighten his mood any: the things that had to have happened to turn him into Me... *


"We're armed," RT pointed out, one feet finally clanking onto the composites of a rising ramp he could barely see. That meant business.

He triggered general comms: "Dynast's Embrace, Blue Immortals on your boarding ramp." **


* = I'm thinking RT would likely have already discussed/mentioned this with Werner in a getting-pissed session, away from Maya if that's alright with you Werner? Sunder can have been there too/overheard if she wants. (He won't have brought it up to Maya on his own, although he would have done his best to discuss it honestly if she did... Some complex feelings there.)

** = Correct me, I dare you :D (Seriously though: will swap-in anything else we agree on; I'm thinking Maya might not be too happy with 'Immortals' maybe?). Or react to it IC, as you will
This message was last edited by the player at 14:51, Sun 24 Mar.

A gruff voice replies over the comms.

"Roger that, I'll open her up."

The door to the Dynast's airlock opens up, allowing the group to make their way inside. The Dynast’s Embrace, despite its haughty name, amounts to no more than a cargo hauler and merchant vessel, dealing in both raw materials and luxury goods. Its captain, Lyran Stavros, is a big, gruff-looking man who greets the group the moment they step through the ship’s airlock, albeit with a dejected look on his face. His reddish hair is unkempt and he wears a battered-looking flight suit with what appears to be coffee stains on it.

"Welcome to the Dynast's Embrace. I'm Captain Stavros. Pleased to meet you."

Stavros gestures for the group to follow him into the ship, ushering them into a cramped conference room with barely enough space to fit everyone. The Embrace has a lived-in feel, and coffee is silently brewing in a corner as a small orange feline sits in another, observing the newcomers with three vertically-arrayed eyes.

Stavros sits down at the small table with a grunt, offering the group seats around it. With a sigh, he begins to outline the current situation.

"The original plan for us and the Rio Grande was to be leaving and on our way within the next 24 standard hours. Unfortunately, our departure has been postponed indefinitely. I am aware that this is a breach of our agreement between us and the Grande, but there have been..." He hesitates here and inhales sharply, "... extenuating circumstances. I've made the Grande aware that I am willing to find another ship to accompany them, but I am also aware that we are on a relatively accelerated schedule."

The more perceptive members of the group may notice the captain's clenched hands start to shake as he recounts the next section.

"I'm sure you may be wondering why my ship can't leave, and why you were sent over from  the Grande. That would be because she... our shipboard NHP, Emily, was kidnapped from the ship. I... I wanted to ask you to help find her. Your reputation preceded you, and I figured that if anyone here could find her, people with your skillsets would be the ones to ask. Assuming you are willing to help, I have the vid-feed of it from the security cams, if you need it."

Having left her hard suit in the cargo compartment near the main boarding ramp Sunder accompanies the captain to the conference room in the form of the hologram projecting drone, thus reducing the cramped nature of the room a bit.

Although u concerned by the change in plans Sunder's hologram leans forward in a very good reproduction of intrigued body language to address the captain's problem.

"I can process that for you if it can be put on a portable drive."

RT politely cracked his suit, rounded helm folding back and up with a hiss of equalizing pressure, freeing most of his head to the ship's recycled air. The dog swayed on its horizontal chain.

"Rolling Thunder." He shook the captain's hand, armored grip firm but no more. "You can call me RT." And then he just stepped back.


If Sunder doesn't introduce herself (as seen probable ;) ), he'll add at the end:
"Sunder, our resident tech specialist."

Maya freed herself from her helmet just the same, running hand through the mess it'd made of her hair ... and only succeeding at turning it into a completely different mess. She didn't seem all that bothered either way.

"Vost, Maya," she announced herself with a nod (and no further pleasantries). Her free hand gestured Sunder's way. "So I know it'll be on the tape, but how'd someone pull off lifting an NHP like that? Sounds like a hell of a security breach."
This message was last edited by the player at 23:28, Sun 24 Mar.

Stavros nods to each group member as they introduce themselves. He runs his hand through his hair as he replies to Maya's question.

"That's the thing. It wasn't someone, it was something. One of the spaceport maintenance subalterns - the same as the ones working on any of the other ships - just walked into here and cut her casket out of the ship. I'll show you, just give me a second."

Stavros leans over and taps at a console built into the table. A projector activates in the center of the table, showing grainy, soundless footage as the lights in the conference room dim slightly to allow for better viewing.

"I'll send it to Sunder as well," Stavros says, "but I'm sorry, I have to leave for a bit. I don't think I can watch this again. I'll come back in once it's over."

The projector plays. The feed starts with the subaltern working amongst similar models away in the engine room, calibrating, scanning, and adjusting machinery before seemingly becoming startled as if called by someone. It ceases work and, with jerky motions, exits the engine room. The subaltern is bulky, with stumpy legs and three arms outfitted with various tools, plasma cutters, pneumatic shears, and rivet cannons. It enters the corridor leading to Emily’s casket chamber. A holographic projection appears in front of the subaltern, seemingly questioning it. The bulky automaton barrels through the projection, distorting it for a moment before Emily reforms in its wake, visibly startled. As the subaltern continues to move toward the casket chamber, the bulkhead protecting slams down, likely triggered by Emily herself to stop it. Faced with the obstacle, the subaltern engages its fusion cutters and steadily dismantles the bulkhead. Emily stands behind it and appears to shout at it. It takes the subaltern five minutes to dismantle the shutter and free the doorway. Inside the chamber Emily has positioned her projection in front of her casket, arms outstretched as if to stop the machine. Once more the subaltern barrels through, distorting the projection
for a moment. It employs pneumatic shears to disconnect Emily’s casket, each disconnected coupling making Emily’s hologram – now aghast and on her
knees – more and more transparent. As the last coupling is sheared apart Emily vanishes. The subaltern removes the casket, almost gingerly, and strides out of the chamber, prize in hand. The remaining footage shows it exiting the ship, corridor by corridor, before stepping out onto the dust-choked space port and disappearing in the haze.

Stavros returns once the feed concludes, and his distress is plain to see. He sits back down and puts his head in his hands for a moment, then starts to speak again, fury starting to build in his voice.

"I initially tried to speak to the Port Conroy Port Authority, but they didn't do anything. They just sent some of their goons when I called them, but they just shrugged their shoulders and moved on, saying there was 'nothing they could do at that time.' The Dynast's Embrace isn't an IPS-N chartered vessel, and I was a dumbass and didn't buy into the Havelburg security insurance before landing here. Bastards still charged me for showing up and shrugging their shoulders, though."

Stavros sighs again, and seems to almost shrink in his chair.

"It's been eight hours. The crew and I had left for Lower Conroy when this happened. We had a long journey here... we thought we could relax. God, she... she called us over the Omninet when it happened. Said something was wrong, then cut out into static. We called the PCPA and tried to get back, but between the elevators and the damned hardsuits, we couldn't make it."

"Hold up.  They just walked right in, spent the better part of five minutes carving in...  And she only got a chance to give a shout before getting cut off?"  Zephyr asked, a moment after her visor popped open.  "That doesn't really add up, you had someone who apparently had your system by the throat, and they didn't bother cleaning up after themselves?  Good enough to cut off your communications and just walk in and carve Miss Emily out of there, but they left evidence that this happened behind?"

Her lips purse together, and she frowns.  "That smacks of someone trying to play games.  Is it supposed to be bait?  Or is this proof of ransom?  I mean, I'd give it a crack myself on the off-chance they left something behind because they were getting fancy--but I'm not really a specialist in the field either."

Her Hardsuit's arms cross together, her mind wandering while she mulled the whole thing over.  "Real problem is what they're hoping to gain out of this.  If they wanted to screw you over in particular, they could have done a lot worse than this.  If they just wanted to kidnap her for some reason, they should have better covered their tracks.  Is it bait for a trap or are they going to make a ransom demand next."

She pauses then, and seems to snap out of her verbal contemplations. "Oh!  Right, Zephyr here"  Her Hardsuit gives a little wave--which looks a little awkward given its bulk admittedly, but it's the thought that counts.  "I'm just sort of the rookie here, I'm just trying to lay my thoughts out while the specialist gets to work on this!"

The hologram of Sunder shakes her head sadly as she recording players out.  When it is done the projector drone appears to settle in her outstretched hand as an offering to the captain as she explains.

"This is another example of the problems inherent in not allowing an NHS to manage their own safety.

If you would like I can use this drone to connect directly to your systems and see if there are any other hidden cashes of information left behind, or explanations for the communications blackout that happened so suddenly."

"Not that the evidence here gives us much to go on."  Werner's face shield retracted into the hardsuit once they were inside, but he kept the full suit on.  He rubbed the side of his helmet after viewing the abduction tape.  "It looks pretty clear to me that some off-site hacker took control of that maintenance unit.  It had to be someone who knew that the crew was off-ship at the time too; that subaltern wouldn't have been able to stand up to even civilian grade weaponry for long.  Those things aren't built to fight."

"Their tracks seem pretty well covered to me."  Werner responded to Gertrude, "A faceless maintenance subaltern was hacked from offsite.  They struck during a dust storm so the unit won't leave any tracks to follow.  No one was here to witness or intervene in the abduction; and this recording tells us that they don't care we know they are capable of taking control of machinery for nefarious purpose."  He nodded, "Abducting Emily looks like the entire purpose here.  I think someone is out to kidnap NHPs."

"The Port Authority likely doesn't care, because of their protection racket...or 'Security Insurance' anyway."  He scoffed, then continued, "But I doubt they would abduct an NHP in retribution.  They don't want to get into that kind of trouble with Union."  Werner crossed his arms, "IPS-N is another big player around here, but abducting NHPs isn't their style.  And it's doubtful they would have Dynast's Embrace even on their radar.  So we're looking for a person or group new and unknown around here.  Who has resources and technical prowess."  He turned to Sunder, addressing her holo-projection, "You've used HORUS code to take control of enemy machines on the battlefield.  Think what was employed here is similar?"

"We may need to canvass the port and ascertain whether other ships have had similar problems."

Stavros's face shows another emotion, somewhere between anger and pained acknowledgement of his failure. His jaw works, but he only agrees to let you have a look around the ship's systems. If you do, unfortunately not much is apparent from here. The hacker was either good enough to cover their tracks, or something else was interfering with communications. What may strike you as most likely is that Emily attempted to stop the subaltern herself, then contacted the rest of the crew only when it was apparent that there was no other option.



"There's a few ways you could go about that, plus being able to try to track down a lead," Stavros adds, "at least that I can think of. Creighton's Printshop is where the subalterns are from - you could apply some pressure and see if something cracks. The Dustmarket in Upper Conroy could also provide some answers. Maybe whoever abducted Emily pawned her casket off? You could also ask Juan Tismon - He's an old friend of mine, runs the local Garfield's in Lower Conroy. He knows a lot about what's going on here."

From his now-usual spot next to Maya RT raised a hand for attention: "Excuse me. She does seem to be important to you." She did, didn't she? "But because of that, wouldn't a PI be more your speed, sir?" the young soldier inquired, feeling a bit out of his depth. "I mean, they clearly didnt come in here with mechs..."

(And what was it with kidnapping people these days? Some sort of fashion trend? )
This message was last edited by the player at 12:45, Tue 26 Mar.

Stavros nods at the question.

"She is. Very much so. But PI's aren't exactly common, and Port Conroy can be a hostile place. It seemed to me that an available team of Lancers with a history of finding and bringing back missing people was the best option I had."

Stavros pauses for a moment and wrings his hands, staring at the table. He looks back up at the group before continuing.

"Look, I know I'm asking a lot. But I'm willing to do whatever it takes to help you get Emily back from whoever took her. I'll pay for your stay, your mechs, any expenses you accrue, anything. Just get her back. Please."

"We also can't discount that Dynast's Embrace was targeted because of its upcoming mission with the Rio Grande."  Werner added.  "That makes this a Union problem; and by extension, ours."

"Looks like it's time to get our detective hats on."
This message was last edited by the player at 22:45, Mon 25 Mar.

Oh. So the man was grasping at straws.

AND they were cursed.

In reply to Werner Steinn (msg # 34):

A sideways nod to Werner - good point there.

Sympathy on RT's face and body when he turned back to Stavros, for those who could read it there... Not unkindly: "So you told Rio and Captain Farris about the kidnapping then. They are aware?"

He simultaneously pushed a message to Kim, Farris and Rio: How much effort should we put into recovering the kidnap victim? By which he meant How important is this to Rio...

He'll share the response with the rest of the squad.
This message was last edited by the player at 14:15, Tue 26 Mar.

Stavros clasps his hands together and nods.

"They are."

Rio's reply comes in quickly, the digital message playing in your HUD.

++ Do whatever you need to do. Even aside from the kidnapping, a missing NHP is a problem that needs to be dealt with ASAP. I can hold down the fort on the Grande, have Garcia and his marines keep boots on the ground in case someone shows up here in the meantime. But you keep focus on finding Emily. ++

That wasn't as long an answer as RT was expecting, obviously.

He'd just started opening his mouth for more when Rio's reply came in.

(...)

"Looks like they're treating it like a possible attack," RT summarized for the others. He fired back a short confirmation ping Rio's way. "Posibly serial? It... It seems more personal to me, but..."

But he'd been wrong before. Lots of times...

What if it wasn't?

Should we warm other NHPs on planet? he pushed back to Rio.

Meanwhile this had acquired a brand new urgency. For him at least.

Right: "So what do we do now?" This wasn't his field - at all - but... heck: "Maybe the subalterne's the easiest way to go here...?" They did have Werner and Sunder on the team, as a steady look to both of them confirmed...
This message was last edited by the player at 22:30, Tue 26 Mar.

Rio quickly sends another message back, the text scrolling in the corner of your field of view.

++ I don't think we should raise alarm bells just yet. We don't know for sure if there are other cases happening - this is a precaution. Keep it in the back of your head though, just in case. ++
This message was last edited by the GM at 22:55, Tue 26 Mar.

“Well I’d say that depends…” Maya began, turning her attention back to Stavros.

“You mind filling us in about those places we should look up: Printshop, Duskmarket, Garfield’s?” She ventured over folded arms. Her thoughts were on clear display: why am I having to drag this out of you? “Doesn’t sound like we’ll have much time to case them ourselves, so I don't want to just go in blind. Better to have the right person asking the right questions, you know?"

Stavros agrees, apologizing for not filling you in on Port Conroy (his mental state hasn't been the best, and he had expected the Grande's crew to fill you in).

The city of Port Conroy is split into three main sections: Lower Conroy, Upper Conroy, and the Surface.

Bustling and sprawling, Lower Conroy is dug deep into Havelburg’s bedrock. Vast subterranean chambers and corridors, streets, and even parks, are all constantly illuminated by pale floodlight suns installed in the ceilings. Administered and supervised by IPS-N, Lower Conroy is undoubtedly the safest, cleanest, and most environmentally secure place on Havelburg since the Disaster. Even so, it doesn’t hold a candle to the amenities and services available in the heart of Union space. Connected to the various launch and landing pads on the surface via ultrafast elevators, it has become a maze of corridors and hallways. Once a glorified compound for warehouses, manufacturing plants, and smelters, it has evolved into a city with over three million inhabitants. Most people whose settlements became dustgraves found refuge in Lower Conroy’s cavernous halls, quadrupling the city’s population in just a few years after dustfall became commonplace. While this transitional period posed many problems, the people of Havelburg showed remarkable unity in the face of a crisis. This, coupled with generous IPS-N funding and material support, has stabilized the situation for the population.

Upper Conroy is Lower Conroy’s opposite. Built close to and on the surface of the planet, it lacks the environmental protection needed to withstand the near-constant dustfall. While some people still live here, they are few and far between and usually have their own reasons for doing so – often tied to the fact that law enforcement has long since abandoned the upper layers of the city, leaving a vacuum filled by gangs and criminals. Not quite a dustgrave, the oppressive external environment nevertheless makes itself known throughout the upper levels. Going outside without a breathing apparatus is all but impossible and streets are often blocked off by dunes of dust, constantly reshaping the layout of Upper Conroy. Having fallen into disrepair over the past decade, most elevator shafts connecting the upper levels have long since broken down. They can still be accessed via various maintenance shafts and hatches which, while nominally locked and sealed, are too numerous to permanently secure. While the buildings of Upper Conroy are slowly crumbling under ever-growing amounts of dust, it has become home to Port Conroy’s criminal “Upper underworld”. This is partly due to its proximity to the surface-level spaceport, its landing and launch pads just above Upper Conroy, as well as its de facto status as a lawless zone. This has encouraged smugglers to offload their merchandise here, where it is either stored to be picked up by different ships or distributed directly and discreetly throughout the city. If you’re looking for anything illicit on Havelburg, chances are you can probably find it in Upper Conroy.

The Surface is just that – those external parts of Port Conroy originally designed as a spaceport. Landing and launchpads stretch on for miles over an enormous flat plane constantly patrolled by blow drones, their large frames outfitted with oversized fans, perpetually working to clear the spaceport of any dust that might impede the constant stellar traffic. While this ensures that the flow of ships is never disrupted, it also compounds the problems of Upper Conroy, which receives the runoff cleared from the spaceport premises. With ships and freighters coming and going every day, Port Conroy has, despite the hardships of recent years, maintained its status as an important economic asset for IPS-N’s mining branch. Overseen directly by the PCPA, the spaceport is technically a different jurisdiction to Lower Conroy and is often seen as somewhat stricter. In addition to providing law enforcement, the PCPA governs all traffic to and from orbit, as well as the convoys that bring resources from all over the planet. If Port Conroy is the heart of Havelburg, its surface-level facilities and the PCPA are what make it beat in the first place.

Locations (That you/Stavros would know about) by District:

Lower:

Garfields - : Interplanetary chain restaurant pretending not to be. Mainly known for its variety of fusion pasta dishes. This franchise is owned by Juan Tismon, who was a miner and prospector in a previous life.

Upper:

Dustmarket - Gray- and black-market bazaar. Vendors wrap themselves in flimsy enviro-tents to protect themselves and their wares from the near constant dust showers. Almost anything can be found here, including milspec gear.

Outskirts - The dilapidated outskirts of Upper are in even worse shape than the rest of it due to greater exposure to the environment.

Surface:

The Tower - The Tower: Headquarters of the PCPA; the nerve center of Port Conroy’s vast surface spaceport.

Dynast’s Embrace - The ship that was supposed to accompany the Rio Grande off Havelburg, currently stranded on its launchpad after the abduction of its NHP.

Creighton’s Printshop - : Extensive printing facility, usually used in the repair of ships; it offers its services to private individuals as well. Does some shady business right under the PCPA’s nose, supplying Upper Conroy with whatever printed parts they require to keep their machinery operational.
This message was last edited by the GM at 00:18, Wed 27 Mar.

"Sounds like we have a few options to search for leads.  The printshop and the Dustmarket both sound promising."  Werner looked around the squad, "I say we split into two groups and check out both.  Meet at Garfield's when we're through to share what we found and get some noodles; then see if Captain Stavros' friend Juan can help while we're there."

"They say investigating is all about the legwork, don't they?"
This message was last edited by the player at 07:59, Wed 27 Mar.

Hm. By his looks RT sort of disagreed with that... A lot actually.

A quick glance at Stavros. Didn't feel quite right to speak about it in mixed company... But this was important, damn it.

Not looking very comfortable. "I don't know, I sort of disagree with that?" RT gestured, "I mean they've got to know we're going to be looking for them, right? So no disadvantages in having other NHPs on high alert if they're done kidnapping people, and *every* disadvantage if they're not done..."  Right?

Was he crazy?

---

A hand on the back of Maya's shoulder: "What do you think, Vee? Print shop?"

They were going together, obviously, wherever it was.
This message was last edited by the player at 17:29, Wed 27 Mar.

Rio sends another reply, the text continuing to stream through your field of view.

++ I will warn the other NHPs, but 'lighting the beacons' and putting out a large-scale warning could alert the culprit and cause them to flee before you get a chance to find them. This is a situation I'd like to avoid. ++
This message was last edited by the GM at 14:38, Wed 27 Mar.

As the little drone disconnects from the ship's systems Sunder's hologram returns to its more animated presentation, rather than the pensive semi static and focused facial expression it has had for the last minute or so.

”It looks like we won't find anything else here, if we are going to split into groups I doubt I will be of any use in the market place so I should go with the group headed for the print shop.”

So... "I guess we're going low-key for now until the threat's confirmed." One way or another.

Maybe not the way he'd have gone, but then he wasn't Command, was he.

Back to business.


"So how did they do it, Sun-Sun?" RT inquired, curious. "How'd they take over the sub?" he specified with a blink when Sunder just looked at him.
This message was last edited by the player at 14:37, Thu 28 Mar.

Maya didn’t exactly jump at the idea. She gave RT a look of muted surprise – not shock or disappointment but a vague non-verbal huh – and shrugged after a moment. A real whatever. “Could do, I guess. If that’s where you want me.”

That apathy clearly didn’t suit her though, or maybe it was his suggestion that rankled. Either way he could see her ill-concealed restlessness, the way her jaw worked with words she was still chewing. Her thoughts always had been loud, and RT had more experience than most when it came to reading her tells. She wasn't going to be able to just let that rest.

“I’m thinking I should probably go Dustmarket though,” Maya mused. “Not that I don’t trust any of you to look out for yourselves, but topside sounds a proper mess. Much as I’d like to say that makes it my kind of place … eh, I’d miss it if I could. Still doesn’t mean I like the idea of sending someone else to handle that when it might as well be me.” She huffed a stilted laugh. “Hate to hear the old man got jumped because I let him get stuck with the dirty work, you know”
This message was last edited by the player at 02:10, Fri 29 Mar.

"I'd hate to get jumped too, now that I have a bowl of spicy noodles to look forward to."  Werner replied.  "I've done my share of business with Black Market types, and I've realized that my currency is more readily accepted than my questions."  He nodded, "I think Maya the best suited here to fit in and get information."

"That puts Sunder and me on the Printshop."  It wasn't too far away even, according to the holo-map of the port Werner had downloaded, "Of course, chances are that the place is just as dangerous as the Dustmarket if it did have anything to do with the abduction.  Might not have paid guards, but I would be surprised to find there were no automated defenses.  Maybe civilian robots modified for combat.  Giant grabbing and smashing limbs...torches made into flamethrowers, mining drills and digging lasers..."  Werner trailed off for a moment.  "Well, now I'm rearing to go and see this Printshop for myself!"

He caught himself, then turned to Gertrude, "Suppose it's your choice which team you want to join.  Let me sweeten the deal; if you come to the Printshop and I get you involved in a running laser battle with robots, drinks are on me."
This message was last edited by the player at 13:05, Fri 29 Mar.

" Uh..."  Gertrude murmured, doing her best to follow along with the discussion.  "Yeah, I'll admit, definitely at a bit of a loss here.  I can do some basic maintenence stuff and all that, and if you dropped me in the middle of deep space I'd probably make a good show of it until supplies ran dry, but this kind of investigation's a bit ouf of my wheelhouse.  But...  Uh, I guess the robots?  That's at least less out of my experience than anything else here, I guess?"

The possibility of a gunfight didn't seem to occur to her at the time, for better or for worse.

Hm... RT considered that -- squashing down a remark about wanting Maya in... a variety of places...

Then he finally shook his head. No.

"If we're expecting resistance at *either* places, then we shouldn't split up." It was that simple. "Unless we want to risk becoming 'over-extended'?"

A significant look Maya's way on that last part there... What do you think?
This message was last edited by the player at 17:33, Fri 29 Mar.

"I wouldn't say I'm expecting resistance."   Said Werner, "More like wishful thinking.  To be honest, the Printshop does too much business with independent and corporate captains to risk trying anything.  I'm sure IPS-N would love to have a legal excuse to shut it down and install their own printers."  He shrugged, "I don't really expect to find more than an order for a specific subaltern from an anonymous client.  But we'll just have to see."

“Don’t know what you’re looking at me for,” came Maya’s barbed retort. She did of course but that was besides the point. “I’m not chancing it alone, so if you’re having second thoughts then that’s that. Makes no difference how I feel.”

She said it with more bluntness than spite. Simple arithmetic: if they weren’t going to be two then they’d be five.

"What has-" RT's mouth worked on air a bit, jaw tighter than before – what had that got to do with- Of course it-

Breathing in… Breathing out. "Excuse us for a second?"

Sweeping his better half towards the corridor: We - We need to talk, right?

OOC: Follow-up soon-ish :)

The both of them retreated a little ways into the corridor outside the meeting room… Though not quite far enough that some snatches of heated conversation couldn't be overheard:

'Asking because I want'

'Weren't bothered before'

'-king of *them* going'

'*can* do this'

Silence…

Then the pair came back in, Thunder in the lead... "I *may* have been overthinking things." May, with a glance back towards Maya. He shrugged, settling into the idea now that the decision was made: "We'll be going to the Market."

Behind him Sardine looked smug.

She may not have cared overmuch either way – and she really, really didn't. But she'd won, so the day wasn't entirely wasted.

As worked out with Maya :)
This message was last edited by the player at 13:41, Sun 31 Mar.

Before departing, RT turned to captain Stavros: "Can you check with…" He'd forgotten the name in all the excitement, "Your friend at the Garfield while we do that, sir? Report it back to us."

That could save them some time, maybe give them leads they could follow right then and there at the Shop or at the Market?

Seemed like a good idea anyway. Gave the man something to do as well.

OOC: He'll share comm info with the captain so they can have a channel.

---

On their way over to the Market (in some sort of rental/public transport?), through the comms: "Tell us about her." By which he meant Emily, of course… "Anything might help."

OOC: He's looking to see if there's anything special about her a kidnapper might want (data or special capabilities maybe? Connections to Dark Ops or special projects?)
I'm thinking everybody in the squad should be able to hear this if they want to
This message was last edited by the player at 13:24, Mon 01 Apr.

The comms crackle to life as Stavros's voice come through.

"Emily has been with us for a long time now. We're both a bit of an outcast - my sponsors wanted to get rid of her, so she was attached to the Embrace when I got it. Emily has some... quirks. I suspect it's something to do with her subjectivity mask and how she's shackled. But she's part of the crew, and none of us would want her any different. She's old, and needs to by cycled more than should be the norm, but she does her job and is reliable. And now... she's gone."

Stavros's voice breaks at the end of his speech, and he cuts the commlink for a moment before reestablishing it.

"I'll send Juan a message to expect you. I can't promise that I'll be able to put him in touch with you via comms - the different city layers can interfere with them, so your best bet would be to meet him in person."

---

The Dustmarket is Port Conroy’s worst-kept secret, a vast bazaar located in Upper where most of everything is for sale. The various vendors and their stands are protected by environmental tents, as the dust buildup would likely ruin their wares otherwise. It is located centrally in Upper Conroy, which means the group will have to access one of the maintenance elevators that still connect the three layers of the city – Lower, Upper, and Surface. Lyran, who has spent time on Havelburg before, can provide the group with an access code to facilitate their travel.

Those visiting Upper will need to wear hardsuits or sealed breathing masks. The constant dust buildup on this level of the city makes breathing without either hazardous at best, usually resulting in choking then, finally, suffocation.

Dustmarket itself is spread out over several alleyways and plazas. The various stalls that make up the market are covered by enviro-tents, most of them transparent so potential customers can make out the wares on offer, though the dust sometimes obscures the view. Small air filters hum next to each, simultaneously inflating the tents and allowing for a breathable atmosphere within.

RT and Maya are free to roam the Dustmarket, mingling with the hardsuit-clad crowd and perusing the various things on offer. While some goods offered in the stalls are legal, most wares are of questionable legality on Havelburg or even within Union at large. From firearms outlawed on most worlds to stims, the Dustmarket has it all.

OK...

RT remained composed. Composed but inexorable: "Let me be blunt, sir: do you have anything to do right now that would help Emily more than going to visit your friend in person?" If comms were that bad.

Also, and come to think of it, this wasn't good news in case either one of the groups needed backup fast...

---

Maya and RT rode down towards Upper in what looked like an old cargo elevator -- stupidly large for the purpose, rusty, and given to showering dust on them from up high whenever it juddered its complaints. Oh and it was slooow.

"Nothing but the best for my lady," summarized the young pilot.

"So don't keep us in suspense, Vee. What did you think of the whole thing?" he mildly inquired. Which was likely the equivalent kicking a one-way mine in a random direction, but hey - you only lived once.

OOC: Despite the "us" there, I'm imagining this as a private, voice-only conversation?
This message had punctuation tweaked by the player at 23:32, Mon 01 Apr.

Stavros explains that he is bogged down by having to deal with the PCPA and other authorities in the wake of the abduction. He would be out investigating, but he has to stay behind to deal with this.

OOC: The module doesn't go into detail on what is keeping him from investigating. I'm assuming the angle that he would go himself, but something bureaucratic and suitably restrictive is keeping him in place for the time being, which is part of the reason he is hiring the group.
This message had punctuation tweaked by the GM at 13:03, Tue 02 Apr.

Maya didn’t turn to meet the question. To an unfamiliar eye she might have looked closed off, resting back on her heels with her helmet tight under her arm, but RT would know better. She’d been scanning the walls from the moment they stepped in the elevator, taking in the years of crude words and cruder images carved into the rusting metal. If her fleeting expressions were anything to go by she’d been having a good time of it.

Naturally then RT’s intrusion wasn’t entirely welcome. It earned him one of her favourite obscene gestures, but there wasn’t any heat behind it: a playful sort of fuck off.

“Yeah, I’m not going to answer that.” Wry, like she at least got the joke. “Not worth the breath.”

Her hand slipped down by her side, and that could well have been that … except it wasn’t. He’d got her thinking. It was there in the tight line of her lips, the way her focus had drifted down to where the elevator wall met the floor. She’d chanced upon an idea, and given just how plainly she was wearing it there was a fair chance it wasn’t a good one.

Maya looked back, cutting him off with an open palm before he had so much of a chance to speak. Her face said you’re not going to like this but you're going to hear it anyway.

“So I know I said I wasn’t looking for trouble..." the way she drew it out said volumes "...but I’m thinking maybe that might be our best bet. If there’s any kind of trade in NHPs it’s going to be off the street, so only way we find it might be making sure people know we’re looking. Pair of Lancers asking questions is bound to draw some eyes.”

She gave a theatrical shrug. No big deal. “Don’t need to find the seller if they find us first...”

"Same,” he answered, addressing the gesture with a playful jerk of the chin – his mood matching hers for once… Then shrugged at the words themselves: “Would still have liked to hear it anyway?” Teasing her: “Never too late to learn new and colorful words, you know.”

Her lack of enthusiasm for this, her impatience with it, *had* been pretty clear from the get go, hadn't it? Like heat rolling off a nearby generator.

---

A shudder; a shower of dust. The ride went on.

“So your cunning plan is to ask for exactly what we want to know, but as loudly as we possibly can?”

That said, he didn’t sound entirely against the idea either...

Back to Sunder, Werner, and Gertrude...

After a short, dust-covered journey from the Dynast's Embrace, Sunder, Werner and Gertrude arrive at Creighton's Printshop, a sprawling complex connected to the huge central spire that overlooks the Port Conroy spaceport.

Upon your arrival the trio are greeted by various subalterns, with no human workers in sight anywhere. One of the subalterns strolls over to the group, a screen installed on its faceplate displaying the face of the owner, Horton Creighton. This construct is a homunculus - a digital facsimile of the real Horton Creighton, who, as evident by the memorial plaque on a nearby wall, died some time ago. While homunculi aren't real people and have no legal standing on Havelburg, this version of Horton is the legal owner of the printshop due to clever lawyering and gratuitous abuse of legal loopholes. Plus, the digital Creighton is doing a good job running the place and keeping the authorities from seizing the business (which, if the shop’s standards were to ever slacken, they would do in a heartbeat).

Creighton walks up to the group and greets them with an over the top smile and friendly attitude that wouldn't look out of place on a used car salesman.

"Hello travelers! Judging by those hardsuits, you all must be pilots, yes? If you're ever searching for a new frame to work with, IPS-N's state-of-the-art, top-quality units would be perfect for all your needs!"
This message was last updated by the GM at 16:47, Fri 05 Apr.

"You must be Creighton," Werner extended a hand to shake, "And you are right about our status as pilots.  I heard this was THE printshop for Port Conroy, so far I think I heard right."  It was easy enough to fall into the persona of the interested buyer.  Something that wouldn't ring any alarms.

"Glad to hear you're able to support frames, IPS-N designs some solid machines.  I'm curious though whether your shop is capable of printing licensed frames and equipment, or even handling custom orders."  He tapped some commands on his suit's wrist interface and a holoprojection of his custom designed Novel Theory appeared.

"This is a Harrison Arms Sherman, custom designed by me, the license holder."  Points of interest on the display highlighted in red as Werner talked, "It's equipped with a licensed Andromeda Laser and GMS brand RPG.  Now, I know that the vast majority of your business here is with IPS-N, but if I were to need spare parts after an operation for a nonstandard frame such as this; could I get what I need here?  Or can these printers not receive special orders?".

A circumspect approach to the investigation.  Werner decided it would be best to see what can be learned before showing their hand.
This message was last edited by the player at 12:58, Sat 06 Apr.

Creighton's smile remains plastered and unmoving on his face as you talk, and he responds with continued enthusiasm, gesturing emphatically.

"I am Creighton, and this is indeed the best and only printshop in Port Conroy - it won't be beat! And we can absolutely host custom prints. While we mainly focus on IPS-N's quality merchandise, we are fully equipped to support any custom printing needs, whether it be non-IPS-N technology or unique designs including a fascinating mech such as this! We're happy to take on any print jobs you wish of us!"

"That sounds great to me."  Werner nodded and looked past Creigthon to observe what he could see of the printshop.  "What about your security here?  Sometimes my employer wants me to deploy special tech on the field; tech that they wouldn't want to get spread around.  Port Conroy can be a rough place, I'm sure you know."  He looked back to the Creighton homonculus, "Do you ever have trouble with hackers trying to mess with your printers?  Printing something unauthorized or stealing unique designs?"

Werner glanced around the facility at the lesser subalterns present within the vicinity then leaned in conspiratorially, "I heard a rumor passing around the dockside bars that someone managed to use one of the maintenance subalterns to rob a ship while the crew was on shore leave.  I'm sure it's just a tale they spook eachother with; you know how ships' crews are."  He leaned back again and shrugged helplessly, "Of course my boss wants me to check everything out before we start any operations."

Creighton Continues in his unrelenting enthusiasm.

"Our IPS-N security is top notch! While they may not be known for their electronics, I can assure you that no cyber attack could ever get through to our printers."



Creighton clasps his hands together and leans back slightly when he hears the story.

"Ah, that was Captain Stavros! He contacted me about that before. And I assured him that our team of subalterns is of the highest IPS-N quality and would never maliciously remove an NHP casket from a ship. It is simply impossible.”

It takes Sunder a few passes back and forth to pick up on the style of conversation in use, but once she does she asks the next logical question as if she was a perspective buyer.

”You said this is the only Printshop, but are there other printers in private hands capable of making subalterns of a similar enough model to pass for the ones you make?”

Creighton's upper body swivels to face you as you speak. He shakes his head in the negative as he replies, artificial smile not fading.

"Nope! While I'm sure that there are smaller printers in circulation here in Port Conroy, we're the only large scale operation here and hold an exclusive contract with the spaceport to produce, repair and supply it's subalterns! No amateur operation could beat our IPS-N quality!"

"It was an NHP casket they say was stolen?"  Werner feigned surprise, "That sounds like a serious robbery.  I'd think it more than unlikely one of the maintenance subalterns would just go and do a thing like that."  A hand went to the chin of his helmet, "Can you track the movements of the subalterns you produce here?  Or recall them for maintenance and repairs?"

"Now that I think about it, it's probably this robbery story that has my employer spooked."  He nodded, "What if we were to pick up one of your top-of-the-line IPS-N maintenance subalterns?  Once we take it back to the ship and show the boss how secure and safe they are, I'm sure they'll be fine with letting us do more business with your shop."

Creighton's face turns blank and impassive, and he speaks in a monotone, robotic voice.

++{Unable to find response}++



Creighton's face lights up, and he gestures for the group to follow him.

“Interested in our maintenance subalterns? All our models are top shelf IPS-N quality and available for purchase, let me show them to you!”

Creighton leads the group to a large storage warehouse deeper inside the facility, where many maintenance subalterns are stored. He leads you to a section with 20 charging booths for the subalterns.

"This is Maintenance Crew 56A. These are 20 of the top-of-the-line, latest-model IPS-N subalterns. What's even better, these are the ones that worked on the Dynast's Embrace, so you can see for yourself how amazing of a job they did!"

There are a few things that become immediately apparent. Firstly, each subaltern matches the design of the ones on the Dynast's Embrace, as Creighton said. Second, Crew 56A is one unit short. The charging station that should hold subaltern number 19 is empty. Third, Horton Creighton seems to be completely unaware of that fact. Something is clearly interfering with his systems to cause this.

Rather than follow along to the charging booths Sunder hangs back to loiter near an interface terminal or if possible a printer directly.  While leaning up against the best device she can find a thin cord of the sort one expects to see from a subjectivity-enhancement suite snakes out to cover the few inches of distance between her and the nearest hard line port.
This message was last edited by the player at 15:05, Wed 10 Apr.

Unlike Creighton's insistence, the IPS-N digital security proves to be easily bypassed, allowing your programs to work their way in and give you access to the mainframe of the printshop. The attempt to breach the printer fails, less due to the E-defenses and more to the bad luck of the shop having faulty connections to it.

Sifting through the various files and digital pathways, there isn't much that can be accessed relating to the missing subaltern. Whoever tapped into the systems was highly skilled, did it remotely, and was able to cover their tracks well. What you do manage to find is a tracking program for each subaltern built by the shop - the program is built into each one, with a specific frequency for each. Whatever was preventing Creighton from perceiving the missing subaltern likely accounted for this as well. However, if you choose to copy this program and hold onto it, you could use it to track down the missing subaltern, and potentially get a bead on Emily's casket from there.
This message was last edited by the GM at 15:53, Wed 10 Apr.

Content with what success she has Sunder scoops up the tracking program, disconnects from the system, loads another copy of the tracking program onto her personal drone, and pauses to wave at Werner from a place the overly helpful sales bot can't see on her way out of the print shop.

Making some show at examining the presented worker robots, Werner stopped in front of bay 19.  He looked between the empty bay and the oblivious salesman then nodded to acknowledge Sunder leaving the shop.  "Something about this unit seems off to me, Creighton."  Werner gestured to the empty charging booth, "Maybe this is a good opportunity to show off your diagnostic and maintenance procedures.  I think I'd like that; can you show me how you take care of your machines here?"

Creighton keeps on smiling, and gives a hearty thumbs-up.

"Of course! I'll just call in a subaltern to work on this one an-"

When Creighton turns to look at where the missing subaltern is supposed to be, he suddenly stops. His face goes impassive and his voice once again turns robotic.

++{Unable to find response}++

He stands still for a moment, then returns to his usual self, turning to face you again.

"And there we go! All fixed. Anything else you'd like me to show you?"

"Say, Creighton."  Werner observed this latest fit coming from the homonculus.  "I think I lost you there for a moment; looks like you might have a data block.  If you don't mind my asking, who do you have to maintain your own systems?  Has anyone accessed them recently?  If I didn't know better, I'd say some hooligan is playing a prank on you."

Again, Creighton's face turns neutral, his voice goes robotic, and his movements cease.

++{Unable to find response}++

"Anything else you'd like me to show you?"

Whatever has tapped into Creighton's systems seems to also be interfering with him being able to recognize that there is a problem, lending credence to the culprit's skill, or at least their ability to cover their actions.
This message was last edited by the GM at 21:41, Fri 12 Apr.

A slow nod as Creighton blanked out yet again.  "I think we've seen what we need to see.  Thanks Creigthon."  Werner looked once more around the shop, pausing again at the empty charging bay, "I'll just report back what you've already shown off.  My employer will be happy; and I don't see why they wouldn't want to do business with you."  He reached out a hand to shake, "I'm sure we'll be seeing each other again."

Leaving the shop, Werner met up again with Sunder outside.  "Well, the printshop is compromised.  Creighton too."  He shrugged within his hardsuit, "Suppose we all saw that coming.  What did you find?"

Resting casually outside the shop Sunder begins moving away as soon as Werner sees her, but only so fast as to put some distance between where they meet back up and anyone observing from the shop, once lost in the dust she speaks quietly rather than risk a more easily picked up transmission.

”Both more than I expected, and less than I would have hoped.  Whoever did this is unfortunately good at covering their tracks digitally, but doesn't seem to be quite as aware of hardware issues.  The unit we are looking for is designed to transmit a tracking frequency we now have access to, if that part of it's hardware is still functional we should be able to track it easily enough if we can get within range of that transmission, or gain access to a large scale sensor network of some kind.”

"Sounds like a good lead to me."  Werner answered, matching Sunder's quiet tone.  "Now we just need to make our way to Garfield's.  See if Captain Stavros' friend has any help to offer."

He made to head there directly, "Maybe Maya and RT are there already."

As if on cue there was a crackle on comms: "Fossil, Zephyr, you copy?"

OOC: Waiting for the GM's OK that this came through before going on?
This message was last edited by the player at 17:21, Tue 16 Apr.

The connection is patchy and static filled, but connects successfully.

After they get an answer back:

Well that was a relief. "Hey there, Old Man. Main player down here is the Magenta Syndicate. If something big and nasty happens, they likely have their fingers in it, if not the whole hand – or know something about those who do at least?" He looked at Maya for confirmation: "Maya and me planning to go to Garfield's in Lower before trying to approach them directly?"

Intel before the real combat drop, so to speak… PLUS it gave White Hat time to (maybe) do their thing before they had to plunge in.

"How are you guys doing on your end?"


OOC: Note that he means "Going to Garfield's *after* we finish the market here", of course
This message was last edited by the player at 18:34, Tue 16 Apr.

The communication coming through caused Werner to stop and listen.  "Copy."  He listened to RT's update and replied, "We just left Creighton's Printshop.  Place is completely compromised; owner too.  Ran by a Homunculus with bad firewalls."  He paused a brief moment considering how to put it, "Someone hacked the place.  Specifically hacked the subaltern that was part of the batch being sent to the Dynast's Embrace so we know it was a targeted attack.  And then covered their tracks by hacking Creighton; the owner isn't capable of seeing the missing unit or answering questions remotely related to the kidnapping."

"Some good news though."  He continued, "We're heading to Garfield's as well.  Let's talk about it once we're face-to-face."
This message had punctuation tweaked by the player at 00:03, Wed 17 Apr.

"So a dead end then?"


A slight pause on the other end, maybe as they discussed between them... "Just started on the market on our end. It's a *big* place... If you're heading there, then Maya and me might even have time to do a first-pass recon on the Velvet House while you do that? Casino slash Syndicate main lair apparently."
This message was last edited by the player at 13:59, Wed 17 Apr.

"Sounds like a plan.  We'll see if we can hit up this Juan Tismon that Captain Stavros mentioned."  Werner replied over the comms, "Good luck at the casino.  You're sure to get their attention if you make yourself out as a high roller."

"Fossil out."  He concluded.  Time to move the investigation along.

While clearly listening in Sunder does not reply over the broadcast, instead speaking aloud again only just loud enough to be heard over the wind.

”Keeping our message traffic to a minimum will be key in this mission, while not perfect any hacker able to dominate that print shop so completely will also be able to hack any number of transmission and listening devices.  It may even be a good idea to disable any automated receiving or message sorting systems you have active.”

"To be fair, that printshop looked like it had some terrible electronic defenses.  I'm hoping our Union-Issued comms are a bit tougher to crack; but you're right."  Werner answered Sunder, "Why I didn't go into deep detail on what we found."

He looked around, "Off to Garfield's then.  Let's see if Captain Stavros' friend has heard anything useful."  Werner started walking.

Garfield's is a small pasta fusion restaurant located in the lower levels of Port Conroy. While Garfield's can be found on every IPS-N-controlled world, this establishment is popular for those “in the know” about Port Conroy. The restaurant is owned and operated by Juan Tismon, who functions as both manager and chef while serving customers from behind the wooden counter of the relatively small dining hall.

As a multi-planet franchise, Garfields is doing its best not to appear like one, encouraging its managers to personalize their restaurants depending on the world they are on. Juan, being an old miner, has decorated his restaurant with a plethora of old mining equipment. The crown jewel is a mech-sized pneumatic pickaxe suspended from the ceiling by thick chains.

Patrons can find Juan Tismon wearing a cartoonishly large chef’s hat while he jollily prepares a range of pasta dishes. From calamari lasagna to mole-rat spaghetti, the menu has a variety of local and offworld specialties to offer.

Pasta isn’t the only reason for visiting Garfields. Juan is one of the best-connected individuals on Havelburg, and especially knowledgeable on matters relating to Port Conroy. While nobody is too sure how the old ex-miner turned restaurant owner and chef is so well connected, the fact is that he has his finger on the pulse of the city.

When Werner, Sunder, and Gertrude enter the establishment, a small ringing bell by the door alerts Juan to your presence. He looks up from the dish he is cooking and greets you heartily.

"Hello! Welcome to Garfield's. My name's Juan, how may I help you?"

"Hi Juan. Werner Steinn."  He returned the greeting, "We just got off the ship a few hours ago and didn't the locals didn't waste any time pointing us in this direction.  In fact, Captain Stavros of the Dynast's Embrace said that you not only whip up the best bowl of noodles on Havelburg, but you're also the man to see if we wanted to learn about Port Conroy."  Werner glanced back at Sunder and Gertrude, "I don't know about these two, but I'd love to try your spiciest bowl.  And while we're here, if us newcomers couldn't get some info about Port Conroy from who we've been led to believe is one of the most well-connected fellows in town."

"We're with Union," It wasn't as though the Union-Branded Hardsuits didn't already advertise this fact, "And believe it or not our boss has already got us looking into some things they've heard since we landed here.  You wouldn't know about any local groups or figures who might be into the hacking game, do you?  Someone to keep on the lookout for?"  He continued,  "Seems there's been an NHP abducted straight out of a ship at the port.  Not your typical bit of larceny, and bad news for everyone as far as our boss is concerned.  Know anything we might be able to use, Juan?"

Just then the bell rang again and two equally familiar figures stepped in, Maya in her once-whites, closely followed by RT in his larger, contoured suit. Both were dust-sprinkled from their recent escapades in Upper.

RT raised a hand in greeting and ‘smiled’ at the three.

“Much cleaner down here.”

OOC: So Lower is like Upper in terms of support columns and all, but with a fully-lit sky (giant lamps? Artificial sun(s)? Sky projection maybe?), working ventilation and no dust, correct?

Any perticular style to the buildings and the city layout here?

Juan greets Maya and RT as they come in, waving from the back of the restaurant.



Juan comes out of the back, wearing his trademark chef's hat. "Ah! Lyran told me that you five were in town. Here, all of you folk's meals today are on the house. It's the least I can do." Juan quickly prepares a dish (which is incredibly, unimaginably, melt-your-face-off-and-light-your-tongue-on-fire spicy, yet one of the most delicious pasta dishes you've had) and slides it out to you. "If info is what you're looking for, you've come to the right place. I've been around the block a few times."



Juan's face hardens slightly, and he sighs wearily. "I'm not aware of any dedicated hacking groups, but the folks most likely to have that capability would be the Magenta Syndicate. It's not inconceivable that they have a hand in that sort of business, and they'd be the ones with the tech and the know-how to pull it off. And I heard about the NHPs. Look," Juan says, lowering his voice, "you folks didn't hear this from me. PCPA wanted to keep this quiet. There has been a string of NHP abductions over the past few months. The PCPA and the IPS-N government have been investigating internally, but they haven't had any success. The thing is, none of the NHPs ever end up in Upper. You'd think that someone would sell them at the Dustmarket - that'd be bad enough - but none of them end up there. The PCPA has been scrambling to try and keep this from Union's eyes, but by the looks of things, that ship has sailed, huh?"



Lower Conroy is a bustling and sprawling city built into the bedrock of Havelburg, with underground chambers, streets, parks, and other routes crisscrossing the subterrainian city. All of it is lit up by pale floodlight suns built into the ceiling. As it was built out of a glorified compound of industrial warehouses, workshops, and smelters from it's days as an IPS-N mining program, Lower Conroy still bears the signs of thet past, with its buildings almost universally belonging to one of the many standardized patterns IPS-N provides. Partially as a result from its distance from the surface, and partially as a result of the increased amount of money sunk into it, Lower Conroy is the cleanest and most environmentally secure place on Havelburg since the disaster.
This message had punctuation tweaked by the GM at 00:39, Wed 08 May.

Having divested herself of her newly-acquired cowl, Maya loosened her respirator and let it hang low down about her neck. She shook her hair out like a wet dog and worked her jaw, even bringing a hand up to her chin to nurse it. The mask had pressed shallow lines into her flesh.

"Well yeah," she threw RT's way, clearly in good spirits. "I’d be impressed if it wasn't."

---

Maya sidled up by Werner, listening intently as Juan said his piece. She glanced back RT’s way at the mention of the Magenta Syndicate, a brief but meaningful look shared, and by the time Juan had rounded things out her face had taken on a thoughtful expression. She clicked her tongue.

"So what... you reckon whoever's behind this is keeping the NHPs somewhere on-world on the quiet rather than trying to find a buyer? I guess that'd explain why they didn't bother covering up how they did the job. Doesn't matter if there's a trail if it goes cold right from the off."

Belatedly she offered Juan a shallow nod. “Maya, by the way. Vost.”

Juan nods in turn. "Nice to meet you. And that's my best guess. What they'd be doing with them could be anyone's guess. NHPs are powerful people, in more ways than one."

Juan continues to check in on some of the other dishes he has cooking. "Do the rest of you want anything?"

"Milk," RT furnished after having tasted the dish, helmet opened and raised back. His face remained impassive, demeanor nonplussed, but there was a distinctive redness to it now and his breathing had changed. "Possibly bread. Lots and lots of bread."

As usual the hologram of Sunder projected around the drone that occupies her chair waves away any offer of whatever the place calls food, but she also does not engage in the idle chatter, presumably her focus is still on the hardsuit parked outside and or whatever hacking project she needs to do in order to get the tracking program operational.

The tracking program is deciphered with ease, the poor E-security allowing you to isolate the missing subaltern's signal. A specific signal frequency is needed to locate the subaltern, but once the outlier signals are filtered out, it's a simple matter of brute-forcing the rest of them until you find the one that fits.

The tracking program activates and reveals the location of the missing subaltern - the outskirts of Upper.

Little was added to the conversation as Werner attacked the spicy noodles.  "It's like eating a reactor in meltdown."  He continued eating the noodles, "I can't get enough; it feels like my mouth is in the pilot's seat."  A napkin wiped his nose, "This is the best bowl I've had in years.  Great stuff Juan."

"I'm also of the idea that selling these kidnapped NHPs is not the goal here."  Werner slowed down on the bowl of spicy noodles as he got back into the matter at hand.  "Although our boss is going to want to hear that this has been going on for months.  I can think of a few things someone might be collecting NHPs for; all of them nefarious."

"How big is this Magenta Syndicate?  Seems like they're a known entity around here; I would think that if they were involved with kidnapping NHPs, they would have been doing it for a long time already."  His bowl of noodles finished, Werner pushed the bow away, "And I doubt they would want the kind of attention it would get them from Union."  He thought for a moment, idly tapping the counter.

"Do you know anything about how these other kidnappings were pulled off?"  Werner asked Juan, perking up suddenly, "Could lead us in the right direction.  Or at least provide some insight. Maybe we can track down some of the other victims as well."

"And do they - the victims - have anything in common?" RT added on, capping that with a friendly nod of the head, similar to Maya's earlier one: "RT."

Meanwhile the internal inferno raged on.

“And...” Maya leaned in, slinging an arm around RT’s shoulders “… who is it that’s getting hit? Is it just civilian targets or have they taken a shot at anything riskier?”

She lounged, enjoying the support, before a thought came to her and she stirred. Maya flagged down Juan with two fingers: “You can mark me down for whatever’s popular with your regulars. Good way to learn about a place, you know.”

Juan takes the bowl and shuttles it back to the kitchen to be cleaned, before returning and leaning onto his side of the counter, listening intently to you and the group.

"The Syndicate is big. It mainly operates here in Port Conroy, but it's got feelers out in most of the other cities left on Havelburg. They've had 10 years to expand and grow here, now that the PCPA won't touch Upper. It's to the point that they are functionally the government of Upper Conroy."



Juan nods in an affirmative, sliding RT a cup of soy milk and a plate of some really good-tasting sourdough with a side of butter, before continuing.

"From what I've heard, most in recent times have been kidnapped through hacked maintenance subalterns. Who specifically have been targeted is unfortunately information I lack. I do know that it isn't all ships - there's been some local targets as well."



Juan returns the nod before responding.

"Nice to meet you, RT. And short of having missing NHPs, I couldn't tell you. I've heard there's been ships, a couple of factories, a cargo lander, but nothing I can 100% confirm."



Juan passes you a simple pasta carbonara, with locally-made spaghetti, some cheese, and bacon combined into a delicious dish.

"As far as I know, it's just been civilian targets. I think that if they took a stab at a military installation things would get ugly really fast."
This message was last edited by the GM at 15:47, Sat 11 May.

Backtracking a bit since I missed this:

"Oh? Like what?" RT had been wondering about that. Somewhat.


"We saw some of that up there in the market," the young pilot confirmed with a nod to Juan, "They certainly filled-in the policing role... And they have Shermans."

Although they hadn't seen those yet.


"I would call you a yellow coward, but I'm too hungry right now."

RT went to say something about cowardice... and then re-considered. He went on to twirl and eat from his far-spicer dish instead, trying for different combinations and ratios of bread/butter/pasta/milk, see if he could survive to see the bottom of that bowl.

A man on a mission!

EDIT = *I* may not have learned my lesson, but I think RT would be a little more cautious following the previous discussion? :)


Hm... "Anything new happen in that same peroid? Say somebody new jumping on the scene? A new discovery?"

Ooc: Looking for a potential client that hired the MS for those kidnappings, and/or a triggering event that would suddenly require NHPs?
This message was last edited by the player at 23:26, Sun 12 May.

While the others are busy eating Sunder doesn't worry about rushing herself so she double checks her work, the signals, and makes sure the tracking process can't be done in reverse to warn their target. Only after all of that has been settled does she push an update to everyone's personal maps so they can see the location as it updates by whatever method they use best.

Juan shrugs before speaking. "I haven't heard anything on that end - a new face on the block capable of what's been going on doesn't exactly slip under the radar easily. My bet is that whoever is pulling this off has been here a while - if not the Syndicate, then someone or a group of someones with similar influence. Who that could be aside from the Syndicate, I'm not sure. The local IPS-N folks don't strike me as the kind to take NHPs, and I can't think of any solos with that capability."

"Ah." A bit disapointing, that. Still.... RT raised a hand in a familiar signal- Suddenly twirled it about a bit as if loosing momentum... and then went on: "Mind if I place a call? Have a friend who might be interested in this."

Better? he gestured at Vee?

If the Juan agrees, RT will place a call to Rio, helmet closed so only those with Union comms can hear him:

"Thunder here. Word on the street is that there's been a rash of NHP kidnappings in the past few months, actually, not just Emily? All types. Might have been some before too, but more discrete?" Who knows? "Whatever this is seems to be accelerating anyway... Maybe White Hat can get us details on each of those past incidents, see if Data Analysis can extract anything from it?"

By which he meant Rio's data analysis.(Weight AND near-godlike computing power, that was Union for you, sure)


RT's eyes widenned... "And this came from where?"
This message was last edited by the player at 00:40, Tue 14 May.

"Picture an NHP in a cascade state.  No offense to present company of course, but they can become unpredictable.  Like a human having a psychotic break, but with more options and a lot more power."  Werner answered RT's question, "It's bad enough on the individual scale, but what if someone were to steer dozens of NHPs into a cascade on purpose, even brainwash them and give them direction?  Now we've gone from dangerous to near-apocalyptic."

Werner paused while RT updated the Rio Grande, then closed his helmet to see his HUD upon receiving a tracking update.  "Sunder's a wizard."  He mentioned, nodding after opening up the face shield again.  "Looks like we have a new lead to follow."
This message was last edited by the player at 22:51, Tue 14 May.

Yeah and: "And unshackled NHPs sometimes show strange powers, don't they?" RT recalled from late-night conversations, getting excited. "Inject visions of past, future and could-have-beens into people's head, twist the world around them like putty, all that paracausal stuff..." Or so the stories went. "Is that what we're looking for here?"

Scary stuff all around, if so.


Which didn't explain a thing. "But- but how? When? Where?"

And perhaps most importantly: "Do you happen to know where this is, my friend?" To Juan while pointing at the slowing pulsing point on his data slate. There. There!

In reply to Rolling Thunder (msg # 103):

Almost on que, a rough link is forced through to your comms, connecting the group with White Hat. Though interference tinges it with static, Tumble's smooth voice makes it through.

++Are we through, Alphie? Oh good, let me see it for a sec. This is White Hat to the Blue Immortals, are you there?++

---

Juan's face gains a look of concern as he looks at the location given. He rubs his chin, then responds. "That's Dustbranded territory, in Upper's outskirts. They're one of the remnant gangs left over after the Syndicate came in. Buncha stimmers with stolen industrial frames and delusions of grandeur. They might be a bunch of raving lunatics, but if you're going to be heading into their territory, don't underestimate them."
This message was lightly edited by the GM at 00:00, Fri 17 May.

RT did his best not to look too smugly at the older man: that was his name right there. He'd come up with it after a long, long evening of moderate drinking and playing around in the squad barracks

("But none of us are blue!" Werner had exclaimed.

"Blue is hope, you know: like Cradle's sky?" he'd countered.

"I still say Chicxulub is a much better name,"

"My highlights are blue," Sunder had said.

And that had been that.)

"Blue Immortals copy. Go ahead, White Hat. How is it going over there, Tumble-man?" He still liked that guy.
This message was last edited by the player at 00:22, Fri 17 May.

Maya looked up, an errant bead of sauce marking the corner of her mouth. A thoughtful expression marked her features, and it lingered even as her pink tongue flashed out to swipe her lips clean.

“So what I’m getting here...” she opened, gesturing Werner’s way with her fork, “… is that we’re facing down a total shitshow, and if the authorities haven’t shut things down so far then it’s damn likely whatever nightmare scenario’s in the works’ll go off without a hitch. They’re just waiting to hit critical mass or something – get everything where it needs to be?” A shrug. “Maybe we’ve got that going for us at least. It’s got to feel like they’ve got all the time in the world, no pressure.”

---

As for Juan’s new information…

“Does this seem like something them lot – Dustbranded – would be behind, because I’m not exactly getting mastermind from that? Have you ever heard of them making some kind of move against Lower, let alone something clean and careful like this?” Maya threw out her arms. “’cause you can’t count out crazy, but I’d go for a third-party hiding on their turf before assuming guys with a grudge against Syndicate would play this kind of long game.”

"The reverse maybe?" RT suggested with an I Don't Know shrug. "Magentas trying to point fingers that way if anybody followed the sub out the Embrace?"

Truth be told, he'd sort of been hoping the blip was just sitting there in the basement of that casino of theirs... That would have simplified things.

Ah well... On the bright side: "Combat insertion with full mounts?" Finger taping that spot on the map.

Surrender's first live drop. RT couldn't hide his excitment.
This message was last edited by the player at 23:02, Fri 17 May.

"It wouldn't be the first time a new player moved into an area and hired local muscle."  Werner said in response to the revelation of this Dustbranded gang.  "Assuming our hacker/kidnapper isn't a local themselves.  I'm still not convinced the Magentas are part of this scheme; but I can't imagine they would frown on us kicking around one of their rivals."  He nodded, clearly eager to test out his newest frame modifications, "I vote combat drop.  I doubt these Dustbranded would answer any of our questions unless they were staring down the chamber of a heavy laser anyway.  If we don't learn what we need, we can still parlay the attack into a favor from the Magenta Syndicate."

"The Port Authority, and probably IPS-N, might want to know what we're up to if they detect us making a combat drop in the area.  Luckily for us, Union didn't hire us as diplomats."  Werner nodded towards RT's active communicator, "Gonna need to get marching orders from the boss before we pull the trigger though.  You guys pick any of that up, White Hat?"
This message was last edited by the player at 14:11, Sat 18 May.

Tumble pauses for a moment before replying. ++Tumble-man, huh? Anyways, we leaned on the PCPA a bit and dug up some info on what's been happening here. Nothing super conclusive, but it'll hopefully be helpful. I'm not sure how much you may have learned down in the city, but we've gotten just about what we can up here.

First off, their lack of action here is due to, as they describe it, a mixture of jurisdiction and prudence. They suspect that Emily, as well as other missing NHPs, have made their way to Upper Conroy. However, as a result of abandoning the place for 10 years, they can't collect information there reliably and covertly. Going in to bust heads could prove a problem as well, considering it's currently run by a militant crime syndicate and houses several well armed gangs. I can't exactly comment on the methodologies of corporate policing, but they certainly didn't seem to think it was a good idea, you know?

What they were able to give us was a suspect - the Magenta Syndicate. They're the ones I mentioned before. They don't know for sure what they'd be doing with them, but the general consensus is that it wasn't anything good.++

---

Juan shakes his head. "I can't say I see them pulling something like this. They're more of the type to go charging in and blow stuff up. The only plans I've heard about them making were to take revenge on the Syndicate. As far as I can tell, Lower isn't really on their radar."

---

The comms crackle back to life as Tumble replies. ++We did. Relaying your info now.++ After a few minutes, the response comes through, relayed by Tumble. ++Green light on pulling the trigger. You are fully authorized to engage as necessary.++

"Sounds like it's time to mount up," Werner acknowledged. "We'll go link up with our mechs and get to this Dustbranded stronghold ASAP.  Maybe we'll get lucky and they'll cooperate."

"Thanks for the info Juan." His helmet closed shut once again and Werner made to leave. "Best noodles I've had in years."

"Uh, Yeah? That's why you guys were sent over there: to look through PCPA's files on the Syndicate in general... AND Magenta Red in particular?" Let's not forget that bit! RT looked to the others, slightly puzzled: Another comm snafu or what? "You saying they've got nothing on that at all?"



RT nodded at that -- grim, excited, in full agreement.

"Hazardous environment, shoddy intel, hostile locals, and we might be picking a fight with someone prepping a superweapon." Maya rolled her shoulders, a lioness stretching as it rose. "What's not to love?"

She meant every word of it: not a drop of cynicism there.

Maya pushed her own bowl forward and thumbed Werner's way, offering Juan a beaming smile. "And he's not wrong. If all intel runs were this easy - this tasty - then you'd never catch me mouthing off about going walkabout again."

After giving the others a few moments to assess the situation Sunder connects to their communication channel again, this time to speak her thoughts on the plan.

”It seems like we have a clear enough mission objective to proceed in force then.  An area clear of innocent bystanders, of minimal collator damage cost, and almost certainly full of one or more person in need of rescue to include our contracted objective, we should probably get moving before to long.”

++Right, sorry,++ Tumble hastily replies. ++We asked about her too - ex-supersoldier, incredibly powerful crime boss, has connections with former HA members plus most of Havelburg, that sort of thing. The codename 'Achelois' came up, but the PCPA is still following that trail. As for the Syndicate, they're founded and led by Magenta Red, have control of Upper and some influence just about anywhere on the planet, and would have the means and resources to pull off the NHP kidnappings. This all still falls under the 'unreliable intel' umbrella though - like I said, 10 years out of an area can do that.++

---

Juan thanks the group for their patronage, wishing the group luck on the upcoming mission. You all now have some Downtime while your mechs are readied for combat, and Gertrude is recalled to the ship (if she shows back up, I'll have her rejoin the group as soon as I can, but for now we will keep her character on standby). Once this is complete, the group will be ready to set off into the outskirts of Upper Conroy to find the subaltern!

"Looks like there's a little time to kill while our machines are getting prepped." Werner commented after the squad had left Juan's. "And I've already eaten.  Think I'll go browse this Dustmarket I keep hearing about. A place where I might find anything can't be passed up."

True to his word, Werner made for the topside of Port Conroy.  He dove into the Dustmarket with zeal, examining anything technical like a curious child.  Though compared to the merchants Werner seemed to have a keen understanding of the products he browsed.

"A wavelength of 777 nanometers does not make it a 'jackpot laser.' That's in the infrared spectrum! It wouldn't burn through a thick jacket, let alone body armor."

"I'm a man who enjoys his explosives, but these bombs are pretty weak. You do know that General Massive Systems weapons are cheap and available everywhere, right?"

"I could mount that on my mech, sure.  But that drill is larger than my laser cannon, and I'm not a miner."

After a while of this, Werner finally stumbled on something he liked, "One-shot stabilisers..." It reminded him of his newly acquired ZF4, "You know what, I'll take them. Now these might come in handy." The merchant appeared relieved.

Of course with the new acquisition came the installation.  Werner would have to hurry back to the mech bay to get them installed before the drop.  At least they looked like a simple job.
This message was lightly edited by the player at 12:04, Mon 27 May.

In reply to GM (msg # 116):

RT swore upon hearing that name -- Achelois. He'd sort of twitched at Harrison being involved, but you couldn't just assume *everything* coming out the Purview was connected to him, personally... It bloody heck was though, apparently.

"Ok so that's something new there. Maybe look into that 'former HA/Achelois' connection thing then? They might be connected to the NHP kidnappings somehow..." Speaking of, "Seems like there's been several of them in the past few months by the way, not just the one. So... Might be a good idea to get everything PCPA has on every. Single. one. while you're there so Rio can data crunch?"