The Moth's raven-haired pilot shrugged rather noncommittally when Doc prompted her about shore leave on Tupolev.  Then shook her head when he asked about the passengers, noting, "Ifni!  I hope not.  But you'd have to ask Thera or Hayden about that."

She pointed to the blinking commlink waiting to connect, "Combine shipment consignee wants to talk to the 'Captain'.  ASAP." Danica noted off-hand.  After a pause she added with another shrug, "We are about a month late..."  Her expression was such that she expected a chewing out by the receiver, but then there was nothing that she or the rest of the crew could really have done differently with the Suzain situation.  Nor was there anything that she would have wanted to have done differently in retrospect.  Not that it might or should necessarily mean anything to the customer; business was business.

As waited, she glanced at Jones in his clean-shaven finery.  Finally, her curiosity got the better of her, "So, where are you off to Doc?"  Dani was still in her shipboard coveralls since she expected to be around until after lunch when the unloading started.

"Anywhere but here!", Doc replied with a grin, "Thought to sample some local fares, if they got 'em.  I'm buying anyone interested..."

Glancing at the blinking comm, he added, "Combine guy, eh?  Well, delay couldn't be helped". Jim shrugged, not concerned about such things in the slightest.

"Hayden's deal, but I'll spring for a nice meal for the guy and a guest if that'll help .. Heck, offer stands even if he's not upset."

Jacques made a cursory tour through the lounge as the passengers were disembarking. He made a point of shaking Dr. Vogt's hand before the man left. "Best of luck with your exhibit. Hopefully we'll see it on our way back through."

I really meant that, seeing the Aslan exhibit... would be quite a hoot. He checked the Moth's private comm line on his hand comp. Bridge and cargo tags were piling up and not getting checked off. He looked up to see Hayden dealing with an imbroglio between the honeymooners and Ms. Porchiers' publicist; the young law student Mr. Porter was vigorously shaking his head and gesturing.

Jacques smiled and headed to the bridge. He keyed a private crew-only channel. "Ms. Aksina, please check the onboard sec-cams for whatever Hayden's discussing in the passenger lounge as of several minutes ago. Make a back-up file if we captured anything." When he arrived on the bridge he whistled at the doctor's finery. "Loaded for bear, eh Jim?" he chuckled. He brought up the manifest on his hand comp, looking to Dani. "Hayden's stuck; you want to call this guy or should I?"

Thera continued to assist with disembarking the passengers and cargo.

"If that's what they serve here!", Jim jovially replied to Jack's comment.

"Man wants to talk to the 'captain'?", Doc stated with a shrug, "Don't see it matters much whether he talks to the Captain of Operations or the Captain of Navigation - Dani's of a mind he just wants to chew on someone..."

"I've offered to treat the guy and a guest to whatever fine dining this rock offers."

Notably, Jim didn't offer to talk to the man directly - which was probably a good thing given he'd likely just tell the man where he could put his heavy equipment if given any grief over their delay...

OOC: Figure we are all entitled to use 'captain' with optional preposition - I've seen this in RW business where 'CEO' was used ala 'CEO of Finance' instead of CFO.  Simply avoid the singular, definitive article, 'The', and use the preposition only when skirting accountability or responsibility. ;)

Dani glanced in Jacques' direction when he entered, giving him a nod of acknowledgement while she waited for the commlink to connect.  The dark-haired pilot shook her head and waved him off when he offered to take the call, mouthing the word "No."  She motioned to the console and the blinking light for the call connection.  She tapped the mute button for a moment, "I got it."

It was hardly necessary for Jacques to take this particular call, pretty much anyone of the crew could deal with it at this point.  If she needed to be 'Captain' for the moment, Dani was willing to accept simultaneous demotion and promotion all at once.  Sometimes the Doc's liberal (civilian) use of the word 'Captain' as a modified adjective came in useful.  It had been a really long time since Danica had been a captain (in the FRA).

Even though she could see some of the festivities over the internal and external video feeds, Danica queried her two crewmates, "Have all of the passengers and their luggage disembarked?"  After a beat, she prompted them with one simple word, denoting her specific interest - the most important, of course, "Porchier?"  While officially and legally their duties may be dismissed once their (former) passengers left the sovereign sanctity of the ship itself, if they came to blows in the docking bay.... well, it still might reflect poorly in the arena of public opinion.  And so, probably should be avoided.

Doc snorted.

"Clinically .. most of our passengers 'disembarked' long before boarding.  Especially that one."

Jacques chuckled at Doc's remark and he was happy to let Dani handle the cargo call. "I'll join you for dinner, if you don't mind," he said to Doc. "It will be nice to really stretch the legs for a bit." He headed off to his stateroom to change.

In reply to Jacques Keveloh (msg # 23):

The consignee for the 10ton farm combine turned out to be a well-mannered elderly gal, presumably in tennis shoes though the vid didn't show that much.  Chucklingly, she wecomed the arrival of her principal's cargo with a breathless, "Finally!" and hinted that if a steep discount (perhaps even free?) were applied to the freight rate that her client wouldn't quibble over the late delivery.

Disembarkation is a routine procedure for most of the passengers, though the honeymooners do take several holos of the ship and with most of the crew as `keepsakes' (those PCs with justifiable reasons to fear cameras are assumed to have suddenly remebered something in the engine room needing urgent attention/maintenance).  The exception, of course, is Ms. Porchier.  For her, leaving the ship, like most things in life, is a deeply emotional experience.  Eventually, however, she too is gone.

By 1600 local, the freight has been offloaded, the data downloaed, and the passengers cabins cleaned.  After a hard-day's work, a little relaxation and seeing the sights of downtown Lansing appears in order.

OOC: All ashore who's going ashore.  Please give me, by whatever means desired, a brief description of type of clothing/gear carried for those going out.  Not every little item needed, just broad strokes are fine.

OOC 2: Yes, rumors of my death are greatly exagerrated.  I'll try not to do the "disappearing GM" trick for a little while. :)

Doc changed to his casual about the town suit and is ready to go in his normal fashion - with necklace attached Monocle (HUD) habitually tucked into his breast pocket, his comm concealed by his right sleeve, a comm dot on the same side collar, a slight bulge in that side's thigh pocket from his hand computer and the outline of his laser scalpel visible in the right back pocket of his slacks. Crew know him to also sport a flat knife he's fond of using to open packages and clean his nails with. (Doc's right handed. ;)

Doc's ready to hit the town.

He's also quite agreeable to waving the delivery fee for the tardy combine - not that he really gives much of a care over such matters - and inviting the consignee to dinner or at least getting a dining recommendation out of her.

Danica took the call with the combine consignee and was pleasantly surprised that it went as well as it did.  Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, she arranged for pick-up and having introduced herself as the 'Captain' assured the consignee that a discount was in order; Dani did not, however, set a number.  Instead, she played the 'I'll have a contract addendum drawn up in triplicate for validation and verification by the financial department...' card.

With nary a smirk, Dani then relayed Doc's invitation to dinner between the crew and the woman and her client.  She called it an 'Act of Goodwill' with the obvious implication that the terms of the discount might be reasonably discussed over dinner as a matter of course.  Of course.  Or not, as the invitees would prefer.  Naturally, the woman (or her client) would be allowed to choose the venue that they preferred.

Once the call was over, she bumped the details to Hayden.  Not in an effort to pass the buck (well, not primarily to pass the buck), but more knowing that he had a much better grasp of what might be most appropriate in this case for compensation.

After that, Dani suspended her console session and moved to her stateroom to readied herself to accompany the others in Lansing.  After a quick bout in the fresher, the Moth's pilot re-emerged from her quarters.

She wore a dark-colored, denim jacket over her tear-resistant (re: ballistic cloth) coveralls.  Generally speaking, the raven-haired pilot didn't seem to have much other wardrobe, per se. then her tailored coveralls.  They were form-fitting enough, which is probably why the jacket was necessary.  Tucked under her left armpit was a small bulge where Dani usually kept a her stunner in a shoulder holster.  With the jacket usually zipped up, as it normally was, the weapon was quite inconspicuous.  The wide leather belt around her waist sported a sheathed service knife which bore the worn insignia of the FRA upon it.  The leather grip of blade showed plenty of wear and care.  Her left hand and forearm bore her dataglove style computer, which was networked with the earbud-style p-comm that was placed in her left ear.  And, of course, Danica sported her ever-present mirrorshades.

She checked the internal and external sensor streams as well as the summary diagnostic displays running on the Gypsy Moth's core from her pilot's console one last time, before locking up the session and turning towards the crew lounge to meet up with the others going ashore.
This message was last edited by the player at 15:28, Tue 10 Sept 2013.

Hayden looked over the combine's bill of lading (which had at least 17 exceptions to relive the carrier from liability... half of which he knew weren't worth the ink required to print them) along with his worn pocket guide to interstellar Admiralty law.  Knowing that the shipment was more pretext than profit, he worked out the most favorable discount possible for the consignor.  Unless the math of the matter indicated the shipment should be gratis however, Hayden wasn't inclined to waive the entire shipping fee.  A 99% discount was one thing - but free was an otherwise alien concept to the seasoned merchant!

With a copy of the settlement drafted and distributed to everyone's handcomps, Hayden moved to more pressing matters: finding a bar.  He donned his ship's uniform trousers, a fresh shirt, socks, underwear, belt, uniform cap, along with his crew coat and black patent leather shoes, though certainly not in that order.  He pulled off his name patch and extraneous insignia from the hook and loop fastener on his coat, but left the Gypsy Moth logos on it and his hat.  He put his comm and plenty of cred chips in his pocket.
This message was last edited by the player at 19:58, Tue 10 Sept 2013.

In reply to Hayden Marks (msg # 27):

Monica, for that is the name of the elderly gal working in the receiving department of the farm combine's consignee, cackles so lustily at Hayden's suggestion of a 99% discount that part of her denture slips out!  She readily agrees to Hayden's suggestion and you get a vivid reminder that lab-grown replacement teeth are still a bit beyond the reach for most citizens at Tupolev's TL.

In response to the dinner invitation, Monica suggests meeting at the BBC, perhaps the most well-known spacer hangout on Tupolev.  It is a bit far away, almost an hour via public transport, but the subway/rail system in Lansing is safe, cheap, and generally efficient.  Or you can taxi a bit quicker for about Cr20.

OOC: I'm going to leave undefined Thera's, Jacques', and Bertrand's presence with the group going ashore or choice to remain on the ship until their players have had a chance to respond.  You lads and lass just chime in when you get the chance.

You step out into the protracted twilight of evening on Tupolev.  Because of the gloom, you instinctively look up to check for clouds but there are none, just the weak reflected light off the gas giant around which Tupolev orbits.  In short order an electric cart pulls up, to convey you quickly and comfortably from Gypsy Moth's berth to the starport gate.

OOC: Dani and Hayden, can I get a skill roll from each of you?  2d6+2 please.

Jacques showered and changed into some casual street clothes, his usual dark jeans, loose shirt and a lightweight dark jacket. He was wearing his protect suit underneath everything, and considered his stunner but then thought better of it. He did slip his stealth dagger on, the body sheath tucked inconspicuously under his left arm.

With his hand comp and comm in his jacket pockets, he slipped his credit chip into the front pocket of his jeans and joined the others waiting for the car to the starport gate.

Thera wore a black trouser-suit and blouse with a sash belt and her favourite necklace. A pair of ankle boots and a shoulder bag containing her comm and some spending money along with the usual girl-stuff completed her outfit.

She carried a dagger strapped to her forearm and a pistol and spare mag in a discreet shoulder holster (LL3 here, I believe?)

She joined the others as they left the ship.

Danica didn't seem phased by lowered light level even with her shades on.  As she looked up, though, since she wasn't quite sure what to expect to see in the sky.  The high level of particulates in the atmosphere did created some interesting colors and patterns.  She paused only briefly to admire them.  Admittedly, it has been a while since the crew had actually been dirtside.

Approaching the cart, Dani turned to the others and prompted as she straightened one of the pleats in her jacket, "Given the five of us, I presume we should pack into a cab?"  She checked her dataglove to see if there was any standard datanets publicly available to start looking up local guides and businesses...

[OOC:  06:55, Yesterday: Danica Moreau rolled 9 using 2d6+2. Skill Check.]
This message was last edited by the player at 15:59, Thu 12 Sept 2013.

In reply to Danica Moreau (msg # 31):

As you near the gate on the electric cart, something is a little odd.  Outside the fenceline a young man is taking pictures with a telephoto lens.  At first it seems benign, but then you realize he's taking pictures of the five of you!

The camera is better than the typical tourist "quickshot" type rig, and may be of professional grade.  He's looks like he's trying to be covert, but he's doing a piss poor job.

He appears to be in his mid-twenties, medium height, pale skin, dark hair, slender build, casual clothes and jacket.

He's only about 40M away, but on the other side of the fenceline.

Jim had been atypically quiet as they disembarked, his normal enthusiasm when hitting dirtside had suddenly evaporated after seeing the farm consignee's dentures slip out.  The sight reminded him they were now in the Halowon Empire, which didn't rate public welfare the way their Republic did.  It also reminded him that the outcome of their mission could well mean war with these peoples.  If the Halowon Empire was, in fact, attacking Free Republic starships outside its own borders, a state of war may well already exist.

Spotting the amateur 'spy' did nothing to dispel his brooding - re-enforcing the fact they might right then be considered on 'enemy soil'.

But, nobody had come out to apprehend them, so maintaining their cover seemed quite prudent... Jim smiled huge and enthusiastically waved at their 'Paparazzi', declaring 'Hey, we've got fans!'

"Subtle as each other!" murmured Thera. Then to the group: "Shall we go ask him what his interest is - assuming he hangs around long enough to reach him? Could be he's heard something about us, or maybe he's snapping all newcomers."
This message was last edited by the player at 15:49, Thu 12 Sept 2013.

In reply to Thera Santorini (msg # 34):

Perhaps because of Doc's waving, or perhaps because the cart is nearing the gate (and there would be nothing to impeded the group from chasing after the "paparazzi" once they're through the gate), the "paparazzi" stuffs his camera in a bag and begins quickly walking towards the nearest corner.  He checks over his shoulder every few seconds to see if the group is following.

The group is now at the starport's crew/service gate.  There are two bored SPA guards there, who show the group no more than passing interest.  They wave the group through with barely a glance.  From experience, you know that the guards only real interest in people is to check that they're on a crew manifest or local access list before allowing them access to the port.  Really the guards are there to prevent movement of unauthorized goods from moving in or out.  The guards don't seem to have noticed the "paparazzi".

"Moscow Rules..." Hayden said, quoting some very obscure Solomani reference before adding his own wave to the Doc's.

At the gate, he proceeded through with a travel weary, but determined look, as if getting stopped wasn't an option.  A slight nod acknowledged the guard's waive through.  In Hayden's experience, it was never a good idea to stop and ask about anything, or look around at any starport check point.  Speak only when spoken to, hand over only what was asked, and treat each checkpoint as if clearing it was a fait accompli and the guards were wasting their time and yours if they stopped you.

"A cab sounds good," Hayden said when Dani asked about transport.  "I'd be up for finding out what they call the local firewater here."

The edges of Dani's mouth quirked up slightly and she chuckled at Hayden's remark; but she did give him a slight, knowing nod.  She shook her head and then shrugged at Thera's suggestion.  "Wouldn't really help, T." the raven-haired pilot remarked quietly off-hand; the way she saw it, there was no way that they could easily close the distance and confront the man without creating a serious security incident and create even more unwarranted attention.  She didn't bother to wave at the man and his camera.

Danica was quiet and professional as she quickly followed Hayden through the checkpoint.  She tried to follow his lead making sure that there was not reason to doubt their connection, story, or any other detail about their presence.  Of course, the mirrorshades helped her to maintain the appearance of a cool, calm demeanor.

Once outside of the security gate, Dani started to cast about for some local private transport at Hayden's behest.

Doc smiled at Thera and chuckled as their 'paparazzi' scampered away.  "Well, guess that means no interview for the cover of the Tupolev daily."

After shuffling past the SPA checkpoint, he checked his comm unit to see what local options were available.. "Don't mind stretching the legs, but a taxi'd be good, especially we hit this BBC joint the farm lady mentioned."

In reply to Dr. Jim D. Jones (msg # 38):

Taxis are readily available and the ride to the BBC uneventful (some generous soul please deduct Cr20 for the cab ride).

The BBC is near the old north port.  Those of you who have done a lot of spacing are a bit shocked how run down north port has gotten in the couple years since you have last seen it.  At the moment, there is only one free trader on the tarmac.  Bits of trash blow around the unused landing pads.

In contrast to the underutilized port, the BBC is surprisingly lively.  The open floorplan and basic furnishings don't do much to dampen the noise, it has always been a loud place, especially tonight as most of the crowd are local.

You're concerned about finding an op table, until to catch sight of Monica.  She has already pulled two tables together and staked out her spot.  She sees you, waves cheerily, and calls to you, "Over here guys!"

Jack made a mental note of the photographer's appearance, including the bag with camera in it. After passing through starport security he waved down a taxi. "I've got this," he said as he slipped his credit chit into the payment slot.

He kept an eye out for a tail, though he felt it was probably unnecessary. Still, it was an odd thing, and made him wonder if the story of the Trills and the rescue of the science team had just made it here. If the "paparazzi" had a more sinister intent, it was best not to speculate... He checked the streets again as they passed into the BBC, and scanned the crowd for anyone with a camera.