As soon as the Long Shot drops out of jumpspace, the computer begins sounding off with signal alerts as Sensors and Communications pick up around 200 signal beacons in the Utgard vicinity. The only important one is the ‘stand-and-deliver’ one: who are you and why are you here? Essentially, this is the standard ASC (Air-Space Control) greeting that you get from any starport that you approach. However, there’s no ‘or else’. There are no orbital weapons or nearby ships that can attack.

The moon of Outpost is well within the 100-diameter jump-limit of the gas giant that it orbits, so you normally have a 9 million kilometer trip inward. That's actually a good thing, as Outpost has only an 11 day periodicity. The long distance gives you ample time to match vectors, even using the gravity of the gas giant if necessary.

Approaching Outpost, you can spot (through viewports or external monitors) 4 flags flying over the base: Imperial, Naval, Duncinae and Aslan. There is also a ‘command tower’ (looks like the bridge levels of an old aircraft carrier) and 5 bubble-domes (4 large, 1 small).
This message was last edited by the GM at 18:03, Thu 07 Apr 2016.

As soon as he heard the emergence warning, Pablo grabbed the helmet for his suit and headed to the ventral turret, strapping in and looking at the sensor output. Once he confirmed there were no immediate threats to the ship, he started marking the signal sources that were running military or Aslan transponders, and starting up a list. It was something to do till someone told him to do something else.

When the alarms start Khea rushes to the engineering room and once their inquires about the nature of the threat to divert power or activate repair drones as needed. When the situation is cleared uo Khea relaxes and starts up the M-Drive in 3g mode after they were unused for a week during the jump.
She then makes her way to the bridge to take a look at their deatination, or rather its sensor readings.

OOC: What clans are flying their flag on Outpost? (What are those clans known for? Trading? Fighting? Spying?) The Hierate does not have a central government and instead consists out of lots of individual clans without any overarching leadership. The closest thing the Hierate has to a government is the Tlaukhu, a council of the 29 largest clans. But even with their vassals they only make up a minority of the Aslan people. The other clans follow them more out of respect than because they need to.

  Kaengarr took position in the dorsal turret, but once they were were all clear he returned to his earlier work refurbishing those corners of the ship that had yet to be personalized to the current crew, a task that kept him reasonably close to the turret access if there was a sudden change in their circumstances.

With the vessel coming out of jump space, Sir Walter finished up the paperwork on the cargo and set about getting the crew members paid out of the group fund that had been set up at the beginning of their meeting by Count Cromwell.

Assembling the crew at a fine meal cooked by Kaengarr, Sir Walter addressed them

"After discussing it with Captain Cromwell, the account that we had been pooling the money we had acquired in the process of "assisting" Ms Blue will be closed. In its place the ship has separate accounts for the cargo and any repairs or upgrades that we might need. It is better that your personal money be yours and the money to operate the vessel be separate for business reasons."

"When Ms Brandenberg joined the group, she deposited 1 mcr into the account for her buy in, bring the group total to 17,417,000 credits. 8,905,000 of that was used to purchase the cargo we are currently carrying, leaving a balance of 8,512,000, Each crew member other than Ms Brandenberg will be credited with half a million credits into your personal accounts when we land, leaving 4,012,000 in an account set up for operating the Long Shot ."

"The operating plan for the Long Shot is that once we land and sell the cargo, 10 mcr will go back into the cargo fund. Any remaining profits will be split with half the money being paid to the crew, each crew member getting five percent per person. The other half will be split between the cargo and ship accounts. If for some reason we become very profitable, the cargo account has a cap of 20 mcr and the ship has one of 50 mcr. Any money over the cap will be divided evenly between the ten of us." Sir Walter said

"Ok, let them know who we are and let´s get docked"

Sam made sure she was on shift when the ship was due out of Jump, so she could Pilot her in.

As soon as they emerge she starts a systems check before firing up the engines to head into port.

The Aslan flag flying is the Tlaukhu. Even as the electronic protocols are being exchanged, news items are uploaded to the ship (unless you have that protocol turned off). About a year ago, an Aslan battlecruiser appeared in the system flying a diplomatic flag and requesting an embassy. Negotiations were short before Outpost agreed.


Once your ship is identified, and all the protocols are cleared, and after an bit of a delay, you receive this:

"I.S.S. Longshot, welcome to Outpost. You are cleared for landing. Initiating landing beacon... now."


Although there are landing fields laid out on the surface, there are currently no other ships in sight. As your ship gets within 1000 meters, tractor beams reach out to grab the ship and pull it... in. Docking hatches open on the surface, revealing a docking bay underground.

The ship settles to the floor about as gracefully as you'd expect, and the docking hatches overhead close.

As we had approached, Count Cromwell changes into his Formal Suit (Gel Cloth) and puts on his Arc-Field Sword. He makes sure that any and all awards for his suit are properly in place.

With a smile, he turns to everyone as they get ready to depart, "What do you think, too much, or just right?"

OOC: Are we supposed to be an I.S.S. ship?

OOC: Yes, I know this is multiple postings...


Standing in his own magnificence, Darrel stops and realizes, "Wait a minute, something seems wrong... let's lock the ship down, until we're secure."

Sir Walter shook his head as he stood by the back wall of the bridge at the mention of locking down the ship. "If I might point out, locking the front door is going to be a waste of time since we are in an underground hanger and it has tractor beams." he said. "At the very least, prepare to be boarded by customs and do as they say. You might want to have your identification ready and not be armed to the teeth." he added.

"You're right, but, there is something wrong here."

Sharik had made sure that she was strapped in at the astrogator's station a full two hours before the scheduled transition time back into N-space.  They could have fallen out of J-space before then, but it was highly unlikely.  Statisically speaking, it was a greater then 95% chance that they would appear within two hours of the appointed time.  Having run the calculations herself, Shar was extremely confident of that estimate.

During the week a lot of things had come together for her.  Her facility with computers had taken a quantum leap forward as she brought together bits from her familiarity with general electronics hardware as well as her training with specialty communications protocols and security systems.  It helped that her personal virtual aide had also been tutoring her with various architectual designs and that the auburn-haired dilettante had a pretty good head on her shoulders for sythesizing information.

She'd dutifully shielded her eyes when lanthenum grid had flared at the transition, there was little need to risk permanent ocular damage.  Besides, it always took the sensors and guidance systems a couple of seconds to reacquire signals and start streaming data after the flare.

It seemed when they dropped out of jump and the ship started to broadcast that there was some necessity to use her new-found computer skills.  Sharik started by running a set of traces and diagnostics to verify which transponder was broadcasting and to see if she could figure out when subroutines in the central core were being accessed (and if possible, by whom).  Sharik was wearing her tailored vacc suit, though immediately after the ship had transitioned (and it had become apparent that there were not being scattered all over creation), she'd popped her visor and stowed her gloves on the hooks next to her console.  Her fingers danced on her holographic, dynamic display; she'd spent plenty of time configuring the way that she liked it and so, the cosmopolitan socialite was able to make efficient use of the various data feeds both internal and external to the ship.

Shar simply listened to conversation of Walter and Darrel, having nothing to add about any of the legal stuff.  She wasn't armed in any case, having stowed any of her weapons properly in armoury section of the ship's locker.  She pushed a preliminary route based on the initial star location data from the transition point and the Port Authority beacon information.

---

[OOC:  Can we trace the transponder feed back to the core routines (not sure how difficult that will be)?

  22:15, Today: Sharik Kaagira rolled 11 using 2d6+4 with rolls of 6,1.  Computer/Int Check: Transponder! (+1 Skill, +1 Intellect/1, +2 Int).]

Sam was shaken when the tractor beams locked, and tried to fight them until she realised it was pointless.

"They could have at least warned us that was going to happen"

As she waited to be pulled in she pulled up what data she could on Outpost

ooc
Sam will scan recent news items and also the world code to see what she can find out. Can we get the World Code for this place - or have I missed it soemwhere
This message was last edited by the player at 07:33, Mon 18 Apr 2016.

It was a routine Astrogation task to determine that the ship came out of jumpspace where it was supposed to, not only in the correct system but roughly in the area near your destination.

It would have been a bit tricky to match vectors with the moon, but not only are there a bazillion beacons and such, the Long Shot has more than enough power to handle the task. It'd be harder for an M-1, but still doable.

As near as you could tell before, and still do, the Long Shot transponder is linked to the library computer and the engineering computer to get the info it requires. You can't normally alter the information it transmits from the main computer. Only ships engaged in illegal operations would have that capability. Even having that capability is generally considered illegal, with fines and confiscation of the ship possible it caught.

On the other hand, it's probably within the Count's noblesse oblige, at least within the Imperium.


Since the tractor beams are more like a cushion that actual beams, Sam is pretty sure the Long Shot could have broken away from them if she'd wanted to. They don't appear to have been intended as any sort of restraint.

"Nah, nothing to worry about, your Countship!" Vonon says from his bridge station - where he, like the Count, is not wearing a spacesuit, but instead is wearing one of the longshot ship's suits; the one he's wearing today is one of the black ones.

"If we'd had landing tractors like these back in Cassandra's Belt, we'd have used them. You have to remember that folks who live in sealed environments - like these folks, or Belters, like myself - we all have a little paranoid streak when it comes to anything that could compromise the sealed environment of our communities. Things like big ships falling out of the sky right at us - that is to say, a ship that's landing! - give us some concern."

"Any of a dozen things can go wrong during a landing - propulsion failure, pilot error, computer error, whatever. And if a ship landing goes wrong, the damage could blow-out seals all over the port; hundreds of people could die from the loss of environment. These guys have the tech to take control for themselves; back in Cassandra's belt, we have to allow a ship's pilot to bring his vessel into a hangar on his own - all we can do is track him with weapons the whole way in, and blast him to atoms if the ship deviates dangerously."

"So, think of it this way, my Lord - it's either landing controlled from the ground, or they could be pointing missiles at us. Me, I prefer missiles, hurr-hurr-hurr."

In reply to Vonon Ronkunu (msg # 17):

With Vonon/Walter's comments, Count Cromwell realizes his own paranoia had gotten the better of him, "You're right, I should have realized that...I've been watching too many of my own vids. Ok, let's get the formalities over with."

Khea was a bit surprised to land on the planet. With such a small world she expected to dock at a high port instead.

After what she learned of Outpost from the ships computer she decided like Count to go out armed. Except that she decided to wear her armor vest and two of her MPs.
She also takes one of the life supports masks with her, just in case.
This message was last edited by the player at 19:49, Wed 20 Apr 2016.

Sir Walter went down the check list in his mind and the first two were easy as there was no passengers or mail to deal with. "I guess next is to greet our first group of customs officials on the Long Shot. Care to come?" he asked the Count before grabbing his datapad with the cargo manifest.

"Sure, maybe we can speed up the process."

Sam leabned back in the pilots chair as the landing was made for her. To anyone else on the bridge she said "I could have done a smoother landing. Probably." She looked around
This message was last edited by the player at 08:27, Mon 25 Apr 2016.

In reply to Samantha Kilgore (msg # 22):

"I'll wait here." Vonon says, waving at the bridge tactical panel he's sitting at, "If this port is like most, they'll probably want to check the weapons and make sure they're locked down. So far, we've received pretty much Class A port services - which I wasn't, really, expecting." he finishes with a frown.

As if raining on Vonon's parade, the image view of the ship's bay paints a different picture. While nothing actually looks rusted, it all looks kind of grim, dirty and grimy... like it hasn't been cleaned in awhile... a loooong while.

It also doesn't look like it's been maintained, as the lighting is rather dim. Or possible half the lights just haven't been turned on.


You wait for customs to show up... and wait... and wait.... and wait... Nobody comes to the ship.

There's a diagram in the ship's computer of the base, though it doesn't appear to be updated. It's also a 'tourist' version, since it doesn't show any details for critical areas.

You saw this when the ship was landing, but until you look at the diagram, didn't know the significance. The ship landed in the outer ring of docking bays. You can call up data (out of date, too) that indicates the outer ring is usually reserved for smaller ships and those who want discount docking fees.

"Considering what the computer had to say about Outpost the customs should be over quick." Before joining the others Khea grabs her computer and loads the support for the local dialects into her translator.
"When it comes to it though I leave it up to you to offer a bribe. I do not know yet how much a humaniti would consider appropriate, be it male or female."

"Well now, something is not right as I am use to the starports having the same procedures." Sir Walter said. "I guess we will find out what is going on shortly." he added opening the entrance.

In reply to Walter Zeller (msg # 26):

"Interesting place to land us, I doubt all the inner docking bays were full, so, again, not being paranoid, but, I have a feeling there's a specific reason to put us all the way out here."

Calls up the datanet for Outpost, to upgrade the ship's current information.

One thing of interest, he's looking to see if any ships from Grendal had docked recently.

And, contact information for Mutt Talbek.

"Let's hold off a minute before making any official contact with port authorities, maybe get a sense of our surroundings...can we get our ship's lighting to check out the complete docking bay? Pablo, do me a favor and any turret that can be used in an anti-personnel role, hhhmmm, how about that might be available if needs be."
This message was last edited by the player at 23:27, Fri 22 Apr 2016.

Pablo, having waited long enough, decided it was time to just go and see what was up. After some thought, he went, for him, pretty light. One of the Snubs, loaded with tranq, given the Captain's policy of limited bloodshed, went into a leg holster, due to its size, and he wore the body pressure suit, and his tailored vacc suit.

A simple pouch held his other things, and after some thought, he left the various explosives and the wrist launcher in the ship's locker. He did, just for his own peace of mind, bring along a mag full of HEAP for the Snub, just in case.

Setting his comms to record, and making sure his link to Sharik was good, he headed out into the landing bay, on his way towards the nearest personnel door. looking around as he did.

---

20:56, Today: Pablo Esteban Ryzov rolled 10 using 2d6+1 with rolls of 3,6.  Recon.

The first thing that Darrel discovers is that access to the base's datanet has been blocked. It's not a hard block, and there are a number of ways around it, specifically anyone's personal comm, since none of those have been blocked.

A free trader from Grendal named Good Fortune docked about a week ago. It departed yesterday.

Mutt Talbek is the Chief Engineer for the civilian end of the starport shipyard. His comm ID is readily available.


Pablo exits the ship with no problem. His vacc-suit sensors tell him the air is breathable and the correct pressure.

Because the base is constructed in a concentric ring pattern, the outer docking bays have the potential for being the largest. In particular, the one that the Longshot is in is probably 1/3 of what it could be expanded to. Access to the rest of the base is through interconnecting corridors.

The first door he finds appears to be locked, as it won't open. As he studies it for a moment, that's when he realizes that this would be a connecting door to an adjacent bay, for the wall itself is movable (though currently locked in place, and seems to have been so for a rather long time).

He has to go to the other end of the bay to the personnel door there. It isn't locked and opens to a corridor going left and right. To the right, which would put him at the edge of the outer ring, is a tool locker. The door is open, there are tools scattered across the floor, and a layer of oily dust on it all. It looks like someone just walked away from it.

To the left, the corridor goes nearly 100 feet before coming to a cross corridor. It is dimly lit, too. There are additional doors along the length, including one right across from the one he opened.
This message was last edited by the GM at 17:36, Sat 23 Apr 2016.

Pablo wasn't especially concerned yet. Often times whatever customs or entry administrivia took place happened at the point where you left the landing areas and entered the terminal buildings and such.

So he looked up and down the hall for a door marked 'Exit,' or possibly a sign directing him towards the starport offices.

Now that the ship was docked at Outpost, Jones had little to do. Actually, he had even less to do on the journey here.

He was definitely concerned about the lack of activity... and the condition of the docking bay. It was too much like an ambush site... at least as portrayed in many of the holovids.

They had cargo to deliver; this location did not seem conducive to that. He decided to check the local law level.

"Holy Klono's Balls!" he exclaimed to himself. "There might as well not be any!"

Only energy weapons were prohibited, which made sense. In a sealed environment, energy weapons had a greater potential for breaching that. He suspected there was a caveat to that, though: no explosive... for the same reason.

Technically, he was here as the Count's bodyguard, and that would be great for show, but he was pretty sure none of the others actually believe that by now.

He looked for Valeska. They'd worked well together on dealing with the ship's lockers.

"Hey, Valeska. Wanna take a stroll? Go see the sights of Outpost?"

"It looks like there is no one here to greet us. I guess lets head forward to get the cargo unloaded. Let me try to remember the the layout but as I have not been here in almost 20 years, things are bound to change." Sir Walter said, as he headed out to join Pablo

While not initially concerned the paranoia of the others is a bit contagious. But as Khea had already decided beforehand to go out armed as far as the local law allows it there was no need to go back and change equipment.

Outside she dons her life support mask, not out of fear but because of the smell of years of neglect and follows the others deeper into the facility.

"I expected a more lively place. Are you sure you docked at the correct downport?"

Sam stayed at pilots desk seat and decided to do a sensor sweep. She wanted to look for power usage levels, and signs of movement on the deck, or any lifesigns on the base. It had an air of a ghost base. Or perhaps it was just the boondocks of the base. Anyway her "Spider sense was jingling". She wasn't sure what that meant - she'd picked it up as a phrase from a buddy on tour, who liked old vids. It didn't make sense to her - most spiders seemed dumb to her. But apparently it meant "something ain't right"


ooc

09:46, Today: Samantha Kilgore rolled 9 using 2d6+2 with rolls of 4,3.  Sensors 1 Int +1.

Sharik had retired to her stateroom for a few moments, after the ship had come to full stop and she'd put her console in standby.

When the diminutive, cosmopolitan dilettante had emerged from her quarters a couple of minutes later, she sported a stylish bolero-style jacket (with a fetchingly tailored cut) over her tailored vacc suit.  Since the suit wore like clothing, she used it as a jumpsuit.  There collapsible helmet was folded back for the moment and doubled as a high collar around her neck, while the gloves were tucked in her belt.

She glanced down at her dataglove, which scrolled a notification.  Shar smiled slightly and started off down the hallway at a fair clip.

The scion of House Kaagira came trotting around a corner before hailing the ex-Marine, Ryzov, "Pablo, wait up."  She sidled up to her old friend as he walked the corridor towards the starport proper warning him playfully, "You should never go 'exploring' without back up..."

Pablo was pleased to see Sharik, despite the uncertainties of the situation. He grinned as he looked at her. She could make even a vacc suit look good. Of course, her sense of style had never been in doubt, at least in his experience.

"Plenty of backup now, with you here, and Walter and Khea. Just as well, too. Hopefully whatever we run into here, the situation will answer better to your skillset, or Walter's, or even Khea's, rather than mine."

There are some theorists that claim 'spider-sense' is just an amped up intuition, which is your subconscious making connections that your conscious mind hasn't been able to put together.

In this case, the situation is clearly not 'normal' for any other starport, but it is still remotely possible that this is somehow normal for Outpost. Certainly none of the data you have on Outpost suggests this is normal.

In reply to StarMaster (msg # 37):

Having similar thoughts to his human Marine buddy, Vonon calls up the data available on Port Outpost -- and the fur on the back of his neck bristles a little bit.

"How in the Emperor's Name did I miss a level two Law Code?" he quietly asks himself.

Looking around the bridge to see if anyone had heard him, Vonon then calls over to Sam.

"Uh, Senior Pilot...sir?" Vonon says, speaking precisely - just in case this crazy ship still has the flight recorder running, "The Tactical Officer requests permission to run a weapon systems diagnostic before the local authorities require weapons lock-down."

***...If they require it...*** Vonon thinks to himself.

In reply to Vonon Ronkunu (msg # 38):

"Fine by me" Sam replied

ooc
Where are you guys getting the planet info from - have I missed it somewhere?
This message was last edited by the player at 07:14, Thu 28 Apr 2016.

In reply to Samantha Kilgore (msg # 39):

"Thanks Sam." Vonon says, as his hands start tapping out commands on the tactical board.

In moments Vonon has placed the ships weapons on standby; now, with just the entry of a single command, the turrets are ready to go 'hot'. And the anti-hijacking program is loaded and ready to be activated.

"Uh...tactical diagnostic is...um...running." Vonon reports.

Not wanting to wait any longer Khea goes through the door and follows the left corridor to the next intersection.
She doesn't exactly expect trouble, after all the logs say that this port is in use, still the situation looks strange with it being so deserted, especially on such a small but well travelled world. So Khea watches for any signs that there is something unusual going on.

OOC:
Recon for anything suspicious:
22:34, Today: Kheaiftouaw rolled 4 using 2d6-2 with rolls of 2,4.  Recon +0 Int, -3 Unskilled, +1 Aslan in low light.

In reply to Kheaiftouaw (msg # 41):

OOC: was Sharik sitting at comms? Who's sitting at comms, right now? Is anyone?

Realizing that he'd do more good working along with Sir Walter than staying with the ship, Count Cromwell joins the departing group.

He also sends a comm to Mutt Talbek, requesting a meeting.

In reply to Darrel Cromwell (msg # 43):

"The Tower's been awfully quiet, since we landed, Sam." Vonon says, "Uh, mind if I give 'em a shout and ask for the prices to hook into the planetary info-net?"

Pablo, seeing Khea forging ahead, moved to catch up with her, returning to his own looking about. "Y'know Khea, we have snub submachine guns in the locker now, made for Aslan hands, and patterned on that machine pistol of yours. It would offer both a harder potential punch, and some versatility in ammunition types, if you were interested in trying one out sometime."

Sam looked over at Vonun and winked "IF you could keep your eye on your tactical diagnostic, I'll check up on that"

She pulled up the Comms console on her Pilots station screen and contacted the tower

"Outpost Control this is the Long Shot, can you send us over info and prices on how we connect into the data grid here please? Also, can you give us an ETA on any Customs or other officialdom in-bound to us please? Over."

ooc

15:14, Today: Samantha Kilgore rolled 13 using 2d6+1 with rolls of 6,6.  Comms to tower.

Sam's effort to contact base control doesn't have any success. Apparently no radio signals will penetrate the walls of the docking bay. This is par for a hardened facility--protection against EMPs. Usually in such circumstances, a ship needs to attach an umbilical. This is usually done automatically, but can also be done manually.


The others that left the ship wind their way through the corridors. The curvature of the walls always tells you that your are getting closer to the center, but you also start seeing people. Some are workers, some appear to be vagrants or homeless.

You only start really seeing 'civilization' when you enter the third ring. You see shops, living quarters, normal people, even an occasional security officer.

"I would prefer not to need to try out a gun at all. But I will look at them. They would certainly solve the problem getting ammunition for my own gun

Unconsciously Khea reaches for her MP on her hip to ensure it is still there.

"I also wouldn't wander this Ruktaha alone. I didn't expect it but now I wouldn't mine an aslan warrior on the crew to întimidate any robber to search other prey. Ours are a bit too small for that I fear."

As the group wandered around the base, the worry that Sir Walter had started to disappear when he noticed others. "I guess lets get the money transferred now that we are here and unload the cargo." He said once he got his bearings back. "However, first stop is my home to check up on my parents."

Pablo nodded. "I'll head back to the ship then, I guess. The sooner we get the hold cleared, the sooner we can wander around. Not you, Sir Walter, go and see your folks. If my people were here, I'd be in a hurry to see them, too."

OOC:Quick question, don't we need a buyer 1st before we unload?

"Sounds good, let's link back up at the ship in a couple of hours."

Darrel will contact the bank(or whatever it's called), to transfer 500,000Cr to each of the crew (minus Valeska) from our group account, leaving 4,012,000Cr to be used as the  ship fund. Note:If GM allows, then at this point everyone should have Crs to spend

Then he'll leave a message with Mutt Talbek, saying he was referred to him by Falko Devlin and would like to arrange a meeting later today (or night?)

BTW, what time reference is it?

"Before we unload Count first has to find a buyer and negotiate a price. Renting storage space on the port itself will be expensive. And I do not believe that our goods will be safe there."

OOC:I figure that it will occur behinds the scenes while we are here, along with a getting a cargo once we figure out where our next stop will be. 

Heading to the core ring, Walter made it to the elevators and up to the business section. Off in a corner along with two other brokers was a sign "Zeller Trading LLC." that he made a beeline towards.

"Is Bertha here?" he asked walking into the shop. While waiting for his sister, he looked over the cargo manifest from the Longshot in order to unload it as profitably as possible.

Once the base starts taking on the appearance of something close to normal, Darrel (and probably everyone else with him) quickly finds that he doesn't have access to the base's communication network.

Khea figures out the problem easily enough: shielding. The concentric-ring configuration of the base means that radio signals won't penetrate very far. On top of that, the base is apparently shielding from EMP.

Your comms work with each other as long as you are still within sight of each other.

Asking someone provides additional information: the base has an internal hardwired info-web that you can connect to by paying a nominal fee (Cr15 per month) for access. There are web nodes all throughout the base so there is almost no place that it can't pick up your signal... once you have access.

Attempting to access a hardpoint in order to purchase produces another problem. Darrel's data isn't accepted. Neither is anyone else's.

This doesn't keep you from purchasing items, though.

Sam stays at the ship, and tries to figure out how to hook up the umbilical.

She tries Comms to Khea to ask if its ok to hook it up before she does so though, presumably getting static.

"Great" she says to Vonun" here 2 minutes, everyones bomb burst all over into the unknown and comms are fragged. Perhaps we should call this ship the SNAFU"

ooc

not sure if anyone else stayed on ship? Apart from Vonun?
This message was last edited by the player at 07:50, Fri 06 May 2016.

Sir Walter spent some time visiting his sister Bertha at the family business and had started setting up to sell the cargo when he found out there was a serious problem for the group.

"What do you mean that my trading license has been suspended?" he said

Pablo, on hearing of the comm access network, buys access for himself, and finds out what it would cost to give the Longshot access to the network, and gets whatever codes are necessary. He'll also see about getting a deal on 10 individual access accounts

Once he has done that, assuming success, he'll pass out the access to all the team members at hand, then head back to the ship and give the info to Sam, in hopes of getting the ship hooked in, and all of us back into our accustomed easy contact..

Just like Darrel's efforts, Pablo is unable to access the network via a hardpoint. More precisely, it won't recognize his comm unit.

The ship cost would be free with the docking fee, as soon as it connects the umbilical, which provides oxygen/'fresh' air, power, recycling and electronic access to base facilities.


Likewise, Sam is unable to reach anyone off the ship.

"Is there a problem?" Jones asked as he entered the bridge.

He hadn't left the ship yet. He'd been waiting to see if Valeska was heading 'ashore'; she'd seemed kind of blue. He wasn't sure if trading one tin can for another tin can (even if it was a lot bigger) would cheer her up. Supposedly, Outpost was a hub of trade and had most if not all of the same amenities a normal planetary starport had. Like getting a drink and eating in an actual restaurant. What was the phrase he'd heard someone say? Oh, yeah: "I just want to go out for lunch!"

A week on a ship wasn't such a long time... until it was you on that ship. It tended to generate a type of claustrophobia known as 'cabin fever'. It preyed on the mind knowing you couldn't leave the ship, even if you had nowhere to go.

Pablo, not so dumb as some might think, tracks down a starport employee, and asks how to get access to the local grid.

"I can go out and hook up the umbilical's -- I wasn't always an officer, y'know. I used to work for a living! Hurr-hurr." Vonon offers, "But somebody should sit at the tactical board. With this planet being a Class-Two legal system, it's a pretty good bet that we're expected to take care of ourselves, for the most part. And, um, it seems that instead of running a diagnostic, I've actually -- somehow -- managed to get the ship to Yellow Alert without setting off any alarms. Weird, that."

Pablo finds an off-duty starport worker who is still wearing his starport uniform, who gladly explains to the 'poor dumb tourist' how to use a hardpoint to gain access to the info-web... and runs into the same problem. Pablo's ID is not being recognized... or accepted... he's not sure which. Since he's never even heard of such a problem before, he can only direct Pablo to the starport office to get the problem taken care of.

As he walks away, he casts a suspicious glance at Pablo, clearly wondering if Pablo is some sort of criminal.


Vonon exits the ship and has to look around for umbilical. It's normally hidden behind an access panel so that a landing ship doesn't actually hit it due to the incompetence of the pilot.

However, when he opens the clearly-labeled (albeit faded and grime-covered) Umbilical panel, he finds the said device in a serious state of disrepair. His first reaction is that it probably won't work at all, but a bit closer inspection shows most of the 'damage' is grime and some chewed wires. Fortunately, he also realizes that though the ship is bass-ackward from where connecting the umbilical would be easy, the umbilical was designed to reach to any area of the ship.

Thanking the employee, Pablo heads for the starport office, musing to himself that the man could be right. After all, he *was* a sort of criminal, and had several years of prison to prove it.

But he did head to the starport office, intent on finding out what was going on with the ID problem.

Having waved farewell to Walter for the time being and exchanged commlink information, Sharik smirked lightly as she tagged along behind Pablo.  She shook her head lightly, causing her auburn ponytail to dance and bob, when the starport worker gave the pair his sidelong glance.

But, she remained conspicuously silent.  It wouldn't do to cause a commotion; at this point, Shar didn't really know how much trouble they were already in.  The diminutive ex-operative didn't like being disconnected.  Especially when she knew that they shouldn't be.  Her mirrorshades had been pushed up onto the crown of her head as the displays were limited due to the lack of connectivity; they still streamed plenty of data, but it was all simply proximity-based (and fairly numerous, since Sharik did have her personal plethora of electronics on her person).

As she walked along side Pablo, Sharik couldn't help but muse, "Not auspicious for a start.  I wonder what all the paranoia is about...."  Of course, it was a touch hypocritical.  It wasn't as though she wasn't packing her stunner under her jacket in a shoulder holster; all rage on a high-tech planet with minimal weapons laws.

Almost surprisingly, the starport office is not at the center of the starport but out in the second ring. Convenient directories at nearly almost every intersection show you how to get to it.

When you reach the location, you realize that this is the civilian end of the starport. It's not very large; there appear to be only 3 people working there, but they are rather busy on the computers and comms. Going into the office, one of the workers asks Pablo what she can do for him. When he explains the problem, she thinks it's an easy fix, but quickly finds the same problem the station worker had. She, however, has a few more options available to her, but they also turn out to be ineffective.

She finally admits defeat and has to refer Pablo and Sharik to the station manager, Sylvester Vance.

"Well, now, what seems to be the problem? Don't know why Pinky couldn't do this... Oh. Yes. Well. You've been blocked. From up top. No reason given. Well, it says 'pending', which is the catch-all for when the blocker doesn't want to give the real reason. In this case, the block was put on it by the Grand Poobah herself, Kenzi Muran."

"You'll have to take the problem up with her."

In reply to StarMaster (msg # 66):

Vonon gives the little sub-vocal growl that activates his comm-dot interface to his personal comm.

"Vonon To Sam. Hey, Sam, I could use a little help out here. Would you activate the repair drones Diefenbaker and Buck -- uh, I think they were numbers three and five -- and instruct them to report to me, out here?"

By now Khea also noticed the Comm problems when she wanted to tell the others to finally come and that this is not an abandoned spaceport full of alien monsters.

She takes a quick look at the prices of some of the stores near the center to determine how much "tourist tax" is applied and then hurries back to the ship, one hand on the comm unit to finally reach someone there and the other hand always close to her gun that no lowlife even gets the idea to try to stop her.

  "Do you need help out there?" Kaengarr called over the comms as he emerged from his quarters and turned toward the bridge, once again bedecked in his body armor and a stunner sheathed at his hip; that ensemble had been conspicuously absent during the trip, but caution and the legally carefree nature of the starport merited its return.

  "I can't restock the larder like this, and that won't do!" he added lightheartedly.
This message was last edited by the player at 23:23, Sat 07 May 2016.

Darrel has been following Pablo's efforts, figuring Pablo's method and karma would be successful. And when it didn't seem work, Count Cromwell decided to approach the highest level person he sees(as recognized, looking for senior administration) or an office....

"It seems my escort isn't here, let the Imperial authorities know I have arrived."

"Just need the drones to do the dirty grunt work." Vonon responds over the comm-channel, "But a second drone supervisor can only make the job go faster, so come on out."

  Kaengarr wound his way to the bottom deck and out the rear hatch to join Vonon, and as he did so he double-checked the security of their personal comms.

  "Were we put here on purpose? If the ship had off-label uses and someone knows about it..." he muttered under his breath with just enough volume there for Vonon to made it out now that they were standing together. "Doesn't have to mean hostile, either. Could be they think it still does."
This message was last edited by the player at 08:12, Tue 10 May 2016.

Sharik smiled sweetly as the woman, Pinky, and her manager both tried their best to help them troubleshoot their ID issue.  "That's strange." the diminutive dilettante agreed amiably and rather coyly as the administrative duo determined that the group had had their access deliberately blocked.  "Who would that type of authority here?" she prompted idly, the question was almost rhetorical ... or at least directed at Pablo as much as the other two individuals in the room.

The hairs on the back of her neck had been standing up for a while now.  Too many things were conspiring against them to be a true coincidence.  As Pinky and Sylvester conferred between themselves, Shar leaned in to whisper in Pablo's ear for the moment, "Ry, we aren't alone."  Surveillance in a high-tech world wasn't always sophisticated, but generally it did seem ever-present.  Whether they were being physically followed, which she honestly wasn't certain of.  Or whether they were simply being monitored - which their limited access to the net seemed to indicate at the bare minimum - remained to be seen.

Either way, Sharik didn't like it much...

---

OOC:  Just in case it is necessary to either make her hints subtle enough ... or to detect something more concrete, here goes nothing:

  00:32, Today: Sharik Kaagira rolled 12 using 2d6+4 with rolls of 5,3.  Deception/Soc Check: Hints? (+3 Skill, +1 Soc).
  00:33, Today: Sharik Kaagira rolled 11 using 2d6+4 with rolls of 1,6.  Recon/Int Check: Counter Surveillance? (+1 Recon, +2 Int, +1 Program) - as necessary/possible.

Not sure what we can find, but hopefully it is something...]

Sam activated a couple of drones in response to Vonun.

Swivelling her chair round to face Gregory she said "Define problem. But probably." She smiled and turned back to the screen, and added "I'm not sure theres much we can do, but we've lost comms with teh others. Might be an idea if you head out and report in every few seconds, so we can work out how far out comms extend? Unless youve got other plans."

ooc
Does Sam nee to do something to get the Drones to act, or are they semi smart? Because she doesn't have Remote OPerations.

At the Starport office, the 'highest ranking' person Darrel can find is the Starport Manager, Sylvester Vance.

"Yes, sir, your Countship," he replies, clearly unused to dealing with nobility.

"Um, which Imperial Authorities are you referring to? The Imperial Embassy or the Military Starbase?"

As he talks, his fingers dance over the computer console.

"Yessir, that information was on your transponder acknowledgment. All authorities should have been notified automatically. I have no way of knowing if they actually were, of course..."


"I can check that, sir," Pinky offers, "by tracing the IP address back to the automatic routing hub. Hmmm. As I expected, we definitely were not notified. Oh, my. Yes, the auto-rout was blocked before ever getting transmitted. Same source: the Grand Poobah herself."

"So she at least knows you are here, Count Cromwell."


While Sharik is waiting for the issue to be resolved, she is able to identify someone that may have been following them. She uses the standard tactic of using a reflective surface to discretely look behind her.

The person in question is a merc... former merc might be more accurate. He's dressed as a civilian, but his stance and manners and the look on his face fairly screams merc training to Sharik. He's at a shop across the hall, tapping on a wristcomp as he keeps a surrepititious watch on the group. Sharik can't really say if he's watching her, Pablo or the Count.

Her own glance in a reflection seems to have escaped his notice.


Sam has no problem activating the repair drones. They are designed to function in the midst of battle, so generally only require pushing a button for each drone you want activated. They take voice commands, so once they drop out of the bottom of the ship, Vonon and Kaengarr can direct them.

"Mr. Vance and Ms. Pinky, I know it´s not your fault, this clear and gross violation of protocol which should be made public...this is an outrage. However, my intention here is simple and I´m going to avoid any administrative complications. Specifically criminal charges against functionaries, in fact, I´d be interested in pardoning/hiring those that are truthful and honest.
Links his comm unit,

"In this order, I request you do the following....

I want secure and full comms between these accounts and access to planetary data.

Then, you will notify my arrival to the Imperial Embassy and the Imperial Military Starbase....

You will send a formal invitation to the Grand Poobah herself, Kenzi Muran...The gala event, to be held in 24 hours, The reasons why the Imperium allows client states.

With a follow-up invitation to the authorities."

Realizing alot of that could be overwhelming, Count Cromwell wants to impress upon them the serious nature of what he was saying...Even bypassing any obstacles the system might present, the Poobab is temporary, the Imperium isn´t.

Today: Darrel Cromwell rolled 15 using 2d6+7 with rolls of 4,4.  persuade the folks to do the right thing.
This message was last edited by the player at 03:50, Wed 11 May 2016.

In reply to Darrel Cromwell (msg # 76):

"If this is some kind of intentional isolation, it's a damn sloppy one." Vonon responds to Kaengarr, "I mean, where's the follow-up? We're not locked in, there are no guards or thugs to greet us. Nah, it must just be some kind of snafu."

Vonon sees the drones drop down from their internal pods, and calls out to them.

"Diefenbaker! Buck! Over here!" Vonon calls, and the vaguely crab-shaped drones - each the size of a small trash bin - waddle over.

"Diefenbaker, grab this waste removal umbilical and follow me. Kaengarr, why don't you have Buck grab the power coupling, over there, and have him plug us into the port grid. Then we'll -- No, Diefenbaker! Not that umbilical; get the 200-millimeter hose! You've got the 20-millimeter comm-cable! Put that back! We haven't paid for that, yet."

"Uh... ummm, we can sent a message to the Embassy and Base... we can do that, can't we, Pinky? Yes, I'm sure we can," Vance replies to the count.

"I... uh, can't give your comms access to the grid. It was blocked by a higher authority than me. I don't have the ability to over-ride the block."

"But we can give you another comm unit. Pinky, give him yours."

"Gala event... 24 hours... that's the middle of the morning... like now. And where is this event being held? Who else should I be sending this invitation to? So far, that would only be 6 people."



Back at the ship, two men dressed in uniforms enter the landing bay, and walk up to Kaengarr.

"We're customs inspectors," one of them announces, displaying his badge. "We... umm, got a tip that you... um, might be carrying contraband, so we have orders to search your ship."

Pablo listened to the conversation, and then looked at the manager. "Excuse me, sir. Where might I find this Grand Poobah person?"

"Grand Poobah Kenzi Muran's office is in the Third Ring, Quadrant Four. That's also her residence," Vance replies to Pablo.

Shortly after the "inspectors" entered the hangar Khea also arrived, somehow having missed the party which went to the station office.

Not noticing the new faces at first she shouts right when she entered the hangar "The good news is that this starport is actually in use, but our coms are not working. What drove you to land here at this Ruktaha with the Count on board?"

Pablo thanked Vance for the information, then stepped out, moved down to an electronics shop, and buys a new comm, and sees if they have the equivalent of a prepaid minutes card available. In any case, he then follows Vance's directions to the Grand Poobah's office.

He was much more curious than concerned, but clearly the lady either wanted something, or was randomly deciding to mess about arriving spacefarers. Pablo lacked social standing, some might even disparage his intelligence, but he was able to figure out that the best way to find out what some stranger wants is to ask them.

You can always shoot them and blow up their stuff later.

  No sooner had Kaengarr begun to coordinate the effort with the second repair droid than the follow-up decided to put in an appearance, albeit in the form of customs inspectors rather than leg breakers. He kept eye on the pair as they approached and halted the droid once the two began to speak; their attention demanded his and he didn't want any accidents happening in the meantime. Then Khea reappeared. Her timing couldn't have been better. Kaengarr waved her over as he spoke, in his case at normal volume.

  "That's why we were shunted off to a distant corner, hnnh? Understandable, though the Imperial nobles with us might not see it that way," Kaengarr chuckled ruefully, pulling out his comm and calling up their cargo manifest. He proceeded to read out the relevant information and provided the other typical details related to clearance and customs, maintaining a relaxedly profession demeanor throughout; he'd dealt with this sort of thing time and again at various starports and had prepared accordingly well before landing.

  That would be the first step. The second, of course, would involve them poking about inside the ship, and though they came across as more reluctant than anything, Kaengarr knew better than to have strangers wandering around the ship unsupervised, especially in a place like this and under conditions like these. He wasn't rude enough to say so to their faces, of course, between himself and Khea neither would go unsupervised, thereby ensuring that nothing disappeared and that nothing was left behind. Particularly the latter.
This message was last edited by the player at 01:43, Fri 13 May 2016.

"That would have been Samantha!" Vonon shouts back at Khea, as he steps out from the shadows under the ship (he was dressed in a black shipsuit, remember) "Sam drove us here, Khea, remember? Hurr-hurr-hurr."

Vonon then 'notices' the Customs men talking with Kaengarr

"Finally!" he grumbles to the universe at large, and walks over to stand behind Kaengarr - acting the dutiful junior Crewman.

<quote StarMaster>
"Uh... ummm, we can sent a message to the Embassy and Base... we can do that, can't we, Pinky? Yes, I'm sure we can," Vance replies to the count.

"I... uh, can't give your comms access to the grid. It was blocked by a higher authority than me. I don't have the ability to over-ride the block."

"But we can give you another comm unit. Pinky, give him yours."

"Gala event... 24 hours... that's the middle of the morning... like now. And where is this event being held? Who else should I be sending this invitation to? So far, that would only be 6 people."

Seeing that Pablo had directions, and his personal indignation was somewhat salved, the Count says,"Well, never mind...I'll discuss the matter personally with her...but, please inform the Embassy personnel that I have arrived and will be meeting with the Grand Poobah."

Sharik smiled slightly and chuckled.  She liked hanging in back and watching, it was always fun to see Darrel and Pablo together again with her.  The mirrorshades slipped back over her eyes, giving her both a particularly elegant look as well as making her expression that much more enigmatic and difficult to read.

Her eyes danced as her local sensor and library streams continued to spin.  Even though she didn't have as extensive a catalogue as the planetary network, Shar did have plenty of expert systems and the intellect program to harness them.  This wasn't the first time that she'd been dropped into a dicey situation without outside connections.  Besides, she still had Pablo and his comm in sight - and with his electronics, positioning and triangulation improved immensely with only a couple of metres of separation.

As she hung back to let the men handle the talking, Sharik simply kept alert - without looking too much like she was doing so.  A casual sort of body language that might be mistaken for boredom crept into stance as well as the set of her jaw and the way that she placed her hand on her hip.  If the administrative staff mistook her for a bodyguard, or something simpler like mere eye candy or an escort (which was probably more likely given her diminutive frame and well-maintained coiffure) that was perfectly fine with her.  The cosmopolitan operative had played that role before and knew how to affect such a demeanor.

But she also knew that there was a slim stunner in a custom shoulder holster under the tailored jacket as well.  Sharik might not physically imposing, but she knew that looks could be deceiving.

She waited for Darrel and Pablo to finish and then fell in line with them.  Like the ex-Marine, she perused the offerings of the nearest electronics boutique for a supplementary p-comm.  Shar chose a similar model to one the Pablo did to ensure compatibility; one that wrapped around her ear and had a short, thin boom for the mike that followed her jawline.  She made sure that it was fashionable and elegant enough to match her current outfit (well, and go with anything else that she owned - a girl had to have her standards).

As they proceeded towards the Grand Poobah's location, Pablo handed Darrel one of the new comms. There were enough of the devices in a bag for the rest of the team, when they met up again. If they turned out to be unnecessary, the could go in the ship's locker as spares. In Darrel's case, Pablo knew the noble wasn't particularly snobbish, and was perfectly capable of handling his own purchases, but still, at this point, appearances might be important.

He didn't know that much about Imperial nobility, but he'd watched Darrel's movies, and other popular Imperial media, and the stereotypical member of the nobility had minions to handle errands like fetching comms from local shops.

"So, when we get there, why don't I step in first? I don't think things are going to be violent, but if so, then we can deal with it, I guess. Anyway, I can announce the arrival of the very important Count Cromwell. Then Sharik, if you can do your "personal assistant" thing, and accompany the Count in after I announce him, it might help set the right tone for any subsequent discussions with the Grand Poobah or her people. What do you guys think?"

In reply to Pablo Esteban Ryzov (msg # 87):

Chuckling, "And I thought I was the diplomat, that sounds fine, I'm thinking the indignant stick up the conduit shaft Imperial noble, or maybe the unflappable charming dignitary...perhaps the latter?"

Kaengarr can find nothing on the manifest that he thinks could conceivably 'contraband', though, admittedly, he doesn't quite understand what all the cargo is... technically.

"Um, look, we just need to walk through the ship," the customs officer says. "Make an appearance."

"Yeah, what Gim said. There's probably not any contraband on your ship. We checked your registry. You are so far off the profile..."

"See... um, we were kind of told to find some contraband. The Baroness didn't actually come out and tell us to plant something, but she made a distinct hint along those lines."

"Yeah, we don't know what that is all about, but that's not the way we operate. We have respect for spacers. If you screw up, that's one thing, but you don't need any more grief from the brass."

______________________________________________________________________________

Pablo has no problem finding an electronics/communications shop, and he can buy a new comm for everyone, even get prepaid time--day, week, month, year--but to connect to the grid still requires an ID... all the crew's personal IDs have been blocked.

As the three of you then proceed to the Grand Poobah's office, Sharik spots the same man following them. He's pretty good at tailing you, but not as good as he thinks he is.

Once you get to the Grand Poobah's office, you are a bit surprised to find that it appears as an ordinary office, small with a small waiting room, and only 3 waiting chairs. There is a secretary there, and the main office is off to the right.

"Can I help you?" the secretary asks, more as a reflex as she finally looks up to see who it is.

"Oh! Count Cromwell! I've seen all your pictures! Are you here to see Kenzi?"

  Kaengarr's ears, whiskers, and tail all twitched noticeably when the inspectors admitted that they'd been asked to plant something aboard ship, but the movement was somewhat masked by the small sidelong wave of his comm toward the ship; it took a split second longer for him to formulate a surprised-sounding response. "Does she often do this or are we special for some reason?"

  Shaking his head he spoke to the others around; Samantha and whomever else remained on board were no doubt hearing everything over their comms but he decided not to explicitly advertise their presence. "Vonon, keep at the cabling, please. Khea, why don't you join us for the walk-around?" He then waved the pair toward the nearest hatch. If they were willing to say anything more about the situation - or talk about the station in general - so much the better, but if they wanted to keep it quick and quiet he'd accept that too.
This message was last edited by the player at 10:11, Mon 16 May 2016.

Khea only nodded slightly with a low growl to Kaengarrs request and accompanied them silently.
Her first instinct though was to issue a challenge to the baroness champion or her directly if she prefers. But for now they might gain more insight about what is going on if she waited with that till the end of the walk-around.
Also, she had to consider that she now was again only part of a crew and thus it might not be her place to issue a challenge over a ship issue. Once she found the others she had to address the lack of a ships champion for those kind of things.

At this point, Darrel is perplexed...he's been a part of nobility "games" for years; the agendas, motivations, plots, personalities, etc...He found himself wondering was this whole thing an insult, a political statement, a diplomatic innuendo, perhaps even a simple prank?

But, all that aside, he had a captive audience of one and did what he did best, perform..."When I was given directions here, it's a shame they didn't mention that Kenzi had such a charming assistant..I would have brought something appropriate, (ponders) well my dear, I'll arrange for a signed collection of memorabilia delivered to you personally as soon as I conclude my business here (Makes a perceptual nod towards Sharik)."

Count Cromwell does a dramatic pause, "In fact, let's make this a special moment, if you allow it, let's together establish here and now, my 1st official Outpost fan club and I nominate you the president and foremost fan...I'd be honored if you accept this, Ms. ????"

OOC:Today: Darrel Cromwell rolled 13 using 2d6+5 with rolls of 2,6.  Persuade fan.

OOC: If she agrees, the below applies, if not ignore

"Stupendous, let's begin with an introductory video, if you'll lend me your comms for a second..."(I'm assuming there is a real time photo/video app on these units)

Using his years of experience behind the camera, Darrel takes a position that prominently displays the Grand Poobah's office (ensuring her title is shown), and begins filming....

"A heartfelt greetings to my beloved fans and friends on Outpost, this is Count Cromwell and I'm here with Ms.(insert name) at the Grand Poobah's office to inaugurate her as the President and Foremost fan of the 1st chapter of the official fan club. Given all the brouhaha the Grand Poobah Kenzi Muran has displayed in getting my attention, it was a close toss-up between them...but, after a difficult and lengthy debate...Ms. (insert name) is clearly the best choice."

After shaking her hand, hugging, selfies etc...Count Cromwell continues to roll, "And on top of that historic event, I've agreed to a meeting with Grand Poobah Kenzi Muran to discuss establishing a greater cooperation of Imperial culture and our valued friends along the frontier."

Seemingly inadvertently he hands the device to Sharik, "Let's make sure this gets out to everyone."

OK then, let's meet the greatness herself."

Sharik simply smiled and nodded in acquiescence to Pablo's plan.  She took a deep breath and her demeanor began to subtly shift.  Though personable and fairly good looking, the diminutive dilettante was not nearly as naturally suave as the Count.  And she knew that.

However, she was extremely experienced in dissembling and adopting certain affectations.  Even with the same clothing and accessories, once Shar's hair was pulled up with an innocuous (though suddenly quite fetching, now that it was more prominently displayed) pin from her belt and her posture adjusted to be a touch more erect (some might say, haughty), her thin frame appeared a fraction larger and woman seemed inches taller.  Her normally lilting contralto took on a tinge of light disengagement - a touch remote, quite business-like and utterly professional.  "I prefer the term, 'Personalized Executive Assistant', Mr. Ryzov." she intoned quietly, but insistently, "His Lordship demands the best, of course.  He is a busy man."

The menace in her voice was purely on corporate-level, implying that anything said around her would be fodder for later litigation or dealing in the boardroom and nothing inherently violent.  Sharik's tone made is sound like that was beneath her (and by extension, the Count and the rest of the crew).

She turned to regard Darrel for a moment, brushing a microscopic piece of lint from the man's lapel.  "I believe that honey attracts more bees.  But all bees can sting..."  Obviously, she'd cast her vote, even it if had caveats.  Naturally, they would have to play it by ear - as the disposition of the enemy was unknown (and, seemingly, bordering on hostile really given the preemptive block); still, she wasn't going to be the one escalating the tension.

Sharik kept a position that was extremely precise - apparent to the trained eye of anyone specifically watching for it - distance between herself and Darrel (and Pablo when he was in range).  The auburn-haired ex-operative had had plenty of experience in body guarding and security - despite her size and the demeanor that she'd chosen to take on.

She couldn't help but be amused by Count Cromwell's suave nature; as she dutifully took the device from him when it was handed to her.  Her training allowed her to simply raise an eyebrow, which peeked out over the rims of her mirrorshades as the man spoke at length about a party that was being concocted on the fly.  Her other set of fingers worked furiously upon the touch screen of her dataglove as she input various parameters and started her virtual aide collating and crunching some rough numbers concerning various aspects of what was being said.

All the while, thin, cosmopolitan socialite turned assistant made sure that she continued to watch for the Grand Poobah and her staff members carefully as well as for any reactions to anything that was being said.  Either the woman and her people were really big fans.  Or they were expert dissemblers.  And Shar wanted to know which it was and as quickly as possible.

The secretary, Alanna Brandon, taps her console and says, "Count Cromwell is here to see you."

If there are any replies, no one can hear them... but then you realize it's because the secretary is wearing a Bluetooth earbud, so she's hearing it even if you aren't.

"Go right in," Alanna tells the count, indicating the other door.


As the Count and his entourage open the door and begin to enter the office beyond, the woman in there is speaking on her comm.

"He's here. No, right now! He just walked in the door! That's easy for you to say!"

She seems to hang up and then turns to the Count.

"Please, come in! Sit down! Now, what can I do for you?"

Pablo had smiled at Sharik's comment, but made no reply. He stood quietly a couple of steps behind and to the left after they'd entered the reception area, but when the door to the inner office opened, he was the first one through.

Holding out an arm to arrest Darrel's progress, he looked over the room, in a fairly leisurely way, then stepped aside. "Clear, my lord." Then he vacated the doorway, letting Darrel and Sharik enter, before moving back out into the reception area, and taking up station by the door, where he could see the doorway out into the corridor.

He kept his expression suitably blank yet forbidding, and mentally settled in for what was likely to be quite the little chat behind the closed office door.

Count Cromwell stands just inside the doorway for a second, then enters, he maintains a passive posture but has a stern visage...

As the Count and his entourage open the door and begin to enter the office beyond, the woman in there is speaking on her comm.

"He's here. No, right now! He just walked in the door! That's easy for you to say!"

She seems to hang up and then turns to the Count.

"Please, come in! Sit down! Now, what can I do for you?"

He strides towards the desk, placing his fists on the desk and leans over, gets just inside her personal space,
"Mrs(?)Muran, as I was approaching this planet, I was planning on have a welcome pleasant social meeting with you, but...since I and my staff were shunted off to some disused, filthy, unservicable docking bay without communications...ON YOUR SPECIFIC INSTRUCTIONS (not shouting, but a definitely pissed off timbre of voice) I suppose what you can do for me is answer, why I shouldn't be contacting the Imperial authorities and have you charged with the attempted assassination of an Imperial noble!?!"

Kenzi blinked at the Count's diatribe for a moment as she processed his words. Then her slightly worried look turned to one of righteous fury. She stood up from behind her desk, either forcing the Count to back up or to bump heads with her.

"I said 'sit down', Count Asshat!" she snarls back at him.

"This isn't the Imperium, and out here we have no use for fancy titles and arrogance! Putting your ship in a seldom used outlying bay was merely a precaution. I had it on good authority that your ship might be carrying contraband, which could easily have been something dangerous. That hardly counts as an assassination attempt."

"Your ship hasn't been denied power, fuel or air, nor have you or any of your crew been quarantined. However, until this matter is cleared up, certain restrictions have been instituted."

She glares back at him, not backing down an inch.

Darrell was ready to go toe-to-toe, his righteous fury boiled up and then it...fizzled... "Count Asshat?"a subdued clearing of throat covering a laugh..."Count Asshat?"The ridiculousness of a Grand Poohba calling him "Count Asshat." He couldn't help himself, he started with a few stifled laughs, but then they quickly were fully out in the open.

After wiping the tears from his eyes, "Ahh, that's brilliant...hhmmm, Count Ass...Ahhh, anyways..." Takes a deep breath, his immediate anger is dissipated, but, the circumstances still didn't make sense.

"Fancy titles aside, Grand Poobah, given that there has been only 1 ship from Grendal a week ago, and if your vaunted intelligence services did their homework...I didn't even own the ship for a week prior to jump...so, unless you use psychics, someone is playing us both for fools. And, of these protocols...not informing the Imperial authorities that I arrived because of suspected contraband..really? That simple explanation isn't going to fly."
This message was last edited by the player at 12:40, Tue 24 May 2016.

Sharik continued to watch the woman in Outpost's highest administrative position with an impassive expression.  Her fingers continued to tap away at the touch screen on her dataglove.  Though it was fairly obvious that she wasn't transcribing the conversation (the glove was of a sufficient technological fit that it was likely doing so automatically), it was rather apparent that the auburn-haired assistant was annotating whatever stream was being generated.  And Shar was taking a fair few annotations.

"Since we are here," Sharik noted cordially after clearing her throat softly.  She stood just off to the side and behind the Count as if in a ready position of an attentive servant, "perhaps you would like to conduct the personnel interview concerning the matter yourself, Ms. Muran?"  It was just a slight probe to see how much Kenzi wanted to get her own hands dirty here - even if the 'asshat' remark made her view of the group reasonably apparent.

The cosmopolitan socialites's attitude was in fairly stark contrast to the Count's attempt at casual levity; Sharik was merely being professional - as any assistant to an important and well-known celebrity would need to be.  The diminutive brunette wasn't overly conspicuous, but simply exuded a business-like aura.  "Also Ms. Muran," she continued, her tone taking a more vaguely distant timbre, "will you be so kind as to accompany us on the required inspection?  Since you called for it personally, I presume that you have a marked interest in the results and would want to act immediately on any findings..."  She quirked an eyebrow which lifted itself just above the edge of shades which covered her eyes and added without skipping a beat, "with any legal proceedings that would be necessitated by such findings..."  Which, of course, potentially tied in with what the Count was alluding to with respect to any falsehoods being perpetrated.

And while at this advanced technological level having physical proximity was not a guarantee that you could suss out any real or perceived malfeasance, it did have its own advantages.  Often, it never hurt to keep any potential enemies (or allies) close ...

Besides, what else did the group have to do?  Their ship was on unofficial (if effective for the moment) quarantine until the matter was resolved.

"I'm under no obligation to inform the Imperial Embassy or the Imperial Base Commander that you are here," the Grand Poobah. "That's your own responsibility. I concede that this would have occurred automatically if your communications protocol had been cleared. But it wasn't. Those are the breaks."

"You aren't in the Imperium. Things out here don't always work the way they do in the Imperium."

She then turns to Sharik.

"Just what 'personnel' do you think I should be interviewing?"

"And you are mistaken. I did not call for an inspection of your ship. I notified the Starport Authority, and they dispatched an inspection team. They should already be there."

"It's the first time I've heard of anyone... um, doing that," the one called Gim replied to Kaengarr. "I couldn't say if the Baroness has ever done that before, though if she has, it hasn't been bandied about."


The two inspectors walk through the ship, basically from one end to the other. They ask to look in the cargo bays when they are identified, but they don't enter. Then they take the lift up to the main cargo deck and look through those doors. Then they take the lift up to the main deck. They ask what are behind the various doors, but they don't ask to look inside any of them. As near as Kaengarr can tell, they aren't even taking any notes.

When they get to the bridge, Gim turns to his partner, and says, "I didn't spot any contraband. Did you, Nall?"

"Nope, not a thing. Must have been a bad tip. It happens," Nall replies.

"We'll file our report with the Captain. That's all we can do. After that, it's out of our hands."

Sam follows the inspectors as they move round the ship on the internal sensors/cameras.

She'll also do a sweep to see if they are using any recording or transmitting devices as they move around.

Apart from that she monitors Comms and the ship and surrounding area generally to see if anything is happening at all.

ooc

08:35, Today: Samantha Kilgore rolled 8 using 2d6+2 ((3,3))

Are there Sensors you can check the ship internally with? Are there CCTV type cameras internally?

Khea follows the inspectors around to make sure that they do not place anything in the ship. After they are finished she also curses herself for not bringing a recording device along to tape their confirmation that no contraband was found.

"I would appreciate it if I could have a copy of that report.

Pablo continued to stand at parade rest outside the Grand Poobah's office. He had complete confidence in Darrel and Sharik. If they wanted someone shot, they could tell him.

He did keep a careful eye out for the guy Sharik had seen following them. It wasn't yet clear what his angle was.
This message was last edited by the player at 22:47, Wed 01 June 2016.

Given the size and nature of the ship, it would be odd not to have internal security cameras. Yes, there is a camera at the end of each hallway, but none in any of the rooms, though one on the auxiliary bridge and one in engineering. So Sam has no trouble following the inspection tour.

Comms are still 'disconnected' from the starbase, but otherwise comms and sensors pick up nothing around the ship.

The only recording device the inspectors have is their comms.

Khea likewise can use her comm to record the inspectors' result, and they automatically give you a copy of their report.

In reply to Kenzi Muran (msg # 100):

OOC: Trying to figure out if she´s lying, anything strange in her behavior, or basically...is something in her manner weird...hard to explain...but, having worked in similiar circumstances...just trying to get a good read of things.

18:21, Today: Darrel Cromwell rolled 9 using 2d6 with rolls of 4,5.  figure things out +/-? straight roll.

  Kaengarr calmly thanked the pair and casts a quick eye over the report to assure himself that there was nothing requiring immediate followup, but between the odd choice of berth, the lack of communications, and this... something unpleasant was in the offing and simply leaving wasn't an option. What were they caught up in?

  Once the inspectors had left and he had a moment to call together the few that had remained at or returned to the Long Shot, he did so - albeit with one eye on the external monitors in case anyone else came creeping around.

  "Someone wants an excuse to arrest us," he rumbled darkly, ears, whiskers, and tail flicking with controlled tension. "But I don't know why. Maybe it's to do with the ship - it's probably to do with the ship - but there was at least one other escapade on Grendal before we met that no one wanted to talk about. Could that be coming back to haunt us? Other personal issues or enemies that could be catching up to us here?"

Not getting any answers from his sister as to why his trading license was suspended, Sir Walter headed back to the Long Shot to let the crew know that there was a problem in unloading the cargo.

[back to vessel]

Gnashing her teeth Khea immediately makes a backup of the report on her computer.
"No matter why, we better prepare ourselves for other attempts to take us and the ship."
She turns back to her computer and queries her library software for all Aslan holdings on Outpost and checkt the alliance ties of the clan present. In her current state it is very unlikely that any clan, even her own would offer any kind of hospitality but one can never know.
"Do you know if anyone else has clan on this planet? Otherwise we all have to call on the Imperium for shelter."

  Kaengarr let out an amused snort. "Only by chance. We're nowhere near Gaerr space. Samantha's naval connections, though..." He turned to regard her thoughtfully. "We've got a naval base right here. The spaceport leader isn't afraid of us, but she might think twice about antagonizing them."
This message was lightly edited by the player at 16:39, Sun 05 June 2016.

Sir Walter walked on to the vessel and headed towards the bridge. "Where is everyone?" he asked "We have a serious problem. For some reason my traders license has been suspended and found out when I tried to sell the cargo. What is going on? Where is the Count?"

The Aslan flag flying over the base is the unified Council flag. Presumably they sent a delegation to Outpost to protest the Imperial Base... in person. Without communication, though, Khea can't find out who is actually there.


Walter has actually had a bit more luck. Apparently, shortly after his visit to his sister, her license was also suspended, as was his parents. They are trying to find out why, and have channels they can pursue.

His sister, however, gave him a communicator of one of her friends' daughter--with both of their permission, of course. As long as he doesn't try using his name or comm ID, it should be good.


It's finally sunk it to Vonon that what's going on is really just nuisance effort. Nothing is serious enough to actually result in getting the whole crew arrested... or the ship impounded. The only think that might have done that is if the contraband would have been syanite (a deadly nerve gas). If that had, been the case, however, they would have hit the ship with an entire squadron of marines! It's akin to someone putting a bag of poop on your doorstep and the setting the bag on fire and ringing your doorbell.

It's more serious than a practical joke, but it has that element to it.


Darrel is having a hard time getting a read on the situation. On the one hand, it seems as if Kenzi just doesn't like the nobility... yet, at the same time, he's not getting any sense that it's personal... more like she's echoing someone else's.

She's not smug or satisfied with the Count's problem. It's just business as usual.

That's another point: for her to do what she did based on a tip, that tip would have had to come from someone she trusted or respected.

<Bridge>

Sam swivelled her chair round to face Walter and Kaengarr.

"I was Space Patrol, not Navy, Kaengarr, but I might be able to see if theres's anyone around here I now - if we can get comms up and running"

Swivelling to Walter "Some one here doesn't like us, we've just been inspected on some bull stuff tip off. I don't know if the other have encountered similar problems, as Comms are limited to about 100 metres, and we can't get access to the station comms, because someone has it in for us. I'll stay here, if you guys want to try and find the others and find out more. Mightn't hurt to have at least one other set of eyes here tho"

ooc
Kaengarr, Sam is on the Bridge so assuming you're all back there now? Might it help if we started inserting Headers with Ships locations on? as I did above?

Also, my understanding is Space Patrol is more like Space Police rather than part of the Navy?
Also on hols with crap WIFI - may be a bit intermittant

The Count realizes that further confrontation wasn't in the group's best interest, but, he always wasn't going to allow such an insult to go unanswered, "Perhaps my suspicions were somewhat exaggerated, however, that still doesn't excuse this lack of professionalism nor the blatant disregard for protocol, just because an Imperial noble is aboard...would this have happened to a regular ship? Your personal feelings aside, is this how people are treated as equals here?"

Darrel's tone is calm, but, it's obvious he's trying to suss out, if this is something concerning him personally or is it the ship.

"And this tip, is there anyway to find out who provided this baseless charge, it's common practice to be able to face your accuser."

  I figured it was the bridge unless we have another designated area for meetings?

  Kaengarr still hadn't received any answers about what had happened on Grendal and the repeated evasions were a growing concern in light of their current predicament, but for the moment he decided to set that aside with a shake of his head and a low growl. "Comms won't be secure to talk to them and without comms or station information we'd be reduced to wandering around blind if we went to look for the others."

  He lightly smacked a fist into his palm, then continued to speak with a hard stare toward the main hatch followed by a more businesslike look at everyone present. "Here's what I think: Samantha, Vonon, and Walter, you go to the naval offices in person. Even if you don't know anyone there, you talk the language, your ranks mean something, and you can be sure of who you're speaking to. If that gets results, great. If not, at least we get more eyes on our situation in case something else happens. I'd rather go too but we need to keep the ship locked down so that's what Khea and I will do until someone comes back."
This message was last edited by the player at 00:54, Wed 08 June 2016.

In reply to Kaengarr Ruzokh (msg # 115):

Outside the ship, in the docking bay, Vonon supervises the two repair drones making the final service connections...

And waits several moments...

Waits several more...

Then growls the sub-vocal command that opens his comm-dot linked communicator.

"Ahoy Longshot! Vonon calling." he says, frowning at the last connecting cable, "I just finished hooking us up to starport services, and absolutely nothing is happening! I mean nothing. The power link didn't activate, the liquid waste removal didn't start pumping, and the commlines are completely dead."

"Between this and that bogus inspection, I'm beginning to suspect we're getting the old Administrative Shuffle right up the backside! Did we piss somebody off, around here? Didn't Sir Walter say he knew people on this dump? Did he get the Mayors daughter pregnant and run out on his litter of pups, or what?"

"Because I'm telling you, as if you didn't know it, that it takes somebody up in Port Control to press a whole lot of buttons to shut down most of these automatic service functions. And just in case you didn't know it, in a sealed port facility, like this one, once a ship is authorized for a landing bay, all services for that bay are activated -- because once we use them, they can lock us in until we pay up. Well, we were let in - but now we're getting no services."

"Something about this whole set-up don't seem right. Like one of my Dames littermates used to say, 'I think somebody is pissing on our tree'".

  [ Bridge ]

  "I know you just went to the trouble, but unhook them. Less danger of something funny happening on this end and in their records," Kaengarr sighed as one more problem was added to their already-lengthy list.

  "Who do you know here, Walter? Anyone capable of pulling or countering all this?"
This message was last edited by the player at 21:45, Thu 09 June 2016.

<Bridge>
"Sorry, my parents retired and left the business to my sister five years ago." Sir Walter said. "I have not been home in over 30 years and have not written to them in the years since my divorce, other than a courtesy invitation when I got Knighted, so I do not know what is going on. " he added

"Did the Count mention where he was going? Maybe we can start from there and find out what is going on. Maybe grab the materials that we got from the undersea lab and take it to the Imperial naval base in the hopes that it will gain us admittance in case of an emergency."

  [ Bridge ]

  Walter's last words, along with the implications, drew Kaengarr's full and immediate attention. "What materials from what undersea lab?" he inquired, pronouncing each syllable slowly and carefully.

  To be kept in the dark about something like this was bad enough; worse was the possibility that someone in or with influence over the spaceport authority wasn't in the dark about it.
This message was last edited by the player at 22:23, Thu 09 June 2016.

"I suppose they won't let us leave either. Otherwise I would suggest to fly the ship into orbit and only come planetside by launch."
Frustrated Khea shuts off her computer and starts pacing the bridge.

"So both you and Count have clan here. Now we need a way to contact them.

Stopping and looking at Walther she asked "Do you have a clan communicator? They can't have blocked that, could they?"
Not waiting for an answer she continues "Or we must find someone here in the station who lets us use his communicator"

In reply to Kheaiftouaw (msg # 120):

Down on the floor of the landing bay, Vonon growls in irritation at Kaengarr's instructions...but that doesn't eliminate the logic of the action.

"Dammit, I just got them all connected!" Vonon responded, "But, you're right. The last thing anyone wants is for some jackass to reverse the waste-fluid flow, and blow crap all over the lower deck."

Vonon turns his attentions to the waiting drones.

"Alright, boys, take 'em all back down and pack 'em away, nice and neat. Just the way you found them."

Sam nodded to Kaengarr. "Seems like a reasonable plan. I'm happy to head out with Walter and Vonun. I suggest we head to the tech bay on this dock level and see if we can't persuade someone to press the right buttons for us. If it needs more than that, we'll check back in hear first."

She stood up and stretched, and said "ready when you guys are"
This message was last edited by the player at 18:03, Fri 17 June 2016.

[Bridge]

"Sorry, you were not there so for the time being, forget I said that." Sir Walter said to Kaengarr. "It might be why we are having a problem but the less you know, the better. That way you might not need to repeat it in a court of law."



"Leaving is not an option until we get this cleared up and I would like to know who authorized it as they did not notify me in writing as to why it was suspended nor how to appeal it. Is it just for Outpost, the sub-sector, sector, etc?" Sir Walter said, adding the various laws that applied to trade.

"Sorry, no communicator." Sir Walter said "If we leave the vessel, we need to make sure that it is fully secured and only the crew can access it. Since the customs agents have left, program the bots to only allow passage by us and that non-lethal force is authorized on non-crewmembers until further notice." he said

"Vogon, can you see about programing them for guard duty before we go looking for the others once you are finished disconnecting"


Once things are set, "Lets head out." Sir Walter said

In reply to Walter Zeller (msg # 123):

[Out in Landing Bay]

"Vogon, can you see about programing them for guard duty before we go looking for the others once you are finished disconnecting" Walter sends.

Vonon growls a little bit in irritation - this isn't the first time...

Activating his comm, Vonon responds, "Vonon, here, Sir Walter - I'm afraid I'm not a drone operator; I couldn't program them to do squat. These guys are sophisticated enough to accept vocal commands, but only simple ones. Without computer control, they still need to be supervised - like I'm doing now."

"If everyone's going to leave the ship, the best we can do is seal the ship and activate the anti-hijack systems." Vonon continues, watching the Diefenbaker drone drag the waste removal conduit back across the floor, "Then only we can get back aboard - 'cuz we'll have the access codes."

"Out here, the laws apply to everyone, even the spoiled nobility," Kenzi replies to Darrel. "If we had a credible tip that any ship might be carrying contraband cargo, the same thing would have happened to it. This is a confined facility. We aren't spread out over half a continent. If the contraband was harmful, it could affect thousands of people. So, yeah, that's standard protocol."

"I have no 'personal feelings' in this matter. I have a responsibility to this facility and to the people that live here. If by 'equals', you mean someone who actually works for a living, then clearly that doesn't include you, does it?"

"You could have come in here and acted like a reasonable human being, but, noooo! You had to try and throw your weight around like you are somebody IM-PO-TENT. And how far did that get you?"

"No one accused you, Count. And I'm under no obligation to reveal my confidential informants to you or anyone else."

So Walter, Samantha and Vonon are heading out. Does that mean Kaengarr and Khea are staying behind? Or are  you going with them?


The group heads out of the docking bay. Things are a little more difficult without any sort of map of the base. However, you have no problem figuring out things as you go. The docking bays are set up in zones--outer, middle and inner. The outer bays are for larger ships, the inner bays for small ships. Each zone has an unmanned distribution control hub for the air, power, waste and communication systems for that zone. The main manned control is in the center of the starport.

Once you reach the habitat rings (the three inner rings), directories are posted all over the place. They are all electronic so that they can be easily changed as needed.

The starport tech center is on the lowest level, in the very center of the facility. It appears to be different from Starport Control, which is on the upper level, out in the third ring.

In reply to StarMaster (msg # 126):

Vonon points at the electronic display that is showing the port facility map.

"That's the Operations Center," Vonon taps the screen, "That's where we'll find the tech-controllers who can activate services for our landing bay - but!" Vonon raises his finger in warning, "Those guys won't press any buttons without authorization from the Admins up here..." Vonon again taps the display with his finger, "...in Central Control."

"Normally the Techs won't do anything without authorization, however, this world having a Class-2 legal system, we might be able to convince them to help us - with the right incentive..." Vonon rubs his thumb across his finger tips.

"So, we can try to use this planet's lax legal system to influence the techs who control our landing bay, or we can go to Central Control and try to find out what is going on - and probably end up having to make a few...incentive payments...anyway.  So...who has control over the Ship Fund?"

Sam nodded as Vonun spoke. "I agree. My suggestion is the tech guys" she tapped the screen to show where "rather than Admin. Admin are paid more and generally more bureacratic so cost more and like to lord it over you. The Tech guys are usually a bit more pragmatic. And if you offer them enough " she glanced at Vonun, and raised an eyebrow " incentive then they can often press other buttons that mean Admin don't realise they've helped us."

"Or who ordered it and maybe why" Sir Walter said. "I am hating even more that we meet Ms Blue in the first place."

"We need to buy some communicators on our way to keep in contact with each other and to contact a representative of the Imperium clan for aid.

Khea makes sure to equip for combat with two guns, several reloads and her armor in addition to taking her computer and breather mask. The rest of her stuff she hides around the ship.

"And if we are all to leave we should leave a message if the others come back"

In reply to Kheaiftouaw (msg # 130):

"Maybe not." Vonon responded to Khea, "Whoever wants us isolated in that landing bay simply stopped us from accessing the computer network shopping service - so we couldn't purchase access to the local comm-networks from aboard ship. But maybe now that we're out and about, we can simply purchase access from a local vendor? You know, those transient network access cards? We'll only be able to buy a day at a time, but we'll have access."

"I mean, I can't imagine that whoever is messing with us could possibly have our personal comm-codes, yet - except, maybe for you, Sir Walter... But, no, you said you haven't been here in years. Frell! Now that I think on it, though, I might be in their system - I passed through Outpost on my way to Grendal from Cassandra's Belt. It was only a two day layover, but I'm pretty sure I remember using my comm while I was here, so I must have bought access."

"Not sure but if they have been able to suspend my license to trade, they might have also blocked us from being able to access the banking system. It could also be that someone passed the word ahead of us from Grendal." Sir Walter said "We can try to see if we can access it but you might be stuck with what you have physically on you. Hell, I have a laser rifle in the armory that we can sell so we can get our own communicators."

"I would have come in here very pleasant and charming, but, just because I am who I am, being spoiled and im-po-tent, we think that is why my crew and ship were treated unfairly. I am rightfully upset that my position is held against me, I suppose who's the one being vilified here? I guess that having achieved some measure of success through hard "work" that I don't deserve respect. Perhaps you know that feeling?"

Takes a seat, "So, let's try the reasonable approach...the sooner we can conclude our business on Outpost, the sooner we can leave."

Leans back, "Of course, that shortens my effort to figure out why certain events have been happening, outside the normal realm of possibility..but, not being welcome, I don't want to be a burden."

Turns towards Sharik, "You got all this, OK, log and register. Ms. Muran, Honestly, we came here for specific reasons, and although I shouldn't, I do apologize for my paranoid nature...if you had a month like mine, you would understand. I am not your enemy, as much as I come off as a spoiled, im-pot-ent, Imperial noble. I honestly don't care, my crew and my ship were unfairly treated, I unwisely decided to be an asshole. Fair enough?"" "
This message was last edited by the player at 00:10, Tue 21 June 2016.

Half to herself Khea mutters "Trading a rifle for comms. Are you sure you are not a very small Aslan?"

"Maybe in a past life but more likely "Practical" given the current situation." Sir Walter said.

Standing outside the office, and listening in on the conversation, Pablo smiled slightly, imagining the look on Darrell's face if he would step into the office and put a couple of tranq rounds into the Grand Poobah's face.

Not that he would, of course. Sharik might understand, but she would not approve. Besides, Pablo had spent enough time in prison, all considerations of courtesy and morality aside.

That and it wouldn't actually help the situation. Still, it was an amusing thought.

"Apology accepted, Count Cromwell," Kenzi responds to Darrel. "And, for the record, your title is not being held against you. It just isn't getting you the things you are used to, and that's due to the tip. If you had been the Emperor, I would have had to do the same things. Otherwise, the Emperor, his ship and this entire facility could have been destroyed."

"It seems to me that you think your title supersedes the Laws of the Universe. That's the part that bothers me. The last I heard, your title won't stop a bullet."
This message was last updated by the player at 18:32, Mon 27 June 2016.

At the mention of Darrel's title not stopping a bullet, Pablo opened the door and stepped into the office. After a quick look around the room, he looked at Darrel, coming to a stance of attention. "Apologies for interrupting your Grace, but is all well?"

Pablo couldn't care less about Imperial ranks, but this overblown Starport bureaucrat needed to know that Darrel's title didn't need to stop bullets.

He had people for that.

Sharik also looked concerned; sharing a glanced with Pablo as he poked his head in.  "Grand Poobah Muran," she asked with obvious concern, "Is there credible threat to the Count's personage?"  This was the first that she'd heard of violence being mixed with the tip about smuggling.  In the cosmopolitan socialite's experience, the examples that people used were not all that random.

And, of course, any serious threat towards Darrel might mean collateral damage - which could include her and the rest of the crew.  So, her motives weren't entirely altruistic.

Such paranoia had kept her alive for the past couple of decades.

This message was deleted by the player at 07:42, Tue 28 June 2016.

"I think you've misunderstood me, Miss," Kenzi replies to Sharik.

"Without specific knowledge about the reported contraband, we have to take whatever precautions we feel are necessary. It could be an explosive device, it could be nerve gas, or it might be a Rigellian saprat carrying a deadly contagious disease."

"While we didn't get any indication that the Count's ship fell into any of these categories, a certain amount of precaution was still warranted... until we knew more."

OOC: I think you may have missed a few posts, Sam: #126 and #127.


So Khea has left the ship with the group. Is Kaengarr going with them, or is he staying behind on the ship with Jones and Valeska?

"First things first, we should check our credit rating - see if we can use our Creds here. Theres nothing more embarrassing than offering someone an incentive, and then finding you don't actually have the funds to back it up. Believe me, I know."

Sam scanned the display looking for any sort of shopping type areas, or even a bar

ooc

In reply to StarMaster (msg # 142):

oops - thought we were looking at the display still on the ship!

Nodding at Pablo's entrance, "Yes, everything's fine, thank you Pablo."



"So, you've already inspected the ship. Since it seems we have a clean bill of health, perhaps we can put aside the past unpleasantness and get down to business, beginning with allowing our comms access to your net and then maybe a dinner somewhere nice."

"I haven't inspected your ship, Count, nor do I intend to," Kenzi replies. "As I told you, the Star Port Authority did that. Since you haven't been arrested yet, I would hazard a guess that nothing serious was found. Sometimes, however, they can be slow to process things. I can't release your block until I get an official report from them. For all I know, they are processing a fine levied against your ship for something that was found. In which case, I can't release the block until the fine is paid."

Knowing better than to try to convince a male that there is no point defending his territory, even if it is just a ship, if the opposition can bring a so much stronger force to bear if they desire she sets out to buy local communicators from the first merchant she finds. Being in the disreputable part of the base might even even prove useful as the equipment found here might be harder to track for the authorities.
And she hopefully has not walk back quite as far to bring Kaengarr his communicator.

While walking she asks Walther "You also have a honor title, yes? Could you force that Baroness to a duel, even if it had to be fought by champions?"

Her head quirked to side slightly, "When should we expect those results to be finalized?  And if any fines are levied against our ship, how will we be informed and where would we need to post payment of pay those?  Is the base controller's office nearby?"  The logistical questions were innocuous enough, though of course, they could likely ask someone lower down on the food chain about such things.  But, Muran was conveniently available at this time; and Shar didn't mind playing annoyingly ignorant.

"Logged, M'lord." Sharik noted dutifully, continuing to tap away on the input screen of her dataglove.  She simply nodded curtly to Kenzi when the woman had explained that her example and nothing more than a hypothetical.  She leaned over towards Darrel, seemingly looking for his approval on an item - however, on her display was the simple highlighted note ++Word of our arrival preceded us.++  Which had plenty of implications: either the ship, the crew, or a contact on Grendal (who had a faster transport than they did) was suspect in this case.

She swiped on the display and a transcript of the conversation appeared.  Shar pointed to a region for the Count's thumbprint as verification.  Then touched the screen to finalize and moved towards to Muran to give her the opportunity to review the transcript (sans her highlighted note, of course) and notarize the document, if she desired.

Her duty with respect to the documentation done, Sharik stepped back and noted to the Grand Poobah, "Thank you, Ma'am."  She paused and glanced at Darrel, "The Count appreciates you taking time out of your busy schedule to meet with him."

"If there was to be a duel, I think I would come out second best." Sir Walter said. "The laws are pretty specific on duels between people of different social standings, so I could not duel her unless she challenged me, although that also depends on the sector since we are not in Imperial space. Those laws were put into place to keep people from fighting each other left and right, even if it did not stop the various Emperors and Empresses from getting killed sitting on the Iridium Throne based on the Right of Assassination."  he added.

"I guess lets see if we have any money remaining and if we can track down the Count. However, I have a funny feeling that we can not access our credits just like my Broker license was suspended. "

Khea can purchase communicators but it wasn't the communicators that were the problem--it was access to the starport's internal web. In order to get that access, you have to provide proof of identity; it doesn't matter which communicator you use.

====================================================================================

Kenzi informs Sharik that she has no idea how long it will take as it's completely out of her hands. If it turns out that there is a fine, it would be paid at the Star Port Authority office... otherwise known as Starport Control.

At the Comms shop, Sam says "So we can buy stuff, but not use it. I guess that means we need to see someone about lifting restrictions. So do we get to the head or the hands?"

ooc
Starmaster - I am assuming your post meant we can use our Creds?

Either physical credits are readily accepted... money is money... or your electronic creds are useable. There is no physical or electronic reason for electronic transactions to be controlled on the starport, and no ID is needed. Local transactions aren't a problem, but obviously you can't transfer funds over any distance.

When she discovers that the new communicators don't work either Khea lets out several Aslan curses. She hoped that in a run down area like this communicators would have some way to access the grid without registering.

Maybe if she gets several transmitters and places one of them at each intersection they pass to set up their own makeshift grid. But that would be costly and the transmitters will be stolen within minutes.
Or get someone to register communicators for them? But how do you approach a humaniti to do something so dishonorable?

"Again, I do hope we put this behind us and I was sincere in my dinner offer, have a good day(night?)."

At the secretary, "Thank you young lady, my fans are what makes all this worthwhile, could you please ensure that the rest of my comrades at the ship bay, know that I'm heading towards star port authority."

Since it seems our business is done with Mrs. Kenzi, departs for the star port authority.

As Vonon recalls, he didn't have to buy any access to the local comm network; it was automatic. The standard protocol is that when a ship requests permission to land, the ship's computer/comms exchanges data with the base's computer/comms. Unless you are trying to sneak someone onto the station, all personnel's comm codes are transmitted to the station. It's the minimal security.

This is SOP for nearly all Class C starports or better that isn't interdicted in some way.

Outpost is a slight variation on that because it's been hardened against EMP attacks. That means that normal comm signals won't penetrate the walls. So you have to connect with the base's net. What seems to have happened here is that when the ship transmitted the communication protocols (which also includes, by the way, all medical and engineering data) all the access was denied. More exactly, since it should have been automatic, someone had to have actively shut down that access.

You've at least found out that the Grand Poobah was the one that ordered that shut down.

Vonon was mistaken in thinking that basic service to the ship had also been shut down. That was never the case. Air, plumbing and power were available. All that meant was that the Long Shot wasn't considered 'dangerous' such as a terrorist threat.


Darrel and his entourage head for the Starport Authority, and since that's where Walter and his entourage were heading, you all meet up there.

Kaengarr, Valeska and Jones are still back on the ship.

"Count!" Khea shouts when she spots the rest of the crew.
Walking over them she continues in a somewhat lower voice and in Throkh "There is trouble with the authorities. We better all meet up and discuss what to do next. And with communicators not working we better do not split up again before setting up meetings beforehand."

No, the comms don't allow access to ship's systems, not without a sophisticated routing password and some serious hacking. What gets transmitted is the inspection reports... essentially the last time your power and engines were inspected. A fusion reactor, despite all the safety protocols, is still capable of turning into a fission bomb. Captains (and sometimes engineers) have been known to foolishly push a ship beyond its capabilities.

Such inspections are a normal part of starport landings... when they are required... usually once a year.

Along the walk towards Starport Authority, thinking aloud to Pablo/Shakira,  "It's unlikely this is some simple misunderstanding, or a personal quirk to punish me or nobility. It's too developed for that....maybe the Imperium...maybe. I get a distinct feeling Mrs. Kenzi wasn't the originator of our problems, it just doesn't make sense for her to act this way, without valid cause, and some bullshit reason...it just doesn't add up."

As Count Cromwell passes through corridors, elevators and passageways...a dark mood starts to bubble to the surface...putting aside all the rigamarole, he was separated from his comrades and had no idea how things were going, he started thinking the worst...I swear, if this gets out of hand and they harm my friends, I'll tear this place apart...

At which point....



Seeing the rest of the group at the entrance to SA (barring Kaengarr, Valeska and Jones), he got caught up in the moment and gives a little bear hug whirligig to Khea..before realizing the impropriety...

Setting her down, with a cough,  "Ahh, well, it's good to see you folks have finally arrived."
NOTE:Not to God-mod..if Khea doesn't allow, it's a brush-off with the following dialogue, just as if it happened without the whirligig  .


At this point, Darrell covers in exact detail everything that has happened since he left the ship...(meaning, he updates all he's learned***.)

"And Kaengarr, Valeska and Jones..are they ok...and the ship?..."

***OOC: Not to meta-game here, but, we've all got to be on the same sheet of music.
This message was last edited by the player at 00:45, Wed 13 July 2016.

Pablo quietly followed along behind Darrel, nodding when he spoke. It was all stupidity to him. A part of him really thought the best move might be to stop by the ship, pick up a bit more firepower, notably a musette full of plasma grenades, and clear the Starport Authority offices. It would be a subtle hint that internecine bullshit had just gone too far.

When they met up with more of the crew, Pablo smiled, happy to see them. When Darrel was done filling them in on events, the ex-marine said, "If you intend to storm the building with the bunch of us, at least let me go back to the ship and accessorize properly. I'm embarrassed to say that I came loaded for shore leave, not room clearing."

Seeing the Count, Sir Walter shook his head. "I hope you have some good news as mine is not good for our cargo." he said "Someone here has decided that I am persona non grata. I tried to set things up at the family business and found out that the other brokers were told to not touch the shipment. I guess it stems from the issue with the ship." he said

In reply to Walter Zeller (msg # 160):

"And...a couple of Customs Officers also stopped by the ship." Vonon added, after Walter, "They were really apologetic about being sent out to roust us for what they believed was a bogus smuggling charge. They said somebody they called 'The Baroness' had sent them out."

Vonon drops his lower jaw in a Vargr grin, "Excellency...did you go and diddle some local aristo, make promises you weren't going to keep, and then slip out on the first ship headed off-station? Hmm?" he asks, obviously amused.

Sam raised an eyebrow when she saw the others.

"So all roads lead here? Interesting. Maybe we can get this sorted, now. Though I'll leave it to you too" she said nodding towards Darrel and Walter

"I don't recall any Baroness from Outpost, but, who knows...and that would imply an imperial involvement, maybe? Since we still seem to be at a loss for information, let's play nice (nods towards Pablo) until we get a better understanding of what's going on."

Enters Starport authority, looking for the senior duty officer.

When you walk into the Starport Authority, it's not a very large room, but it's circular, with view screens on all the walls. There are four people in here--3 humans and one Vargr.

Apparently the people are supposed to be monitoring the screens. As near as you can tell, the screens are quartered into sections, with each section showing images from a particular quadrant of the starport. A few of the screens flash between different cameras, while some are fixed on particular points.

The Vargr stands up and approaches.

"Ah, Count Cromwell! I was wondering when you'd get in touch. What can I do for you?"

Pablo doesn't, quite, step in the Vargr's way, but he does make very sure that the guy knows Darrel has his pack with him, so to speak. In truth, he finds the whole thing a bit hilarious, but it never hurts to establish certain boundaries.

  Contrary to Khea's supposition, Kaengarr had no intention of trying to hold off an armed assault by the spaceport authorities if it came to that. His concerns were more subtle, and twofold: that there'd be other attempts at subterfuge - the 'inspection' and word from those who'd ventured out were enough to warrant that - and that third parties might attempt to take advantage of the situation - they were berthed in a nearly-unused, nearly-unpatrolled, and effectively lawless area of the station.

  Hence, both Valeska and Gregory found themselves drafted into locking down the ship both physically and electronically and maintaining a vigilant watch over the ship and its surroundings by way of both monitoring from the bridge and physical patrols around it.

  If he had his way, the herd of terran cats would make its way back with the problems solved and nothing would happen in the meantime. Which, judging by recent turns, meant that something was bound to go wrong.

"It seems that there was a spurious claim that I was a smuggler, and my ship and staff have been waylaid by someone here, due to some supposed protocol. So, what you could do for me, is to establish unrestricted communications/access to the net for my people, get whatever administrative blocks removed and get my ship out of some crappy wayside hangar....And, get the chief of operations here. Now."

Turns to Walter and Sam, "Anything else?"
This message was last edited by the player at 21:19, Sat 16 July 2016.

In reply to Darrel Cromwell (msg # 167):

"Actually, there is." Vonon responds, looking first to Darrel, then at the Administrator, "I'm familiar with station life, and this Port is still small enough that most folks can keep clued in to what going on in town, so...how about giving us the name of this 'Baroness' that's throwing her weight around; messing with the Count, here?

"Pursuant to Article 7, Paragraph 5 of the trade agreement between the Imperium and Drexilthar Subsector, is there anything on record by the Starport Authority that would preclude our vessel from unloading our cargo or anything that prevents myself, Dr. Sir Walter Zeller, Imperial Broker license WZ2357812A from selling said cargo? If so, who authorized it?" he said, being as diplomatic as possible.

00:11, Today: Walter Zeller rolled 9 using 2d6+2 with rolls of 1,6.  Diplomacy 1 Social Status+1.

Sharik listened to Darrel's summary, offering and adding detail to the discussion.  She was very precise - often using either transcripted or recorded information from the interview with the Grand Poobah to demonstrate any point she made.

It was also conspicuous, that the diminutive socialite didn't directly contradict anything that the Count had to say.  Perhaps she was still in her executive assistant role.  Or perhaps there was something else in mind; which was definitely possible, since they were still in a public place and there had been implications that there were surveillance cameras abound.  Coupled with the fact that they'd been targeted, harassed and potentially followed.

Well, perhaps Sharik's paranoia wasn't unwarranted.

Her demeanor changed into something more casual, once topic of information gathering and finding out more about 'the Baroness' came up.  She nodded to Vonon's assessment, "Aye, Vo."  Pulling from one of her pockets (no mean feat, given the rather tight, tailored fit of the jacket she was wearing) a small liquor flask with a light, bluish-tinged libation in it, Shar took a swig of the Sylean brandy, savoring its light, sweet taste on her palette.

Then she offered the flask to the others assembled - even the Administrator they were interacting with.  "As you say, most people should know something of her," she mused aloud, "surely, she's famous around here, presumably ... "  She winked conspiratorially at the man behind the counter to punctuate her point.  Sharik knew that she could be charming without being flirtatious (though the latter could get interesting results as well) - and she'd had plenty of past experience in the 'Art of Conversation'.  Perhaps she could get him to talk more freely about things happening at the station; a man in his position would have to be privy to plenty of the various goings on...

The twinkle in the cosmopolitan socialite's eye was pretty easy for her companions to read - perhaps some bar-hopping was in order later, as well.  After testing the more official channels, of course.

Starting to get angry and itching for a fight Khea kept rubbing her hands and claw sheat waiting to see how they responded to Walters question, hopefully in a way that would warrant a duel.

"So you want the Chief of Operations, hey? That would be Mutt Talbek. And that would be me!" the Vargr says to the Count.

"This is the first I've heard of your problems, Sir."

He turns to one of the others, who is already busy tapping at his computer. A moment later, data appears on one of the screens.

"Yes, his ship was designated as a Class 3 potential threat, so it was sidelined to one of the outer ring docks," the man said.

"Who reported the threat, Marko? And authorized the blackout?" Mutt asks.

"That would be... Kenzi, on both counts," Marko replied.

"Well, that explains it. Can't do anything about the blackout now. It's being processed through the system. Even she can't override it any more. You just have to wait for the report to cycle through the system."

"I'm assuming that your ship has been inspected by now... and found empty? I'll see if I can grease the wheels a bit."

"As for the Baroness, the only Baroness on Outpost... that I'm aware of... would be Baroness Twyla Elgin... the commander of the Imperial Starbase."

"And as for your trade credentials, Sir Walter... there is no unified authority within the Drexilthar subsector, so I have no idea what agreement you are referring to. There is nothing preventing you from off-loading your cargo, but the Threat status of the ship has automatically frozen any of your trading credentials."

He turns to one of the other persons in the Ops Center.

"Tisa... issue them an emergency comm set... how many comms do you need, Count? You just won't be able to use your own identities on the comms."

In reply to Mutt Talbek (msg # 172):

Vonon turns to Darrel with a twinkle in his eye.

"You diddled - and pissed off - an Imperial Baroness?" he asks with amusement, "And one who commands a Naval Base, too? Should we expect a surprise visit from an Imperial Marines Tactical Assault Team...hurr-hurr...your Excellency?"

OOC:I'm checking with the GM about that, who knows?

"And again, I want to thank you for your fine help and it is greatly appreciated. I tell you what, why don't we meet up later at our ship for a drink and I'll mix you up a crew special called the White Heart." 
This message was last edited by the player at 16:34, Thu 21 July 2016.

AS Mutt introduced himself Sam raised an eyebrow but said nothing, but began paying closer attention tot eh conversation and the Vargr himself

"The comms are personally encoded. Only those on the system can communicate," Mutt explains. "We use them for tactical operations, visiting envoys, etc. Not all comms are compatible with ours, which, of course, are Imperial built."

"Ah, yes, Falko. How's he doing these days? I don't get over that way much any more. Too busy with Ops here. A lot of trade comes through Outpost now. It's one of the reasons we have the protocols set up the way we do."

"Kenzi didn't create them; she inherited them from her predecessor. But so far, they haven't caused any problems."<darkgreen>

He checked his computer again, tapped at it, and another bunch of stats popped up on one of the screen, including a camera view of the Long Shot.

"Hmmm. Well, you still have full access to base resources. You'd have had to have been classified as Threat-1 for that to happen. SOP from the anti-terrorist playbook. There's nothing wrong with that bay, although I see one of the cameras is out. It doesn't get used very often... in fact, you're the first ship in that bay in 4 years."

"It's not a 'pretty' bay, by any means... sorry about that."

"As for Kenzi lying to you, did she actually say she wasn't the one to issue the threat alert? 'Cause she's the only one that can set the threat level."

"There are others, but that's only under special circumstances, like Base Alert. Heck, under Code: Red, even I can set the threat level... assuming it isn't already high enough."

"She is friends with the Baroness. That only makes sense, as the two of them are the only starport commanders on Outpost. I believe the Baroness has a lieutenant commander, but Kenzi has no second."

"Yeah, I can see it. If the Baroness pushed one of Kenzi's buttons, Kenzi could have acted on her behalf. Did you do something to piss off the Baroness, Count? Dueling is illegal here on Outpost. Not sure what the status on the Starbase is, but if I were you, I'd avoid the Starbase like the plague. Just in case, mind you. I'm not saying anything untoward would happen, but there's no upside to screwing with what you don't know."

"Sure. I'm off duty in about 3 hours. I can join you out on the Long Shot for a drink, but only if you let me buy you dinner here on the starport."

He gives no indication that the White Heart has any meaning for him.

"So, do you need anything else out in the bay? I'll send an engineering crew out there right away to fix that broken security camera and I'll have them clean up the place a bit."

"Are you staying Outpost long? Oh, and to answer your other question about trade goods, part of the problem is the black flag put on any inquiries about you. So none of the local traders, and few of the transients, will touch your cargo. However, I can alleviate that a bit. I can add a yellow flag to it, which means that you've been tentatively cleared, and can make 'speculative' arrangements."

"Anything else I can do for you, Count?"

Sams alert posture softened and she smiled at Mutt "Free chow? I've never been known to turn that down, so I'll accept that offer at least." She stepped forward slightly and offered her hand introducing herself "Samantha Kilgore"

After shaking hands she stepped back out of the conversation, but continued to listen in. Sam also takes a good look round ops as she does so - trying to get a sense of the place and the personnel working there - does it seem tense, relaxed, is the gear new, old etc

"Pleased to make your acquaintance, Ms. Kilgore," Mutt replies, taking the offered hand.

He waited to see if the Count had anything else to say.

In reply to Mutt Talbek (msg # 179):

"I think we're good for now, We'll head back to our ship since we've been without comms they are probably wondering what is going on. I'll look forward to seeing later. thank You."

OOC:At this point, we all go back to the ship?

"Lets head back and figure out what our next step is then." Sir Walter said "If we are allowed comms, we can get everyone paid and see about the cargo. However, I would rather get that cleared up before they do so as many traders will not touch suspected cargo. If they do, it is a really bad trade deal for us."

In reply to Walter Zeller (msg # 182):

(On the way out of the Control Center)

"So, your Excellency," Vonon says to Darrel, "Maybe you could bring the rest of us up to speed on Baroness Twyla Elgin? And, maybe, why she's so pissed at you she's willing to accept civilian collateral damage..." Vonon indicates everyone else in the group with a wave of his hand, "...when she takes pot-shots at you?"

Frowns, "Honestly Vonon, I don't have a clue, as far as I know, there's no relationship/events/anything that links us. I just automatically assumed it was about me, you know, but maybe it's not. Another crewmember, or maybe even the ship itself? I wish I knew the answer, but until we get everyone together, talk it over and check some records...I'm in the dark as much as you."

Sharik shrugged as she listened to Darrel and Vonon postulate a bit.  She took another sip from her flask before it disappeared into her bolero-style jacket, which must have contained an extra-dimensional space given the size of the flask, the form-fitted nature of the garment, and how closely it appeared to hug her body in places.

The diminutive socialite appeared crestfallen for only the briefest of moments when it was decided that returning to the ship was the most prudent.  Her demeanor appeared to be only for show, as she understood the gravity of the situation and how they would not be able to speak or act freely in a public forum presumably.

She cudgeled her brain for a bit on the walk back to the Long Shot trying to see if the name of Baroness Elgin meant anything to her.  Well, beyond having a listing in her Who's Who database subscription ...  Sending her intelligent agent combing through that thing was the easy part.

In reply to Sharik Kaagira (msg # 185):

Vonon's upper lip curls in a frown at Darrel's response.

"No idea who she is? Really?" Vonon asks, "Well, I don't know her - or anyone else named Elgin...I don't think."

"How about the rest of you? Does the name Baroness Twyla Elgin mean anything? Any Imperial Navy Officers of that same name? Anyone named Elgin? Maybe we're dealing with Pack Honor, here. Uh, I mean Family Honor. And it's not the Baroness, herself, but some member of her family that she's taking action for."

Sam nodded to Mutt as she left "Catch you later. Be warned I'm a big eater" she said and smiled

As they walked back to the ship, Sam listened to Darrel and Vonun. She shrugged at Vonun's question "Not a name that I recall. Another thing to ponder is that it might be to do with our previous employer. We may not have made the news, but there are other ways for word to spread"

In reply to Samantha Kilgore (msg # 187):

"See, that's the thing...unless a ship specifically from Grendal had arrived before us, no-one would even know what we did there. And they would have had to leave within hours of the news, back there to get here before we did. And how would they know we were heading here?"
This message was last edited by the player at 15:15, Thu 04 Aug 2016.

"And while we stumble around the ships sits in the port and collects berthing fees.
Can't you just duel her and be done with it? Or pass the problem up the clan hierarchy.
This message was last edited by the player at 18:39, Thu 04 Aug 2016.

As they walked, Sharik was generally quiet taking in the conversation and the surroundings, but she did pipe up with one clarification on Darrel's assertions.  "Not exactly, M'lord." the diminutive operative noted quietly and rather nonchalantly, "A ship could have left after us and arrived in system before us ... or closer to the station due to the Uncertainty Principle."  She shrugged slightly before continuing, "The vagaries of j-Space and jump calculation accuracy: the one week transit time is plus or minus a couple of hours."  Astrogation wasn't just a hobby for the Long Shot's navigator.

"That said," Shar readily conceded, "I wouldn't bank on it as a method for guaranteed faster communications..." which tied back to Darrel's conclusions, "unless they had a much more refined algorithm or could accurately and effectively supercede the 100D limit or some such..."  It was a frightening proposition; since at that point - like with their flicker-based maneuver drive - all bets would be off.

But best scientists in Two-Thousand Known Worlds had been trying to overcome the gravity perturbation and the Uncertainty Principle propagation terms in the standard jump calculations for thousands of years without much success.

"Another possibility," she noted off-hand, continuing to walk rather leisurely and speculate, "would be a waiting communications array on both ends.  Transit time in-system is a significant time lag.  A radio wave would travel at the speed of light. much faster than any physical ship in-system."  Sharik hurmph'd a touch causing her hair to bob slightly, "That is a lot of dedicated resources."  Like xBoat network-level dedicated resources.  And between Grendal and Outpost, that seemed unlikely...

In reply to Sharik Kaagira (msg # 190):

"Good points, Shar'r." Vonon agreed, "But, except for Sir Walter's family connection to Outpost, there's no way anyone could have guessed we would be coming here. Yotz, we only decided to come here, after we gained the Longshot."

"Except..." Vonon adds, "given that Outpost is the closest Aslan presence, that might be something one could assume would attract Khea...oh, yeah, and the fact that I had middle passage booked back here, and I kept mouthing off about coming back...and then there's the whole ease of getting an 'armed ship' refit over here..."

"Crap. I guess it was a pretty easy guess that we'd be coming here. Wasn't it?"

There hasn't been any direct hassling of your group, except for maybe the customs inspectors, so everyone makes it back to the ship without incident. By the time you get there, however, a repair crew is already in the hangar bay fixing the broken camera.

They've also hooked up the base umbilical to the ship.

There's a second crew actually sweeping and scrubbing the floor, as well as hitting some of the rust on the walls with rust remover.


The comms that Mutt gave you are simply registered as Guest-1, Guest-2, etc.

In reply to Darrel Cromwell (msg # 188):

Sam said "True Darrell, but I was meaning who employed us, not what we did for them. How much do we know about Ceuleanne anyway?" She shrugged "Its just a thought. A possibly paranoid thought and/or a red Heron, but worth considering"

For his part, upon returning to the ship, Pablo pulled up a law book and some other texts and started studying, though he kept one ear on the conversation.

This situation still struck him as a ludicrously elaborate way to establish some sort of petty pecking order or possibly even more childish petulance over some long irrelevant insult.

Darrell will distribute the comms among the crew, keeping the 1 extra at the ship bridge.

He briefs everyone on what he knows so far, this is mostly from a DB and or just background.



"Ok, anyone has anything to add, or perhaps when we pool all our information we might be able to find a connection?"

"I still wonder what has caused offence. Someone of the crew? But how could they know which ship we were on and that we would come to Outpost? Or was is the ship itself? But then everything would have been cleared up already."

  Kaengarr took in Darrel's briefing from a perch sitting atop an empty crate that he'd set next to the longshot, a vantage from which he could keep watch over what the station crews were doing from an unobtrusive distance. The missive accompanying their arrival had been convincing enough to allow them to play around with the ship's umbilical, but he still wasn't going to put anything past their erstwhile antagonist, now identified as the Baroness in charge of the military outpost.

  While he took in most of it rather soberly, the initial exchange between Darrel and the so-called 'Grand Poobah' bringing forth a grin and Khea's frustrated suggestion of arranging a duel evoking a sly murmur - just loud enough to be heard over the comm - of, "And she thinks I'm aggressive?"

  "There's something I need to add, yes," he rumbled in response to Darrel's question, a low growl creeping into his words as he spoke. "Most of you were part of something before we went after the Long Shot and I've been stonewalled every time I've asked about it. That tells me there's a good chance that it is the source of our problems, or at least part of them. If we have to go into seclusion in one of the staterooms for someone to tell me, fine, but I will not be put off again. Not when my neck may be on the line for it!"

  That was followed by both a physical and verbal shrug. "Otherwise... take your pick of wild guesses. Involved in the Long Shot fiasco? Linked to one of the Long Shot's 'sister ships'? Thought that one of Darrel's performances slandered the family? In the end, she's the only one with the answer, and if we can't ask directly then we need to do it round-about."
This message was last edited by the player at 05:30, Sun 07 Aug 2016.

"Really?" Vonon asks, "I thought I answered that before we launched from Grendal..." Vonon shrugs, "Memory isn't what it used to be, I guess. Anyway, most of us had worked a Private Security Contractor assignment for Mz. Blue, before she approached us for the Longshot gig."

"That was a strictly local operation, though, and I don't think we even popped up on anyone's radar screen over it. But I'm sure that that isn't what you're asking, is it? What you're looking for is for us to break the non-disclosure element of our employment contract with Mz. Blue. Right?"

  "If it's as sensitive as all that, it's sensitive enough for someone to want payback, whether here or somewhere else, and there would have been more than enough time for messages about it to get around. If you're worried about rules, there are cases where those don't apply. Hrnh. Absolutely certain that nothing you did could have been recorded or leaked or witnessed? Fine. I'm agitated about this because I feel I'm missing something that could be material to our safety."

"Maybe this baroness lady is some kind of spy boss, and her lackluster career is just a cover story. Or maybe she wants to make a big mark, and needs patsies to do it. We have a very espionage capable ship, and as a group, we have pretty much all the needs of a black ops team covered. Either way, maybe she wants to recruit us for something. No matter what it is, when are you going to talk to her?" Pablo looked around, and then said, "Just thinking out loud, sorry." Then he went back into reading his legal text.

In reply to Kaengarr Ruzokh (msg # 199):

Vonon nods to Kaengarr, "Oh, I agree with you about missing...something. This whole situation raises the fur on the back of my neck! I feel like there is something hanging right in front of our collective noses, but we just can't smell it! On the other hand, I also get this feeling that something is still lurking in the shadows, watching us, but not being seen."

"We seem to be getting along well with the locals, now. I got the impression from those customs officers, as well Mutt, back there, that the locals aren't really getting behind the anti-us shenanigans, but that this Baroness has enough pull to make 'em do it, anyways."

Vonon suddenly frowns, "And nobody knows who she is?! Nobody has served with her, or anyone in her family...nobody has had any business dealing with anyone in that family...?"

Vonon pauses again, gazing at Darrel in contemplation for few seconds, "Count Darrel..." Vonon eventually says, "You said that the data you've got on this Baroness states that she's 'new Nobility' - just how 'old' is yours? Could this, maybe, be from something before she was elevated to Baroness? Maybe even something non-military or non-Nobility related? Maybe your Family had some kind of business dealings with hers - possibly something that never even involved you and her, personally, but was all about your Families?  Could this be an old Feud?"

Back at the ship, Shar listened to what the other had to say, speculation or otherwise and then added her two cents.  "There is definitely more to the Baroness than meets the eye..." she had to smile wanly at her own inadvertent pun.

She tapped her chin for a moment as she read more of the blurb on the Baroness.  "And here his something interesting..." Sharik mused aloud, "the public 'Incident' smells like augments ..."  The auburn-haired socialite let that linger for a moment then broke the silence, "but, right before her career stalled she lost an eye in a separate accident.  The naval medical records say that she never got it replaced.  But not for the lack of trying; it was because her body rejected all attempts at transplants and implants.  Regen techniques also turned out to be useless..."  Imperial tech was pretty sophisticated; so, whatever 'condition' the Baroness had, it must have been significant.  The only options Shar could wrap her head around were either a really exotic (re: alien) physiology, extreme genetic aberration, or previous incompatible augmentation/enhancement.

Then the diminutive operative continued on, "She's been 'laying low' in her naval career for over a decade.  Stalled would normally mean mustered in a service like the IN.  I smell something, maybe a whiff of NavInt.  Or something more insidious."  Pablo's instincts could definitely be right.  None of it was above boards, and none of it necessarily sounded good.

---

OOC:  The Baroness Elgin's picture and public CV is here:  Link back to this game.  All of which Sharik will share if Darrel hasn't already.

Given everything all put together, Darrel also had a feeling that some intelligence agency might be involved, and he also agreed that until meeting the Baroness herself, most of this might just be pure speculation.

"Let's see what Mutt has to say, then we can plan our future courses of action."

Khea, who has been circling the room for some time now adds, speaking more to herself than to the rest, "Before we poke a Atekteia nest we should first sell the cargo. This planet is not very strict when it comes to rules and a military officer can hardly dictate whom the traders should buy from.

In reply to Kheaiftouaw (msg # 204):

"As far as I understand it, we can't sell the cargo until the process of clearing us from the bogus smuggling charge is completed. Mutt had mentioned he can help speed that up. "

  Kaengarr took in Sharik's information with a disgruntled frown. "Hrn. Points to the 'prior owners' problem. That means two more things: first, we won't be able to just leave and sell cargo unless we get ahead of the news couriers, and second, that it matters whether there was a standing order or one only came when we arrived. Neither is good, but one is worse."

Sam listened in and added her two creds worth

"This smells wrong, the Baroness seems to be deliberatly under achieving. Gotta be a reason for that - as you say Sharik, possibly NavInt, or more personal reasons. Sharik is there any scuttlebutt on the Baronesses extra curricular activities you can find? One thing  I learnt in the service, theres always a leak, somewhere. We need to find it. But until Mutt turns up we're kinda stuck."

By now Khea has stopped pacing and shifted completely over to Throk while her ears stand entirely upright with a slight shiver.
"This is stupid. You men can continue wondering how you offended someone you hardly know and talk in circles about regaining your honor.
But I am going to do what we came here to do and sell the cargo of ours.

With that Khea storms out of the bridge, grabs her weapons and computer and heads out the ship.

In reply to Kheaiftouaw (msg # 208):

" Khea, you're right, but until we know more, rushing off might cause even more problems. Please, let's just wait until we all have a chance to talk to Mutt, then we can get ourselves organized, sell our cargo, and decide how to proceed from there?"

Pablo stands, blanking his reader for the moment, and goes to the ship's locker. Grabbing a few essentials, he moves to follow Khea. He did't really have any more to contribute to the conversation, anyway.

  "Honor?" Kaengarr echoed, both looking and sounding surprised. "What does that..." Then he let out a guffaw as he shook his head. "We're not clan-men, you know!"

In reply to Kaengarr Ruzokh (msg # 211):

Vonon scratches under his chin in thought, frowns, then also heads for the door.

"Well, until Mutt gets here, I'm going to go and change out of this ship's jumpsuit." Vonon gestures at himself, "I got all dirty, earlier, hooking up, then un-hooking those port connections."

  "You did!" Kaengarr acknowledged genially. "And if it was up to me they'd have still been unhooked when you got back, but it seems that someone made arrangements somewhere!" Then a sly tone crept into his words. "Your hard work isn't going unrewarded, though. There are some things for everyone in the mess."

  Somehow, despite having only a few free moments here and there whilst the ship was on lockdown, he'd managed to prepare and set out a multicultural assortment of handcrafted confectionery...
This message was last edited by the player at 03:17, Fri 12 Aug 2016.

The Count, having discussed group issues and watching the reactions, "I´ll be waiting for Mutt here, please stay in contact".

Kaengarr Ruzokh sets up a fine meal and Darrel assists as he waits for Mutt.
This message was last edited by the player at 01:07, Sun 14 Aug 2016.

Sam looked at Khea as she stormed out, but made no move to stop her.

Looking at Darrel she said "Want me to tag along with her and the Grunt to make sure they don't start any wars?"

"Well, I think they could handle themselves, but, it might be prudent to have a shadower in case of shadows."

  "Or someone who can explain that we're not a Hierate clan and don't think like they do? Kaengarr added slyly. "I doubt we males would be taken seriously if we said it!"
This message was lightly edited by the player at 07:57, Thu 18 Aug 2016.

Sam nodded briefly at Darrell "It wasn't them I was worried about, but the people they might encounter " she said, and then took off at a gentle jog to catch up Khea and Pablo, holding the cutlass at her side as she ran

As she caught sight of Khea and Pablo she whislted loudly "hey guys, wait up."When she was level with them she said "Mind if I tag along?"

The service engineers wouldn't have hooked up the base umbilical if Kaengaar didn't let them, but they used their communicators to contact the Count who had a loaner communicator by then.


So while half the team goes off to 'pout', the Count gets a call from Mutt. He's arranged to get off a bit early, and is wondering if now would be a good time to come by.

He shows up about ten minutes later, stopping outside to see how the repair crew is doing.

"Welcome to the Long Shot, I hope you're hungry, we haven't cooked for a guest yet...you'll be our virgin."

He brings Mutt aboard, and introduces everyone that he hasn't met yet (and/or not present).

He notifies non-present crew by comms that Mutt has arrived early.

The Count, has years of experience studying emotions and expressions...does he get anything from Mutt?
This message was last edited by the player at 22:04, Thu 18 Aug 2016.

The youthful operative watched with a slightly bemused expression as the company split up.  Though she made no physical gesture, towards him, Sharik made sure that she caught the eye of Pablo.  It was part quizzical (even if she suspected that she knew the answer), but mostly disapproving look of approval at his chosen path.  As the Count made no real attempt to stop the others, neither did Shar.  The crew were all consenting adults.  And perhaps the foray would give good information.

But the lithe dilettante wanted to hear what the previous owner of the Long Shot had to say.  So, she stuck around and helped to set up what turned out to be a relatively intimate table for the evening meal.  Though she didn't bother to change her clothes, Sharik did disappear for a few minutes before Mutt arrived to freshen up.

So, naturally, the vargr was early.  Which made Shar a few minutes fashionably late in greeting him.  Unphased by the timing, the diminutive socialite wafted into the common room with a smile on her face.  Her hair was up and her classically tailored jacket while open in front, draped well on her thin frame.

Sharik smirked slightly at Darrel's attempt at humor, their guest's name was 'Mutt' not 'Mutton' no matter how much the Count tried to push the sacrificial lamb motif.  All she could manage was "Hope you like roast groat, Mr. Talbek.  Enchanted to see you again ..." as her intro to the small chat of the evening.  She appeared to have plenty of training when it came to entertaining.  In her time (which she never was all that specific about), the effervescent Kaagira scion had been known to throw a memorable party or two.

Yet, since this was 'first impressions' gathering, Sharik made it a point to ensure that, first and foremost, everyone had a good time.  Quick with a quip and even quicker on the uptake no matter the topic of conversation, it seemed that she'd had had plenty of experience entertaining guests in the ritualistically informal formalized ritual that was the classic dinner party.

---

OOC:  One doesn't get Carouse/3 just being a wallflower...:D  It probably doesn't hurt to have Deception/3 and JoAT/3 either.

"Hur-hur," Mutt laughs at the Count's joke. At least, he hopes it was a joke.

"Always a pleasure to make new acquaintances," he replies to Sharik, "and nice to see you again, Ms. Kaagira."

"At the risk of causing, perhaps, a bit of indigestion, I wanted to report what I'd found out since you left. None of this, of course, is official. It's mostly scuttlebutt, and even the ones that said it aren't likely to remember it now."

"There are some things on a station like this that you simply can't hide. Too much of it has to be out in the open just to make it all work."

"As you surmised, the two station commanders are... friends... though I can't really define that any better than that. As the proverbial 'top dogs' of their respective commands, they naturally hang out together, compare notes, etc. The friendship does appear to be rather superficial."

"Base personnel are free to visit the starport any time they want, and they often do. Little in the way of recreation was ever installed in the base because it was felt it was redundant to do so with the starport so close."

"The sequence of events as I've been able to track down through the electronics is that the base sent out the 'stand and deliver' signal a bit ahead of the starport's. It only makes sense, as their sensors are a bit  better than ours. This was automated; no intelligent agency was involved."

"Your ship responded automatically as well. As near as I can tell, there should have been no reason not to do that. Our records show standard data for all of your crew members. Same for the ship. Standard update for the new owners was recorded."

"Then the alert was issued... by Kenzi. She did it personally. It wasn't delegated to someone else, it was automatically triggered by the system."

"Within seconds of the ship's transmission, Kenzi got a comm from the Baroness. The conversation wasn't recorded, but the comm was logged."

"It doesn't exactly prove anything, but it does point a finger."

"I'd say Kenzi was being prompted to act the way she did. It isn't that it was above  her authority to do so, but it was, to say the least, highly unusual."

"So I looked into the Baroness... more in-depth than I had before--I like to know who I'm working with... or might have to work with."

"I couldn't find anything in her records... at least not those that are public access. There weren't even any clues in the secure files that I could access. Fortunately, I know better than to stop there."

"I went to that old mostly-unreliable scuttlebutt. It's true that her career hasn't been very spectacular, and possibly that's because her stations have been rather boring. It's hard to make a name for yourself if nothing happens where you're at."

"But... more tellingly... it seems she's run into a glass ceiling... or perhaps a glass-eye ceiling might be more appropriate. Apparently, she's been passed over for promotions and choice assignments because she only has one good eye. Even though there are valid medical reasons for that, the higher-ups have trouble accepting that. Plus they feel it handicaps her, and that's not something they want to... encourage... in the chain of command."

"She apparently is aware of this, and holds some resentment."

"Let me ask you, Count: where were you around 10 years ago?"

"Well, that confirms our suspicions, the trick question is why? And how does it relate to a possible connection between her injury and us?"


"Hhhmm, doing movies, traveling, normal socializing...could you be more specific?"

"Well, I wouldn't say that her career was on the rise about ten years ago," Mutt replies, "but after the accident, things didn't seem to go well for her career-wise."

"There are occasional incidences that display her resentment, but mostly she's professional."

As the meal goes along, drinks served...the Count does his best to put Mutt at ease, small talk and whatnot, but eventually he broaches the main issues.

"Putting that aside for a moment, how long do you think it will be before we can sell our cargo and start making improvements on our ship, plus there's a problem we're having with our computer...maybe you know some experts that could look her over...but of course, we're talking very, very discrete work done."

Darrell continues to watch Mutt closely for any telltale signs of "ohhh, I've been here before"

"Have you heard from Falko recently, he had also mentioned that you keep your ears/eyes open for potential clients or jobs?"

"A job?" Mutt replies. "Oh, a job... I suppose that depends on what you are interested in... and what you feel you can handle."

"We've had a dozen nav beacons in system go off-line in the last month. If you'd like to investigate them, I can get you the coordinates of the six we haven't yet gotten around to repairing."

"We don't manufacture anything here, but Sternmetals has a load in storage for trans-shipment to Traneer. We also have an ambassador that needs to go there."

"We have six freighters headed for Cassandra that would like an escort. The captain's are all paranoid about recent pirate rumors around Cassandra."


"As for your computer, I can take a look at that."

"What kind of improvements are you looking at? If it's big stuff, we'll have to move your ship to a larger dock."


"As for your cargo, you can go ahead and sell it now... if you can find a buyer, of course. I changed the status from Restricted to Reserve. I still can't remove it completely. Only the Poobah can do that. I suspect your approach to her was... ill-advised. Trying to throw your title around outside the Imperium doesn't work very often. Oh, there are enough sycophants that will be impressed, even a few worlds in toto, but, as the song goes, 'that don't impress me much'."

"Your approach may have felt like she was caught between a rock and a hard place, so she fell back on her natural responses. Try the 'ordinary guy suffering under the burden of a title and responsibility that you don't want'."


"As for Falko, got a comm from him when you arrived in system... Otherwise, we might not be having this conversation. As it is, I'll catch some flack from the Poobah for... 'interfering', but I can smooth it over by just saying we're old friends. Most of her actions weren't through official channels, so she can't very well criticize me for my actions."

PM

Sir Walter sat back in a ripe sour mood from not being able to sell the cargo. Listening to Mutt as he described the situation that was occurring on outpost he held up a finger.

"Forgive me but I still feel that there is more going on under the surface. Your bosses history screams of spook, maybe even IBIS." Walter said.  "Mr. Talbek, have you ever been on this vessel before? Maybe under a different name as there are not many former system defense boats that are jump capable in and of themselves." he asked

ooc:If this has been covered, then forgive me.

"My boss's history?" Mutt responds to Walter. "As far as I know, the Grand Poobah doesn't have a history. She was born here. Kind of got stuck with the title."

"So you think she's a spy? And what's IBIS? Never heard of it before, though clearly I can infer it's some sort of espionage agency."

"And, no, I don't believe I've ever been on the Long Shot before... wait! Did you say 'system defense boat'?"

He glanced around him for a moment, then tapped at his comm.

"Well, I'll be damned! I guess I was on the ship... about sixty years ago, back when it was just an SDB named the White Heart. It sure doesn't look the same. I was her captain for awhile. But that was a long way from here."

"It was never hooked up to the shuttle while I was captain. We were in the system for a reason, and so had no need to be jump capable."

"Wow. The stories this ship can tell. So how did you come by it?"

The diminutive dilettante seemed slightly disappointed that Darrel didn't offer any more information about himself ten years ago.  She'd have loved to have known more about what had happened to him after the snafu concerning the two of them and Pablo.  But, he was right.  As far as she knew, there hadn't been Imperial Navy involvement directly in that affair.

"I was conscripted into the Imperial Navy for a tour." she noted off-hand, "but that was definitely more than a decade ago..."  Which by the looks of it, would have made Sharik something like eight years old when she joined - and in reality, her stint with the IN had started almost two decades ago.  But then looks could be deceiving as Mutt could surely attest to - as he let slip that it'd been sixty years since he'd last laid eyes on the hull that'd become the Long Shot.

Still, Shar didn't lose a beat and described her brief foray into the world of the Imperial Navy's public relations and diplomatic corps.  "Ultimately, it was decided that we part ways..." she concluded rather charitably.  Her discharge had been honorable, but only barely.  The only really good thing to come out of those lost years was that she'd met Vonon then.  Unfortunately, her old Vargr friend was not currently at the dinner party; that story of envoys, subterfuges, binge-drinking and barroom brawls always went better with him present to interject.

Still., Sharik continued to smile throughout the rest of the conversation.  When it turned to business, she still kept her tone light, but her words and attention seemed serious enough.  Odd jobs seems likely to be their specialty given he diverse backgrounds.  And Mutt did seem a perfect contact here, established and yet not too jaded and unwilling to help.  Her auburn hair bobbed and bounced as Shar nodded about potential job prospects.

"This ol' girl," she noted as she patted the nearest bulkhead to her, "was being used as by a prospector near Grendal.  He struck a better than decent lode of iridium and decided to cash out."  She looked about, as if surveying the ship, "She has apparently been around.  But, I suppose that is to expected when you are pushing one-hundred years old..."

"How long were you aboard?  There is a transponder ident still in the system that names you Captain..." Sharik prompted idly, giving Mutt a chance to divulge more.  But only if he wished to do so.

In reply to Sharik Kaagira (msg # 230):

Walter´s and Sharik´s comments made him think about the past, adding Mutt´s mention of events prompted him to check his database and feeds, full visual and audio.

After some reviewing, that is when things made a bit more sense, so, all things considered, Count Cromwell realized the fastest way to solve the group´s problems was to meet with the all the power people.

Through the channels, all of them, Count Cromwell sent out the message, he was to host a dinner at the finest (neutral) venue to meet everyone, meaning the Countess and the Poohab.

After being away for a bit, he turns to Mutt, "So, as she asked, it´s quite a ship...anything you want to mention?"   

"What do yo mean it has a transponder with my name on it?" he asked before the full import of what Sharik said sunk home.

"Strike that question. I not only don't want to know anything about it, but I never heard you say it."

"Ship's don't have more than one transponder because, technically, it's illegal. The reality, of course, is that hardly anyone ever looks for a second one... unless that ship has done something... illegal, or maybe just suspect. I'm sure the Long Shot doesn't fall into that category."

"On the other hand, if that had been the transponder code that had been transmitted to the base, I doubt if you'd have been in this current situation. Although, I'm sure I would have been notified asked if that was my ship. Not sure the registry would have agreed with that. On the other hand, the ship is clearly an SDB... albeit an older model... with jump shuttle attached. Even that makes sense, since the SDB can't normally make jumps on its own."

"A prospector, huh? If I didn't know better..." his voice trails off.

"Ah, well. It has certainly gotten around."

Sharik continued to smile cordially, as Talbek admonished them for being to explicit.  She knew it to be true and admitted as much - to herself as well as their guest.  "Forgive me, Mutt." she soothed, "I must have mispoken... did I say 'transponder'?  I meant 'transcripted'....  The on-board records had some outdated references in the core to previous Captain named Mutt - but I am sure that is a common nickname."

"As you say," she reiterated clearly, "It is illegal to have more than one transponder code.  It is as bad, if not worse, than a false set of fingerprints..."  She let that hang for bit as she pondered other (related) matters.

To her, the admonishment was enough confirmation that they were on the right track - at least, that was how she would have interpreted it; apparently, you could take the operative out of spying, but the spying never really left the operative.  Shar thought to herself for a moment just how fickle Ifni was.  The diminutive socialite had sought to escape this world over a decade ago when she retired from active service.  But, somehow it never really seemed to work out that way; she suspected her subconscious was at least partly to blame.  It wouldn't be the first time.  She learned to trust her instincts.  And they'd served her pretty well; they'd kept her alive so far.

"Obviously," she continued, shifting tracks back their ship - the coverted SDB, "This 'boat' has seen plenty of miles.  I have a particular respect and loyalty for such things.  Building long-standing relations is so very important.  Wouldn't you agree?"  She smiled playfully, "In this ever-shifting universe, what better and more lasting currency can there be?"  She definitely would prefer to count Mutt as a friend; it made little sense to want him to be an enemy.  Material resources came and went with alarming regularity it seemed to the cosmopolitan dilettante; so, friends needed to be held onto tightly.

"It does seem to beg the question about what to about the Baroness Elgin." Sharik pondered aloud, allowing some free-association brainstorming to poke through (and, of course, she could always blame it on the Sylean brandy talking), "Perhaps she has a history with the ship as well..."  It could explain the fact that she knew of their specific arrival in-system, as the ship would have broadcast its presence and identity immediately upon their transition from j-Space.  "And one with less pleasant memories. presumably..." she concluded.  Though the exact circumstances could only contemplate what they might be.  An experimentally fast courier what the Long Shot could be, could have been used for almost anything above or below board.  And as such, almost anything could have gone wrong.

Listening to the conversation, at the mention of the core Sir Walter reached over to the computer and located a file.

"Captain Talbek, does any of these vessels or officers jog your memory? Like Captain Casey Blackwood, former captain of this vessel? Captain Karak Zor of the free trader Star Gypsy, Captain Lucky Seven of the long range explorer Widdershins, Captain Rayne Phyre of the far trader Scamp, or Captain Tequila Mockingbird of the long distance voyageur Starseeker?" he asked.

"History with the ship? The Baroness?" Mutt repeats Shar's words. "I suppose that's always possible, but that... kind of... boggles the mind. That would almost imply that she has a grudge against the ship itself. How peculiar."

"I know we tend to refer to ships as female, though I have no idea where that comes from, but attributing some sort of personality to it... isn't that a type of anthropomorphism? I suppose, if you had the complete itinerary of the ship over the last 50 years, and the Baroness's, you might be able to find a correlation. That just seems really farfetched."

"She'd know from your transponder who the current owner and captain was, probably even the crew. I'd think it'd more likely be one of you that... um, raised her ire."

"Could any of your relatives have done something to one of her relatives?"

Walter then asked his question.

The mention of Casey Blackwood brings a slight smile to his face, but at the mention of Karak Zor, he practically winces. He manages to suppress it for the rest of the names.

"Of course I know Casey. I've worked on the ship before when it was hers. Still can't believe she finally made the big score. Probably means I'll never see her again. No reason for her to travel to the this dustball."

"Can't say as the other names are familiar to me. I sure don't remember every ship that put into port here... not unless there was something special about it or its crew. If all they needed was refuel and resupply, no reason for me to have got involved. They could have stopped over, refueled, restocked and lifted off again all while I was sleeping."

"Now, wait a minute... the name Widdershins seems to ring a bell. Uhhh... nope. Don't got it. Sounds familiar, but can't place it. Might have passed through here, and I saw the name in the logs. If I'd been busy with another ship, I wouldn't have paid much attention to it."

"I might be the one she harbors some resentment towards, but, I need to review some information, do you know when and where she suffered the accident that cost her an eye? About a decade ago, I was hosting a party on (insert planet name) ...there was a unfortunate accident, I don't recall all the details, but, there were several people injured."

"I don't really know her history, but I might be able to call it up on the grid," as he taps at his comm.

"Okay, here we go. It was a public incident, so anything involving the nobility gets covered extensively. So that was... ten years ago. A party at Count Landroval's estate in Dragonport on St. George."

"Her right eye was damaged. She's worn an eyepatch ever since."

PM

PM

Doing some calculations, a faint memory tickles the back of his brain...

"I was at a party around that time, and if I recall, I might have been at that party...I was going through a bad spot...there was an accident, although I don't remember all the details, I might have unintentionally had a hand in it....as I mentioned, I was very out of it and I remember something along the lines of my staff handling it."

Sharik pursed her lips and sighed ever so slightly, as the conversation took a more serious turn concerning the motives of the Baroness Twyla Elgin.  And though her tone was light enough, the diminutive blonde offered the following advice rather haltingly, "I ... I'm going to recommend that you don't feign ignorance nor note that you delegated any actions or responsibility in whatever part you played..."  Assuming, of course, that they actually ever confronted Twyla on the matter.

It may have been obvious and Shar knew it, for the Count was a man with plenty of experience and subtlety - that much she was well aware of.  Yet even if he was being completely honest here, that type of spin on the situation was not going to go over well with the Baroness who obviously had malicious intent and was not going to give any of them the benefit of the doubt.

Unfortunately, settling a long-standing personal grudge was rarely rational.  Or peaceful.  Still, the more information they had the better.  "Can you recall anything a touch more specific in detail, M'lord?" the auburn-haired dilettante prompted her noble companion with a touch of playfulness in her voice to try and keep the conversation light.

"Honestly, I don't know what happened and when I had questioned my staff, in their misplaced loyalty, just said there was an accident and everything had been taken care of...and as I mentioned, at that point, I was not at my best and I just moved on from it. It's not an excuse, it's just the ways things happened. In fact, I had completely forgotten about it until now."

Slapping his hands together, "Enough sad reminiscing about a bad past, let's toast to our new friend Mutt and our positive future" Although those that have worked with the Count can see, these new revelations are troubling him.

"Mutt, I thank you for being so helpful, and anything you can add to help us understand this ship, which obviously has a long and storied past, would be appreciated."

Sharik simply nodded when Count reiterated his inability recall additional details.  It wasn't all that surprising; she could hardly complain as Shar couldn't remember everything that happened a decade ago either.  She did make one off-hand note to Darrel though, "M'lord, you probably shouldn't use the word 'patch' in that context either."  She gave a slightly crooked smile and a nonchalant shrug as she offered the friendly advice.

Raising her glass to toast with the others, the diminutive socialite nodded much more heartily to the sentiments being offered.  "To new friends," Sharik chimed in, her light alto tone danced playfully, "and fruitful ventures!  To welcome comforts and thankful patrons!"  She took a solid sip of the smooth Sylean brandy.

The auburn-haired dilettante continued to converse and carouse for as long as Mutt deigned to remain with the group.  She made no attempts to coerce any additional information out of him, but was always open to any story telling.  Shar herself was quick with plenty of pithy comments and had more than a few amusing stories about harrowing grav races and various party antics - all of which were about a 'friend of a friend,' of course.

"Well, you need to keep in mind that the Long Shot is Imperial built from over a hundred years ago," Mutt replies.

"Given how much it costs to build a ship, and what its intended purpose was--battle, it was built to last. Most ships are expected to have a life expectancy of 100 years, although the original owner usually tries to get out from under it after 40 years or so rather than have to deal with repairs that start cropping up."

"And any decent captain/owner is going to want to upgrade when such becomes available, whether it's a better weapon, better sensors, or whatever."

"Nice meeting you, Count, Sharik..."

He heads out.

"Alright Mutt, we'll be in contact once we find a buyer for our cargo."

Looks around at those present, "Let's find a buyer.", leaning towards Sir Walter.
This message was last edited by the player at 20:28, Thu 27 Oct 2016.

"We've got comms now to do our business," Jones chimed in now that the 'official' business was done. "We probably should make sure we don't actually enter our real IDs into the system, or the system could shut us down again."

"I know Mutt said he had the restriction on us suspended, but the complicated bureaucracy could still throw a spanner into the mess."

"Signing contracts shouldn't be a problem, though, except maybe for the other guy when he files it."

"What else do we need to do? Oh, right... refuel. Our paranoid Vargr stopped that before it get started."

  "Considering that we didn't know what was going on - and right now I wouldn't put it past her to see something accidentally added to the mix, since she already tried to frame us for smuggling - I don't see it as paranoid. We're getting it done now and can't leave until the others come back anyway."

  Kaengarr had kept silent throughout the exchange and had been all but unnoticeable, yet somehow there had never been an empty cup or a lack of some tempting morsel close at hand; years of seeing to oft-finnicky passengers had made him quite adept at providing unobtrusive service.

  "I don't know whether confronting her is a good idea, but I do know that running away would be a bad one. She'll keep pressing the idea and it will look like she might have been right. Though if someone could arrange to have an investigation or two sent her way, maybe she'd get the message. She has to have broken a few rules by doing all this, hnnh?"

Count Cromwell heads directly for the Imperium embassy (or whatever it is called here)

Technically, the 'embassy' is the Starbase, but rather than have people going in and out of the base  on trivial or political issues, a Consulate was set up. The Base Commander isn't a diplomat per se, but since she's also a baroness, that's part of her noble function.

In this case, though, because of the Aslan situation, an official consulate was set up that wasn't on the base.

It's located on the outer side of the Second Ring, 'west' quadrant.

The Consule's name is Gnarru Aerrkh. When you get there, you find that he's a Vargr.

It's a small office, two rooms and a fresher. He's got a green-skinned  human female as a secretary/receptionist that is rather bored and not very busy, spends most of her time social networking, which is rather limited on Outpost.

The Count comms the separated crew members informing them that he is heading towards the starport's consulate.

In reply to Darrel Cromwell (msg # 251):

Sam responded to Darrells Comm, open to all on the chanel

"We've just had a chat with the Baroness - she set this up, and I am 99% sure it was aimed directly at you. Did you not call her in the morning or something?"

"I didn't even realize who she was until just a few minutes ago, or at least why she isn't happy with me, I'm going to the consulate to make arrangements to meet her, and to make sure that the Imperium registers my being here and the meeting...just for insurance. Once i get a time, then I'll contact you...unless you all want to meet up 1st to discuss what we have all learned."

Sam replied to Darrel "I don't think we have much more to share with you, but could do with an update from the ship. We'll get that soon as we're on our way back there" SHe paused "Darrell, don't meet her alone. Someone should attend with you, and it perhaps shouldn't be one of us she has already met"

  "I'll go," Kaengarr declared firmly over the comm. "Samantha's right, and since I'm not Imperial I'll be even more of an unknown. That might be useful here."

Sharik listened to all of the information that was being divulged, trying to take everything in.  "Sounds suspicious." she posited vaguely, "The Baroness blames the Count for something; that much is clear.  But I don't think that the Count really needed to make that type of 'call' to her ..." and she glanced in Darrel's direction obviously taking Sam's comment both seriously and not at the same time, "It is possible I suppose.  But more likely she blames him for a stalled military career."  Her auburn-hair bobbed from side to side as she shook her head slightly, "'Tis very strange."  Though perhaps not, since her eye might have been involved, but Sharik leaves that fact off of the open channel communications.

The diminutive dilettante shrugged slightly; things seemed to be getting more and more complicated all on their own.  Then Shar chimed in after Kaengarr, "Perhaps I should also accompany the Count, as well."  Then she offered  her reasoning, "If nothing more than to keep up appearances, having already been seen as his assistant by the Grand Poobah."  Even if the rouse hadn't really fooled anyone; it would give her something to do.
This message was last edited by the player at 08:47, Mon 28 Nov 2016.

Sir Walter let out a big sigh and then a sly grin. "Figures, in all the places in the galaxy. we run into an "admirer" of yours." he said shaking his head.

"I will get things going but it might take a while to set up connections in order to unload everything. While I am doing this, where is our next stop? That will help give us an idea what to haul. I am open to anyone else tracking down leads once that is done to speed things up. I have a feeling that the next time I'll back home will be after the "Baroness" retires or gets reassigned.".

"I'd offer to go with the Count, too, as another Armsman," Jones chimed in. "If Kaengarr goes, though, that's probably enough. I don't see enough lawlessness here to warrant two of us. But Darrel's a count; it's one of his rights as a noble to have armed guards even if he himself can't carry a weapon."

His public identity as Gregory Jones had been as blocked as the rest of the crew, but he had more than one identity. He hadn't informed the others because it was part of his operating mandate not to divulge that sort of thing. Besides, it hadn't really been needed. And, as it turned out, it was a personal problem of the Count... which needed resolved.

He wasn't sure he'd have been able to do much anyhow.

He'd gotten access to the local grid, even delved into the Dark Net a bit. There wasn't much there on a world this small. Other than the usual petty stuff, Outpost was outright boring. The Baroness had made it a bit interesting.

"And just so you're clear on this, Sharik, you may pose as his PA, but no one in their right mind is going to think you aren't a personal bodyguard as well. You may look demure to the yokels, but anyone in the biz is going to assume you are a small package of dynamite, so you'll be as much a target as Kaengarr. Just saying."

'I'll meet everyone that's going with me at the Imperial Consulate...I'll arraign a meeting with the Baroness through them...keep it on the up and up, and also public."

<En Route>
"We're on our way back to this ship now, so you can let us know what is going on then"

<Back at the Lon Shot>
Sam headed up to the main rest area to see who was about.

ooc
Not sure where you guys were having your meet with Mutt and if anyones still there>?

When arriving at the Long Shot and meeting the others Khea, before anyone can interrupt, shouts at CountDarrel "Whatever you Humaniti do to resolve such things just do it. We won't get anywhere with that conflict between you two.
Can't you simply duel her? Its barbaric but at least its quick. And when gender is an issue I will champion you if you want. Everything is better than doing nothing."

Jones is still there, nursing his third (or is it fouth?) cup of coffee.

At Khea's outburst, he just smiles.

"Alas, Khea, that wouldn't solve the problem, only the issue... assuming he won, of course."

"The problem has already occurred, and we've pretty much got it solved, but now we're subject to the slow turning of bureaucratic wheels of rules and regulations."

"We have a work around for the comms issue, and our trade status has been... altered. We can trade as we wish, but there may be a few... disadvantages to our trading."

"I take it that your own efforts didn't... succeed?"

Khea folds her arms and answers in a grumpy mood
So we will lose money when trading. Just great.

Baroness is pretty unconcerned about accusations of racism and seems to know enough about the Hierate to know how far she can push them.

Looking at Darrel Khea adds in a more snarky voice.
And she made it very clear that all her problems are with specific individuals

  By this point Kaengarr was changing his outfit and accessories to suit the upcoming meeting, but he was still able to hear and respond to everything over the comms. "There's going to be a duel of some sort when they meet, whether it's words, wits, or weapons. Better if it isn't the third, but if she blames him for putting her eye out or anything else of the sort she may have her sights set on taking his, hnnh?"

Sam shrugs at Khea "Duels are possible, but might actually cause us more problems if she loses and her friends care enough to take action. But apart from trading, are we going to look for any other type of work here? Or is it probably just best to bug out and try and find somewhere not run by one of the Count's exes?"

In reply to Samantha Kilgore (msg # 265):

"I hear the Principality of Caledon is nice this time of year." Vonon tossed in jovially, "Or perhaps the Confederation of Duncinae? After all, the community of Outpost, here, is supposed to be the gateway for Imperium-Duncinae trade, yeah? We could just move on to bigger markets. I hear the Duncinaers have this sport called Curling - it's supposed to be very exciting!"

"I don't claim to know the ins-and-outs of noble behavior, except to say that it's usually all bad," Jones said. "As some of you suggested, though, it could devolve into a duel. If it does get to that, one of you should be prepared to serve as the Count's second."

"Technically, I was hired as his bodyguard, so that should fall to me. But, I'm willing to step aside if someone else feels they are more qualified. As I understand things, Walter is probably the only one that isn't qualified to do that."

Sharik blanched for a moment at Gregory and the dueling logic.  "Don't look at me," the diminutive dilettante opined, "I can probably pass for his executive assistant, but there is no way I am going to try and hold my own in any such duel."  She wasn't denying Jones' reasoning, nor was she unfamiliar with a fencing blade; Shar was simply passing on the opportunity.

She was more than willing to let Gregory earn his pay.  Technically or otherwise.

The auburn-haired socialite leaned into Sam and Vonon's conversation about heading  out system and interjected quietly, "Bugging out at this point, once we are done refuelling is always an option."  After a moment, she opined softly, if a touch playfully, "Though, I'm unsure if we'll be able to find any nearby port that doesn't have the Count's stamp on it..."  One might have counted that as a testament to Cromwell's celebrity - rather than his notoriety.

"Well, it might take some work but we could always head back to Imperial space." Sir Walter said. "Nothing keeping me attached to this system." he said, shaking his head. "If we do, we can make it to Garrison in about 5 jumps. Cassandra, Coventry, Dakarr, Lushtkaan and Garrison. Coventry would be the only place we could not trade without special permission since it is a prison world."

"You are quite correct on me and the notion of combat Gregory. Never been one for it and more likely going to use the ships computer system to channel foes into awaiting fire rather than participating in it. The adventures we had on Grendal was more than I had in my entire life." the merchant said as he worked on trades.

Once the Count is at the Consulate, he registers. Next he schedules an "informal" meeting with all the important folks through an action sanctioned by the Imperium. Makes sure everyone on our crew is listed as guests.

Asks(actually instructs the official) to set up connections to the alt-Imperium comms system for myself and our crew.

To the highest ranking official, "I need your support here, the Imperium, as you know, is at the fringe here...help me do great things"...DM NOTE The Count turns on max Persuasion abilities to really convince the official

In either case, Darrel contacts his crew to inform them of circumstances.

IE: Meaning, he will use Imperial comms to override any local comms, when it comes to communicating between ourselves.
This message was last edited by the player at 21:21, Mon 02 Jan 2017.

As Darrel approaches the Consulate, he quickly realizes that it is merely a formality. The Consul General is Mathurin Markayne. He has two assistants in the rather small office.

If there are any alt-Imperial comm systems, he's not aware of them. He's never even heard of such a thing.


He's completely lost with what Darrel is asking. He's not foolish enough to tell Darrel that it can't be done, but it quickly becomes clear that he's used to postponing or delaying anything that resembles making a decision until it usually goes away.

His default for making a decision is that 'he will have to consult Imperial law'.


While the Count turns on the charm, he may have met his match in the bureaucratic stubbornness of the Consul General.

Depending on who Darrel considers 'important folks', he finds the earliest he can schedule such a meeting is 29 days from now.

OOC had way too much to drink tonight...but, i completely get the Dm.   ;-)

  Kaengarr let out a thoughtful rumble. "Maybe there's something in all of those Imperial protocols we can use to our advantage, especially if she's the one who issues the challenge? Setting the terms the way we want them might end the fight before it happens."

"I guess we're kinda dependant on how much his Lordship needs or wants to smooth things over. If we can trade, from my side we're good. If he wants to sort stuff, thats his deal. But as he's on our ship, we need to make sure he doesn't do anything that drags us in. not thats he likely too. But I'm happy to just leave, and let his ex fester. Done it before myself a coupla times when it was easier than wading through their baggage."

And I thought I left all this nonsense behind. But instead it just got more complicated.


Whatever. Lets resole this as far as possible or jus leave and try the next system.

In reply to Kheaiftouaw (msg # 275):

Vonon suddenly claps his furry hands together, "That's it! You two are brilliant!" he says pointing back and forth between Kaengarr and Khea.

"Imperial Protocols! We've been working this problem backwards!" he continues, "We're all pretty sure that whatever kind of drek we're finding our collective butts shoved into, it has something to do with this lady, Twylla Elgin, who we're pretty sure has a weapon-lock on Darrel, for whatever reason. And, this Twylla Elgin has the clout to do whatever she wants to do to Darrel - and thus, us - because she just happens to be the local Imperial Military Commander - she has an entire Naval Base at her beck and call. As such, she can easily brow-beat any of the locals."

"And that's who we've been dealing with! Get it? We've been dicking around with an Imperial Naval Commander who has the full weight of her authority as commander of a Naval base to drop on our heads. That is a fight none of us, not even Darrel, can ever win."

"But! Imperial Protocols! We need to stop making this a fight between Imperial Commander Elgin and Imperial Citizen Cromwell, and figure out a way to make this an issue between His Highness Count Darrel Cromwell, a Noble of the Third Imperium, and Her Excellency Baroness Twylla Elgin, also a Noble of the Third Imperium!"

"If we can figure out a way for this to become a social issue between Nobles, then we can neutralize Elgin's military clout. And, among Nobles, a Count way-outranks a Baroness!"

"By Klono's Frozen Fundament, you just gotta love the Nobility!"