Luxury-Class Shuttle "Battalion"
Location Unknown

Having escaped S.A.G.E.'s clutches by using (and, likely, damaging) the experimental engines stolen from their Venusian headquarters, our heroes now find themselves in a rather dire predicament.

The viewport continues to show a blur of colors as the shuttle hurtles through space at an impossibly fast velocity, and the crew may move freely about the cockpit now that the shuttle has reached a relatively constant speed. Over the next few minutes, the hull and walls return to their normal steel-grey coloring.

Obvious problems worth solving, listed in no particular order and by no means conclusive in scope or magnitude:

• Spiderweb of cracks in the viewport, which have not gone away and might even still be expanding slowly

• Slagged half of the console, which seems to have disabled all digital displays, scanners, status indicators, and (of course) the phasing device

• Acrid smoke trickling into the cockpit from the console and from the back of the shuttle

• Flux, who is prone, unconscious, and probably dying

• Abbraxis has exhausted its ammunition

• You are completely, utterly lost, and are definitely now on the Most Wanted List of at least one powerful space-faring agency
This message was last edited by the GM at 16:22, Tue 05 Jan 2016.

In reply to The Watcher (msg # 1):


SERIOUSLY?! YOU PRESS IT A SECOND TIME?!  AS IF BREAKING IT ONCE WASNT BAD ENOUGH!

she takes a moment and takes a gasp like a fish out of water.

We would have survived this with far less damage if we had done it while phased.  The ship would have not sustained such damage.
She takes another moment to compose herself.

That being said... thank you captain for your deft manuevering of the ship and while it was suboptimal you did deliver us from the SAGE corporation.

What sensors and supplies are available to us?  Flux is in mortal danger and we need to stabilize him.  Additionally we need to set course towards any place where there is the possibility of treatment and allies or neutral parties.

In reply to Rebecca Taylor (msg # 2):

That's gratitude for you huh?  JJ grunts, we're alive.  You're welcome.

He carefully unbuckles himself and climbs out of the seat.

JJ moves carefully around the ship, first checking Flux's pulse, then moving on to the storage lockers.

In reply to Batallion (msg # 3):

You're alive...

She corrects.
This message was last edited by the GM at 16:40, Tue 05 Jan 2016.

Xander begins hailing the main shuttle cabin on multiple frequencies, attempting to find at least one device still in operating condition.

Everybody all right in there?

In reply to Xander (msg # 5):

No.  Flux is dying and the ship is in poor condition to say the least.

She unbuckles and goes to tend as best she can to Flux with no proficiency in healing.
This message was last edited by the player at 17:17, Tue 05 Jan 2016.

In reply to Rebecca Taylor (msg # 6):

Cockpit
Batallion notes that Flux still has a pulse and leaves it at that. Rebecca attempts to render first aid and, though unskilled, quickly surmises that Flux, having been made more comfortable, is merely unconscious from the battering and will likely recover in time.

Storage Locker
Batallion rummages around the lockers looking for something.

Abraxis
Xander is, truth be told, a little bit bored due to the lack of anything interesting happening from his vantage point. The streaks and blurs of the starscape sure are pretty, though. Fortunately, he is able to find a band of communication that still functions, and thus he can speak freely with those in the shuttle.
This message was last edited by the GM at 15:15, Thu 07 Jan 2016.

Well, first things first. We have to figure out where we are.

Xander consults Abraxas' navigational instruments, trying to make sense of where the shuttle hurtled off to.

In reply to Xander (msg # 8):

Xander is unable to make head or tails of his current bearing, given the speed at which the shuttle is traveling. His GPS instruments (galactic positioning system) were not designed to track something going so quickly.
This message was last edited by the GM at 18:17, Wed 06 Jan 2016.

Noting the spinning of the stars and the sickening effects of g-forces, Xander manages to use Abraxas' maneuvering thrusters to steady out the shuttle, killing everything but the forward momentum. With the shuttle stabilized, he turns his attention back to his instruments, but unfortunately they still can't get a fix on their position, having never been intended for interplanetary use.

An oversight I'll need to fix later. For now though, nothing more I can do out here...

The shuttle airlock whirs and hisses, opening and closing to admit Xander. He pops off his EVA suit helmet and gloves, clipping them onto his belt. He spares a quick glance around the damaged shuttle, triaging the components with the eyes of an expert. His gaze settles on the cracked viewport.

That's priority number one. Where we are and where we're going won't matter a damn if we all get sucked out into the void when this gives way.

The pilot tosses a small bag down onto the floor near the console, and extracts a large tube that does not look dissimilar to toothpaste, as well as a small stylus. With a delicate touch, he applies the paste to the spiderwebbed cracks, leaving filaments of a grayish sludge. After all the the cracks had been painted over, he touches the stylus to the edge of the pattern. With a flash and a slight acrid smell, the tool discharges electricity into the windshield. Almost immediately, the paste turns clear, leaving only the ghost of an image where the cracks used to be.

[Repair: Success]

That ought to hold it until we can land and make proper repairs. Xander frowns. That's of course assuming no further damage. But at these speeds, even a small piece of rock could...Sophia could you-

Xander is interrupted by a series of dull clangs, and then suddenly the outline of of Abraxas looms to fill the viewport as the mech cradles the front of the shuttle protectively.

You read my mind, he said with a faint smile, turning to the rest of the crew. There. We should be protected from any unexpected...speed bumps...and that viewport isn't in any danger of cracking. Now, let's see what's left of our instrumention and nav computer.
This message was last edited by the player at 18:37, Wed 06 Jan 2016.

In reply to Xander (msg # 10):

JJ waves toward the controlls.

Knock yourself out.

He continues to rummage through the ship's supplies.

In reply to The Watcher (msg # 9):

Rebecca (literally) appears next to Xander for once without her doll.

Flux is unconscious but stable.  Percy is tending to him (the doll is standing over Flux).

Unless you can repair the sensors we are limited to Abraxis' suite.  If we slow down to the point where Abraxis' instruments work we may be able to orient ourselves to coast in the correct direction at the maximum detectable speed.  Though we need to do this as soon as possible because the longer we wait the further off course we may stray.

Xander examines the shuttle's slagged control panel. Hmm. The read outs are all fried, but there's a chance the equipment itself is still working. Let me give this a shot...

He walks over to the main console, fishing around for a plug. Extracting a wire from his pouch, he plugs one into the console jack, and the other directly into his head.

[Interface with Machine: Success]

Xander's body slumps backward into the pilot's chair.

In reply to Xander (msg # 13):

*fidgets impatiently*

In reply to Rebecca Taylor (msg # 14):

Xander's body doesn't move at all, except for a very shallow breathing.

After a few silent, tense minutes, a sudden voice crackles over the internal ship speakers. The voice is unxpectedly female, with a high British accent vaguely tinged with bemusement.

Well then you lot, it looks like you're in luck. While the engines, consoles, phasing device, and plasma drives are all broken, the computer and navigation equipment is all still intact. If frustratingly slow. Alexander is currently attempting to pull the coordinates Captain Blaise encrypted from the navigation computer. If the Captain is to be taken at his word, that way leads to allies and repair facilities.

Something you can't quite put your finger on seems to separate this voice from any other personal assistant you've ever heard. Even the newly released Siri Omega doesn't sound quite so...human.

Of course, I suppose you could decide to gun straight for the Ares mining facilities, but I don't fancy your chances there. Whatever decision you make, however, I advise you make it quickly. As Miss Rebecca rightly pointed out, we are traveling quite quickly. Nearly fifty times the speed of any conventional drive, to be more exact. Our course corrections must be deliberate, precise, and timely.

The voice falls silent for a moment.

Alexander's vote, incidentally, is Blaise's rendezvous point. As is mine, for that matter. So that's two in favor, the voice concluded primly.
This message had punctuation tweaked by the player at 21:45, Wed 06 Jan 2016.

In reply to Xander (msg # 16):

Where exactly is the rendezvous point?  Are we able to receive repairs or medical attention there?
This message was last edited by the player at 21:52, Wed 06 Jan 2016.

Oddly enough, a point of space about halfway between the orbital paths of Earth and Mars, the voice replied. I don't know about medical attention, but the Captain did refer to repair capabilities. I should assume any sufficiently large installation would have at least basic medical facilities. I don't know any more than you. All we have are the coordinates.
This message was last edited by the player at 22:07, Wed 06 Jan 2016.

In reply to Xander (msg # 18):

Then yes I agree s is the best course. Make it three for the rendezvous point. Do I assume the second in this is Abraxis?

In reply to Rebecca Taylor (msg # 19):

Can't anyone be normal?

JJ pokes his head out from the storage locker for a moment.

Meet up with Blaise, do it fast.  Gotcha.  He pauses.  Can you handle the ship yourself then?

If I never have to get behind those controls again, it'll be too soon.

JJ withdraws a space suit and three tanks from the locker.  He quickly begins to stuff his arms and legs into it and cradles the three tanks as if they were golden eggs.
This message was last edited by the player at 15:17, Thu 07 Jan 2016.

In reply to Batallion (msg # 20):

The doll is now standing next to Batallion staring at him with black eyes that are somehow both accusatory and questioning simultaneously.

A brief silence greets Rebecca's inquiry.

...In a manner of speaking, I suppose. I'm not really any more a part of Abraxas than Alexander is, but then, that's not quite as helpful a comparison as you might think, all things considered. The voice pauses, as if contemplating something. You may call me Sophia, she concludes.

In reply to Xander (msg # 22):

Sophia, fine. JJ zips up the suit.

Let's get on to the rondesvous point, then.

In reply to Batallion (msg # 23):

Rebecca appears behind the doll looking inquisitive at Batallion.

Why are you preparing for extravehicular movements?
This message was last edited by the player at 16:13, Thu 07 Jan 2016.

Very well then.

As soon as agreement is reached, the conventional engines rumble, assisted outside be Abraxas. It's hard to tell without any external frame of reference, but the subtle change in G forces indicate that the ships course is indeed changing.

In reply to Xander (msg # 25):

JJ frowns.

Better to be prepared, isn't it?  Ship nearly fell apart not ten minutes ago.

He stomps off to the far side of the shuttle, which isn't actually that far, but it makes him feel better.

In reply to Batallion (msg # 26):

The shuttle's primary engines shudder to life, but the frame/chassis shakes so uncontrollably that they are soon switched back off. Using only Abraxas's maneuvering jets, Xander is able to course correct toward the intended location.

Though you have no idea what your actual speed is at the moment, if you're moving up to the experimental drive's specs, you should arrive at your destination in about 5 days.

OOC: Let me know how you want to pass the time, then we'll warp there. And, note to the techies in the group: Abraxas will have a great deal of trouble decelerating the shuttle. You might want to spend at least a little time trying to fix your engines.
This message was last edited by the GM at 16:36, Thu 07 Jan 2016.

In reply to Batallion (msg # 26):

She appears next to him again holding the doll this time.

The chances of getting picked up by another ship within the duration of time that you would survive in that space suit are two to the power of two hundred and sixty-seven thousand seven hundred and nine to one against.

In reply to Rebecca Taylor (msg # 28):

Other than annoying Battalion Rebecca will tinker with both experimental drives, being a part of the team that adapted both to use.  She will assist Xander whenever possible.

[OOC I don't know what if anything to roll for this I don't know how much help I am... I'm just the dumb tank ;)]

In reply to Rebecca Taylor (msg # 29):

Better than zero.

Not long after the course correction, Xander gasps and comes to, extracting the uplink jack from his skull. He promptly sets to work tinkering with the conventional engines as best he can.

[Repair: success]

In reply to Xander (msg # 31):

God that's creepy.

JJ stands behind Xander's chair, looking over his shoulder.

How are we doing flyboy?

In reply to Batallion (msg # 32):

Five days pass rather uneventfully, with Xander and Rebecca making repairs while Flux and Batallion put the stolen hyperkeg through its paces.

As you approach your destination, it becomes clear that you will need to slow down... a FEAT that will require your pilot to perform a series of actions designed to achieve this without damaging the ship further.

In reply to The Watcher (msg # 33):

Battalion continues to lounge about, but will hint not subtly that someone should do something about their speed.

Xander nods, sealing up his EVA suit and strapping into the pilot's seat. As before, he inserts a cable into the base of his helmet, and slumps motionless.

The shuttle groans and spins dizzyingly as Xander carefully orients the main thrusters in line with the direction of motion. Likewise, Abraxas, activated remotely, changes its docking embrace to bring its own thrusters in line.

[Piloting: Success]

Then, both Abraxas and the shuttle begin to fire off short, controlled bursts of thrust. The crew is treated to mildly uncomfortable G forces as the shuttle gradually decelerates in stages.

This part will take a little while, Sophia informs the crew primly. It's a balancing act between slowing the craft down quickly so as not to waste time, but also not overheating the engine and thus overshooting our goal.

Almost certainly not reassured, the crew has nothing to do but sit and hope.

[Piloting: Success]

In reply to Xander (msg # 35):

Xander (and Sophia) are able to maneuver the shuttle into a controlled deceleration that brings the shuttle back within normal operational parameters, at which point the shuttle's engines take over.

Your destination is clearly visible from the viewport: a chunk of rock maybe five square miles in size. If there is a complex there, it cannot be detected from this distance by the naked eye.

It's worth noting that the console, radar, and comlinks remain damaged, giving you limited communications options with the outside world. Hopefully whoever's out there doesn't take your silent approach as a threat...

With a thought, Xander activates the shuttle's emergency short range SOS beacon.

Just for good measure, can we hail them with Abraxas' radio, Sophia?

Beneath his helmet, beads of sweat trickle down his slack face.
This message was last edited by the player at 05:15, Fri 08 Jan 2016.

In reply to Xander (msg # 37):

The S.O.S. beckon silently activates as the ship approaches the lonely rock, but radio communications remain stubbornly unavailable even via Sophia's instruments.

We... might be subject to a scrambling effect. the voice says helpfully.

Lacking other options, the shuttle makes its course toward the rock, looking for a place to land.

OOC: Any preparations you want to make before going in for a landing?

In reply to The Watcher (msg # 38):

As the shuttle approaches the rock, the available space onboard is quietly and quickly filled with armed soldiers that look like JJ.

He shrugs.

Better safe than sorry.

In reply to Batallion (msg # 39):

Rebecca positions herself infront of the armored soldiers.

A wise position.  I will make first contact. 

Xander, currently engaged with controlling the craft, is unable to move his meat sack.

In reply to Xander (msg # 41):

The shuttle closes in on the hunk of rock, a process which takes a deceptively long time now that you're traveling at normal interplanetary speeds once more. Space becomes tight as Battalion creates an army of clones, and a sense of light-headedness pervades the crew as the life support systems struggle to keep up with needs of so many extra personnel.

Presently, the shuttle is close enough to the hunk of rock's local airspace to make out a few key features: a large, domed structure nearly a square mile in size is the tallest object to be seen, and the rest of the space seems to be taken up by a network of greenhouses and enclosed roadways.

There is no docking facility to be seen, nor anywhere obvious to dock the ship. This puzzles all aboard for a moment until they witness the domed structure swivel and swirl to create a small opening at the very top. Equally obvious are the antiaircraft batteries dotting the perimeter of the dome, and the fact that they are pointing directly at you.

At least they're letting us in! the AI chirps helpfully.

***

The shuttle lands in an isolated docking area nestled just within the top of the dome. A shuddering sound and a hefty CLANK follows the moment the ship touches down, indicative of magnetic docking clamps. Outside the shuttle, a group of five people are approaching the loading dock. Three of them are obviously soldiers -- armed with blaster rifles -- while the fourth wears a lab coat. The fifth is dressed in a uniform much like Captain Blaise's, which means she is probably armed as well.

They come to a stop not far from where the boarding ramp would extend were you to open it, and there they wait patiently... for now.
This message was last edited by the GM at 15:09, Mon 11 Jan 2016.

In reply to The Watcher (msg # 42):

I would rather not let them know we have a full... Battalion on ship.  I will phase through the wall and make contact.  If all goes well please dismiss your troops and join me.  If not...

As they await by the side of the ship a small albino child materializes directly through the wall and lands lightly on the ground.  She makes a salute at the woman in the same uniform as Blaise.

Rebecca Taylor, operative from the Mastodon.  Reporting for a rendezvous, healing and repairs.
This message was last edited by the player at 16:20, Mon 11 Jan 2016.

In reply to Rebecca Taylor (msg # 43):

The soldiers train their weapons on the little girl immediately, but the man in the lab coat merely folds his arms and smiles, intrigued. He may or may not have mouthed the words "it worked"... it's hard to say.

The woman to whom Rebecca addressed her report nods curtly.

"Welcome to headquarters, Agent Taylor. I am Director Kelce, head of operations. We have been expecting an envoy from the Mastodon, but... not aboard a craft such as yours."

She gestures to the shuttle and to the battlesuit dismissively.

"These craft are hardly a replacement for an Interdictor-class capital ship. What happened to the Mastodon, and where is Captain Blaise?"

The woman holds up a hand, forestalling a response.

"Belay that. We'll cover it all during debriefing," she countermands herself, turning to the soldiers. "Help them disembark, transfer the wounded to the infirmary and the shuttle to maintenance -- Dr. Hawkins, supervise that, would you?"

The man in the white coat nods.

"I will accompany Agent Taylor and the healthy members of her crew to debriefing. Get to it."

The soldiers and Dr. Hawkins hurry to obey, shouldering their weapons and walking over toward the shuttle in expectation of the boarding ramp being lowered presently.
This message was last edited by the player at 18:31, Mon 11 Jan 2016.

In reply to Director Kelce (msg # 44):

Rebecca knocks on the door and yells out.

ALL CLEAR. 

The doll, disappears from inside the ship and appears in her arms.

She walks over to the Director and holds out a tiny hand.

I did not catch your name.

She allows herself to be lead to the debriefing without further fuss.

In reply to Rebecca Taylor (msg # 45):

"Samantha," she says, taking the hand with a touch of trepidation. "Director Samantha Kelce."

She waits to see who else might exit the shuttle.

In reply to Director Kelce (msg # 46):

Just for the record Director, our group is... eccentric but to this point has indicated their commitment to the cause.

Xander came back to himself, unstrapping from the almost-useless cockpit. He stands, stamping feeling into his legs before making his way down the ramp.

Pleasure to meet you, Director, Xander says, extending his hand. And this is Abraxas.

On cue, the battlesuit activates, standing up and waving to Director Kelce. It then stomps off several yards to an unoccupied corner of the bay and powers down to await reparis.

Couldn't help but notice on the way in, was that a gravitational lensing array? he asks with a light of genuine enthusiasm in his eyes. Was wondering how you managed to hide an installation of this size from Earth. Or Mars, for that matter.

In reply to Xander (msg # 48):

"These are things we can discuss after the debriefing," the Director says with a slight smile. "But yes, a lensing array is involved."

She clears her throat and continues to wait patiently for anyone else who might be in the shuttle.

Xander lets out a low whistle. Color me impressed, Director. I didn't think that technology was anything more than academic theorycrafting. He shoots Samantha an unabashed grin. Looks like Captain Blaise wasn't joking about me getting to play with all the latest toys!

In reply to Xander (msg # 50):

Following Xander, JJ walks slowly down the ramp, space helmet tucked securely under one arm, surrounded by an aggressive-looking swarm of armed duplicates.

You may want to send someone to take a look in the shuttle, JJ muses cautiously.  Our friend is unconscious in a corner and could use some help.

JJ follows the mysterious Director.  His cohort keep a tight perimeter around him, giving everyone they see dirty looks.

In reply to Batallion (msg # 51):

Rebecca smiles apologetically at the director and shrugs in an 'i told you so' manner

In reply to Rebecca Taylor (msg # 52):

Director Kelce raises an eyebrow at the appearance of a knot of identical-looking goons, but motions for her guards to stand down.

In short order, the shuttle is moved to a repair bay while Flux is removed to a medical bay.

The facility looks relatively busy, with plenty of people milling about and few even bothering to give the group more than a cursory glance along the way.

Xander, Rebecca, and Battalion soon find themselves in a well-appointed meeting room equipped with fruits and beverages, passing through a variety of winding hallways to reach it.

In reply to The Watcher (msg # 53):

"So," Samantha says, pulling the door shut and taking a seat at the head of the table. "Welcome once more to our headquarters. Make yourselves comfortable. Enjoy some water, maybe a fresh apple."

She folds her hands on the table and gives a no-nonsense smile.

"And then, if you please, explain exactly what the hell happened that caused Blaise to send you lot in a hobbled shuttle instead of coming himself in the Mastodon."

In reply to Director Kelce (msg # 54):

Rebecca sets the dolly down on the table infront of her taking a seat primly as the director's right hand and begins speaking in an efficient prattle of a scientist describing an experiment.

As you know our mission was to acquire several peices of SAGE technology.  As I'm sure you can imagine SAGE was less than willing to part with this information and would have preferred to destroy the prototypes than share them with anyone.

The room gets perceptably darker.  The doll scarier.

I had a little chat with one of their 'Doctors'

That chat ended with Blaise sending us here with the prototypes and information that was retrieved from the SAGE facility.  We are unaware of the final disposition of the Mastodon as it was disabled and taking heavy fire when we were ordered to retreat.

The SAGE ship sent out interceptors to stop us; forcing us to engage our prototype drives which functioned with mixed success, resulting in both our early arrival here and the state of our craft.
This message was last edited by the player at 21:55, Thu 14 Jan 2016.

In reply to Rebecca Taylor (msg # 55):

She picks up the doll and holds it tight to her chest and sniffles.

I hope Blaise is OK. I liked him.

In reply to Rebecca Taylor (msg # 56):

JJ refuses a seat at the table, instead opting to lounge against one wall while his clones surround him.  Thus, although you can hear his voice, nobody in the room can see the actual JJ talking.

More importantly... a smash and grab?  THAT's the big step forward for science?  That's how you all planned to further the race?

In reply to Batallion (msg # 57):

She resumes her implacable scientific face, all vestiges of a frightened little girl are gone.


Occasionally... unconventional, unsavory, or underhanded tactics are required for the advancement of science...

Watson and Crick stole the crystal structure for DNA from Rosalind Franklin.

In reply to Batallion (msg # 57):

"The mission parameters were left to Captain Blaise," the Director says toward the knot of Batallions. "If he settled on a smash and grab operation, it must have been because he felt it had the greatest chance of success among his other options. SAGE is a powerful entity, and employs unpredictable countermeasures. It's always best to take them by surprise if you can."

She clears her throat and smiles tightly.

"But! Here you are, by whatever means. What have you brought us?"

Xander cracks a grin. All kinds of goodies. We have an experimental space drive, complete schematics and readouts for a new type of light battle suit, a new breakthrough in gravitational distortion across small distances...

Continuing on with the enthusiasm of the cat that ate the canary, he provides a succinct summary of each of the technologies stolen from SAGE, and the extent to which the team had a chance to make their own tweaks and improvements.

In reply to Xander (msg # 60):

God... science....

Got anything to eat around here?

In reply to Batallion (msg # 61):

"There's plenty of food," the Director says. "And you're welcome to it. All agents enjoy complimentary room and board along with their usual stipends. You'll have to relay the agreement you had with Captain Blaise to me, though; I'm afraid he kept you close to his chest, and I don't have you in our database. Just enter your details and those of your contracts into the terminal in your room when you have a spare moment, and we'll handle the rest."

Kelce's eyes light up with Xander's explanation, and she rubs her hands together giddily.

"That is fantastic news! We'll put our scientists to work analyzing, tweaking, and building at once. We should be ready to immediately begin prototype construction by the time you return from your foray to the ARES installation."

She makes eye contact with each of those present -- contenting herself with a random Batallion for this purpose -- gauging the reaction to these words.

"That's the next step, of course. We'll need the ultra-dense minerals the ARES mining complex has been stockpiling. I was told that one among your number had the appropriate access levels. Is that you?"

She directs this question at Batallion. Well... one of them, anyway.

In reply to Batallion (msg # 61):

An apple is suddenly propelled at the knot of Battalions.  The doll is giving you the finger.

In reply to Rebecca Taylor (msg # 63):

Rebecca's face remains placid but a raised eyebrow signifies her questioning of the order.

That would be our injured compatriot.  A heist on the Ares plant seems... ill fated unless we have better machinery.  They are every bit as big as sage and twice as mean... and neither we nor Captain Blaise acquitted ourselves well against SAGE.

In reply to Rebecca Taylor (msg # 64):

"Oh, you'd be requisitioned with a new ship, never fear," the Director says. "And the plan called for more subterfuge in the ARES facility, given we'd have an executive with us. Fewer eyebrows to be raised. It's as simple as diverting an existing shipping contract, but such orders can only be given on-site for the materials in question. Such is their security."

She purses her lips slightly.

"We'll have to see what the recovery time for your companion looks like before making more plans, then. In the meantime, if you wanted to be put through the paces, we have a training room designed to put agents through lifelike simulations of mission parameters. I could set something up for you, if you'd like."

In reply to Director Kelce (msg # 65):

VERY kind of you, I'm sure, JJ drawls through his guards.  But I have to admit, I'm a bit worn out what with the smashing, stealing, running, chasing, fighting, accidental spacings, triage, and all that.

Works up a hell of an appetite thought, doesn't it?  I'll leave the techies to talk... tech with you and I'll take a rest and a meal.

Oh, and as for the details of our contracts, I'll handle that for the team.  No need for them to bore themselves with paperwork.  It was pretty straightforward stuff anyhow.

In reply to Batallion (msg # 66):

Rebecca shoots JJ a look that screams

I don't know if I should trust him or not... lets gamble and see what happens

Outwardly:

I would like to practice a new ability that I found sorely lacking in our previous encounters involving non proximal adversaries.

Additionally in any spare time I will assist Xander and the team on repairs and upgrades to the ship and/or the prototypes.

She waits for the others to start filing out.

That being said... and I mentioned this to Blaise as well.  I do not feel comfortable with the direction of things as of late.  While I understand the by any means necessary stakes of this mission I am uncomfortable with espionage, subterfuge and general thuggery that we have so far encountered.

Is there any other way?
This message was last edited by the player at 16:55, Fri 15 Jan 2016.

In reply to Rebecca Taylor (msg # 67):

"The general thuggery approach is one we'd like to hold in reserve, to be used only if absolutely needed," Kelce smiles. "Provided our ARES contacts cooperate, I see no reason why we can't be in, out, and on our way without anyone quite realizing what happened until it's too late to do anything about it."

She folds her hands on the table.

"After all, we only need to requisition a specific amount of that mineral to conduct our tests and construct our prototypes. It's not like we'll be conquering the ARES mines to drill it ourselves. That's both expensive and impractical."

In reply to Director Kelce (msg # 68):

While Xander and Rebecca remain in the boardroom to chat with Director Kelce, Batallion takes his leave. Upon entering the hallway, he is met by two armed guards, though their weapons are holstered.

"Can we help you find something?" one asks him. "It's a big complex. We'd hate for you to get lost."

In reply to The Watcher (msg # 69):

Rebecca sighs heavily.

I feel I am heading down a slippery slope Director.  How many more heists am I going to have to pull from major corporations.  We haven't even healed from our combat at Sage and you are already asking to infiltrate an ARES base.  I will execute this command... however, if you next want me to take something from Braeburn then I will have heavy thoughts on the matter.

I know that Xander and myself do not have a background in this type of work.  I am aware of Battalion's history... and Flux is something of a cipher but appears to cooperate well with Battalion.  I'm uncertain if I would be able to continue along the path that has been set for me. 

In reply to Rebecca Taylor (msg # 70):

"Your concerns are noted and admirable," the Director says in what she probably assumes to be a comforting tone. "Don't worry. You'll have time to rest and recharge and relax before the next mission. We won't be in optimum orbit to launch toward ARES for at least two weeks. Until then, you'll have the run of the complex. We'll speak as regularly as you like in the interim."

She looks at Rebecca and Xander for a moment.

"Did you have specific requests or questions I could help you with, or would you prefer to explore the complex, enjoy a meal, have a bath, and relax?"

In reply to Director Kelce (msg # 71):

She levels a disconcerting pink-eyed look at the Director.

The captain did not make you aware of my condition yet did he?

I would know where your laboratory facilities are and I would speak with Dr. Hawkins.

Thank you for the offer, but I don't find much worldly comfort anymore.

In reply to Rebecca Taylor (msg # 72):

Oh, THANK you, Battalion responds in his most overdramatic mockery of sincerity.

I do HATE getting lost, or being alone.  Or left alone.

Battalion's escort do not return the courtesy of holstering their own weapons.  They maintain their defensive posture, but do not overtly threaten the guards.

Please, if you can spare the time, I would like to be shown to whatever you have around here that best approximates comfortable living quarters.

Then a beer wouldn't go amiss.

Or another, and maybe some grub.

Well, my first priority is a bath, Xander replied easily, already feeling the stress of the past several weeks melt away. But then I would love a tour of the facilities, Director. He grinned and raised an eyebrow hopefully. You have a remarkable installation here. I'd love to get a closer look. I think I already have some ideas about how we can integrate some of the tech we...liberated...from SAGE.
This message was lightly edited by the player at 20:04, Tue 19 Jan 2016.

In reply to Xander (msg # 74):

The group disperses to areas relevant to their interests, having completed their briefing.

Batallion is led to the mess hall, which is a large cafeteria that offers little privacy. Still, with his army of duplicates, Batallion is able to secure an entire table for himself -- literally. His escort remains nearby, and soon piping-hot plates of food and an ice cold flagon of ale are sitting before him. It's far from the best ale you've tasted, but it's also not the worst.

The other groups eating in the mess hall seem to be self-segregated by class. There are blue-collar folks clustered on one side and white-collar folks on the other. No security forces or officers wearing the Director's style of uniform can be seen at all.

"We don't recognize that uniform, if you don't mind me saying so," one of the escorts says carefully after the food has arrived. "Are you here to replace our existing security contract?"

***

Rebecca is shown to the laboratory facilities, where she meets up with Dr. Hawkins.

The laboratory looks like a cross between a chemistry classroom and a veterinary clinic, with cages of rats, tanks of fish, and fly habitats lining the walls. Interspersed between these are large tubes filled with a reddish-pink liquid -- there are four such tubes in all, each reaching from the ceiling to the floor and wide enough for a man of medium build to occupy.

Two are, in fact, presently occupied. One contains a female humanoid and the other a male humanoid. Each are naked and free-floating in the center of their individual tubes, and their eyes are closed.

"A pleasure to see you again," he says with a genuine smile. "If you're ready to get back to work, I'd love to hear about the experiments you left behind on the Mastodon. Perhaps we can continue them here."

***

Xander is taken on an extended tour by Director Kelce herself, and is shown the docking bay, maintenance wing, hydroponics stations, residential areas, and more. The tour ends when they reach a sleek, modern-looking module nestled not far from the maintenance wing.

"We call this The Factory," she says with a flourish. "If you want to talk about integrating tech, you want to talk to the Viceroy. Do not let his appearance deceive you, and do not question any of his eccentricities. The man is a genius."

Kelce waits for Xander to acknowledge this warning before tapping a few commands into a fingerpad near the doorway. I beeps confirmation before raising the fortified door panel.

The interior of The Factory is a roboticists's wet dream. Operating tables are strewn throughout one massive side of the hanger-like facility, upon which torsos, arms, legs, treads, and other components are scattered in varying states of assembly.

Beyond that chamber is a basketball court-sized arena with smooth floor panels that curve up the walls themselves like a skater's half-pipe. Within, two armored figures appear to be sparring using what Xander recognizes as exo-armor -- a battlesuit alternative that is strapped director to the user's arms, legs, chest, and head.

Those who have familiarity with Braeburn would recognize the design as something often employed by warehouse workers and freight movers to augment strength and reduce injuries.

A figure stands with his back to Xander and Kelce, arms clasped behind its back as it observes the battle. He suddenly strikes the palm of one hand with the fist of the other and growls something through the mesh at the combatants, and the drill changes from hand-to-hand combat to a wrestling match.

"Strike-strike, left and center," the figure says in a strangely chittering voice. "Push-push the pistons to their limits!"

Director Kelce clears her throat, and the figure spins around.

"Kelcedirector! I didn't hear you enter. How can I help-help? And who is with you?"

Xander gets a better look at the Viceroy, and needs just a moment to understand Kelce's warning.

The man stands just five feet tall, and wears a pair of thermal coveralls over a sleek, long-sleeved garment that completely covers every inch of his skin. The coveralls truncate at a pair of thick, reinforced boots, and the sleeves end in gloves with bulky metallic wrists and slender, fingered gloves. The sleek bodysuit beneath the coveralls encompasses his head, as well, and a pair of modified welding goggles obscure his eyes completely. The greenish glass glows and flickers periodically.

"This is Agent Xander," the Director continues. "He's freshly arrived from the Mastodon contingent. He's gotten his hands on some SAGE tech, so be nice. Maybe he'll let you play with it."

"For true? Oh, rapture!" Viceroy exclaims, rubbing his hands together in greedy anticipation. "Come-come, Xanderagent. Let us chit-chat."

Director Kelce smiles as the Viceroy leads Xander by the arm to the nearest metal table and inclines her head.

"Be seeing you."

With that, the Director takes her leave.
This message was last edited by the GM at 15:50, Wed 20 Jan 2016.

In reply to The Watcher (msg # 75):

Rebecca looks languidly around the lab, and begins to rattle off the design specifications of the ghost drive on the ship.  She enters a bit of a tangent on how the drive was destroyed by an idiot  pilot playing at hero.

When she gets to the red chambers she stops short.

...What do you have in here?

In reply to Rebecca Taylor (msg # 76):

"These are subjects...." Dr. Hawkens takes a moment to look at the readout attached to each tube. "... ah, yes. Subjects XX-32B and XY-36A. Did you not have a similar setup aboard the Mastodon?"
This message was last edited by the GM at 16:45, Wed 20 Jan 2016.

It's a pleasure, Viceroy Xander says, greeting the strange figure warmly. He waves farewell to Director Kelce, and then lets his eyes drift to the magnificent setup. Unabashedly gleeful, he can't help himself as his face breaks into a grin. Let's start at the beginning. What do you have going on here?

In reply to Xander (msg # 78):

Surrounded by his duplicates, JJ tucks into the proffered food gladly.  His contingent, around twenty in total, switch sporadically between standing guard and sitting down beside him to share in the beer and food.  Altogether, they quickly go through a lot of both.

JJ casts an irritated glance at the escourt, then smiles widely.

Yeah, that's the idea.  Hope it didn't come as too much of a shock.  You know how these things are though, assholes in charge...

In reply to Batallion (msg # 79):

"So many things!" Viceroy says, his voice a muffled squeal of enthusiasm. "We are build-building new exosuits to handle many different environments and tasks. Components are all around you. See-see for yourself!"

He motions to the nearest table, upon which a torso has been fitted with two large treads. In place of the head is a third arm, the end of which has been fitted with a drill-like tip, which the other two arms end in normal hands. The chest appears to have been equipped with some kind of sensor suite.

"Proof of concept," he says gleefully. "Completely modular. We want to be able to strip-strip automatons on the field as needed."

He turns his attention back to Xander.

"But enough about my projects. What have you brought-brought?"
This message was last edited by the player at 19:02, Wed 20 Jan 2016.

In reply to Viceroy (msg # 80):

Mess Hall

"I... see," one of the escorts says. The other scowls and grabs a beer, ignoring the reproachful look of the first. "When do you begin? I've got to warn you, it's fairly boring on-station. What I wouldn't give for an away mission."

I could tell you, but I think it might be best to see for yourself. Xander pulls out his personal com and initiates a data transfer to the Viceroy.  He grins, only somewhat smugly. I think you'll like the new toys we brought.

In reply to Xander (msg # 82):

Mess Hall

JJ shrugs.

Should be the next few days, paperwork, payroll, HR forms, public announcement, changeover time... that sort of thing

In reply to Batallion (msg # 83):

Mess Hall

The non-drinking escort grabs a beer as well.

"Ingrates," he mutters, while the other one nods.

In reply to The Watcher (msg # 84):

"So. Many. Possibilities!" Viceroy says, standing up so quickly that he knocks his stool over. He does not bother to correct this problem. "We must go-go to the hangar at once. I need-need to see-see the experimental engine. Or what's left of it."

He heads out the door, not waiting for Xander to follow.

In reply to Xander (msg # 82):

... no, we did not. What is the purpose of the experimentation?

She asks grabbing one of the data sheets and perusing it for any relevant information.

Xander hurries to keep up with the Viceroy, scrambling down the corridors after him. Along the way they passed a perplexed Director Kelce, who raised an eyebrow as if to ask 'so soon?' Xander replied with a faintly bemused smile. He wanted to get started right away,, he explained. Who am I to stand in the way of the inevitable forward march of Science?

In reply to Xander (msg # 87):

Mess Hall

Under J.J. careful tutelage (and with plenty of booze refills), both of his escorts go from tipsy to drunk in short order. It is entirely possible at this point that he will be able to shake them... especially if he leaves the bulk of his knot of Batallions behind at the table before slipping out.
This message was last edited by the GM at 19:36, Wed 20 Jan 2016.

In reply to The Watcher (msg # 88):

Laboratory

"Allele suppression and genome manipulation," Dr. Hawkens says. "The testing is based in part on previous work. As you can plainly see, we've run a few dozen iterations of each. The XX series seems to hold its mutations better for some reason."

He shrugs.

"What sorts of projects did you work on?"

In reply to The Watcher (msg # 89):

Maintenance Bay

Xander follows the Viceroy as he beelines toward the ruined shuttle. When they enter the bay, they find the shuttle's engine block suspended above the shuttle itself via a magnetic crane.

Viceroy interrupts the mechanics and waves them away with a gesture. In short order, the pair are alone.

"Exquisite!" he says, hopping over to the shutter's ramp, then onto the crane, and finally onto the levitating engine itself. He taps on various areas of the shuttle, periodically squealing his delight and utters phrasing like "Yes, yes!", "Remarkable!" and "They didn't!"

Finally, he leaps lightly down to the ground and adjusts his goggles slightly.

"The engine block and shuttle were too weak to take-take the stress made-made during operation. But you already knew-knew that. We need-need the ultradense ore fragments to build-build something suitable."

Viceroy walks while he talks, and the pair are soon back at The Factory -- passing a bewildered Director Kelce for a second time along the way.

Interestingly, the pair of sparring exosuit pilots are still engaged in their wrestling match when you return. Viceroy ignores them.

"These other schematics you stole-stole have-have more promise," he says, a holographic projection of the gravity gun appearing suddenly from his goggles.

The 3D image spins freely, and the Viceroy proceeds to make modifications to the wireframe by waving his hands at the projection, almost physically moving the bits of light as though they were real. Different layers appear and disappear as he needs them, displaying circuitry (or not), paint job (or not), insulation (or not), and more.

"I think-think we can build-build a small-scale model of this weapon, but the complexity is orders of magnitude larger than what I thought-thought. We need-need to shrink-shrink a capital-class AI algorithm into something about 2 meters tall and 0.25 meters wide. Man-sized! And then find-find a power source reduce-reduced by the same ratio."

Viceroy drums his gloved fingers upon the table, and the wireframe hologram dissolves.

"I wish-wish you'd keep-kept the Mastodon. We have-have no capital ships dock-docked."

In reply to The Watcher (msg # 89):

Mess Hall

As they run out of room for food, the small crowd of Battalions switch their attention more fully to beer.  Duplicates mill about talking, drinking with the escort and commiserating on the woes of being a working class stiff.  It is unlikely that they take much notice of the fact that many of the duplicates are unarmed, and dressed not in uniforms but the same clothes as JJ, and even if they did, it would be nigh impossible to tell which is the original.

Somewhere in this, it is possible that one or two Battalions slip out the door into the hallway while the bulk remain behind.

Those that remain continue to drink and talk to anyone who will share stories of "the man".

OOC:  The "real" JJ, naturally, sneaks off, but only to find his quarters.  The task of at least a portion of those left behind is to get the escorts as riled as possible.

I'm not sure about man-sized, but we do have Abraxas. As far as the power source goes, I haven't been able to get an accurate read on the core's max output. Everytime I try to push it, the surge threatens to short out the grid's capacity long before the core itself ever shows signs of peaking. I'm forced to conclude that Braeburn installed a power source far more potent than they could safely utilize to max potential, and so they gated it artificially.

But for the AI...I think we're good on that front.

In reply to Xander (msg # 92):

Viceroy regards Xander for a moment.

"Why did you not load-load the experimental power source with the rest of the schematics?" he says, voice more playful than reproachful. "I will look-look at it for you, and then we can talk-talk about your AI solution."
This message was last edited by the player at 20:11, Wed 20 Jan 2016.

In reply to Viceroy (msg # 93):

Quarters

J.J. has no trouble at all finding the residential area, though the question of which quarters are meant to be HIS doesn't have a ready answer. The hallway marked "Residential Suites" is lined with doors, but they're all locked.

To someone like J.J., however, this might not be much of a problem.

Sophie... Xander thought with some amount of concern, can you access the repair manifests and see where Abraxas has been moved to? Barring that, get a lock on the core signature?

In reply to Xander (msg # 95):

Yes. Location confirmed, 1 kilometer west. It is stationary.

Xander nods in the requisite direction. Looks like they moved it. Shall we go see?

In reply to The Watcher (msg # 96):

"Splendid!"

The Viceroy looks strangely at Xander, though the communication he just had was internal, but they walk in silence for a few minutes.

Eventually, the man perks up and ventures a question that seems to have been bothering him.

"Voices in your head?" he asks quietly. "Your eyes give-give it away..."

Xander sucks in air through his teeth, pausing midstep. So, I mentioned that AI, right? She's...not exactly loaded into Abraxas. Or any other external processing matrix... He held the Viceroy's be-goggled gaze as best he could.
This message was last edited by the player at 20:33, Wed 20 Jan 2016.

In reply to Batallion (msg # 91):

I'd like to see the papers for this.  What alleles are you hoping to suppress?

My work initially with Braeburn focused on xenobiologics and attempts to prepare for any first contact.  There was an incident on a moon in Saturn resulting in my current regrettable condition; ultimately terminating my work for them and putting me in contact with Captain Blaise.

While on the Mastodon I continued research into my current brain chemistry to attempt to find the source of my abilities, in addition to responsibilities of practical extension of my powers.

She keeps scanning through documents and things left out as she talks.  Idly skipping through the lab.

Doctor you seem very... interested in my appearance at our initial meeting.  You seemed to be expect it.  What were you expecting and why?

/ooc she is scanning documents for any tidbits of information that could potentially assist the team.

In reply to Viceroy (msg # 98):

Mess Hall

The worst part, Battalion exclaims suddenly, slamming down his glass and pointing meaningfully at duplicate and escort alike, is... you know what the worst part is?  It's... here's the worst part... THEY did it on purpose.  They don't tell us nothin', that's how they work.  So they bring us here without giving you the COURTESY of a heads up.  Yeah, yeah, that's their style!  So YOU all find out and pack up your things without THEM even having to look you in the eyes and say "Thank you for your loyal service."  How's THAT for ya?  Battalion finishes his beer.  Makes me sick.

Hear, hear!  Several other Battalions chime in.

Quarters

Ritz Hilton, meet Alcatraz...

Battalion pokes at the keypads of a few doors idly.

In reply to Batallion (msg # 101):

Meatrix! Viceroy replies, raising a gloved finger and booping Xander deliberately on the nose to punctuate the statement. The AI is load-loaded into a biological computer, I think-think. Use-use your braincase. That skull guard-guards two minds. Do you always drive-drive, or do you take-take turns?

In reply to The Watcher (msg # 77):

Laboratory

"In this particular instance, we are attempting to reduce the oxygen saturation necessary for functional life," Dr. Hawkins explains. "Ideally we'd like to limit carbon dioxide exhalation as well. Processing these gases is hard on habitation units. We recently hit upon the idea of using superoxygenated liquid submersion. The subjects are alive and do not not need to breathe while their lungs are filled with the liquid, though of course there are still byproducts of the living process to be sorted out. A work in progress."

He smiles as Rebecca prattles on about xenobiologics, then arches an eyebrow.

"You were present during the Titan incident? I'd love to hear your version of how events unfolded sometime. As for your... condition. While regrettable, you do appear to have acclimated to it fairly well. Is there anything we might be able to do to make you more comfortable?"

"I had heard about your presence on the Mastodon from our briefing documents, so naturally I assumed when seeing you that you were that same person I'd read about. Your profile is simply fascinating, if you don't mind my saying so. I'd be happy to get you situated to continue your experiments, maybe run a couple tests. We could learn much together."

OOC: Rebecca quickly breaks the "cypher" behind the names of the subjects in the tubes, concluding that XX-32B is the 32nd female to undergo treatment B, while XY-36A is the 36th male to undergo treatment A. The lab itself is significantly different from the Mastodon's facilities, and seem geared more toward biology and chemistry then xenobiology, psychology, and parapsychology. There is a manilla folder off to the side labeled "Induced Mutation Index" that seems particularly promising.

In reply to The Watcher (msg # 103):

Mess Hall

The "outsourced" guards in the mess hall are becoming increasingly grumbly as they pound back an inappropriate amount of alcohol for a work environment. Particularly considering they're still armed.

"This is just like what happened to the Bravos," one of them growls, to the raucous assent of the others. "Suited up and shipped out, just like that, soon as their contract ran out."

He snaps his fingers.

"Though to hear them tell it, their contract was still good... and they were being strong-armed out because they wouldn't cooperate."

"Give it a rest with your jawing," a voice from another table chimes in. The speaker is dressed in a simple blue jumpsuit suitable for maintenance work. "Especially when you don't know what you're talking about."

The guard surges to his feet, beer forgotten, and he glares angrily at the worker.

"Yeah? Cause you're so smart? You know the whole story? No... no, you're just another bootlicker buying the bullshit they shoveled into your bowl and called food."

The maintenance worker begins to a reply, but one of the other men at his table stands up instead.

"Least they pay us enough money to keep our kids off the street corner."

"Oh, you're funny," the guard says in an exaggerated voice, sauntering over toward the other table slowly. "That's... that's a good joke. You're a good joke-teller. Hah. Hah. HAH!"

On the first "Hah", the guard closed to within arms-length of the maintenance man. On the second, he drew a telescoping steel baton from his belt and extended it with a fluid flick of his wrist. The third "Hah!" is accompanied by the sickening squelching sound of a steel rod impacting the unfortunate maintenance worker's skull. He cries out in agony and surprise before slumping immediately to the ground.

"Anybody else think this is funny? Anybody at all?"

The other maintenance workers spring into action, brandishing wrenches and other makeshift weapons as they pounce on the security guard.

"Call a medic!" someone screams as people bolt into and out of the room. "Call security!" bellows another, knocking over a table and ducking behind it.

One of the scientists in the room tug on one of the Battalion's sleeves.

"You're the law here now, right? Restore order!"

Quarters

Battalion Prime pokes at the keypads of a few doors idly, and while he gets a better idea for how secured they are, he learns little about the true depth of the locks' complexity. It's at least as well protected as any standard civilian residential suite, though. That much is clear.

Typically Sophia handles certain processes while I run others, but it's pretty easy to trade back and forth. The whole setup is pretty fluid when....oh. Oh. You weren't talking about driving Abraxas, were you?

Xander shudders slightly. No, this is all me.

Right?

In reply to Xander (msg # 105):

At the mention of Titan the lights in the room appear to dim briefly and the small girl appears to grow in size.  Strange shapes and irrational fears fly through the scientists mind.

I am adjusting.

She says, attempting to phase through one of the benches, but succeeding only in banging her knee.  She grunts as she walks around the bench in the conventional manner.

Given your attempted experiments in eliminating the need for respiratory functions I may be of service to you as my cellular processes have halted.

I would be willing to allow you to perform necessary experiments; perhaps a collaboration is in order.  Unfortunately our liquored up idiot pilot managed to fry one of my creations.  I would try to salvage it if possible.  You may be interested in it as it extended my phasing ability to an entire ship.

she picks up the folder marked induced mutation index and begins reading her legs hanging off of the laboratory bench swinging back and forth.

In reply to Rebecca Taylor (msg # 106):

Mess Hall

I AM THE LAW! Battalion shouts above the din.

No you're not, you're one of THEM! another Battalion replies.

Grab those SCABS and string them up! another shouts.

The various Battalions choose sides randomly and do their best to "help".

Quarters

Battalion continues to wander, seemingly at random, poking at this or that console.

In reply to Batallion (msg # 107):

Mess Hall

Chaos continues to reign, with an alarming increase in violence as Battalion's dupes continue to render "assistance".

Residential Area

Battalion pokes around the console, and eventually locates a suite that appears to be set aside for his use in the computer. The number assigned to him is R03. The apartments he's looking at are all in the 200s, and do not have any letters in their designations at all.

After poking around some more he finally gets the console to spit out a map, and finds that the R-coded areas appear to be near the very bottom of the complex, at least three floors below him and probably underground.

In reply to The Watcher (msg # 108):

Laboratory

Rebecca flips through the folder idly, scanning the contents for interesting details while Dr. Hawkins continues to prattle.

She finds references to homeostasis modifications, but very little involving phasing or weaponization of mutations.

"Hold it," Dr. Hawkins says suddenly, peering at her with renewed interest. "Are you saying you had technology aboard your shuttle that had genetically keyed markers in it?"

In reply to The Watcher (msg # 109):

Hanger

Viceroy nods thoughtfully but says nothing further on the subject. The pair make their way to a smaller maintenance bay set aside from the main complex, within which they find Abraxis. The suit is standing off to one side, and there are a few mechanics standing nearby, debating something.

When they notice Xander, they look curious. When you notice Viceroy, they become guarded and the lead mechanic puts his clipboard behind his back as they turn to face you.

"No. Not today," the lead mechanic says blandly. "This is my team's project. Go find some other chassis to play with and/or destroy."

Viceroy cocks his head to one side, then jerks it toward Xander as though to indicate that he should speak.

May I ask what that project is? Xander asked mildly. I wasn't notified that my ride was being moved. So I thought I'd swing by and check, see if I could help. Viceroy here kindly agreed to accompany me.

In reply to The Watcher (msg # 109):

She smiles an enigmatic smile.

Yes.

She pauses a moment.

I think it would be best if we were to fetch what remains of the technology in question and I will be able to explain the conduit between phasing mutations and increasing its area of effects to an entire ship.


She looks at the two subjects for a long moment.

I hope these are true volunteers.  Given my current misgivings about the organization as a whole at the moment...

In reply to Rebecca Taylor (msg # 112):

Mess Hall

The various Battalions continue to incite the masses.

Quarters

Battalion continues to do his best to find his quarters.

In reply to Batallion (msg # 113):

It is at about this time that what sounds an awful lot like a fire alarm flares to life throughout the complex.

Laboratory

Dr. Hawkins activates his comlink.

"What's going- I see. Well, send in the- wait, really? Ok... ok, I'll take care of it."

He adjusts the frequency.

"Viceroy, this is Hawkins. I need Enforcers at the Mess Hall."

Hanger

The techs begin to respond, but the alarm overwrites whatever they were about to say with a sense of general confusion.

Viceroy perks up and speaks into a comlink in response to something.

"They are not finish-finished yet. Could hurt-hurt more than they help-help. You want-want them anyway?"

Laboratory

"We need whether they're done or not," Dr. Hawkins says sternly. "Things are spiraling out of control."

Hanger

Viceroy pauses, then shakes his head.

"No. Deny-denied. But don't worry-worry; I have-have an idea."

He cuts off the com, points at Abraxis, and walks toward it.

"There's been an incident. I'm commandeer-commandeering this battlesuit."

Viceroy looks at Xander curiously.

"Can it hold-hold two?"

Laboratory

"Damn it!" Dr. Hawkins says, slamming down his comlink and picking up an object that Rebecca recognizes to be a self-defense, melee taser. "There's a problem in the mess hall, agent. Can you help me?"

Quarters

Battalion sighs as the alarm system renders the elevator tubes inoperable for safety reasons, and looks despondently at the nearby door that says "Staircase".

Mess Hall

The alarm is unheard and unheeded by the rioters, who are themselves very likely the cause of the alarm.
This message was last edited by the GM at 19:24, Tue 02 Feb 2016.

Xander nodded, hoisting himself up into the cockpit. Only if we're very friendly. Hop in.

The battlesuit thrums to life as Xander initiates the startup cycle.
This message was lightly edited by the player at 19:30, Tue 02 Feb 2016.

In reply to Xander (msg # 115):

Rebecca heaves herself off of the counter landing lightly and picking up her doll.

indeed
This is what I get for trusting him...
This message was last edited by the player at 20:53, Tue 02 Feb 2016.

In reply to Rebecca Taylor (msg # 116):

Hanger

Xander and Viceroy huddle together within the cockpit as Abraxis hurtles upward, re-entering the complex from the central top dome and maneuvering itself toward the docking area closest to the mess hall.

"Faster than run-running!" Viceroy exclaims, tapping on the glass of the cockpit once Abraxis has traveled as far as a battlesuit-sized object can go within the complex. "We'll do-do the rest on foot."

He and Xander hop out and hurry down the corridor, not far from their destination.

Hallways

Rebecca and Dr. Hawkins hurry down a network of hallways, each of which contains a blaring alarm system that honks away with a siren that blares louder and softer in regular intervals.

"Not much further now," the doctor says between gasps as they run. "Apparently security is having a scuffle of some kind. Hopefully not as bad as it sounds."

Mess Hall

The main doors to the mess hall are set at the center point between three hallways, one of which passed the opening on either side while the third runs perpendicular to it.

Rebecca and Dr. Hawkins arrive at the opening from the left-hand hallway at about the same moment that Xander and Viceroy arrive from the right-hand hallway. They look at each other for a moment, then turn to observe the screaming carnage in the dining area.

The mechanics, security guards, scientists, custodial staff, and other people present in the cafeteria have joined into a jumbled mass of fists and flying food.

So complete is the chaos that no one seems to notice that the Battalion duplicates have been slowly popping out of existence, one by one. By the time Xander and Rebecca et al arrive, there are no Battalions to be seen.



Thus far, none have noticed your arrival. OOC: Rebecca and Xander will have a chance to act before anything further happens here.

Quarters

Battalion exits the stairwell and finds his room without further incident. Indeed, besides having to take the stairs, the only annoyance is the irritating alarm system that seems to be blaring for no good reason.

A uniformed officer exits a nearby room with a datapad tucked beneath his arm. He nods politely to Battalion but doesn't otherwise instigate any interaction.
This message was last edited by the GM at 16:43, Wed 03 Feb 2016.

In reply to The Watcher (msg # 117):

Quarters

Battalion shrugs at the alarms.

No sense getting involved in things that aren't my problem...

He grimaces at the lack of elevator service, employing several short-term duplicates to carry him down the stairs instead of walking.

Once inside his room, Battalion wanders about to take stock of his arrangement.


Then he kicks back and relaxes.  At that point, he will get to work on his promised homework assignment: reproducing their contract and terms of employment.  This he will skew heavily into his favor by being sure to be incredibly vague about his own duties while being specific about those of others and even more specific about the perks and compensations.

In reply to Batallion (msg # 118):

I know he is behind this somehow...

She steps into the room and shrieks at the top of her mind.  The shrill voice digs like nails into the chalkboard of their brains.

STOP IT!!!!!!!!!!!

Suddenly 10 of the aggressors are facing down their worst nightmare instead of their opponents.

DON'T MOVE AND NOTHING WILL HAPPEN!



/ooc I'll let you play out the fear effects. /ooc

Xander ducks a thrown chair, and makes his way over to the nearest intercom terminal. He pops the faceplate off, but takes no further action until it's clear how Rebecca's illusion will play out.

In reply to Xander (msg # 120):

"Bees! EVERY MAN FOR HIMSELF!" one of the afflicted rioters screams, charging haphazardly across the room while flailing wildly.

"Noooooooooo!" another one wails, assuming the fetal position before dissolving into terrified sobbing.

"Mom?"

The confusion caused by so many of the rioters succumbing to various illusions provides a temporary measure of sanity, which Dr. Hawkins is quick to cease upon.

"I need medical staff at the mess hall immediately," he barks into his comlink, adjusting the bands rapidly to speak to many different specific people at once. "Commander Sherwin, you have security personnel down at the mess hall, copy? Director Kelce, we have an internal situation to resolve at the mess hall. Viceroy, I need you to..."

He blinks as Viceroy waves at him and stops speaking into the comlink.

"... to turn off the bloody alarms. And what's with refusing to provide Enforcers? That's why you built them!"

In reply to The Watcher (msg # 121):

Viceroy's begoggled head observes the psionic assault carefully, then turns toward Rebecca.

"Fascinating."

He swings his attention abruptly to Dr. Hawkins, and his voice takes on a harsh, dangerous edge.

"Are you question-questioning me, Hawkinsdoctor?"
This message was last edited by the player at 20:34, Wed 03 Feb 2016.

In reply to Viceroy (msg # 122):

"N-no, Viceroy. Not at all. Of course not. I apologize," Dr. Hawkins stammers, his eyes widening slightly as beads of sweat pop up on his brow. "Won't happen again."

"Let's just... let's just try to regain order here, ok?"

In reply to The Watcher (msg # 123):

"Oh, good!" Viceroy says, his voice cheerful and lilting once more. "It really sounded like you were for a minute."

In reply to Viceroy (msg # 124):

Those rioters who are not afflicted by psychosis notice Viceroy's outburst and turn. All remaining fight seems to drain from their eyes when they see who it is, though whether that's because of Viceroy or Dr. Hawkins is unclear.

That said, those who ARE afflicted by psychosis continue to suffer in ways that are as severe as they are visually hilarious.
This message was last edited by the GM at 19:53, Wed 03 Feb 2016.

The alarms cut out abruptly as Xander tweaks with the intercom system. In its place, soft cascades of traditional Chinese string and wind music that would not be out of place at a spa come tinkling over the speakers. The overhead lighting changes from harsh fluorescence to a muted, soothing aquamarine.

Seeing an untouched pint of beer laying undisturbed on a nearby table, Xander grabs it eagerly and takes a swig, but promptly spits it out in disgust. Viceroy, we have got to see to your flash fermentors. This swill is vile, he says plaintively, setting the pint back down.

He thens sets about trying to pull pull the injured away from the remaining half hearted scuffles.

In reply to Xander (msg # 126):

Rebecca allows the illusions to dissipate once the fighting appears to have stopped.

Thats better.

She says primly.

Now everybody relax and tell us what happened.

In reply to Rebecca Taylor (msg # 127):

Mess Hall

The muffled groaning of the wounded becomes all too audible now that the ruckus has abated.

"The medics should be here soon," Dr. Hawkins says helpfully. "This is Agent Taylor. Do not let her appearance deceive you. Answer her questions."

One of the mechanics takes a crumpled wet napkin he'd been using to cover a swollen eye and tosses it disdainfully to the ground.

"The security team started it," he growls. "They're bitter about being sacked."

One of the security guards shouts out "Hey! If it's anybody's fault, it's YOURS."

He points past Dr. Hawkins, who turns to see Director Kelce striding forward. A bulky man in military fatigues that look similar to -- but fancier than -- those worn by the other security man is with her, and he looks PISSED.

"Kelce sold us out, Commander!" the guard calls out. "Hired a different security firm, right out from under our noses. Didn't even have the decency to tell us first!"

The Commander turns to Kelce and raises an eyebrow.

"Zat true?"

"Of course not," Director Kelce says curtly, turning to the speaker sternly. "Where did you hear that?"

"From the new guards, straight from their mouth!" the speaker says. "Just ask 'em, they're... they're..."

The guard looks around in confusion.

"Where'd they go?"

The Commander grinds his teeth and stomps toward the man.

"It's the brig for you, son," the commanding officer rumbles, but his advance is stopped when the mechanic steps toward him.

"No, he's... he's right," the mechanic said begrudgingly. "There WERE other guards here. Lots of them. They claimed to be a replacement company and wore identical uniforms. I... they must have escaped in the confusion."

In reply to The Watcher (msg # 128):

"Describe these guards," Director Kelce says firmly. "In exact detail. The Commander may have a manhunt to conduct..."

In reply to Director Kelce (msg # 129):

The mechanic and the security guard manage to perfectly describe Battalion's dupes and uniforms between them, and all present agree that they were at one point present.

Their description is interrupted several times as those afflicted by the illusions continue to scream, flee, and soil themselves in terror.
This message was last edited by the GM at 02:51, Thu 04 Feb 2016.

In reply to The Watcher (msg # 130):

"Commander Sherwin," Kelce begins, sucking in air through her teeth and putting a finger to her temple. "Restore order. Everyone here is to be pardoned... for reasons that are classified. See to it that they agree to let bygones be bygones, however. I will prosecute any rebuttal attacks stemming from this incident vigorously."

"Dr. Hawkins?" she continues. "Oversee the medics when they arrive. Agents Taylor and Xander? Come with me."

She turns and strides purposefully down the hallway toward the nearest elevator shaft.

OOC: Will wait to see if both or either or you follow.
This message was last edited by the player at 02:55, Thu 04 Feb 2016.

In reply to Director Kelce (msg # 131):

Viceroy exchanges a look with Dr. Hawkins, shrugs, boops the man in the nose with a gloved finger, and follows along behind Director Kelce, unbidden.
This message was last edited by the player at 02:52, Thu 04 Feb 2016.

In reply to Viceroy (msg # 132):

Quarters

Battalion sits back, relaxes, and goes about his business.

Xander gamely falls in line next to Viceroy and Director Kelce, though his gaze is distant. Idly he waves a hand, and the soothing spa music fades.
This message was last edited by the player at 04:46, Thu 04 Feb 2016.

In reply to The Watcher (msg # 133):

At the description of Batallion Rebecca's face darkens.

I knew it.

she falls in line behind Kelce

Director, I would like to have a look at the contract that Battalion entered into the system for us...

Her face contorts slightly as she walks

He had better have one hell of an explanation

In reply to Rebecca Taylor (msg # 135):

Battalion settles in, spending considerable time arranging the pillows on his bed for maximum lounge.

In reply to Batallion (msg # 136):

Director is there a video feed in the cafeteria where we could review the footage of this incident?  He can be... slippery and I'm certain a denial will be eminent. 
This message had punctuation tweaked by the player at 13:48, Thu 04 Feb 2016.

Director Kelce's communicator chirps in her pocket.

In reply to Xander (msg # 138):

"There are surveillance nodes, yes," she says, taking the group down the elevator to a much lower floor. "But I think we all know what happened here."

In reply to Director Kelce (msg # 139):

"I do-do not!" Viceroy announces cheerfully. He does not appear bothered by this.

In reply to Viceroy (msg # 140):

Hallway

The group makes its way to a residential area and waits while Kelce consults a directory. A moment later, they are standing before a particular door. The director knocks on it several time, then reaches into her pocket to retrieve a data pad. She knocks again, steps back, and begins to twiddle with the data pad while they wait.

Quarters

Battalion had just found the perfect combinations of leaning, laying, and slouching to allow him to watch the nearest telescreen without moving his neck or his eyes when he hears an insistent rap at the door.
This message was last edited by the GM at 16:35, Thu 04 Feb 2016.

In reply to The Watcher (msg # 141):

For fuck's sake... well, at least their response time is worthwhile.

Battalion opens the door.  Yes?  He eyes the group disdainfully, then winks out of existence.

Battalion, still sitting on his bed, looks up.

Can I help you lot?  Was just settling in.

In reply to Batallion (msg # 142):

Rebecca sits in open silent judgement

Lets see how this plays out.  I may want to interrogate him away from the director for the real explanation to his actions... unless he's just playing.

In reply to Rebecca Taylor (msg # 143):

"There's been an incident -- no doubt you heard the alarms?"

The Director enters, followed by Viceroy, Xander, and Rebecca.

The room is large enough that such a gathering causes no discomfort, as there is a sitting area built around the entrance of the room prior to reaching the nearby beds (though these all occupy the same actual room).

Once all have entered, the Director closes the door behind her and points her datapad at the telescreen Battalion had been using to watch an adult film masquerading as a documentary about the adult film industry.

The image distorts and changes such that it displays the events that occurred in the cafeteria, starting when Battalion's dupes entered and ending shortly after the arrival of Commander Sherwin and Director Kelce.

There is no sound in the recording, though Viceroy physically makes sounds like BLAMMO and WHACK as events warrant during the brawl. On two separate occasions, he claps his gloved hands excitedly together at a particularly brutal hit.

"Care to explain what happened?" the Director asks once the recording concludes, her tone more casual than one might expect.
This message was last edited by the GM at 14:59, Fri 05 Feb 2016.

Xander watches the gathering watch the footage with a bemused expression. He idly makes some gestures on his dataslate, roughly sketching out what appears to be a fermentation tank and a spirits still, bizarrely attached to a fusion reactor and a microgravity generator.
This message was last edited by the player at 17:34, Fri 05 Feb 2016.

In reply to Xander (msg # 145):

Viceroy glances over at Xander's sketch and cocks his head to one side.

"Ooooh. I see-see... but have you consider-considered..."

He trails off and his goggles glint almost imperceptibly. Immediately, a holographic projection of a wireframe identical to the rough sketch pops into the air before him. He rubs his hands together and walks over to it, using his fingers to pull, prod, and adjust various areas of the schematic at will.

After a rapid flurry of adjustments, he makes a dismissive gesture and the projection vanishes. When Xander looks down at his dataslate, he notices that his rough sketch has become a detailed schematic.

Viceroy returns his attention to the matter at hand; indeed, Director Kelce doesn't seem to notice any of this, as she continues to wait for Battalion's response.
This message was last edited by the player at 16:48, Fri 05 Feb 2016.

In reply to Viceroy (msg # 146):

As the two men get very excited over their yeast-piss drink she harrumphs significantly behind them.

They both turn to find the little girl glaring at them as if they were interrupting her favorite class in school.

In reply to Rebecca Taylor (msg # 147):

Battalion shifts with exaggerated effort, then with a grunt, swings his legs down off the pillows and toddles over to the screen.

He squints and gets the tip of his nose within an inch of the screen, then finally springs up straight.

Yep, looks to me like you've got a serious problem.  When I left that mess hall, things were orderly and going along just fine.  I walk away for five minutes and look what happens?

Battalion shakes his head.

Yep, good thing I ran that little test.  Turns out both your security forces AND your techs are ill-mannered loose cannons.  I mean, a couple drinks and they do THAT?  Better to know that now though, I mean, what if that had happened in a time of crisis?

Battalion clucks and shakes his head again as he thumps down into a chair.

Well, I won't tell you how to do your job, not my style.  I'll leave the details of working out the kinks in your staff to you.  You're welcome, by the way.

In reply to Batallion (msg # 148):

"This is something the Enforcers can fix-fix," Viceroy says, apparently taking the story at face value. "Once they are done-done."

He glances at the Director, apparently waiting for her to thank Battalion for his services.
This message was last edited by the player at 15:54, Mon 08 Feb 2016.

In reply to Viceroy (msg # 149):

The Director grinds her teeth, but says nothing to Battalion. Instead, she turns to the others.

"What do your fellow agents make of this?"

In reply to Director Kelce (msg # 150):

My analysis is that Battalion is pathologically duplicitous and impulsive.  His given reasons for any act rarely if ever matches his motives.  That being said to date he has had numerous opportunities to deviate our scheduled mission and to his credit he has not.  Despite risk to himself as evidenced by his waiting during the SAGE attack on the Mastodon. 

She looks searchingly at him, a gaze that he pointedly avoids.

I feel our damaged arrival here is a perfect metaphor for his current actions.  He destroyed my ghost drive and nearly ripped the ship apart we did arrive here alive.

In reply to Rebecca Taylor (msg # 151):

Battalion's face goes red.

My analysis is that you're an uppity little girl that is better seen and not heard... and even better not seen.

In reply to Batallion (msg # 152):

In that case...

A stabbing pain begins behind Batallion's eyes.

Director I have nothing to say on behalf of the operative.  Do with him as you see fit.

She disappears.  The headache remains.

In reply to Rebecca Taylor (msg # 153):

Battalion winces and presses his thumbs to his temples.

OW, what the HELL is in the beer in this crappy station...

Battalion looks up, clearly disappointed that he isn't alone yet.

Anything else I can do for you?  I'm kinda busy.

Upon being addressed by Director Kelce, Xander looks up from his schematics, respectfully putting away his dataslate and giving her his full attention.

I went over the security feeds. Prime here left quite some time before any actual fighting broke out. I don't know how much control he's able to exert over his dupes when he's not with them in person, but it's possible he didn't realize or mean for things to get so out of hand. Xander shrugs noncommittally. He's kind of a dick, and his taste in beer is questionable at best, but I doubt he meant anything truly malicious by it. It seems he does things 'for the lulz,' to use the timey parlance, without thinking about the consequences.

He gestures quickly with his left hand, and a holoprojection of the records of several recent admissions to medbay materializes in the middle of the room. Still, some of these folks got banged up pretty bad. Looks like the sanitation workers got the worst of it. You're going to be short staffed in trash disposal and sewage for the next couple weeks. I don't want to overstep my bounds here, Director, but a solution to that particular issue is staring you in the face.

In reply to Xander (msg # 155):

Can't help but notice you're all still standing here, Battalion quips through his fingers.  Something else you need?

In reply to Batallion (msg # 156):

"There are rules on this station, Agent," the Director says at last. "And there are consequences for recklessness."

She turns off the datapad and looks in Battalion's direction.

"You are responsible for the actions your duplicates take. Whether you can control them or not. If you spawn them, they are your responsibility."

She smiles slightly.

"Agent Xander's plan has promise. You will provide the workforce needed to make up the difference while those injured in the riots are restored for health."

The Director turns to the others.

"We'll be synchronized for launch in three weeks. Your daily duty stations will be made available to you in your quarters. Report to meals and to your stations at the indicated times, and all will be well. We'll have another briefing prior to your departure."

She holds up a hand to forestall further discussion.

"If you have a problem with your orders, we can discuss it separately, but I have no intention of honoring  your contract if you fail to cooperate. Thank you all in advance."

With that, the Director takes her leave.

Xander nods without complaint, eager to get to work. Over the next week or so, he seems distracted, showing up at meal times as requested but mostly keeping to himself. He spends most of his time at his duty station in the lab, sometimes by himself, sometimes collaborating with the begoggled Viceroy. What free time does have finds him either down in the galley storeroom sifting through containers and containers of artificial grain protein, or playing raquetball in the recreation module. Whenever you encounter him, the light of innovation is clearly burning in his eyes.

Despite his suggestion that JJ be given - quite literally - shit duty, Xander always pops up towards the end of Battallion's shift to bring him a cold beer. At first, the beer is indistinguishable from the swill in the common mess, but each day the flavor seems to improve noticeably. Comments are recorded, annotated, and meticulously filed.

After about a week, Director Kelce receives a request to hear his status update. When she enters the lab, she is greeted by a small explosion, a shower of sparks, and some muffled swearing. In an enclosed glass-walled cube, two security guards are standing on the ceiling and holding raquets. They appear to have been engaging in a game of raquetball until just a moment ago, though it's not clear whether or not the explosion or Samantha's entrance interrupted the game. They both snap to attention. A ball spins erratically somewhere near the ear of the bigger guard, wobbling around in a way that the Director was quite certain violated all laws of gravity that she was familiar with.

Xander popped out of a nearby crawlspace rubbing a burn across his forearm, his usual red pilot suit singed slightly. Nevertheless, when he rises to his feet he's grinning broadly. Director! Thanks for stopping by so quickly! I think you're going to like this.

He gestures to the glassed-in court. Go ahead guys. The tertiary well is back on, you shouldn't have any issues sticking to the wall anymore. Turning back to the Director, he says I give you...G-ball! The pilot winces. I know, still gotta pick a better name for it.

Both guards begin to play, at which point all similarities to standard raquetball disappear. From what the Director can tell, the court had at least five distinct gravitic zones, with the ball wobbling between trajectories as up became down, left became right, and tidal forces caused unpredictable sheer. Both opponents bounced around, seemingly anticipating when gravity would flip them around, and how to arc the ball closer to themselves. After several volleys, Xander could sense the Director was confused.

Don't worry, I didn't ask you down here just to show you my improvements to your rec modules. The game is secondary to seeing if I could miniaturize the gravitic manipulation wells we found in the SAGE databanks, and get several wells to sync in close proximity.

He turned back to the center of the workspace, allowing the two guards to continue the game, apparently to their considerable enjoyment. He waved, and the lights dimmed as a holographic projection of the factory installation appeared in the center of the room. He gestured to the satellites orbiting the factories.

I noticed the gravitiational lensing array on the way in. I'm assuming you have that in place to keep this whole installation hidden from anybody looking on Earth. Or Mars, for that matter. Magnificent, magnificent tech - I'm truly impressed. But, I'm guessing you have issues keeping it calibrated when the angle between Earth, this station, and Mars is any less than about 150 degrees or so?

The Director's raised eyebrow told him his guess was mostly accurate. Well, I think I have a fix for that, but I had to test it with racquetball first.

Several dark blue highlights appear around the station. The lensing arrays could easily be upgraded with the new schematics from SAGE. That will let you bend any electromagnetic radiation along up to two separate, independent vectors. The tidal shear from the opposing forces will be negated by installing a third, neutral well here on the station, and the turbulence zones can actually be used to generate significant additional power, similar to how tidal power is used on Earth. Essentially, that turns this whole area of space into the raquetball court on a massive scale, giving you complete control over what goes in and out.

That extra current can be used to power the visual-spatial plating, and *actually* turn this facility invisible in case you get unwanted company from an unexpected vector off alignment of the gravity lensing ecliptic.

So the TLDR is we've vetted the technology to turn your factory installation almost completely invisible, grant you absolute control of the gravity surrounding it out to about 100 klicks, and provide a nearly unlimited source of station power. I've also cut the time dilation effect down to about 1 minute per standard solar year.

Xander waves at the schematics. The science is sound, and as of today the prototype is working flawlessly. Just give Viceroy the word and you should be up and running in about two weeks time.

But! Xander says, holding up a finger and flashing the Director a lopsided grin, that's not even the best part. As critical as these upgrades are to your operational security, and as much of a scientific breakthrough as this represents, it pales in comparison to my real work here.

Throwing a switch with a dramatic flourish, Xander pulls the cloth from a system of vats, tubing, and barrels occupying one wall of the workshop. Part of the installation, where several barrels rested against the wall, was blocked off with clear plate glass across which was scribbled warnings in about ten different languages that all translated roughly to [DANGER: DO NOT UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES WHATSOVER CROSS WHILE AGING MODULE IS IN OPERATION]

Using these same principles, I believe I was able to solve your devastating issue of a lack of quality adult beverages on this station. I present to you, Madame Director, the universe's first Omni-Distiller!

He waves, and the bizarre installation churns to life. Using the same time dilation you get from the heavy gravity wells and the ridiculous excess of energy we now have, this thing can ferment, distill, or otherwise create literally any alcoholic beverage known to mankind, instantly. I've already loaded in my personal recipes. I even got it to work with the synthesized grain we have access to here, compensating for proper ingredients.

Xander pulls a lever, and a frothy golden-amber liquid pours into an elliptical glass, redolent of bananna, nut, and clove. My take on a traditional Bavarian Weizenbier. But if you'd rather have wine... Xander makes some adjustments, and fills another glass with a deep ruby wine that smells of blackberries, chocolate, and a hint of oak. A malbec cabernet sauvignon blend. Chemically indistinguishable from the best of Bordeaux.

The pilot turned inventor shoots Director Kelce a sly grin. Or perhaps you're more of a whisky girl? A tumbler of deep fiery amber appears, smelling of smoke, flame, and the sea. Islay single malt, peated to 47 ppm. Aged 30 years, cask strength. Keep in mind this isn't just an approximation. Thanks to the microgravity wells, this is literally, actually aged 30 years, just in the past five seconds to us. It's all relative, you know.

He takes a deep sip of the dram, relishing the explosion of dissonant but somehow complementary flavors, and then proffers the glass to the Director.
This message was last edited by the player at 04:49, Tue 09 Feb 2016.

In reply to Xander (msg # 158):

Rebecca is rarely seen by her team and when she is she looks to be a mess.  She is hooked up to a battery of tubes bags and sensors.  She obviously got a pass from the Director in regards to her nonattendence of meal time and is never seen in the cafeteria unless things get... heated.

Most of the days pass uneventfully as she puts forth her effort towards several goals with Dr. Hawkins.  He finds her to be the hardest worker he has ever met, literally not stopping for breaks for days at a time, and slowly became used to the doll acting as a vortexer or pippetting dummy from time to time.

He keeps pressing her for details on what happened to her on Titan and security arrived shortly after to find the doctor pressed to a wall by invisible forces, the girl sobbing in a corner and the lights flicking on and off.

After that and a brief but awkward reacquaintance period they lapse back into a highly effective professional duo.  Goals are set, achieved, reestablished pushing the boundaries of the homeostatic processes farther than the doctor ever thought they could.

They also will work together and drag Viceroy in (if available) to assist on repairing and improving the ghost drive.

In reply to Rebecca Taylor (msg # 159):

Additionally, she revises her contract making duties obligations and compensations all very specifically detailed and exact.

In reply to Rebecca Taylor (msg # 160):

RE: Xander's Montage, Week 1 of 2

"Is that all you've managed? You've had an entire week," Director Kelce chides with a smile. The Director takes the proffered glass, swirls it appraisingly, and gives it a measured taste. "Oh my," she says, her eyes brightening. "This is... extremely good. And extremely dangerous. I think it might have to be for officers and agents only... and for special occasions."

She takes him by the arm and steers him away from the contraption, drink still in hand.

"I want to talk to you about how the light refraction and the gravitics work. Privately."

RE: Rebecca's Montage, Week 1 of 2

Dr. Hawkins seems to be in much higher spirits during his experiments with Rebecca, and raves about how her biochemistry defies many of the constants he'd assumed were true. Indeed, the good doctor can often be found scratching out entire sections of his notebooks and rewriting them after particularly intensive sessions.

The two human subjects in the tubes continue to thrive, such as it is, and Dr. Hawkins makes some adjustments to the chemical cocktail in which they rest as a result of Rebecca's work.

She also reviews Battalion's version of their contract.

As the second week begins, Rebecca seeks out Viceroy. She finds that he spends quite a bit of time in his private building, which is called The Factory. Very few people have access to it, but Rebecca is among them -- apparently all of the "agents" have classified privileges.

Viceroy agrees to help her with the phasing drive, but his time is constrained by other obligations, as well. The best he can manage is a cobbled-together version with "between zero and three" uses in it, as Viceroy puts it.

OOC: If anyone wants to post specifics about Week 2 of 2 (or if Battalion wants to post specifics about Week 1, 2, or both), now's the time :)
This message was last edited by the GM at 15:32, Tue 09 Feb 2016.

Xander stood on the repair bay observation deck next to Viceroy, swirling a tumbler of single malt idly in his left hand and looking quite pleased with himself.

[Director Kelce added as a contact]

Beyond the thick plate glass separating them from the noise and sparks of several arc wielders, Abraxas stood mostly disassembled, bundles of wiring and titanium endo skeleton exposed to flickering blue light. Bizarrely, Xander couldn't shake the impression that the tableau before them was less a repair bay for machines and more a hospital operating room.

I'm glad I'm finally getting a chance to pop the hood, he noted, taking a sip of scotch. The more we take this apart, the more intrigued I am. There are whole sections of sealed components I can't even comprehend the purpose of. And I could have sworn this thing didn't have plasma intercoolers when we left Earth...

His gaze fell to the massive railgun laying on the deck at the battlesuit's feet. That, though. I need to make some modifications. It's a standard military weapon, more or less tacked onto this frame without any streamlining. Uncharacteristically sloppy. I intend to integrate it more fully and specialize it for a mobile battlesuit platform. He turned to Viceroy. Any ideas or suggestions you might have would be helpful.

He frowned. What about your work though? You mentioned the Enforcers weren't quite ready. What are they, exactly? Anything I can do to help?

In reply to The Watcher (msg # 161):

Suddenly one day Rebecca appears extremely agitated and she seeks out Director Kelce.

Also in a rare show of human compassion she seeks out Flux in the sick bay.

How are you feeling?

She will also continue working in the lab helping the doctor with his research.

In reply to Rebecca Taylor (msg # 163):


Battalion spends the first two weeks being, almost literally, everywhere on the station.  He is in the mess hall, in the observation dome, lounging outside each lab, napping in the gym, and to be found in each bathroom.  It seems almost impossible to get away from him.

That being said, Battalion never really seems to be DOING anything much.  Mostly just leaning against a wall, walking aimlessly, watching other people work (a favorite pastime), watching television or something else banal and dull.

Thus, although Battalion(s) DO take up the slack left by the injured employees, they don't do a terribly good job and quality of service is still lower than it should be.

Battalion gladly accepts whatever drink Xander puts in front of him, though he's just as likely to pop out of existence halfway through as he is to give any useful feedback on brewing.

It's cold, it goes down easy and helps me forget I'm in this boring-ass place, what else is there to beer?

While Xander demonstrates his gravity ball, a trio of Battalions are already there betting on the match.  When Rebecca is found catatonic by security, Battalion is standing outside in the hallway kicking a piece of trash idly toward the trash can.  As for Flux, well, there always seems to be Battalion near there.

In reply to Batallion (msg # 164):

Xander, Week 2 of 2

Viceroy has no shortage of ideas for how to improve the railgun, those most are impractical until Xander stipulates that the changes would need to be doable prior to his next mission.

After giving it some thought, he comes up with several modification ideas.

The conversation later turns to his Enforcers, at which Viceroy perks up noticeably.

"Enforcers! Semi-autonomous battlesuits of my own design. Strong, sturdy, obedient, flexibile!"

He slumps slightly.

"But stupid. Disappointing. They think-think too slowly. I am work-working on fix-fixing it, but I keep getting distract-distracted by other projects."

Rebecca, Week 2 of 2

Rebecca spends quite a bit more time in the lab with Dr. Hawkins, but also finds time to chat with Director Kelce.

Flux proves difficult to speak to, though easy enough to visit. Apparently his wounds were more severe than you thought, and he has been placed in an induced coma while the medical team monitors swelling in his brain.


Battalion, Weeks 1 & 2

There are dupes everywhere, all the time, doing varying amounts of inefficient labor and extremely effective loafing.
This message was last edited by the GM at 18:45, Wed 10 Feb 2016.

In reply to The Watcher (msg # 165):

When all is said and done, the three agents meet once more in a briefing room similar to the one you were in on the day of your arrival. Also in the room are Dr. Hawkins, Viceroy, and Director Kelce. Flux is decidedly absent.
This message was last edited by the GM at 17:26, Wed 10 Feb 2016.

In reply to The Watcher (msg # 166):

"Now that you've settled in a bit, I wanted to talk about the upcoming mission," she begins. "But before we do that, we'll have to actually settle on your contract. It seems there has been some... friction. Each of you has independently offered to write a corrected version, and none of these agree."

She smiles.

"So. I have a solution. Each of you should see a personal contract on your data pad. Review it, and press accept. If you have concerns, press decline and we'll speak of them further. Once you've all accepted, we'll go over the mission parameters."

The Director clears her throat.

"Mind you, if you haven't accepted a contract by launch time, you will have to leave this facility. Employees only, you understand."
This message was last edited by the player at 17:36, Wed 10 Feb 2016.

In reply to Director Kelce (msg # 167):

Rebecca takes the data tablet and puts on a pair of glasses and begins to peruse the tablet thoughtfully

In reply to Rebecca Taylor (msg # 168):

Battalion glances at it quickly, then accepts and tosses the datapad onto the table idly.

Sure, fine.

In reply to Batallion (msg # 169):

Rebecca shoots him a reproachful glare.

What has gotten into you?! You have been doing nothing but moping around and following us since we arrived... yes I saw your little spies.  Your lucky I didn't start popping them.  You don't have to be here.

Xander flicks through his datapad, ignoring JJ's hissy fit. After reviewing it, he nods, presses 'Accept', and sets the tablet back down.

Seems good to me.

[OOC - Xander will add the EMP discharge feat to the railgun, and spend his second week helping Viceroy with the enforcers.]

In reply to Xander (msg # 172):

Moping?

JJ looks around at first Xander then Director Kelce.

Girl, you've got a lot to learn about grown ups.

He shakes his head and leans back, gazing at the ceiling.

I believe, and if I remember correctly, I was asked to help out around here, wasn't I?  Clean this and move that and such.  Far as I recall, that's what I've been up to.

Does that require an enlarged presence about the station?  Maybe, why don't you leave the details of what I do to me.  Nobody's been following you, girl, maybe that's just your ego.

In reply to Batallion (msg # 173):

I may be young but do not condescend to me pretending I am naive.  Thats not at all what you mean and you know it.

Your entire demeanor has changed since we engaged the experimental drive.



Your afraid.

She signs her copy of the contract and sets it on the table.

In reply to Rebecca Taylor (msg # 174):

Battalion rises from his chair, face red, fists clenched.

He glares at Rebecca and looks about to say something utterly terrible, but thinks better of it.

He sits down slowly.

Director, now that all that shit is done, let's get to the important stuff.

In reply to Batallion (msg # 175):

"Agents!" the Director says firmly. "Sit. Down. I cannot abide internal bickering... it jeopardizes mission integrity. Find a way to settle your differences, and do it on your own time."

She takes a deep breath, activates the holoprojector, and begins her presentation.

(presentation to come)

In reply to Director Kelce (msg # 176):

Yeah... Battalion mutters under his breath.  I KNOW a way to settle our differences...

Shoulda left them all when I had the chance...

In reply to Batallion (msg # 177):

Rebecca gives Battalion a maudlin smile.

Try it.

In reply to Rebecca Taylor (msg # 178):

The plan is remarkably straightforward, though there are pieces that have obviously had to be thrown together last-minute to make up for the lack of Flux.



"It is certain to be far more of a walk in the park than your snatch-and-grab at the SAGE facility was," Director Kelce smiles. "Any questions?"
This message was last edited by the GM at 17:50, Sun 14 Feb 2016.

In reply to The Watcher (msg # 179):

"I do," Dr. Hawkins says, pressing a button near the table's console. "Something was forwarded to me from the shuttle's logs. Something recorded during your mission to the SAGE complex, judging from the identity tags. Observe."



"I also came upon this," Dr. Hawkins says, pressing another button.

The video feed fades, and then an audio file plays. It has Captain Blaise's voice, and it's a quote you've heard before.



"So... if you're going to Deimos anyway, I'd appreciate some information about that facility to aid with our own efforts here. And if gods forbid Flux dies... I'd like to study his body chemistry, as well."
This message was last edited by the GM at 17:45, Sun 14 Feb 2016.

In reply to The Watcher (msg # 180):

"No questions," Viceroy says after a moment. "But one statement. I am go-going with you. Kelcedirector, make-make it so. My Enforcers can-can keep-keep the peace while I am away."

His voice regains its childlike enthusiasm.

"Xanderagent help-helped me fix-fix them!"
This message was last edited by the player at 17:48, Sun 14 Feb 2016.

In reply to Viceroy (msg # 181):

If the Director wants to object, she hides it well.

"Of course, Viceroy. Anything you want."

She looks to the others.

"Any other questions? We'll certainly appreciate anything you can do for Dr. Hawkins while you're there -- especially if they know something about Flux's mutations that will help us stabilize him. But the top priority is the mineral ore."

Xander raises a hand. How big of a cargo hold are we tacking onto the shuttle? We'll need space for our purchases, and a discreet dock for Abraxas. A giant battlesuit strapped to the roof rack might raise some eyebrows.

In reply to Xander (msg # 183):

"Why, Xander," the Director says with a smile. "What makes you think you'd need your battlesuit for a diplomatic mission such as this one?"

She clears her throat softly.

"The adjustments and expansions will make the shuttle more like a freighter. There will be room."
This message was last edited by the player at 21:36, Mon 15 Feb 2016.

In reply to Director Kelce (msg # 184):

I have found that things beginning as diplomatic missions rarely end as such...  I have to say that I was intrigued by the finding of Flux's information as well, he apparently was raised by Ares Corp to become a member of their team... Though the fact that we now have the ability to implement some of their research would indicate that it may be of further use to us.

I will see what I am able to do.

In reply to Rebecca Taylor (msg # 185):

"If there are no further questions, you're all dismissed. Regroup ready for deployment in one week's time, to the hour. Your supplies will be packed and stowed for you, so you have this week at liberty. Good luck."

OOC: If there's anything else you want to accomplish, build, level up, etc. before departure, this is the last call. Fast-forwarding to the next mission shortly.

What, do you *not* bring your 'mech to diplomatic meetings? Xander quipped back with a grin. Weird. How do you get anything done without the threat of assured destruction? Anyhow, the plan sounds good to me.

In reply to Xander (msg # 187):

Fabulous plan, I love it...

JJ says nothing.

In reply to Batallion (msg # 188):

Will the experimental propulsion drive remain attached to the shuttle?  It did prove to be life saving in past.

In reply to Rebecca Taylor (msg # 189):

"If you were able to get it working again, yes."

"Working"

Xander helpfully provides air quotes.
This message had punctuation tweaked by the player at 15:22, Wed 17 Feb 2016.

In reply to Xander (msg # 191):

Not reassuring Xander.

You were able to work on it in your time here?

In reply to Director Kelce (msg # 190):

"It will work-work," Viceroy burbles happily. "Probably at least once! Maybe."

***

The rest of the week is spent making preparations for the trip ahead. Mission parameters are ironed out, bags are packed, gear is stowed, and soon the away team has gathered once more in the main hangar.

Xander, Rebecca, Battalion, and Viceroy take a moment to admire their ride before boarding. The shuttle looks less like it's been turned into a freighter than it looks like it's been attached to one, with the entirety of the former shuttle creating a miniature "bridge" centered atop a large ovoid storage compartment.

"The overall changes make her much more durable, but a little harder to control," the Director explains. "We also stabilized your engines somewhat, so even though you're bigger, you should be faster than you were before at normal speeds. Just stay out of dogfights and you'll be fine."



A ledger showing the ship's current inventory is provided, as well:



"Remember, you're to negotiate the sale of those goods if possible. Contact us to wire the funds over when you've reached an agreement. Good luck."

With a final round of salutes, waving, and (in Battalion's case) general apathy, the ship departs toward Mars.
This message was last edited by the GM at 15:36, Wed 17 Feb 2016.

The phase drive repairs were mostly Viceroy. It's definitely better than it was before, but the drive is an incredibly complicated piece of technology, based on theoretical physics we don't even fully understand yet. We had to engineer in a bunch of emergency shutoff failsafes into the drive. If any one of several parameters aren't within reasonable boundaries, the drive simply won't function. Unfortunately, there's no way of knowing until we go to activate the device, so I can't vouch for its reliability. On the upside, we can probably guarantee that it won't turn all our atoms inside out and shoot us across the galaxy in our component subatomic particles.

...I think.
This message was last edited by the player at 15:41, Wed 17 Feb 2016.

In reply to The Watcher (msg # 193):

The journey is slated to take a little less than three months, which gives everyone on board plenty of time to grow sick of each others' company. Throughout the voyage's duller moments -- and that's most of them -- the bright red button linked to the experimental engines tempts each and every crew member with the knowledge that it would reduce the transit time to a matter of days, all for the small price of potentially leaving the craft crippled and stranded in deadspace.

Apart from the tedium, nothing happens for the duration of the journey.

OOC: If you specifically wanted to do something during the voyage, let me know and I'll figure out how to add it in retroactively.

***

Nearly Three Months Later

The shuttle finally approaches its destination, treating the crew to a marvelous view of the Red Planet in the process. It's two moons can be seen as well, and they make for a rather majestic sight.

Phobos is by far the larger of the two, and orbits Mars so quickly that it makes a complete pass around its parent more than three times per Martian day.

Deimos, more than twice as far from Mars as its sibling, orbits the planet more slowly, completing less than one pass per Martian day.

Artificial satellites, ships, and shuttles are everywhere -- orbiting each moon, the planet itself, and in some cases, each other. Domed habitats become visible as you draw closer, alongside towering cranes built alongside man-made craters and quarries. Absolutely everything is emblazoned with the corporate logo of ARES.

The comms buzz to life the moment you're within hailing distance.

"Attention: You have entered Martian sector space. This is a private area reserved for ARES and its affiliates. Identify yourself and your destination."
This message was last edited by the GM at 15:53, Wed 17 Feb 2016.

In reply to The Watcher (msg # 195):

JJ spends as much time as he can alone.  He takes up residence in the pilot's chair with his feet on the console doing his best to look like he knows all about flying the ship.

When at last contact is made with ARES, Battalion makes no move to respond.

Phone, it's for you, he notes to the room in general.

Xander nods, seemingly to himself, and the cool, sophisticated tone of Sophia speaks over the comm. ARES control, this is the IDA Freighter Fettsackin requesting permission to dock.

Xander tosses JJ a wink.
This message was last edited by the player at 16:22, Wed 17 Feb 2016.

In reply to Xander (msg # 197):

JJ looks utterly confused.

OOC:  But I appreciated it.  ;)

In reply to Xander (msg # 197):

There is a lengthy pause, but eventually the comms buzz to life once more.

"IDA Freighter Fettsackin, copy. Pilot, we suggest you make the landing run manually. You'll pass by an active mining facility and it can interfere with autopilot functionality. Mind the debris and watch out for our equipment and personnel."

There is another pause, and the voice comes back sounding far less bored than before.

"Apologies, sir. Didn't realize you had a Senior Tactical Officer with you. The system's been expecting their return aboard an IDA shuttle. I'm transmitting a recommended trajectory to a private hangar in the Advanced Logistics Division on Deimos. Be sure the STO has their access code ready once you land. Welcome to Ares Consolidated Enterprises!"

The comm goes silent, and the console blips and beeps as the trajectory is downloaded and displayed on the screen beside the pilot's chair occupied by Battalion.
This message was last edited by the GM at 16:37, Wed 17 Feb 2016.

In reply to The Watcher (msg # 199):

JJ sighs.

Work, work, work, work...

He carefully lays his hands on the controls and switches Fettsackin to manual.

He then begins to guide the ship through ARES space following the beacon.

OOC:  Agility check, 82, yellow success.

In reply to Batallion (msg # 200):

Battalion expertly guides the craft toward the beacon, touching down in a private hanger located atop the tallest building within a very deep crater, quarry, or mine shaft.

The crater is deeper than the building is tall by a good 50 meters, and those watching through the viewport note that the building is cleverly constructed such that it cannot be seen by merely viewing the crater from overhead; a certain angle of approach is required unless you get quite close indeed.

The landing area is more like a helipad than a true docking bay, though writ large enough that the modified shuttle can comfortably come to rest without spilling out over the edges. There won't be room for much else to land while you're there, of course, but that sounds like someone else's problem.

Interestingly enough, there IS a small, sleek vessel hovering on its own power just off the landing pad. It's a sporty, flashy vehicle built for speed and first impressions, and it gleams with a freshly polished hue. Strangely, the vehicle appears unmanned -- though its owner seems to have left the power switched on. The empty vessel bobs gently on a cushion of self-generated thrust, tugging ever so slightly against an energy cable that tethers it to the building. Why its owner would have opted to do this when a perfectly serviceable landing platform was inches away is anybody's guess.

The moment you touch down, a dome snaps into place over the entire landing pad. Sensors show gases being exchanged, and in moments your computers indicate that the air and temperature beyond the hatch is habitable.

A single structure is built atop the landing pad, consisting of a simple door. Likely, this leads to an elevator or stairwell down into the main complex. Two men wearing fashionable business suits and dark sunglasses are standing nearby. They straighten their posture as the freighter sets down and move such that they flank the door on either side.

There they stand, awaiting your approach.
This message was last edited by the GM at 20:22, Wed 17 Feb 2016.

In reply to The Watcher (msg # 201):

JJ flicks a few switches, completing the landing procedure.

And THAT, kids is how you land a shuttle.

He smiles, exceedingly proud of himself.

He stands up and stretches dramatically.

::whistles:: woo, wonder what THAT baby's worth he muses aloud at the sleek craft nearby.

In reply to Batallion (msg # 202):

Who will play the part of the Senior Tactical Officer?

In reply to Rebecca Taylor (msg # 203):

"No need!" Viceroy says, producing a datapad with a flourish. "This will explain-explain everything when we play-play it at the meeting."

In reply to Viceroy (msg # 204):

Rebecca looks skeptical but lets it go.
This message was last edited by the player at 21:35, Wed 17 Feb 2016.

Xander steps onto the ramp dressed in a crisply pressed three piece business suit. Just nod knowingly. I'm sure it will be fine. No need to rehearse or anything.

In reply to Xander (msg # 206):

Rebecca enters in her typical fashion, stained, but clean lab coat, white hair unbound behind her head, datapad in hand, no shoes.

In reply to Rebecca Taylor (msg # 207):

The suits standing by the door wait until the ground is nearly at them before barring the way.

"Any weapons to declare?," one says, looking at each of you in turn.

The other has a finger to his temple, the sign of someone listening to an internal comm device. After a moment, he lowers his finger and walks forward.

"Welcome, IDA contingent. Mallory has cleared some time on her busy schedule to meet with you. Please, follow me."

With that, he opens the door and waits for everyone to file through it before pulling it shut behind him, leaving his partner outside.

The door opens to reveal a cramped room that is barely capable of fitting all of you at once.

"Hold on."

The figure puts his hand to his temple again, and suddenly a falling sensation descends upon the group as the floor becomes a moving platform which whisks you deep into the inner recesses of the building. At times you could swear the platform moves in other directions, too, like left, right, and even upward.

When the platform comes to a stop, the man opens the door and gestures for you to follow him into the long, luxuriously appointed hallway that now stretches out beyond the opening. Well-dressed men and women in business attire stride through the hallway and into the adjoining rooms with conviction, none even raising an eye at the newcomers as they go about their daily business.

The man leads you through several hallways until coming to rest in what appears to be a small reception area. There is a couch, several chairs, some potted plants, and a pleasant-looking man sitting behind the only desk, behind which in a closed door.

A plaque on the door identifies it as belonging to Mallory Lesueur-Fische, VP, Advanced Logistics Division.

"The IDA contingent," your guide says before turning and walking away.

The man behind the counter smiles and gestures to the nearby couches.

"Welcome! Mrs. Lesueur-Fische is just finishing up a prior appointment. Please, sign in and take a seat. I'll call you when she's ready."

Viceroy takes the proffered datapad and a stylus and hurries over to the couch, where he plops down in the dead center.
This message was last edited by the GM at 16:45, Thu 18 Feb 2016.

Xander signs in as well, but declines to take a seat, instead helping himself to a glass of water from a cart set up in the corner of the reception room.

In reply to Xander (msg # 209):

JJ, who has kept totally silent until now, lounges uncomfortably near the exit.

In reply to Batallion (msg # 210):

Once everyone has signed in (or declined to, as the secretary has returned to his typing and doesn't seem to be policing it), Viceroy amuses himself by looking at the list of other people who have signed in recently.

"Busy woman," he says with a note of admiration. "Productive. I like-like that. And see-see? This column show-shows affiliations. Most of these people are from outside of ACE. We must be in the right place for external affairs."

Sure enough, glancing down the list you see that a variety of minor representatives from many different agencies have recently been to see Mallory, though not all seem to have signed in today.

Notable entries among them are two people signing in at the same time for the Society of Aeronautic and Galactic Explorers (SAGE), whom you recently robbed, and one person signing in from Braeburn. Mercifully each of these entries are several weeks old.

An oddity among the entries is one frequent visitor, who uses as their name only the word "GENOME", an acronym for the organization which they represent, the Genetic Engineering and Nurturing Organization for Mankind's Evolution. This person seems to have signed in once a day, without fail, since the top of the sheet (which dates back to the start of the current quarter).

The mission of the GENOME project is public knowledge: they are a powerful nonprofit organization dedicated to registering, cataloging, researching, and developing genetically altered humans. They have long lobbied to grant political and civil rights only to registered individuals, and to consider unregistered individuals with unique abilities to be criminal liabilities -- though the only penalty they seek for such offenders is typically "registration and rehabilitation."

This individual's last meeting was mid-afternoon yesterday; if they maintain their usual schedule, they should be dropping by again in about 4 hours.

The last sign-in, however, belongs to an individual from a company you've never heard of called Gunblazers -- though calling it a "sign-in" is a stretch, because they left every other column blank.
This message was last edited by the GM at 15:45, Fri 19 Feb 2016.

In reply to The Watcher (msg # 211):

Behind closed doors, business is discussed.
This message was last edited by the GM at 16:55, Fri 19 Feb 2016.

In reply to Billy Laser Fist (msg # 212):

Lobby

The door opens and 20-something man dressed in very expensive clothing storms out of the office and takes a seat nearby.

The secretary ignores this completely, instead turning to the IDA contingent with boundless enthusiasm.

"Ms. Lesueur-Fische will see you now," he says, ushering the group into the office and pulling the door shut behind him.

The Office

The office is richly appointed in a modern style comprised of sleek, angular lines. Those familiar in any way with art would quickly calculate the room's furnishings alone to be worth at least a quarter million dollars -- not counting the powerful console installed in room's spacious desk.

A woman stands behind it, dressed in a tailored business suit and standing behind the desk with her hands clasped behind her back. She looks to be no older than 35, and the hair she wears in a tight bun displays only the faintest speckles of gray among an otherwise chestnut-brown hue.

"Good morning," she says in a warm, professional tone. "I'm Mallory Lesueur-Fische, head of ACE's Advanced Logistics Division. Please, make yourselves comfortable."

Mallory looks over those gathered, and her expression betrays a hint of confusion.

"Where's Flux? He was supposed to be here, too."

Regrettably, Flux is unable to join us ma'am. It would seem that he came down with a rather severe case of Space AIDS. Xander puts on his best somber expression. Unfortunate, but hardly surprising, given his...proclivities. Treatment will take quite some time, so we were sent on his behalf. He gestures to Viceroy. My colleague here can provide all the relevant details and security clearances.
This message was last edited by the player at 17:25, Fri 19 Feb 2016.

In reply to Xander (msg # 214):

Viceroy taps his fingers together while rocking happily in his chair, missing his cue entirely.

Once it becomes clear everyone in the room is staring at him, he hops to his feat.

"Oh! Oh yes. Details!"

Viceroy produces a tiny datacube and hands it over to Mallory.

"Install-install that and you'll have-have all the relevant details and clearances."

In reply to Viceroy (msg # 215):

Mallory looks at the cube blandly, then places it in a hand-held datapad instead of the main console.

"I won't risk compromising my primary system with IDA tracers," she explains. "No offense intended; business protocols, you understand."

The device hums and chirps, and the executive reads from it for a few moments.

"Injured in the field. That's tragically unprofessional -- you were not careful enough in protecting a valuable ACE asset. Our lawyers may be in touch with the IDA to discuss compensation for his loss, but that is a conversation for other people at another time."

She settles into her chair, which appears to have been specifically designed for her precise frame and weight.

"Well then. Let's get down to business," she begins. "As you know, Flux was a highly trained operative who we sent to supervise and protect our investment in your... project. The terms of our agreement were that we would acquire certain technology that would dramatically improve our timetables when it comes to shipping and delivering raw minerals and refined ore."

Mallory looks at every gathered, one by one.

"If you are here, I can only assume you have something to show for our investment?"
This message was last edited by the GM at 17:56, Fri 19 Feb 2016.

Xander keeps his face neutral, concealing his surprise. He shoots a quick glance at Viceroy, but needn't have bothered. It's not like Viceroy had any facial expressions to read. Judging by his silence though, the eccentric machinist was just as much in the dark as Xander.

He cleared his throat, deciding ot make an executive decision for the success of the mission. Of course. The agreement. Right. Xander fiddles briefly with his datapad, initiating a rather lengthy file transfer. Here is everything we recovered on that experimental drive.

He tagged the original file stolen from the SAGE facility for upload, complete and uncorrupted. And also entirely unmodified. Xander was quite sure that he wasn't going to simply hand over the modifications and refinements Rebecca, Viceroy, and himself had made to the plasma drive since stealing the plans. Especially not without checking with Kelce first.
This message was last edited by the player at 18:04, Fri 19 Feb 2016.

In reply to Xander (msg # 217):

Mallory accepts the file transfer but pays the technical details of the schematics little attention -- likely to be perused more thoroughly in another setting.

"Excellent," she says. "This concludes the letter of our agreement. When Flux is healthy enough, the contract stipulates that you will provide him with transit here. If he dies, send his body back instead. No autopsies are permitted."

Mallory taps a few more keystrokes into her datapad.

"Did you have any further business to discuss? Another venture that would potentially have value to ACE?"

Yes actually, Xander replies, pulling up a few relevant documents onto the holodisplay. As I understand it, ARES has been conducting experiments with a new hyperdense alloy? IDA has several ongoing projects that would benefit from access to such material. If possible, we've been tasked with negotiating a shipment purchase.
This message was last edited by the player at 18:31, Fri 19 Feb 2016.

In reply to Xander (msg # 219):

Mallory is silent for a long time, drumming her fingers upon the deck absently while the gears in her head whir and turn.

"Our experimental alloy is both classified and not for sale, particularly not to the IDA," she says at last. "Your brass can't help showing off its new toys, and if it were to reveal something armored or reinforced with this material... there would be an arms race. Braeburn would want to know why it wasn't in the Archive. Weapons would be developed to counteract its properties. The list goes on."

She continues to drum her fingers upon the desk.

"Still... we might be able to work out a deal for a small quantity of the alloy. For scientific purposes. R&D. Stress testing. We'd have to do that anyway before commercializing it. The contract would involve an NDA, a complete list of what you intend to use it for, the precise quantities you need for each use, and most importantly..."

Mallory locks eyes with each person in the office.

"...how you learned of this alloy's existence in the first place. And all of that's on top of the price. What are you prepared to offer us aside from money? Not that hard currency is off the table, of course."
This message was last edited by the GM at 19:15, Fri 19 Feb 2016.

I'm authorized to offer a significant amount of hard currency. I'm sure we can iron out the details. But beyond that... Xander suppresses a sly smile. I assure you, we came across the intel of your alloy quite by accident. But I'm confident that you'll find the circumstances noteworthy - and if ARES values its corporate cybersecurity - worth quite a lot in and of itself.

He locks eyes with Mallory. You've got a leak. I can help you plug it.

In reply to Xander (msg # 221):

"You had better," Mallory says dryly. "Because it sounds a lot like Flux is suffering less from 'space aids' than from IDA interrogation."

In the end, an agreement is reached whereby ACE agrees to part with a half-ton of the alloy in exchange for a combination of money and technology; information about the leak; a breakdown of how the alloy will be used; and an NDA clause.

"I'll have it brought up to the landing pad discretely," Mallory says once the terms are finalized. "Now tell me about the leak."

In reply to The Watcher (msg # 222):

JJ, who continued to lounge in the waiting room while others conducted business, shifts uncomfortably and does his best to avoid being directly in line of any security cameras.

OOC:  Since I fell behind, figured it's easier to just wait outside.

In reply to Batallion (msg # 223):

Rebecca will wait for a pause in the conversation to see if Xander will discuss the genetics program and will interject then.  Until that point she sits hands folded over her datapad feet swinging under the table, Percy in the chair next to her.

In reply to Rebecca Taylor (msg # 224):

Inside the Office

Business is conducted (OOC: waiting for Xander to address or fail to address the genetics program per Rebecca's update).

Outside the Office

J.J. slouches uncomfortably while trying to avoid security cameras. There are two other people in the lobby: the well-dressed man who stormed out of the office prior to Xander and Rebecca entering it and the secretary, who appears to be making a point of ignoring them both.
This message was last edited by the GM at 15:29, Mon 22 Feb 2016.

Xander brings up a display with the video feed of the ARES genetics program. We found this file in the SAGE databanks. I'm assuming you folks didn't just send it along in an email. The pilot laces his fingers together. I'd be happy to look around and see if I can identify the leak for you, but I understand if you don't want to give a non-ARES consultant access to your security systems. Either way, this should give you a start towards identifying the breach.

In reply to Xander (msg # 226):

Inside the Office

Mallory watches the video in tight-lipped silence, which extends well beyond the duration of the video.

"It's propaganda," she says at last, her voice more curt that perhaps she intended "Libel. Slanderous lies against ACE. We have defended allegations against such programs in court. Vigorously and successfully."

She assumes a more casual tone, and the conversational smile returns to her features.

"Wherever did you get it?"
This message was last edited by the GM at 15:58, Mon 22 Feb 2016.

In reply to The Watcher (msg # 227):

The Waiting Room

JJ waits until the well-dressed man's gaze is in his general direction, then sniffs loudly.

Hey, I know you don't I?  Seen you on the threedee news, right?

JJ nods to himself.  I've been there.  News crews, replays on the net.  Nah, fame isn't for me, but I guess we just can't avoid it can we?
This message was last edited by the player at 16:12, Mon 22 Feb 2016.

Like I said, it popped up in the SAGE databanks when we were...exploring...their facility. Xander spreads his hands placatingly. Look, we've got no interest in airing out ACE's dirty laundry. Frankly I don't generally care about the megacorps and their squabbles. But SAGE rubbed me the wrong way, and I figured something they want is something I don't want them to have. You're welcome to do with that information as you will. My offer to help with your cybersecurity still stands.

In reply to Xander (msg # 229):

Rebecca chimes in at this point.

There was more information than this... and I know why you have requested no autopsy on Flux.  Much as Xander is offering to audit your IT systems, the IDA has requested for me to perform an audit on your biological operations as well.  Given your involvement with GENOME, our current success in the lab at inducing and expressing additional mutations in voluntary patients, and our current knowledge on Flux it will certainly be beneficial to accept my offer.

We have already agreed to NDA agreements.  I have no interest in harming ACE.

In reply to Rebecca Taylor (msg # 230):

She leans forward as if just thinking of something

Additionally saying that you are compliant with an IDA audit will certainly lend you a certain amount of credibility.
This message was last edited by the player at 18:02, Mon 22 Feb 2016.

In reply to Rebecca Taylor (msg # 231):

"Anything for our friends at the IDA," she manages. "You got this from SAGE? That's a leak we'll plug ourselves; I have a few of their goodwill ambassadors on-station."

Mallory suppresses a sigh and slumps into her chair.

"If you wouldn't mind waiting in the lobby for a few minutes, I'll set up a suitable escort for your inspection. By the time you're finished with the audit, the wire from the ore transaction should have cleared and we'll be able to load the cargo into your freighter for you."

She begins typing at her console, the immediate business settled for now.

Batallion's companion seems a bit spooked for a second as he's addressed, "Oh, uh, yeah probably.  I think I still have one of the most viewed clips on the Archive, wicked skydiving accident." His eyes seem to lose focus as he talks and his forehead furrows for a moment before he seem to return to earth, "Oh shit, you're Horde!  I remember you from the news too.  Some of those police chases were great, man."  He stands up and approaches Batallion, extending his right hand, the entirety of which that is visible out of his sleeve is chromed.  "Call me Billy."

Despite the clearly expensive and well tailored clothing, Billy's shirt is partially unbuttoned, and entirely untucked, and he wears (still very expensive) sneakers to cap off his hardly business attire.  "Do they have you working for the IDA now?" He jerks his head back toward the office door.

Xander inclines his head respectfully and returned to the reception room.

That went entirely too smoothly... he thought to himself.

I quite agree, Sophie replied. I was just thinking the same thing.
This message was last edited by the player at 21:09, Mon 22 Feb 2016.

In reply to Xander (msg # 234):

Thank you.

Rebecca smiles and immediately becomes immersed in her datapad looking as she taps into whatever preliminary auditing software they have given her access to looking at lists of SOP's and available laboratory notebooks.

In reply to Rebecca Taylor (msg # 235):

JJ doesn't stir from his spot against the wall, but accepts Billy's handshake.

That's right, extra-orbital diving, wicked stuff.

He nods passively.  I'd hardly call it working.  Mostly I'm just here to keep the science-fair nerds safe.  Helps to have someone with a level head around.

He glances at the security cameras.  One might be forgiven for thinking that JJ purposfully leans into their view: That Horde stuff is ancient history.  I did my time.  Totally rehabilitated.  Lots of charity work, the kids and all that, you know how it is.  Hard to find free time, actually.

In reply to Batallion (msg # 236):

Xander and Rebecca return to the lobby to find Battalion chatting with Mallory's previous appointment.

"Mallory is arranging an escort for you," the secretary says, glancing down at his screen for confirmation. "It shouldn't take more than a few minutes, if you'd care to have a seat?"
This message was last edited by the GM at 15:46, Wed 24 Feb 2016.

"Oh yeah?  I love a happy ending," Billy says conversationally, "Hey, speaking of science-fair nerds," Billy borrows JJ's term without a hint of irony as he turns to the others, "Have you guys ever considered investing in military grade lasers?  I mean, you're IDA, military guys love military grade stuff, right?"

Xander sinks back into the seat he vacated just a few minutes ago, turning his attention to the new face. I'm not the right person to talk to about investments, I'm afraid. But if I had to guess, I would say the official party line would be the usual. "Unfavorable energy to destructive capability ratio, outclassed by other equally destructive but less power-intense methods...yadda yadda." The pilot cracks a slight smile. Which is a shame, because despite all that, lasers are cool as shit.

He frowns as he looks more closely at the man. Wait, you're that guy from BraeTube, aren't you? The one with the stunts channel? The guy who did a HALO jump in a jeep with ski treads strapped to a rocket, trying to land in Aspen onto that double black diamond run? Xander shakes his head in disgust. Fucking irresponsible waste, if you ask me.

In reply to Xander (msg # 239):

"Next time, you should-should strap-strap the ski treads directly to the rocket," Viceroy helpfully suggests. "Unless Jeep pay-paid you to use-use their vehicle, of course."

He bobs and fidgets in his seat, then interjects again.

"With the right mirrors and focusing lenses, lasers can regain-regain significant utility. Did you mean-mean investment in the industry, or in a specific product? Because I'm very interest-interested in schematics..."

"I know right?  We totally could have rebuilt the jeep, but it was already scrapped by the time I got out of the hospital.  But I mean there's always more Jeeps," he says with a shrug to Xander before approaching Viceroy.

"Well, specifically I have a development license for," he pauses ever so briefly and seems to be looking just past Viceroy as he speaks, "integration of military grade personal laser weapons in cybernetics and prosthetics, development of neural interfacing with personal scale integrated weapons, and advancement of concealment of integrated weapons systems."

His eyes refocus and he seems a bit more pleased with himself as he speaks, "with the right contract, and probably an NDA or something," he waves dismissively at the legal work, "you could be looking at the schematics to the latest in my fucking hand can shoot lasers."  To make the point Billy rolls his sleeve up, revealing the chrome job goes past his wrist.  As he shows off the back of his hand the knuckles flick open like little metal eyelids, revealing the lensing apertures of a row of four laser emitters to Viceroy.  He turns to Xander, "And it is cool as shit."

In reply to Billy Laser Fist (msg # 241):

It is at that... cybernetics or bionics?

Battalion manages to ask the question in a serious voice.
This message was last edited by the player at 17:22, Wed 24 Feb 2016.

"Uh..." Billy stares at JJ like he just asked which side of his head he poops out of, "The one that ends before my elbow?" Billy ventures.

It's not just not strapping the skiis to the rocket that made it fucking irresponsibly stupid, Xander protested. If you had used a multistage rocket rather than a single burner, you could have detached the re-entry bit prior to landing, and kept a late stage attached to the jeep. THEN, when you landed, you'd still have a functional rocket mounted on the jeep.

He turns to Billy accusingly, noting the man's eyes glaze over completely at the technical discussion, and decided to bring the discussion back to the real consequences of the matter. Because of your poor design, you missed the chance to have a rocket powered ski run! You could have done a ROCKET SKI JUMP after orbital re-entry! Do you have any idea how fucking sick that would have been?! Jesus! Probably would have tripled your view count. Fucking wasted opportunity! The pilot steps back to take a breath and get his emotions under control. Next time, put some thought into your engineering team. You got shafted by amateurs.

Xander winces as if somebody is yelling at him, but nobody seems to be talking. No, it's a great idea if you have the money. Stop being a spoilsport.

His attention shifts to the laser as demoed by Billy. He leans in close, poking and prodding it and scanning it with his tablet. Wow... he breathes. How did you miniaturize a power source for that? That *is* cool as shit.

In reply to Xander (msg # 244):

Billy is quiet while Xander speaks, and never once blinks.

In reply to The Watcher (msg # 245):

JJ's eyes go wider and wider as Xander rants on.

...there aren't words...

"Uh yeah, like I said," Billy blinks suddenly and responds to Xander, "It's powered by a microreactor with a..refractive crystal capacitor array?" he seems to wince, and his face strains worse as the description goes on, "I think?  I remember my boss was really proud of it and said most of those words."  He straightens out his sleeve, now that the show part was over and the tell part was quickly going over his head.

"I'm sure the engineers behind it would be happy to dazzle you with the very tedious details of its construction," he cocks an eyebrow and falls into a smirk, "after we're contractually permitted to share details of highly regulated technology," he reachhes into his breast pocket and produces a pair of very expensive suglasses, as well as a business card, "Have your people call my people," he passes the glasses to his left hand and offers the card to Xander as he slips them on.  The card is apparently for Gunblazers Inc. if the bright neon-green and pink logo across it can be trusted.

Xander nods as he takes the card, wincing at the terrible logo and font design choices, and puts it into his suit jacket pocket. This tech might actually be feasible if they're running a setup sturdy enough to keep the crystals from getting knocked out of alignment, he murmurs to Viceroy. We might actually want to see if Samantha can look into procuring a prototype for us...

In reply to Xander (msg # 248):

"Yes, but does it function-function?"

Viceroy looks at what can still be seen of the chrome arm carefully.

"Would you be able to give-give us a demonstration? We could set-set it up back on the ship. Park-parked topside, not far. If it go-goes well, I agree-agree with Xanderagent. Kelcedirector would want-want to know-know more. Contract possible. We work-work with contractors all the time."

He bobs his head slowly.

"And I can-can author-authorize IDA contracts without her, too. If that is needed."
This message was last edited by the player at 20:28, Wed 24 Feb 2016.

"I believe I said my hand can shoot lasers, not that it might theoretically shoot lasers some time in the future.  I'd be happy to demonstrate.  And I'm sure we could get a contract drafted for you to authorize with no reason for any directors to complain," he nods sagely to Viceroy, hoping to dodge any real business negotiations, "I know the hassle management bottlenecks can make."

In reply to Billy Laser Fist (msg # 250):

Rebecca stands beside Billy with a disgusted look on her face showing absolutely no recognition of who he his.  She makes a disgusted harrumphing noise and pushes... through him (literally) and walks to meet her escort.

Oh great... another idiot to babysit.
This message was last edited by the player at 03:41, Thu 25 Feb 2016.

In reply to Rebecca Taylor (msg # 251):

Viceroy pantomimes using his fist as a blaster, holding his right wrist with his left hand to mimick bracing against its recoil as he "fires" upon imaginary enemies in a semi-circular arc.

"Bzzzt! Pew pew pew! Fwoosh!"

He bobs his head enthusiastically.

"I don't care-care much about the audit anyway. Come-come with me to the ship. We can discuss-discuss business while the others handle-handle the inspection."
This message was last edited by the player at 15:34, Thu 25 Feb 2016.

In reply to Viceroy (msg # 252):

The escort arrives a few moments later, before anyone really has a chance to leave. It consists of three men and two women, each wearing dark business suits and four of whom are wearing sunglasses similar to those worn by the man who brought you here from the rooftop. None look older than 30, and all appear to be in near-perfect physical condition.

"I'm Cassidy," the sunglasses-less woman in the middle of the group says by way of introduction. Her tone is pleasant, but does not invite conversation. "I've been fully briefed on the parameters of your inspection. ACE has nothing to hide from our friends at the IDA. Please, follow me."

[Crossroads]


This message was last edited by the GM at 15:40, Thu 25 Feb 2016.

In reply to The Watcher (msg # 253):

Audits, JJ nods, his face riddled with lines of faux concern.  Vital, important, timely... critical.  Good stuff.  I won't take you away from all that.

JJ looks over his shoulder at the secretary then at the cameras again.

If it's all the same to you, I'll head back to the hanger.  Safety inspections and all that.

Xander looks longingly at Viceroy and Billy's laser fist, and sighs. Business before pleasure, he concedes, somewhat dejectedly.

Come on Rebecca, let's do this audit so we can go home.

"I knew I liked you," Billy says to Viceroy as he plays lasers, apparently not even noticing Rebecca ignoring him. "Lead the way," he gestures expansively out of the waiting area as he resists the urge to barge back into Mallory's office and tell her to suck it.

In reply to Billy Laser Fist (msg # 256):

(Rebecca has already indicated her desire to perform the audit)

In reply to Rebecca Taylor (msg # 257):

Cassidy leads her team, Rebecca, and Xander down the hallway and into the elevator shaft, which is just large enough to accommodate all seven of them. Thus, Viceroy, Battalion, and Billy are forced to wait for the next elevator.

Team Audit

The elevator gives a canned pitch as you descend dozens (hundreds?) of floors, which consists of holograms of various uniformed employees -- each ethnically diverse from the others -- smiling and declaring proudly that they are Ares Consolidated Enterprises.

After quite some time, the elevator comes to a stop and the doors open not in front of you, but behind you.

"This way," Cassidy prompts, taking the point. Xander and Rebecca find themselves surrounded, with an escort in front, behind, and on either side of them as they travel.

This hallway is far less luxurious that the last, and has an almost industrial character to it. Loud hissing sounds accompany violent bursts of venting steam from time to time, and the clamor of a full-scale mining apparatus causes the ground to vibrate periodically.

The hall terminates at a circular airlock, which the group enters. Behind it is a small changing room filled with pressure suits and a second airlock. Another hissing sound can be heard as the pressure stabilizes.

"Put these on," Cassidy says, handing Xander and Rebecca a suit each before zipping into one herself. They are entirely self-contained, including a helment, visor, and breathing tanks.

The four guards do not themselves suit up.

"The next leg is lot less comfortable, I'll warn you," Cassidy's voice crackles from the built-in telemetry. "But I'm sure that won't be a problem for IDA agents like yourselves."


Team Demo

Viceroy, Billy, and Battalion wait around for the next elevator and zip up to the rooftop without any trouble to speak of. The two men in business suits are still standing guard outside the door to the rooftop, but they barely acknowledge your presence at all.

The luxury ship that was left running and tethered to the rooftop is still there, just as it was before. Which is likely comforting to its owner

Unfortunately for everyone else, however, the modified freighter/shuttle that brought you here is nowhere to be seen.

In reply to The Watcher (msg # 258):

"I... what..."

The eccentric machinist scratches his covered head, taps on his goggles, and shifts his weight from side to side.

He then turns to the guards, who have pulled the door shut but otherwise stand passively on either side of the building's topside entrance.

"Our ship is missing. Where did it go-go?" he asks with curiosity more than concern, an image of the ship flickering into existence as he beams a holographic projection of it from his goggles. "It look-looked like this."

"Haven't seen it," one of the guards says. The other says nothing at all.

Viceroy sags his head in disappointment.
This message was last edited by the player at 18:33, Thu 25 Feb 2016.

"You've got to be kidding me," Billy mutters, "That spiteful bitch!" Billy marches up to the speaking member of the guards, "Look I don't care what happened to their ship or what it looks like, but somewhere on this planet is an IDA registered transport that I need to do business on.  I'm calling your boss right now and telling her to fuck herself.  If that ship is not en route by the end of that call I'm getting my lawyer, and he is very expensive." Billy seems to be under the impression that price directly correlates to threat as far as lawyers go, given his tone.  He stands in front of the guards with his arms crossed sternly.

In reply to Billy Laser Fist (msg # 260):

Billy's eyes lose focus as he stands there, unmoving.

Billy's eyebrow twitches as his thousand mile stare fails to penetrate his shades.

In reply to Billy Laser Fist (msg # 262):

Fuck... where's our ship!?

A pair of armed versions of JJ blink into existence and immediately flank and protect the original.

Out of my way!

Unless impeded, JJ will head back through the door.