In reply to Linus Spruance (msg #51):

"No problem."

Walker disappeared into the building and quickly came back out again, zipping the case on his rifle, with his knife back in it's sheath.

In reply to Thomas Walker (msg #52):

Neva was starting to feel uncomfortable with everybody going and coming and yet no transportation.  When Ken moved away she moved back into the middle of the group more but left herself plenty of room to maneuver if need be.  She wasn't the best fighter by any means but she also wasn't afraid to mix it up if need be.  She switched her bags around so that it was balanced more and kept her eyes open.

Liisha looked around for an improvised weapon, anything that could be used as a club, cudgel, or a bottle or sharp piece of glass that could be turned into an improvised dagger.

Looking over at the Gogs, she nodded to the assembled group before saying "Evening."

Rule #21 - Be polite, be professional, but have a plan to kill everyone you meet.

In reply to Liisha Laagir (msg #54):

Bags over shoulder, Thomas walked nonchalantly back to the group after visiting the W/C. He wiped his hands on his clothing, there being no paper towels left.

The largest Gog perked up at Liisha's greeting. He bowed and advanced to a few metres away. The rest of the crowd stayed back with their pedicabs across the street, sitting and standing around the front stoop of a closed shop.

He was wearing threadbare but clean shorts, sandals, and a leather vest. No weapons were visible.

"Most pleasant evening. Have good trip? Does lady need ride? Go fast, cheap! Twenty Credits for all, anywhere in city."

"Thanks.  I'll let my friend know," Liisha said to the friendly Gog, trying to make clear that she wasn't in charge.  "Do you know of any place open this time of night for a meal?  A diner or breakfast place?" she asked.

In reply to Liisha Laagir (msg #56):

"Lady is most gracious. Please wait."

The big Gog turned and gargle-clicked at the layabouts behind him. Three of them immediately scattered off in different directions at a dead run.

Within a minute they heard a kind of jingle-jangle coming from down the street, and one of the runner Gogs came into the yellow glow of the streetlamp pushing a food cart, again at a dead run. He stopped with an almost audible "screech!" in front of the group.

Within seconds he deployed the cart, a little sheet-metal and aluminum affair with what smelled like an already lit charcoal burner. A bit of cooking oil from a squeeze bottle was squirted into a hot pan, vegetables were chopped and unidentified meat sliced into delicate strips with dizzying speed (using all four arms simultaneously, of course!) followed with a loud sizzle. Soon the street was filled with the smell of creditable-seeming stir-fry. Two Gog hands stirred sizzling meat and veggies, while another two uncovered metal pots with cooked rice and noodles.

The smell was delicious and the aroma filled the quiet avenue. "Five Credits each! Good food!" said the cook-Gog.

Within minutes a panting Gog rolled up with an ice-chest on wheels containing cold drinks (cans and bottles of soft drinks, water, fruit juices, cold coffee, iced tea, etc.), while a third cart held hot drinks (coffee, several types of teas). He also had the means to make fresh-squeezed fruit smoothies. The cold-drink Gog wore a machete in a belt-sheath. Prices were reasonable, Cr1 or Cr2 for all drinks, in the pidgin words of the cold-drink Gog.

The last-arriving Gog (with the hot drinks) seemed to be the oldest, being a little more creased and stooped, but still gamely trying to keep up. She(?) put a kettle on to boil. It was unclear if the Gog understood any Anglic.

Meanwhile, "Boss Gog" stood back, arms akimbo, looking satisfied at the speedy pace of events.
This message was last edited by the GM at 21:17, Tue 13 Mar 2012.

In reply to GM (msg #57):

Walker shrugged his shoulders.

"Might as well.  Don't know when the client's coming back."

He turned to the cart

"I'll take 4, with noodles" he said pointing at the stuff being fried.  Then he went over to the hot beverage cart.

"You make coffee?  Turkish?  Fine grind, boil three times?"

When the food cart vendor indicated that his order was ready, he pulled 5, 1-credit coins out of a pocket to pay.

In reply to Thomas Walker (msg #58):

"Boss Gog" translated with the hot drink Gog.

"Yes, can do. Sugar? Cream?" The "cream" appeared to be condensed milk from a can, the sugar was liquid sucrose in a plastic squeeze bottle.

Food-Gog cocked his head at the order. "Four servings on noddles. Twenty Credits."

In reply to GM (msg #59):

"No, 1 stir-fry, 4 fried dumplings, with noodles.  How much?"

In reply to Thomas Walker (msg #60):

The Food-Gog held up one four-fingered hand, plus another finger. "Five Credits, sirrr. Taste like cheekin."

He used his other two hands to to dump some noodles in the pan to fry, as well as dumplings. More sizzling ensued.

In reply to GM (msg #61):

Ahhh, the smell of food...that evil smell of food...that reminded her that her funds were short.  Luckily she had finished an excellent steak dinner before the flight.  Still though...~No Neva~ you can't get anything yet.  Wait for a payday.

Neva sighed to herself and turned her back on the food as if dismissing it.  She kept her eyes out for any sign of people she would know.

In reply to GM (msg #61):

"How much chicken have you eaten?  Never mind, it doesn't matter."

Walker lays 5 1-credit coins on the tray that serves as a counter.

"Black."

"I'll take a stir-fry and a coffee as well.  Coffee with sugar, no cream.  Thank you." Liisha said, forking over a few credits and a tip.

In reply to Liisha Laagir (msg #65):

With a smile, Food-Gog scooped up the coins and they disappeared as if they never existed. Even this far outside the Imperial Fringe, the rock-solid Imperial Credits was still the "coin of the realm" here, universally accepted, although there was a local Mirayn currency offered at a disadvantageous rate.

"Two Credits for hot drinks." Not surprisingly, Boss Gog did the talking.

Again the Big Gog translated, and Hot-Drink-Gog got to work pouring Turkish coffee for Thomas and a black coffee for Liisha. More stir-fry went into the pan as Thoms's order was scooped into a styrofoam container complete with plastic fork, napkin, tied together with a string. Neva's stomach growled audibly.

More Gogs pulling pedicabs stopped by and Gogs began drifting across the road to place their own orders. Soon there was a relaxed and friendly crowd around them, smoking, drinking and joking in the native Gog tongue as the tired workers enjoyed a late-night noshing. Although there was no daylight between human and Gog, it didn't seem like they were being surrounded or separated from their luggage.

Liisha grabbed an extra fork and walked over to Neva.

"Hi Neva, care for a bite?  There's no way I can eat all of it.  A girl's got to watch her figure you know.  A midnight snack is a delicious indulgence.  A midnight meal goes straight to the hips." Laagir said.

Linus watched the proceedings with interest, professional interest now that he was in the bar trade. He'd not considered that gogs might be so proficient at catering. Worth filing away for future reference.

In turn, he stepped up and ordered a stir-fry and a black coffee, sweet and as strong as they can make it.

0145 Hours Local Time
Val Preszar Hoverport Terminal



As soon as the money was down, it disappeared into Gog pockets. The food was good, coffee perfectly done. In the cutthroat world of street cuisine, there was little to compete on in a business way save for taste and convenience. The Gogs knew their business.

Things at the warehouse were taking a little longer than expected for Lorain and Ken at the warehouse, but things were mellow enough back with the rest of the group. There was little vehicular traffic this late in Val Preszar, and a couple of the half-dozen pedicabs took off, presumably heading for home.

Two sets of bright headlights swept over the group and suddenly, all the Gogs looked and then froze in alertness. A pair of white Jeeps marked "MIRAYN GENDARMERIE" with Gendarmerie crests on the hoods pulled up. Riding each were what appeared to be 2 military police, wearing clean khaki uniforms, shiny black combat boots. Three wore glossy white enameled helmets with "AP" stenciled on them, one wore a black peaked "policeman" cap. Leather "Sam Browne" pistol belts (with a thin shoulder strap under the left epaulette) held a Revolver on a lanyard in a flapped holster, billyclub and radio. A couple of Gogs unburdened by carts or pedicabs faded into the darkness of the terminal and surrounding buildings.

The largest of the APs (the one in the peaked cap) slid out from behind the wheel and alighted on the cracked concrete in a smooth and practiced maneuver that belied his considerable bulk, muscle under fat. The uniform wasn't just clean but starched and creased, and in a beefy hand he held a bullwhip. His name tag read "BONIFACE" and he wore the three chevrons of a Sergeant. Shoulder flashes read "Mirayn Gendarmerie" and "Antiquities Police" in brightly stitched thread.

Sergeant Boniface glided forward with an easy menace as the Gogs tried to edge away. The other 3 APs arranged themselves on either side of him, weapons not yet drawn. One kept an eye on the buildings, the others watched the Gogs. The biggest Gog, the one who'd been translating, stood his ground.

"Good evening, Ladies, Gentlemen. Are these filthy creatures bothering you?" The bullwhip's tail flicked down and forward, quiet, almost playful. The APs on either side of him immediately made sure they were out of the way should he draw back the whip to strike. It was possible the good Sergeant had taught them such care by simply letting the Devil take the hindmost.
This message was last edited by the GM at 19:31, Wed 14 Mar 2012.

"No, of course not, Officer," said Linus, stepping forwards. "Has there been trouble round here in the past?"

In reply to Liisha Laagir (msg #67):

Neva looks at Liisha and nods.  "Just a little bit if you don't mind.  Finished off a steak before we boarded.  Not too hungry but that food does smell good."

Neva chuckled at Liisha's comments about food going to her hips.  "Oh I don't think you have anything to worry about.  Food doesn't go to my hips that much but I feel like it does sometimes. Of course then I have to have something fattening just to shut up my guilty voice.  Have to show it who's in charge you know."

Neva grins as she accepts the extra fork.

In reply to GM (msg #69):

"No officer, there's not a problem.  We asked, because we were looking for food, it was a long trip.  Have you tried one of these?  They're pretty good.  And their coffee is good, too."

The Sergeant rankled a bit at being addressed as "Officer", although this was technically correct. Sweat shone in a blond buzzcut that was razor sharp, and a pencil-mustache above his lips. Unlike the others, Boniface didn't wear a helmet but a black peaked cap with shiny leather brim and gold badge.

"These stinking, lazy Gogs are always trouble. You have to be careful, they will rob you blind. Especially Stanley, here. He's a troublemaker. One day he'll upset the wrong people, mark my words." The big Gog stood still, eye-fucking Boniface four times over.

Boniface hesitated, then motioned to his men as he grudgingly coiled up the bullwhip but still held it in his hand, "go, help yourelves. The offworlder has so kindly offered to pay. That's fifteen Imperial Credits. We so graciously thank you for your generosity." Obviously, he deliberately misinterpreted what Thomas meant, but his hard eyes dared Thomas to call him on it.
This message was last edited by the GM at 19:30, Wed 14 Mar 2012.

"Excuse me Officer," Liisha said, putting her food down and stepping forward.

"I seem to recall that paying Gogs in Imperial Credits would violate an Acts related to Art and Historical Object Theft.  Now I'm sure a member of the Antiquities Police wouldn't suggest that someone violate the such Acts."  Liisha looked at the bully in uniform, her gaze unflinching.

"Certainly not in front of so many witnesses.  That would be the kind of thing that would have to be reported to your superior officer I'm quite sure." By now Liisha was looking around at the assembled group.  No doubt anything the Gog's said would be easily dismissed, but the presence of Linus, Neva, and Thomas would be a wrench in the works for any story Boniface tried to fabricate.  And everyone reports to someone.

"Clearly there's some confusion.  Perhaps you and your men should pay for your own coffee in the approved local currency.  To clear up any... misunderstanding." Laagir motioned to the coffee seller.

"In any event, as we've indicated, we have no need for your assistance.  Good-evening Sergeant." Liisha said in the voice of a seasoned Lieutenant dismissing an out of line NCO.
This message was last edited by the player at 19:44, Wed 14 Mar 2012.

Bonface held Liisha's gaze, trying to gauge how much sand she had.

Grunting, he clipped the bullwhip to his belt. Sgt. Boniface realised he was outmaneuvered but still had cards to play.

"Quite right, Madame. All right, all of you: please present your papers and step away from your bags. I see one of you has a rifle case, others may be armed. Let's see if you have the correct permits to carry them from the Starport. There's a fifty credit fine and we confiscate all unauthorised weapons. Or you can pay me a hundred credits now for each weapon, and I will write you a temporary permit."


GM Note: You don't have the right permits and the local Law Level is 7: all firearms are prohibited.

In reply to Sgt. Boniface (msg #75):

Walker frowned.  This had gone from a 15 credit bribe to two hundred, for himself alone.  But he laid his bag on the ground, and opened his case.

"Here you go.  I'm a tracker and a marksman for a living.  I spent time working with a circus on Aberdeen, as a trick shooter, for a while.  I also do contract work with police units."
This message was last edited by the player at 03:15, Thu 15 Mar 2012.