((OOC: I'm surprised this thread hasn't been created already. I was going to make this Longshot Bridge, but then realized there could be other locations, and it seemed a bit silly to make a new thread for every location on the ship.

So, for things taking place on the Longshot, post here. If it's not happening on the Bridge or the Rec Room, then start your post with >>>>> Engineering or whatever location.))

In reply to StarMaster (msg # 1):

>>>>> In The 'Fresher
     The door slides open and Vonon, sitting on the sanitary facilities, trousers around his ankles, looks up--started.

     "Grrr!  Close that door!  Damn malfunctioning locks!  What're you lookin at?  Close the door!!"

     You said "...if it's not happening on the Bridge or the Rec Room..." ^_^

     *shudder* Gonna be a while before I lose that image from my mind. *shudder*

>>>>> Longshot Business meeting.


"Understandable, Mr. Baklanov. I can see that system being used on a free trader, however, that posses problems when the scale advances beyond that of an individual vessel, which I hope this might become in the future." Walter said. "At this stage, while it could be done that way, it would be better in the long run to keep it at the first part of your proposition, that most routine decisions be trusted to senior officers. However, anyone with no experience of the Scouts would be a fool to not consult with you and the other former Scouts on matters concerning ISS."

"The paperwork needed to get this set up can be handled by the computer but if anyone has legal experience, it would be useful to look things over. Concerning ownership, in the long run, since we would be small fish in the galactic ocean, shares in this corporation would not be sold to anyone that is not a member of this crew. If you feel that you wish to depart, your current shares will be sold back to the corporation at the value of the share at the time of the sale. Other crew members would have first option to purchase shares and any remaining shares to retained by the corporation. If it was decided to sell Longshot Enterprises, it would require a 2/3rds majority to do so. "

"As for positions, in addition to the earlier mentioned positions, someone would be needed as our Public Affairs Officer to handle interaction with the public. It could be an additional job or added to the duties of the Secretary. Someone to act as a researcher in order to locate wrecks that we could salvage, along with locating all the history this vessel has in its one hundred plus years of operation would be useful.  Special Operations. While I hope that we do not get entangled into things that might be quasi-legal, there is nothing preventing someone trying to harm the corporation itself. Also, someone to handle the legal aspects would come in rather useful, even if it is just to keep track of the bail money, if it was ever needed. What other jobs do you think would be useful on the business side of things? Military Liaison?, Training? Sentient Resources? " he asked.

"Concerning jobs that we might take, my thought is nothing illegal like smuggling, or on the grey side, like repo work. So for the time being, trade and salvage, agreed?"

Sam raised an eyebrow at Walter "Thats a fairly limited pool of work to look at. I'd say we should consider any job, as long as its legal, and we can decide on a case by case basis which ones we'll take. Like I said, I think we should advertise ourselves as problem solvers, and see what we're offered. If we advertise ourselves as Traders and Salvage, thats what we'll get offered. And frankly, as a career plan that doesn't appeal to me."

Serge nodded.
- Also, what about acquiring a mercenary license? That would give us access to some good stuff which is useful of its own accord even if we ignore added array of jobs. Ever considered bounty hunting? I have a few names to remeber in this sector whos head whould be paid for handsomely and purely legal. Dangerous business, of course, but the team seems capable and the ship is sturdy.
This message was last edited by the player at 08:45, Tue 20 Nov 2018.

Vonon sat up in his seat, glaring at Serge--his lips curled back and his nose all wrinkled in a snarl.  But just as Vonon opens his mouth to speak, he pauses--and a suddenly thoughtful look passes over his canine face,

"You know, at first thought, I felt being Bounty Hunters would be a bad idea," Vonon says, settling back in his chair, "When I was in the Patrol I never met a Bounty Hunter I ever liked--thought of all of them as scum, barely better than the sentient dirt they brought in."

"But just now, it occurred to me that there are Bounty Hunters, and then there are Bounty Hunters."

Vonon waves his hands in the air, "Wait, wait, wait--what I mean is...um...we Hunt...for...Bounty?  I mean, we will find things--I mean that in a really, really broad sense--for people, and they will pay us to bring them what we find...?"

"Look.  If you look at it several ways--half this crew is made up of ex-scouts, half this crew is ex-military enforcement, half this crew is ex-law enforcement, almost all of us are spacers of some kind, and a few of us are familiar with the heady heights of the Aristocracy.  If we put our minds to it, there is very little we couldn't do.  We just need to keep putting the spin on whatever we do that we are 'hunting' something for a client for which we shall be paid."

"We spot a good speculative trade deal on one planet-- then we are 'hunting' for a buyer to pay ourselves.  Somebody wants a moon, or some piece of Outback on a planet scouted for resource extraction or colonial settlement--we go in an 'hunt' for the information.  Some Mercenary Unit has a job coming up on a planet and they need third-person intel they can trust--we make up a cover story to go to that planet and 'hunt' for the tactical and strategic data the need."

"Anything that we can spin like this should be legal.  Or at least, we'll be leagally covered.  Even that Mercenary scenario--we're not doing any of the fighting, we are just subcontracted scouts.  Even if we, ourselves, initiate a job--like we see a Wanted Flash on a guy that we saw at a store, earlier that day.  We choose to go 'hunt' for him on our own initiative.  We stop at some backwoods agro-station, and just let it be known we have 50 tons of cargo space available--if some farmer approaches us to fly it somewhere, hey, we fly cargo.  If we're listening to the Port Newspod, and we hear about a wreck from a few weeks back that hasn't, yet, been salvaged, we go salvage it.  If some Rock-hopper Grandma comes crying to us that she hasn't heard from her kids out at their mining claim for several days, we go rescue them."

"And everything we do gets us a Bounty.  We don't do any one thing, we do everything.  But!  We do not, specifically, advertise ourselves as 'trouble-shooters' or 'fixers'.  Those labels have a different meaning in the criminal underworld.  We should try to avoid letting anyone pin us down as to just what we do--because if we don't, eventually somebody is going to ask us to actually shoot their trouble!"

"So we do just like Sir Walter has said--we call ourselves 'Longshot Enterprises'--because that's what we do, we engage in 'speculative enterprise', we are 'entrepreneurs'--we put out an add, something like, 'If you need something done, and done right, call Longshot Enterprises', we let folks interpret that however they want, so they call us, tell us their problem, then ask us if that's something we can help with."

Vonon grins, "Heck, like I said, taking on them spying missions for Merc Companies might earn good money.  I've never been a Spy before! hurr-hurr-hurr"

"This is turning into an Ihatei band. Just great...
Khea sits straight up and tries to make a 'wise and serious' face which probably no non-Aslan can even interpret.

"Creating a real company with all that entails is hardly necessary for a single ship and its crew. But if you want to play company go ahead. This will at least put any clans we meet at ease and ensure them of our neutrality assuming no one of you is married.

As for what we should do, what can we actually do? A handful of males hardly makes a mercenary force. And we don't really have any experts in other fields. So what's left? Low yield scavenging and small trades?
This message was last edited by the GM at 05:08, Thu 22 Nov 2018.

"It sounds to me like we're all saying the same thing... we're just getting  hung up on semantics," Valeska chimed in.

"We're all agreed, though, on not doing anything illegal. At least, nothing that's clearly and obviously illegal, like robbing a bank. Because... unless we're going to stick with the mundane... trade and salvage, there's bound to be gray areas. Hell, for that matter, there's probably going to be times when we'll have to break the law to do the right thing."

"I think Vonon has the right of it, though: we don't actually say exactly what we'll do. Leave it rather vague and general. If we don't like what we're being asked to do, we just don't do it."

Sharik looked wistful for a moment, having started to daydream for a bit when the conversation had started to dive deeper into the potential bureaucracy that a corportion might entail.  Paperwork had never been her strong point, even when she saw the necessity of it.  She'd been dreaming of hors d'oeuvres.  And especially a particularly scrumptious canapés recipe that the dimintive socialite knew very well.

But the continued discussion pulled her back in.  "Never been much for titles, really.  All of the tasks outlined for running the show are going to be necessary, title or not." Shar noted simply.  If they wanted the company to survive and profit then the crew here was going to have pull their weight no matter what.  "I trust our resident business acumen...." and she inclined her head towards Walter, "to not lead us astray.  And I volunteer to work in whatever capacity is needed.  If that is as corporate Secretary," and she shrugged slightly, though her shoulders may have slumped a touch, "so be it."

"As for gainful employment," Shar seemed to understand the consensus, "'Odd jobs' or 'troubleshooting' - even on the legal side - can be plentiful, if we know where and how to find it."  She had some experience and contacts in that regime (and while contacts aged, experience could still be invaluable).  And Cassandra's Belt was Vonon's stomping ground.  So, likely they could scrounge up something suitable in the short term.  "If we'd like to remain above board, then licenses are definitely in order." Shar posited, while glancing towards Walter as it might be even more paperwork as well as influence any charter documents, "We aren't likely to be covered in all principalities no matter what, but that doesn't mean that we shouldn't try to keep our legal house in order."  The Imperium and its clients states had one set of licenses, but those wouldn't hold everywhere on the frontier.

The auburn-haired navigator let out a deep breath, a crooked smile playing on her face.  More paperwork. she reminded herself, feeling slightly crestfallen.  But then she brightened, Definitely need to raid the on-board pantry in the premium section again.  There's still some decent cavier in there.  And those little finger sandwiches required it ...  That and some Sylean brandy.

In reply to Sharik Kaagira (msg # 9):

Vonon had been nodding as the others spoke, "Right, right.  We really don't need anything more complicated that the usual Free Trader Crew Contract--uh, what are they called in the regular retail world--'Employee-Owned Ell-Ell-Cee', does that sound right?  It's just a profit-sharing agreement that allows for upkeep and maintenance on a ship.  That's all we need right now, I think."

At least you are not as stiff as an Ihatei band.
And as long as there is no prospect of getting a second ship or setting up a permanent operation somewhere I don't see the reason to have all the overhead of a real corporation.

In reply to Kheaiftouaw (msg # 11):

"Yup, yup, yup." Vonon, again, nods in agreement, "Like Khea says--right now all we need is just something like a Free Trader Profit Sharing agreement.  We let the 'corporate' minutia be handled by the extant structure of shipboard responsibility--the Ships Officer structure--there's only us right now, after all, it's not like we have investors."

"We leave the bigtime incorporation stuff until we start acquiring real property--other ships, planet-based warehouses, contracted trade routes...our own planets!"

"For the most part we let the Captain be the Company Boss.  That's not to say that, when we can, if there's time in the deal making, we don't all get together--like now--and have a pow-wow about deals we're offered or might pursue.  If it makes anyone happy, call that a Board Meeting or call it a Crew Meeting, same thing either way."

"But, if time is critical, the Captain--that's still you, Sir Walter--can go ahead and make deals and contracts on his own initiative--just like a Free Trader Captain."

"Everyone is owed 1 Share of Ship's Profit--because we're all equal partners, here, right?  The Ship gets 2 Shares, from which all maintenance fees, resupply costs, and payroll for non-invested Crew shall be taken.  And if the Ship Account is ever depleted, we, as the Crew, have to add to it from our own profits."

"Question--on top of the 2 Shares for the Ship, do we want to also set aside 1 Share for a Slush Fund?  Y'know, for the money we might need for emergencies or to use for speculative trade of our own?"

((OOC: The shift in threads kind of pushed this aside. And then RL jumped up and bit me...))


>>>>> CONTINUING THE CONVERSATION WITH EVELYN...





"I am truly sorry to hear about your... events," Pablo replied. "And, yes, the aliens are to blame. Considering the Fate that met them, I would think that the Universe has plans for you. These are good people. You should really want them as friends."

"Unfortunately, aboard a ship, you can't really bury your head in the sand."

"As it turns out, Survivor's Guilt is merely one aspect of the fancier term of post-traumatic stress disorder. Now... I'm not saying you have either, but if you had PTSD, you might not be able to recognize it in yourself."

"You've certainly experienced some trauma. It doesn't always have to be physical violence, such as getting an arm blown off. It's your mind's way of dealing with severe stress. It's different for everyone. You could develop PTSD if you had a puppy that died. For women, it can also be a miscarriage."

"Most people don't recover from PTSD on their own. They need a bit of help, even if that's only someone to listen to them."

He paused then to let his words sink in. That was a lot of words, quite unusual for him. Her... anger? Melancholy? He couldn't quite put a label on it, but it still needed an outlet... a focus. Maybe he could set up a dummy alien for her to beat on...

"It is better to have a limited scope at start and expand when the resources become available. So far we know that this vessel can haul cargo and small ships, so building up our skills in those areas will help us getting established in the subsector. With that, the more specialized jobs will come to us when we have proved our abilities. We can keep our ears open and it makes more sense to haul cargo as a cover for anything else we might happen to be doing." Walter said.

Listening to Vonon and Valeska, he had a curious look, deep in thought. "I agree that we are all saying the same thing. We can keep our ears open for any opportunity that may come our way. Now, I disagree with you Vonon on the equal shares. We are at a point that all of us can retire at this very moment if we wanted to and live a very comfortable life. I was thinking of one share for every 1 million credits that are invested into the ship fund. 80% of the money raised will go to the ship for upgrades along with operating it and 20% for cargo, so we will always have a source of revenue. In return, while aboard the ship, each member of the crew will be cared for at a rich standard of living (5,000) and 5,000 credits a month for pay. The number of shares available for sale will be limited to those that are purchased at this time."

"If I had PTSD it'd be because of my father not the deaths of thousands of strangers. And I'm fine. I just want to work away from prying eyes fixing things and keeping out of people's way. No need to worry about me. Besides I'm paying into this group. So I have a place here." she replied little defensively .

"There are times that I prefer working on things by myself, too," Pablo agrees. "If you do that all the time, though, that's a bit of a problem."

"You are already talking to me, so that's a step in the right direction."

"Anyway... don't get hung up on the PTSD terminology. That's for clinical diagnosis. What it means is that you were hurt at some point... physically, mentally, emotionally... and your mind creates a defensive mechanism to cope with what you're feeling, often to avoid confronting the pain."

"I don't know whether the aliens did you a favor or not, but whatever hurt you experienced, the way past it is forward. As long as you hide in dark places away from others, it wins. Don't let it win."

"Not everyone wants to be saved. Not everyone should be saved. I have spent years swimming above the Sonar
 I did my job, I tried to avoid notice. I didn't have friends or lovers. Didn't go to parties. And I became a living ghost. And I liked that. I felt comfortable like that. I know you're trying to help but in the real world people only care if you do your job. Booze, drugs, or hiding away from the world as long as you get the job done nobody care what you do. Hell they prefer if you hide away. Then you're like a broom they take you out of the closet to use you then put you back in until they need you again. I don't need to manage my damage as long as it only destroys me." she replied darkly.

"You're wrong. Only partly, though," Pablo replies. "Not everyone is like that. Oh, it's true that the 'system' tends to produce those types. It takes a strong spirit to resist the stamping mold that produces them. If you don't conform, the system tries to beat you down until you do."

"The system only makes the mundane work. What makes life fun and exciting are the free spirits. Those are the friendly types, the ones that would rather be your friend than your boss or your competitor."

"That's the crew of this ship. If making friends scares you, then you should probably not be on this ship. But that's your choice, not ours. You've been invited aboard. Until you give us a reason to think otherwise, we're all your friends now."

"Anyway... just some things for you to think about. I was just checking to make sure you were otherwise okay."

He waits for a moment to see if she has anything else to say, and then leaves her alone.

In reply to Pablo Esteban Ryzov (msg # 18):

From down the companionway, forward, a growly voice suddenly howls,

"Who the frack ate the last of my snickerdoggies?!  I swear by all the Gods of Space--I will track down the thief and bite a chunk outta their ass!  Vengeance is coming, O Evil Snickerdoggie Thief, and his name is Vonon!"

This is immediately followed by several laughs and giggles--including Vonons own barking chuckle.

Evelyn looked away as the barking chuckle and his advice fell over her. She then got up getting some maintenance tools and looked at him. "I'm going to go fix something somewhere." she replied and left to find a quiet place to work and hide away.

>>>>> MEDICAL BAY:


Reese dashes into the Medical Bay and over to the four cryo-berths standing up at one end of the room.

The one on the far right has the flashing amber light around the view port, signifying that someone is about to wake up out of their cold sleep.

The readouts on the unit show that the person within has been healing and the process is 95% complete. Apparently, he's been in there for a week! The reason the unit is reviving him is because it's run out of biocorticetalin, a drug that promotes healing.

Reese waits for the cryo-chamber to finish cycling. Since there wasn't an emergency, the occupant didn't have to brought out quickly, but could be revived in the normal manner.

He's surprised to find that there is no personal identification entered into the record. There's not even any information about the man's injuries or who put him into the chamber. It sure hadn't been Reese!

Could it have been one of the people that left the ship? The timing was about right. They could have brought the man aboard without the rest of the crew knowing about it, however difficult and strange that would have been.

As the light turned green and the chamber cycled open, Reese grabbed his bioscanner and started scanning the occupant. The reason for that was twofold--making sure that the unit had and was still working properly and the occupant wasn't having an adverse reaction to the revival process.

With the cycle complete and the door open, the man inside slowly opens his eyes.

"Easy there," Reese says to him. "You've just woken up from coldsleep so you'll be a bit groggy for a minute or so. I'm Dr. Hardsimm, your attending physician."

He waited then to see what the person said and did.

In reply to Reese Hardsimm (msg # 22):

A pained groan comes from the tube as it opens, "Remind me not to do business with Falko in the future."
A man appearing to be in his mid 30's sits up from the chamber, after a brief glance around the room his eyes appear to glaze over for a moment. "8 days, 4 hours, and 17 minutes since I lost consciousness. Torn rotator cuff, healed. Punctured right lung, healed. Blood loss, recovered. Fractured clavicle, healed."

His eyes refocus on Hardsimm, "I appear to be alive and whole, do I have you to thank for that?"

Not waiting for a reply, he carefully stands before pulling off the remains of his robe, a sudo-silk affair that would be at home on the trade floor of any number of hot worlds scattered throughout the sector. The bloody holes in the back and front around the right shoulder and chest clearly marking the cause his injuries. "Frak, I liked this one."
This message was last edited by the player at 05:16, Sun 22 Nov 2020.

"Not quite sure how to answer that," Reese replies. "As far as I can recall, I didn't place you in the cryo-chamber. I didn't even know you were in there. However, as I'm the medic on this ship, I suppose I'm responsible for the cryo-chambers."

"So, you have some type of medical implant. Then it can tell you the same thing I observe. You are 95% healed from your injuries. There's only some minor bruising and muscle strain that hasn't fully healed yet. Those things do so much slower in cold sleep."

"However, I have a few questions. First: who are you? Second: how did you get on this ship? Third: how did you get those injuries? Four: who put you in the cryo unit?"

In reply to Reese Hardsimm (msg # 24):

Tapping the band on his right arm the man says, "personal medscanner not implant, though I have those too."

Poking at the new flesh on his chest he continues, "In order in short form: I am Tescha, don't know, don't know, and don't know." His eyes unfocus for a brief second and a high pitched whine comes from a second cryoberth, "At least I appear to be on the right ship and my equipment made it."

"Longer form: I am an, let's say, interested party following some leads on a series of unlikely events in the subsector. I had been assured a berth on the Longshot to be arranged by Falko Devlin, as he believed Darrel Cromwell was already looking into it. Unfortunately the long answer to the other questions are the same, I was approaching the Longshot on Invermory and that is the last thing I remember."

Pointing at the whining cryoberth, "Do you mind if I get dressed in something a bit warmer?"

Reese walked over to the other cryo-berth, but already knew by observation that it hadn't been active. That it had been used as a storage locker surprised him at first. There was a compartment under each unit for storing personal gear, since clothing tended to interfere with treatment. On the other hand, it provided a significant security solution, since who would think to look inside it? Certainly better than leaving it just sitting out... which would have also alerted the crew! How... peculiar.

"Certainly," he replied, as he stepped over to the computer station, called up life support and increased the room temperature on the thermostat.

"I've increased the room temperature as you'll feel a bit cold for a few hours as the cryo suspension slowly wears off. It's an odd situation. Normally, you're brought out of cryo slowly enough that your body adjusts normally. While your wake-up wasn't quite an emergency, it was done more rapidly than normal."

He taps another button on the console.

"Captain, this is Reese in sickbay. We have an unexpected guest. I can't quite say he qualifies as a stowaway, though."

In reply to Reese Hardsimm (msg # 26):

Nodding, the high pitch whine ends as Tescha grabs some cleansing wipes and wipes off the dried blood from his chest and back before flipping up the cover on the second cryoberth. Tescha picks up a backpack and carefully avoids both the duffle bag and a long black case.
Opening the backpack, he pulls a ruggedized comm out and slaps it on his wrist, before quickly dressing in a tan outfit with several pockets on the legs and sleeves he comments, "If you are going to consider me a stowaway, you'll want to hold onto the black case."

"If you're not going to shoot me, I could use an analgesic, the head, and some very strong black coffee - in that order."

"I am not sure how someone in a low berth got aboard with none of us knowing. Interpal, report to medical with your sidearm and assist the Doc please." Sir Walter said before letting the Captain know on the link to the explorers.


+++Vonon, [*].+++
* Varg merchant slang term for stowaway.

In reply to Walter Zeller (msg # 28):

OOC: My name doesn't mean "Stowaway"!  Does it...?  Mom...?

"Well, as I said, Tescha, I don't think you quite fit the definition of stowaway," Reese says, "as that implies a certain amount of intent."

"Besides, I've never heard of anyone trying to kill himself, then climbing into coldsleep to stowaway. At best, we might say someone stowed you away aboard the ship."

"In any case, it's not my decision to make. It's at least the Captain's call, but we tend to be rather democratic here, so the crew could decide differently. One word of caution: Captain Vonon is a Vargr, but his bark is worse than his bite... unless you cross him."

"So, even if you can't remember what happened, that's not unusual. Most people tend to have a bit of amnesia for traumatic events. Sometimes it comes back, sometimes it never does."

"Let's start with... what's the last thing  you remember?"

In reply to Reese Hardsimm (msg # 30):

"Sure, 10 days ago, I was speaking with an information broker named Falko Devlin on Invermory. He indicated he had been working with Darrel Cromwell and he was interested in finding out information regarding a series of highly unlikely events that have occurred in the local subsector. Specifically a Duncinae report he picked up about 100 people vanishing from Coventry and being spotted elsewhere in the sector. Second, a survivor of the dome flooding that he indicated teleported out of the dome & spent time on your ship. Third, the reactor detonation of a ship that had just had it's reactor overhauled. Finally, a rockhopper being crushed between 2 asteroids in the Cassandra Belt."

"8 days ago I was approaching Longshot to board on the berth he said he arranged. At about 10m out, I lost consciousness and woke up in your cryoberth."

"I've heard about the incidents, and the person from Sarrad was one Evelyn Darque," Reese replies. "She was on board our ship when we made port in Invermory, but for some reason, she felt she needed to leave the ship then."

"I suppose she could have let you aboard. Never heard of a Falko Devlin. And Count Cromwell use to be the captain on this ship until he got injured. He left with the previous medic, which is what opened the door for me."

"So, somewhere between your approach to the ship and the cryo-chamber, you were attacked. It seems more probable that you were attacked on the ship, which is why you would have been put in the cryo-chamber. I wonder why not the autodoc, though? Maybe to delay your discovery. Well, that certainly worked!"

He didn't feel like it was his place to reveal any more information. Not only hadn't Tescha been vetted yet, but most of the information was second-hand.

In reply to Reese Hardsimm (msg # 32):

'Whether I was attacked on the ship or brought in, given the nature of the wound, there should have been quite a bit of blood to clean up"

"I would suggest checking with the service drone logs & find out which one cleaned the medbay 8 days ago & track it back. That should tell you where the attack happened."

Inderpal received the instruction to report with her sidearm to medical and acknowledged. She had a TL8 stunner in her personal locker and that would hopefully prove sufficient.

COMM START >>> "Understood. On my way." <<< COMM END

Outside, those in the medical bay could hear footsteps in the corridor as Inderpal walked down to the ship's locker. About a minute later, there was a polite knocking on the door.

In reply to Inderpal Kumar (msg # 34):

Raising his voice, Tescha says "come in, I'm dressed and promise I haven't taken Doc hostage."

Checking the holographic projector on the medical table, he finds it accessible & projects the digital equivalent of his passport, resume, and copies of his 3 books (Recovering Drexilthar through the Ruins of Traneer III, Duncinae's Lost Colony on Luushakaan, and A Guide to Yarhfahl's Iltharan Ruins)

Reese walks over to the door and opens it to find Inderpal there.

"This isn't a private room, Indy," he says. "You don't need to knock before you enter. If there's a quarantine symbol on the door, though, you might want to think twice before you enter."

"This is Tescha. He's got a bit of amnesia. I found him in the coldsleep chamber undergoing healing. There's no record of how he got onto the ship, how he got injured, or how he got into the coldsleep. According to the coldsleep log, he would have been in no condition to have put himself in."

"So, technically, he might be a stowaway, but I'm not sure the legal definition supports that. Someone else clearly put him on the ship."

"Anyway, he needs to go talk to the Captain, and, until we know more about him, he needs an armed escort. Just to be on the safe side, though, I'll go with you."

"It's polite to knock", Inderpal replied, "You never know what someone might be doing behind a closed door. They could be naked for all you know."

She looked over Tescha, trying to get a read on him.

"What more can you tell us about yourself, Tescha?" she asked politely, "Also, the Captain's a Knight, so we need to work out who should be doing the bowing."

She waited for his response, where she would analyse his accent to see how posh he was.

In reply to Inderpal Kumar (msg # 37):

"Bowing seems a bit formal, but as a Knight I would be bowing to him."

Waving at the hologram, "Everything else important is there: Born and raised on the Cassandra Belt, 12 years doing archeological digs: 8 at Iltharan ruins, 4 at an post Drexilthar Empire Duncinaen colony that had been originally mis-identified. Finally, 4 years as a field negotiator for the Confederacy of Duncinae." As he speaks, the relevant portions of his passport and resume are highlighted, though he makes no motions to manipulate them.

His accent is hard to place, the core is definitely from the Rich side of Rockport in the Cassandra Belt, but there are inflection variations that appear borrowed from Duncinae. His posture and bearing indicate that he's not overly impressed at the imminent prospect of  meeting a knight, but his casual air suggests that either he didn't grow up in high society, or he's since lost interest in such things. His current clothing is pressed, well made, and highly functional - though the bloody robe folded on the 2nd cryoberth appears to be made of either spider silk or a very good facsimile of it.

"What's archeological digging like?" she asked, "It's not really an area I've had a chance to bone up on. I used to be in the Scout Service myself."

Inderpal slipped the little pun in there, not drawing any emphasis on it. She noted he was a field negotiator, so he might definitely have a way with words... and half-truths.

She let him answer, then moved to open the door for him.

"Ahh, just lick it, the answers will  come to you," Seeing her confusion he clarified, "It's how we determine if it's a bone or a rock, you lick it - if your tongue sticks, it's bone."

"In reality, mostly dirty. You spend a year researching a site and putting a team together. Argue with locals about details you already have signed contracts over. Then you finally start digging in the dirt and argue over whether that's an artifact or someone just tossed it out a window 2 decades ago."

Waving at the display, the hologram vanishes. "Of course, you find some interesting things you don't expect. For example, we opened up a collapsed hallway on Traneer and found Lord Bran Richardson's corpse - a continent away from where he disappeared on his own dig almost 100 years ago."

Slinging the bag over his right shoulder, he grunts as he lifts the long black case. "We'll need to stop at your weapons locker for this."

"It would be a lot more exciting if it were like the holovids, but the truth is that it's 90% boring and details with an occasional find that makes things exciting. The sad part is that nobody really wants to know what you discovered anyway. For the Iltharan's, people are happy with their holovid villains who shoved wires into the brains of people with psionics and amped the power until their brains melt. Nobody is all that interested in knowing that the tech was originally developed to treat brain injuries."

"That's true enough," Reese says. "There was a time when medicine was as much accident as knowledge. You're trying to do one thing and suddenly you're doing something else that's better."

"While we still don't know everything, research isn't as hit and miss as it once was."

"Okay, here we are: The Bridge."

"Sir Walter this is our unexpected patient, Tescha. Tescha, meet Sir Walter."

Spinning his chair around to see the unexpected "guest", Sir Walter was not sure how the prison would react if there was a new prisoner that showed up on the planet with no paperwork. "I am Dr. Sir Walter Zeller, acting Captain of the Longshot. Normally I handle the administrative and commercial side, while Captain Vonon deals with the day to day operation of the ship. He will be returning shortly, and have the final say in this matter. I would say welcome aboard but there are a few questions about how you ended up here in the first place." he said, turning his attention to Dr. Hardsimm, getting the details on how Tescha ended up in a low berth.

Once done, he started to scratch at his chin in thought "Hum, may I see your identification and TAS form 2 please." Sir Walter asked, trying to get an idea as to his skills and if Tescha was a plant from some criminal organization.

22:57, Today: Walter Zeller rolled 8 using 2d6+2 with rolls of 4,2.  Investigate.

Still sitting in the pilot's chair, Valeska listened to Tescha as he told his story again, trying to find any holes in it.

"We have a few... umm, problems? Issues? Puzzles? ...here. We don't have any low berths on the ship," she begain. "At least, we're not supposed to have any. We purchased three back on Invermory, but, according to Khea, we didn't have time to wait for them to get delivered. She certainly didn't install them."

"On the other hand, the type of unit we bought doesn't take a lot of installation. Put them in place, drop the magnetic clamps, and then plug them in. Installation normally requires putting in the outlets and routing power to them. Medical was already configured for them... or for similar machinery, so appropriate outlets were already there."

"Still, wheeling in three low berths without being seen is a pretty nifty trick."

"Then there's the problem of ship access. If we don't have anyone on guard or watch, then the ship's security is supposed to be engaged. I'm looking at the logs here, and there is a gap where ship's security wasn't on... and the person on watch was Horatio. Pretty much anyone with minimal credentials could have gotten on at that point, particularly if they were delivering the low berths. We did have an authorized delivery scheduled. If it came a bit earlier than expected, I don't see why there would have been a problem. Most problems are when they are late."

"And then there's Falko Devlin. I don't know him personally, but I know OF him. He's an information broker. Or so he claims. Everyone seems to think he's with one of the intelligence services, and, of course, the more he denies it, the more people believe it."

"He did have dealings with the Count. Kind of the same thing he presented to Tescha. Only, the Count was in a position to actively pursue the puzzle. It certainly seems reasonable that he would have wanted to get someone aboard the Longshot as a sort of replacement for the Count."

"It's certainly not out of the realm of possibility that Falko brought Tescha aboard the ship. He probably has the credentials, real or not, to have convinced Horatio that it was okay. After that, it's pure speculation. Someone could have been trying to stowaway for real to get to Coventry. Tescha got caught in a crossfire."

"The final question is: who put him in the low berth? I suppose Horatio could have done it, but why wouldn't he have reported it to someone?"

"I can think of only one other person that might have done it: Veronika."

Inderpal stood next to Tescha in case he tried anything stupid, in which case a firm kick would occur.

"We could also bring them in and ask them. See how they react when face to face with him."

She waited for Tescha to get out his papers, which she would hand over to Sir Walter.

Setting down the black case and ship bag, Tescha pops off his wrist comm and sets it down. The integrated holoprojector immediately begins displaying his Identity Documents, TAS membership logs, and planetary Visas.
Addressing Walter he says, "That's the basics of who I am."

Turning to the pilot, "From my limited medical experience, the cryoberths in medbay appear to be proper medical bays rather than low berths, so your low berths are probably still out on the tarmac on Invermory. Let me sync my medical response to ships time and show you exactly when I was attacked and you can compare that to your system's gap."

The holodisplay changes to a medical readout initially showing Invermory time then resyncing to ship time. At just after dawn Invermory time, the medical record shows a massive spike in heart rate accompanied by a huge drop in blood pressure. Secondary records of drug injections of combat slow, trauma drugs, and anti-shock drugs all appear within seconds. Within 2 minutes, the records show a spike in metabolism accompanied by increased body temperature just before rapid cooling - consistent with the application of medical slow and a cryoberth.

"Your doctor here can confirm the trauma and provide you more details from the berth's scanners if you're interested. I'm not sure why the medical slow would have taken over 8 days to finish, but whoever injected it might not have known about the combat slow and there could have been an interaction." As he speaks the appropriate elements highlight.

"IF Falko is currently MilInt, I don't know who he's playing for. From what he told me he is, in fact, former MilInt and currently working alone. However, I doubt he is entirely divorced from his former employer. The fact that he is aware of over 100 people vanishing from Coventry tells me his fingers are buried very deeply into Duncinae Intelligence." Tescha pauses while gauging reaction to the last bit of information.

"I doubt putting a huge hole in my chest was Falko's plan to get me a berth on the ship - especially since it does not engender any good will towards him or his goals. However, since nobody is aware of my supposed berth, it doesn't appear that his plan was entirely above board either."

At that point, there was a General Broadcast across the ship from Captain Vonon.

^{COMM START>>>} "This is Vonon.  Sam and I learned that each lab was assigned a lockable cabinet.  Everyone who thinks they can open a simple cabinet lock--without using explosives!--go to a lab, locate the cabinet, get it open, then bring the contents down to the Entry Level.  There are four labs on each of the lower four floors, so that's sixteen cabinet contents to be collected."

     "Anyone who doesn't think they can unlock a cabinet, coordinate with someone who thinks they can.  You can at least help bring the contents down here." ^{<<<COMM END}

Inderpal heard this and figured that she knew how to open a simple cabinet lock. Or to carry thing.

"If I'm not needed here, Sir Walter", she said, "I will go down to the site and assist Captain Vonon."

She waited for his response, which she assumed would be one of consent.

"Well, that answers why Falko was confident he could get me a berth. Am I correct that that is Vonon Ronkunu - formerly of the Cassandra Belt Space Patrol, and is he looting a pre-penal colony location on Coventry?"

In reply to Tescha (msg # 47):

OOC: No-o-o-o-o....he's looting an active Penal Colony location...
     Oh...you mean that the Base pre-dates the Penal Colony...well, then...Yes..?

Sir Walter frowned a bit as he reviewed the paperwork and then heard the broadcast. "Take him with you to Captain Vonon. For all we know Tescha was supposed to be a prisoner here." he said to Interpal."Grab a vacc suit for him please." he added indicating Tescha.

"Yes, Sir Walter", Inderpal replied obediently, then turned to Tescha, "You're not a prisoner here, are you? Because if you are, we won't be very happy.."

She indicated for him to follow her back to the locker, where the vacc suits would be.

In reply to Inderpal Kumar (msg # 50):

OOC: So...will the two of you just show up over at the Base, already! ^_^

In reply to Vonon Ronkunu (msg # 51):

After Inderpal opened the storage locker, Tescha lifts the large case and backpack on a bench.

Opening the pack, he pulls out a combination mask and a thermal suit - keeping the jacket, he folds the pants back up and sets them aside. Digging a bit deeper, he pulls out field & survival kits and attaches them to his belt.

"We're on Coventry, so a suit would be extreme - unless this is a hot zone of some sort?" With her denial, he continues, "Unless you'll let me have my kukri, I just need access to the comm channel and I'm ready to go."
This message was last edited by the GM at 16:13, Fri 08 Jan 2021.