"Perhaps the planet is an ecumenopolis? Or maybe there's just a giant wall around the city, like AEon Flux or Judge Dredd? Even if it is simply surrounded by water, all kinds of could exist to isolate a culture. It would explain the income and the uncontested power the mob has. Likely, they lose minor battles a lot, but as long as they hold the city when the day ends, it doesn't matter."

This gives me an idea.

"The docks. That is usually the core of organized crime. Lots of victims and recruits rolled into one. If we can deprive them of the docks, their grip should weaken."

"The only problem is the basic question: who takes it afterwards? And how is it possible to break their hold on the city without anarchy seizing the city? That power vacuum will be filled by somebody."

"Baby steps: we need to know who's honest. As the phrase goes: the deeper the darkness, the brighter the light. There's got to be one. You encountered anyone at work who gives you a good impression?"

"Ecu...what is that?"

She shrugs.

"You could take your best girl on a stroll of the city which happens to include the docks. Just an innocent little walk to get some air." She smiles mischievously.

"At work, well no, but the sausage vendor down the street struck me as a real decent guy. Shaq the Sausage Seller is his nom de business."

PT

"Why not? And if we get mugged, well, their loss." Okay, so I've gotten rather cocky. Perhaps justifiably so.

This whole time, I've been aware of the possibility the enemy might have spellcasters of their own. Granted, the magic is different, but I keep in mind my earlier question could have been answered through Black. Either an advanced spell called Demonic Tutor (who answers because it has faith in the darkness of it's lessons), its jerk understudy Vampiric Tutor (who wants the caster's blood), or the most common version Demonic Consultation (who want my soul aka youth). If those options are open to me, they may be open to my foes. And some of those options among others are truly nasty spells.

I get ready to go for a stroll. I bring the burner, since I haven't seen any slugthrowing weapons. (And for that matter, I haven't found my usual machine and it's gear. Odd. Otherwise I'd just float around the world like some omnipotent god.)

Several people look at you oddly when you ask where the Docks are, but you make it to a door in a wall with a shed for a toll booth in front of the airlock door.

You do check on that odd feeling you had, that vector, and it did lead you back to the Chinese restauraunt, and the alley you arrived in, and then around back to a staircase to the roof where your timeship is parked in the closest spot it could fit. Its sitting on the roof of the Chinese restauraunt.

You study it a bit, and then Carmine suggests coming back for it later after going to the Docks.  It takes about a ten minute stroll to get to the Docks.

"You want to walk the Docks. That will be one silver bit for each of you for a spacesuit, and sorry, but I'll need an extra silver for the Mafia. Transaction tax."

The man is trying to wake up, and you can see he has a burner too.

"I'd let you in for free, pal. Seeing as you're one of us, but the boss wouldn't like it. Besides, the Observatory is really the better place to get a look at the stars outside The City."

Spacesuit? Hmm...

"That sounds reasonable." As I see if I can actually pay him, I start thinking. A spacesuit. If we are on a space station, it would serve to explain the isolation that would allow this culture to dominate. It would also explain how supplies keep coming in, and why the supply source has not dominated this culture and replaced it with a healthier one.

Provided my theory is correct, it could allow me a new avenue of approach, and perhaps I won't have to get as extreme as I thought it would.

You and Carmine suit up, and you can see Carmine's eyes glowing.

*Outer space* she mouths. You've been in space already aboard a battlemech.

The doors sealing vibrates the floor as you pass through the airlock, and walk out on to jutting fingers of steel and stone lit by harsh spotlights.  An asteroid is having something done to it by several dozen robots at the end of one dock.  A dozen men trudge by in spacesuits with the word 'prisoner' o n them, and one has 'guard' for its backplate instead.

The magnetic shoes keep you fixed to the dock and don't let you float off into space.

The stars streak by in short lines.

"Um..." Carmine starts figuring out loud in some esoteric language of symbols and jargon. "Um." She sounds nervous, and grabs your hand for support. "Mentat, we're, rough calculations only, but we're doing between seventy and ninety percent of c, lightspeed I mean, right now. Enough to have some minor time shifting. This is not a space station.  And I can't recognize any of the stars even if I mentally correct for the lines of starlight."

PT

"What's your theory on this? It strikes me as some kind of colony craft, with a...that close to light-speed? Yeah, that's causing some temporal issues. And the machine will have limited use here, considering how all airspace is literally controlled. So, I'm guessing the bad guys rule by sheer virtue of the fact that they can literally kill everyone at any time. All they'd have to do is open a port and blast the air out, or just cut off supplies if they sought to humble."

"Maybe we are in another system. That, or the angle is just wrong. We don't have a reference to where Earth is in relation to us, or even if it exists."

I steady her at this point. "Relax. We aren't in any immediate danger, and this is as new to me as it is to you."

Hey, check that out! In the future, there will be...Human Labor! What advancements this society has made!

"I'm thinking either a colony ship, sublight travel to another star system, either for exploration, or because the Sun blew up, and they are refugees.  It could be some sort of trading vessel, but I don't see that."

She chews on her lip.

"I'd like to get a look at the front of the ship, and the back.  It could be a Bussard ramscoop that gathers in hydrogen gas from the void, and uses it to power fusion drives.  But honestly, something this large, I'd like an anti-matter drive.  I mean, this is a City. The energy requirements to push this place to even a fraction of lightspeed have to be insane."

She starts mumbling, and you hear phrases like 'terrawatt', and '1000 times the output of Hoover Dam every second' and 'momma mia.'

"I think we're in interstellar space. We'd generate enough gravity....mass times speed equals more mass equals more gravity....well, I hope the designers of this place didn't plan on destroying solar systems in passing by. No, they wouldn't. Such gravitational stresses would tear the City apart in return. No, whoever designed this place had to be pretty good engineers."

PT

"Well, I guess it's tour time." I start walking out.

The last time I was in space, I was piloting a massive machine. While it is exposure to null-gravity, walking through space on foot and doing it from a fifty-foot machine are two different things. This is going to take a bit of getting used to, as the boots and maybe negligable surface tension are the only things that are keeping me from floating off. I keep this in mind.

I also keep in mind the idea that a guard would be versed in zero-gravity tactics, and remind myself to respect the enemy if encountered. I don't have to destroy this evil here and now, and this is an information run.

And boy am I learning. My plans just underwent a rapid revision in the past thirty or so seconds.

So, let's look at this logically: They have a system that if tampered with will kill everyone, without exception, while we are immortal. Fast solution to all problems is to consider this a lost cause, deal with it accordingly, and move on.

My inner psychopath just will not shut up. I wonder what's really bothering me right now? Maybe it's the fact you don't want to admit to yourself you are on a date, or the closest thing your messed up neo-life will allow to one. Okay, nevermind then.

The front of the ship shows some sort of forcefield to keep interstellar dust from smashing into the ship like railgun shot. Its surprising how much damage a speck of dust could do at one-third the speed of light, Carmine explains.

You find yourself learning cosmology and high-energy physics in patchwork fashion with her.

You also find that you've learned more about walking as magnetic boots in null g are not something you're used too.

Toward the rear of the ship, you see a brilliant spear of light even though your helmet glass darkens to near black. Carmine studies.

"Antimatter Drive. I thought so. Really, it was the only thing that made sense. Well, that or some form of undiscovered propulsion." She leans up against you, and you can hardly feel her weight through the heavy armored suit. "I'm very glad I met you. You've shown me marvels beyond my wildest imagination."

PT
OOC: +@1 Cosmology, High-energy Physics, and Walking (new use.)

I tentatively embrace her back one armed. "Well, our meeting circumstances were kinda awkward, but...I'm glad I met you too."

I'm going to puke now at your sappiness. Honestly. I'm going to churn your stomach, and make you vomit in your spacesuit just to stop this. Or so I guess he would have said if I could hear him. Nope, can't hear a blasted thing. I'm just enjoying the view of space.

And my brain points out these suits get oxygen from somewhere, utterly ruining my blessful train of thought. Stupid brain, always thinking about something other then the present. I check the oxygen briefly and make sure we are not running out.

You have about ten minutes before you need to head back, even with a safety margin of another ten minutes. You enjoy the time together, and she tells you a few jokes about antimatter, and a few more about Italians, and too soon its time to head back.

Nervousness about being outside too long quickens both your actions, and you're actually back inside, and unsuited fifteen minutes before time was up.

The security guard cocks his head, and motions you over to him to speak quietly.

"On the qt mate, but the blue circles on the wall outside are air exchange. Carry a collapsible double pipe/pump, and you can stay out there for three-four hours in perfect safety, and really no one cares except the occasional jerk of a supervisor."

PT

I smile at the guard and thank him. Might as well, considering how I got my first spacewalk and he told me how to stay in space longer. Collapsable double pipe-pump and blue circles. I'll go into more detail on that one.

"Let's go home. I don't know about you, but I've got a few things to think about."

You go home, and break out the pens and paper to think. She starts making shrimp primavera, Caesar salad with homemade dressing, and a pair of strawberry slushies for drinks.

She's briskly efficient in the kitchen, and when you offer to help, she grabs up a wooden spoon and chases you out of the kitchenette area. Keeping to the tsundere, she really tries to smack you with it, and so you have to dodge quite quickly.

"My space, you stay out."

Dinner is served a few minutes later. Afterwards, she reads your notes, and asks you some questions about your plans.

PT

One wonders what I was thinking when I tried to go into the kitchen. Note to self: Carmine equates crazy awesome. Caution advised.

For the most parts, I am honestly at a loss. Left to my own devices, I could very easily settle down and not go beyond that. But the day would eventually come when this influences would reach me, and my tolerance for threats to myself or my loved ones is minimal at best.

So, how to break the power of a group that has held its way for years?

Currency. Everything here revolves around the almighty dollar. My inner psycho suggested simply printing off so much counterfeit cash the entire system collapses and corruption becomes irrelevant. Apparently, he's an advocate of anarchy as a means to an end, because that would be the result. But taking the most direct path is not the best path. Violence, contrary to the phrase, is always a solution, but it is rarely the best solution.

I'm a spellcaster, and a determined one. And I have the feeling my abilities are rare at best here. Something tells me that.

"I think we already made some progress today, simply by talking to the dock guard. For now, I'm suggesting we learn more. We both make money, and we learn who is who. Take it slow, considering the idea I have is definately changed. Let's hope my earlier speech was just me being super dark and overtly dramatic."

A month passes, and you see little sign of magic, but a spot here and there indicates undercurrents. You both make friends and money, and fall into an easy is reclusive routine.

You find out what the Icehouse is. Its a cryonic storage facility.

The Mafia is but one of the variations of rulership that has been tried over the millenia. And some of the people you talk with occasionally say strange things like..."In my third awakening, in the late nineteen thousands, the Plutocracy Era, we built these docks. Good quality too, to be still in use nearly five thousand years later."

PT

And the Plutocracy Era is the one that seems doomed to repetition. Odd, how no one speaks of better times. That would likely be the best direction to take my research in.

I won't have to go outside of the use of White magic at least. Evil though Black is not evil, it certainly is not pleasant, and it gives knowledge with the expectation of payment; immediate, or with interest.

I use that Enlightened Tutor spell again. I'll be surprised if it gives me all the answers at once, but my expection is that it will tell me where to begin my research into the real backhistory of this place. History is often written by the victors, and I have a feeling this place is no exception.

The robot cleaner rolls up to you again.

"This is a group of people, travelling through time and space, sleeping, waking, sleeping again, meeting old friends lost for millenia, and losing them again to the cold ice. Each new era has different assortments of people, different rules. But one thing remains the same through it all. The robots, and their Master."

PT

I thank the machine for the aid. That will be my goal, discover where the robots go for maintenance and discover the AI running this place. Likely, this whole place is due for carbonite freezing or the equivalent, so I either don't have long, or it won't matter. One of the two.

I'm going with the presumption that it matters. Namely because there is option #3: they are due to wake up, and heads will roll when they do.

I need something infilteration based, and to my utter surprise, Black magic (at least the kind I use) has astonishingly little in the way of that. It can kill, weaken, make servants of the dead and crack sanity, but its idea of infilteration involves playing off of paranoia and fear. Machines are immune to both, and it will be auto-defenses I will need to bypass. White could also simply blow the arfifice to bits, but that doesn't help me any considering how flashy it is about it.

I do know of one method within the realm of Black magic that has been done, but like many of Black's spells, it carries a price tag: consistance maintenance or else it breaks down.

I would be simpler to feed the moral corruption with a bribe, and simply get a temporary pass.

Carmine will want to know about this, so I'll tell her about it. She'll never let me live it down if I go without her anyways.

"That makes sense. I mean, these guys are simply not smart enough, not good enough to run a spaceship. The AI and the robots run the important things, and they let the Mafia run the unimportant stuff. But why?"

And when you tell her about moral corruption, she frowns.

"You know, if you're looking for magic, maybe there's another source. I mean, I read in the Bible how the angels made Lot's house door invisible to the mob. And of course, there's those legends of tarnhelms in the Nordic legends. Caps that make you invisible." She grunts to herself, a most unladylike sound. "Carmine, you're a physicist which means ...." She pauses, and changes her mind. "Which means you should follow the evidence where it leads."

She fixes you with a piercing gaze.

"What exactly do you do when you do magic?"

PT

"In my particular case, I draw the essence of the world into me, and shape it with will, and release it reformed. That's at least the closest thing to a sensible explaination I've got. It's likely more complicated. Terrain tends to play a role in what I am able to shape it into. In the case of the two I draw on, swamps or places of decay are strong sources of Black, while fields or places of order are good sources of White."

"But what do I actually do? Mostly I chant a stupid line and make something up. Memories, mostly, are my biggest source of spells. Memories of a card game I used to play before all this...whatever happened. As a result, my abilities seem to be limited to what is the equivelant to geomancy. In the equivalent case of Lot, my known abilities would do that, but only for confounding pursuit. It would not allow us to go invisible and infilterate."

I half-smile at this idea. "The color of safety is typically reactive, an irritating limitation. The color of death, on the other hand, isn't as stealthy as it would like others to believe. In other words, I can support an existing plan with spells, and if this were a brute force situation, I could solve it with magic alone. This, however, requires delicacy. If it goes wrong, we have no retreat."

"White magic might have one ability, but the method used...hey. I just remembered a decent one. It won't sneak us in, but it is a good idea. It's a spell called Reconnaissance. It's an older spell, but it will grant us a short range teleportation back to a designated regrouping zone if we are about to get caught in an undesired fight. It will be an appreciated extra layer of insurance, despite its specific triggers. It won't protect against a trap."

"Right." Carmine chews on her hair, and then nods. She clears the dining room table, and begins to write.
--If X = Galactic Energy Hour, then Y = 1/10,000,000 of X and E = 1/10,000,000 of X, then X ...."

She pauses and draws a pair of parentheses and places X in the center of them.

She chews her hair some more, and stares hard at her equation.

"Run." She murmurs.

A point of hot white light appears in the center of the table. Its about 200 watts, and 300 degrees, and an inch across.

It starts to blacken the table, and Carmine straightens up with pure astonishment crossing her face.

PT

"Did you just cast a spell?" That's my first and most rational guess. "Because if so, nice shot. We'll need a new table, but who cares? And the fact yours...my limitations are pretty clearly defined. Yours aren't, which is an advantage and a weakness."

"And, yeah, I forgot to mention the part where I envision a land in my mind first, but I guess you used conception instead. That works too, apparently." I'm just scratching my head in wonder, but then again, this shouldn't have surprised me. Right when I think I've got everything figured out...

"I think so. Yes. Yes, I did. It was a mixture of physics, algebra, and computer programming. Do you think you could quench it?"

The table is turning black, and smoke is curling up from the table.

"I defined the elements to a reasonable amount of preciseness without being overly finicky. And then I gave the spell a place to operate. And then it was 'run', and wa la, here we are, capiche?"

This message was deleted by the player at 23:03, Wed 20 May 2009.