Zhouth's ears perked up again. "The showered in gold and lanthanum part!" He'd recovered his voice, too. "And if we're working for that nice King Oleb who will help other worlds with their Sindalian raider problems, well, now they know that he helps other worlds with their raider problems, even if they aren't Sindalian ones!" He waved both arms out to the sides and then back again as if to illustrate the enormity of this diplomatic consequence. Then his ears drooped again and his hands both gripped his comm just a little bit more closely. "I know it's dangerous, and I don't like dangerous, but we can't do this by making all of the safe choices, right? So we do the daring thing this time, even though it scares me witless to say that."

  The wan grin returned, leavened with a bit of possibly-genuine but probably-forced enthusiasm. "And if we're still alive after we're done, everyone will be even more impressed by the fact that we did it with a ship that isn't even fully rebuilt yet!"
This message was last edited by the player at 05:00, Sun 09 Aug 2020.

In reply to Zhouth (msg # 513):

     Varca leans over towards Zhouth, and in a stage whisper across the table, says,

     "Uh, Zhouth, I don't think we've told BB about 'Plan: Ghosts of Sindal', yet..."

     Varca then sits back and shrugs,

     "And, yeah, as you say, Zhouth, maybe we can give recruiting these Raiders over to our cause a try.  They'll probably answer our offer with a laser blast, but...y'never know." Varca raises his gloved right hand and mimes pointing a pistol at Zhouth and pulling the trigger,

     "We can always fry'em nice and crispy, if they don't mind their manners.  But, yeah, there's always a chance we could get a couple of recruits out of the survivors."

     "Look, here's a counter suggestion..." Varca leans forward and puts both his gloved hands on the table top,

     "We got everything fixed to make Jump-Twos except the Jump Drive!  We can still only accomplish Jump-Ones.  With the addition of the Fuel Pod in the cargo bay, we can now assign all the fuel in the Main Tanks to making two consecutive Jump-Ones, and still have the fuel to run the ship for five weeks before we're bone dry."

     "So, let's consider this--we make the two Jump-Ones from Drinax to Torpol.  We'll drop by Torpol to see if there is anything we can find out about, or even do about, these Raiders.  And, while we're there we can look into what kinds of repairs they can do for us, at the Starport.  If they can fix the Jump Drive, we'll be sitting kinda pretty--because, with just Jump-Ones, it would be a four week round trip, back to Drinax and King Oleb, anyway.  And that's not counting whatever time we spend running down the Raiders."

     "Now, if we get the Jump Drive repaired at Torpol, we get Jump-Two back.  This means it won't take two weeks getting back to Drinax, but only one.  We gain a week.  We'll probably need it, either searching for the Raiders, or getting a few other small repairs done."

    "If we do this, then after we report back to Drinax and Oleb, we'll then be free to go to Tech-World, and we'll be able to do it with Jump-Two--still, we will have the Jump Drive given a thorough overhaul at Tech-World."

     "Now, about this cargo of missiles..." Varca raises a gloved hand and points towards BB, "You have a great idea about going to Pourne, BB--they have a good shipyard, because they are a stop on the Florian Route.  Plus, they are also excellent weapon makers--they are so good at weapon making because they are paranoid head-cases!"

     "Pourne maintains a Highport out at an extreme orbit around their planet, where they service ships travelling the Florian Route, but that's as close as they let anyone get to their planet.  The Pournelles have filled the lower orbits with so many space mines, you could almost walk down to the planet's surface.  And while I have no doubt that we could interest them in buying our Advanced Missiles, I will bet you clean spring water that the Pournelles will recognize them as being old, salvaged, and refurbished, and they won't pay us what we want for them.  But that's okay, I don't, really, want to sell these missiles to the Pournelles, right now, anyway--I want to give the missiles to them, later on."

     "So, anyway, I'm thinking that we might, actually be able to get a decent price for these missiles on either Torpol or Clarke--both their tech capabilities are high enough to be impressed by these capabilities, but low enough they may not notice they are salvaged and refurbished."

     "I did some checking--pretty much I just contacted a friend up at the port, and while I was vague about exactly what I was looking into, if the numbers I got are correct, we can expect to get between fourteen- and fifteen-thousand per missile, likely around fourteen-five.  The question is, how many can Torpol afford to buy..."

     Varca runs down, his head tilted forward, and his red-filled eyes staring at the surface of the table.  After almost an entire minute of silent brooding, Varca looks up and asks,

     "What if...what if, instead of trying to get anything like a realistic price for these Tech-15 Advanced Missiles....what if we told anyone at Torpol or Clarke who wanted to buy some, that...*a-hem* 'Because the People of Drinax are concerned for their Friends on these worlds, King Oleb has made these Advanced Defensive Missiles available at a discount, that being at the price of a common Standard Missile'."

     Varca looks around at everyone,

     "That would still be around ten-grand a missile, maybe less, but it would go a long way to making it look like Oleg and Drinax really give a shit, and want to help.  And, of course, since The King doesn't know about these missiles, to begin with, he doesn't have to know about how much we make on them."

     "So, while we hop over the mountains and top up the fuel tanks from the ocean, I can contact somebody I know in the starport administration, up on the Floating Palace, and have a Registration cut, designating this ship as a civilian Courier/Transport.  I'll put her down as the Vultan, and claim her as a salvaged and refurbished Harriet-class Old Drinaxi scout ship, armed only with a single barrel Laser Cannon.  That should be vague enough to satisfy everyone, yeah?"

BB just throws her hands in the air in frustration.

"We have a damaged ship and you want to go tilting at windmills? Fine, whatever, you have the votes. When combat comes you'll find me in the escape pods. Just do something or are we just going to spend another week with our thumbs up our asses?"

She probably wasn't being too serious about that. Probably just a facade of anger to loose the argument with her pride intact. She probably wasn't going to go back to her quarters, grab a blade, and carve up the electorate into her favor...probably.

In reply to BB Nova (msg # 517):

     Varca gives BB a hard, red-eyed stare...then brings a fist down on the table, hard, and holds it there.

     "This ship..." Varca growls, glaring at BB with such intensity that his red-tinted eyes almost seem to be glowing from within,

     "...Was built by the Empire of Drinax in the famed Stardocks of Drinax!  All of the knowledge and skill of combat and engineering learned by the Star Dragon Empire of Sindal over centuries of interstellar conquests went into every fiber of it's design!  It was built for Victory!"

     Varca holds his intense glare...for several seconds...until his left eyebrow starts to twitch...

     "There Are No Escape Pods!" Varca roars--before collapsing onto the table, laughing hysterically.

The Jump drive is good, Torpol it is. Back to work on the fuel tank."

Since he was pretty much useless when it came to repairing things, Viridian had done a lot of the toting and hauling. Also, because he was required to keep track of all the medical supplies for a ship, he'd spent his 'spare' time doing the  bookkeeping for the ship as well.

"Once and for all, Varca, Drinax never had Level 15 technology; they'd only made it to Level 14. Tech-World, on the other hand, does have Level 15," Viridian explains.

"And our countermeasures suites haven't been repaired OR replaced. That was the one thing that the Aslan made sure was destroyed on all these Harriers we've been salvaging. At least, I think that was the Aslan; the damage is consistent with Aslan weapons as I understand it."

"The dorsal turret has been fixed. It is working normally again. There were parts here from the other turrets to fix ours."

"The jump drive has been repaired. It is working normally. The problem is the amount of fuel it takes to create the 'jump bubble'. We can make a jump-2 but then we wouldn't have any fuel left to do anything else, like land on a planet or defend ourselves. We could probably call for help and trade some missiles for refueling, but we wouldn't be able to defend ourselves."

"That's why we're building the extra fuel storage in the cargo bay. That'll let us function normally. It wasn't that much of a stretch since apparently that was an anticipated possibility figured into the original design, so there are fuel pipes running under the deck to get the fuel to the power plant... just not to the jump drive or the fuel tanks. I guess the designers decided they weren't going to do everything for you."

"Speaking of the cargo bay... this Harrier is apparently a newer design than the ones here on the planet. Or maybe it's an older one. I don't know. Maybe Zhouth can figure it out."

"In any case, both the cargo bay and the missile storage bay are larger than the standard specs. That means we can carry 6 racks of missiles in the missile storage bay, which we've already loaded. As for refurbishing or reconditioning them, we haven't done doodly-squat to them. We pulled a full rack off one of the salvage ships and just loaded them on to our ship."

"Ingrid checked them out. Because they are hardened against enemy countermeasures, the EMP that took out the ships didn't affect the missiles. They aren't chemical missiles, so nothing in them to deteriorate. Without setting one off, though, we really don't know if they are working. For that matter, they might need an authorization code."

"Anyway, even with the fuel module in the cargo bay, there's still plenty of room to get around it. We've even got room for the ventral missile turret. We just don't have the proper tools to install it. We should be able to get that done on Torpol. We just may need to have it overhauled once we get to Tech-World."

"Now, I realize, BB, that you'd prefer to go into battle--of any kind--in a Tech-20 super-dreadnought and you think we're riding around in a tin satellite. That's just not the way it is. We can't go toe-to-toe with a dreadnought, of course, but we could survive a skirmish with an Imperial destroyer. If these raiders have one of those, they aren't raiders!"

     Immediately after Viridian finishes speaking, Varca lifts his head up from the table--it can be seen that he was laughing so hard, tears had run down his face--and says,

     "Ain't that what I just said?"

At a slightly different time...

Zhouth's ears shot upright as his expression twisted into one of consternation at the contents of the list that Varca had just presented him with.

"Won't their own records show a mismatch, even if it isn't the same port-master in charge, Lord High Underwhatsit of the Most Necessary Verbosity, or whatever the title was, to know that they never issued these?" He looked up from his comm. "Why don't we just register it as having been salvaged now? Your friends at the palace can do that, right? And most of us were just seen on the palace a few days ago, so it's not especially suspicious that we came down here and found something. We could even say that we were just here to follow up on one of Aaron's old investigations!"

He hooked a thumb in the rough direction of where Aaron was sequestered at that moment, then waved his hands in the air, ta-da style. "What do you know, it's not just a really big Drinaxian Gamma-Infused Morel! There's a ship and some loose parts hidden under it! Must have been feeding off of the residual energies from the power plant or something. Good thing that we had a xenobiology expert so we could clean it all away safely instead of getting infected and starting the fungizombie apocalypse!"
This message was last edited by the player at 03:55, Mon 10 Aug 2020.

"I wouldn't mind the Imperium going to war with the Aslan. But one can't have everything" Ingrid joked.

"I'll do what I can to get us combat-ready before we get to those raiders." She looked a little nervous at the thought of going into combat.

In reply to Zhouth (msg # 522):

     "Um, yeah, I suppose that would work, too.  I guess." Varca responds to Zhouth,

     "Zhouth -- we're not actually having either of these two documents processed.  These documents just state that the processes have already been done and approved!  Our only concern about them is if some over-efficient clerk double checks them in the computer records."

     "But we need these two documents to--well, actually, we only need the Space-Worthiness Certification, but the Salvage Claim goes a long way to explaining where the ship came from--but we need them in order to legitimately apply for a real Drinaxi Ship Registration--and the transponder code that goes with it.  I only came up with those dates because I thought they would draw the least attention--the exact dates don't really matter."

     "That way, when my friend in the Administration pushes our application through, he will do so with these two very-fake documents, and we will hope that, given his Position, the clerk who processes our application will not look too close, and just hand over the Registration to him."

     "Then, if, at some later time, the falsehood of our documents does come up, my friend has deniability--and we'll probably be off-world.  Or dead.  So who cares."


     Varca rapidly slaps his gloved hand down on the table a couple of times, then brings it up to point at Ingrid,

     "Here!  Here!" Varca shouts enthusiastically, "Bartender!  Get that lovely Sword-Lady a drink, and put it on my tab!"

     Then Varca soberly looks around the crew lounge,

     "Not that we have a Bartender....or are keeping a tab..." Varca turns a grin back to Ingrid,

     "But I like the sentiment!" Varca adds, with a wink.

  "I just thought that we could get it all done at once, with proper documents, since you have those friends up there. Less chance of someone noticing something later too. But if you want to try it the sneaky way, I suppose that I can try to fake these things." He cast a skeptical look back down at his comm. "No guarantee that I can make them look pretentious enough, though."

Teddy listened to the back and forth for a bit as he drank a snifter of brandy, getting ready to go finish the fuel pod.

"Sounds like we have it figured out now, so lets get on the fuel pod and get out of this gods forsaken place and off to Torpol. We can recruit or destroy the other raider there and make some coin!"

"How much money we got left for Tech-World? The holographic hull and the fused hull and the armor and the missile launcher, unless we get that installed sooner aren't going to be free. Upgrades and repairs for the computer and all that stuff too. Our Advanced Sensors would give us shot to hit them before they know we're there, a (standard) Countermeasures Suite would let us jam signals."
This message was last edited by the player at 14:18, Mon 10 Aug 2020.

You have a library in the computer now. In fact, you were also able to salvage library data from the salvage harriers. Library data wasn't stored in the mainframe--it was in a backup hard drive... not intentionally protected, but secure from the EMP just the same.

Between the two libraries, you have all the reference e-documents you need. Nothing's done on paper any more anyway. And it's not like there's a paper mill down on the planet any more. When you need to import water and food to survive, who's going to bother importing paper?

The e-documents need a time and date 'stamp', as well as a signature and bio-signature (thumbprint, voice print, retina scan), plus a security code. Some are hard to forge, but the last one is super-hard.

Also, as opposed to 'legalese', the documents are written in 'royalese'.

"You really want to help Ingrid? Uhhh, help me with the fuel pod, just fetch and carry and hold things on occasion, Varca thinks he's too good for that and Zhouth is going to be busy with documents. I'll help with dinner afterwards, okay?

BB disappears to head down towards engineering. Presumably to see if Ingrid needed any help getting them off the ground but BB never seems to report for duty for several hours.

On occasion she can be glimpsed moving quickly through the halls with a few spare parts in hand but otherwise she's missing for the rest of the day.

 OOC Hmmmmm ;-)

  In the midst of studying the documents, Zhouth suddenly has a slightly different idea as to how they might go about creatively expediting the registry.

  "What if the salvage certifications came from somewhere else? Somewhere that the port authorities here would have a harder time recognizing and verifying. I mean, we could have found this thing anywhere in the Reach, right? Or maybe even a bit further away. As long as they look valid, that should be good enough with your friend pulling strings up there. And maybe a good bottle or two to ease any conscience twinges they have while doing it."

  "Or maybe it's not registered at all because we got it from somewhere that doesn't bother with these things, or where bothering with these things doesn't really happen. If it was, umm, pulled from the asteroid fields around Oghma, for example. Nobody's going to go to the planet full of raiders to ask for a salvage license!"

  "It's not just that I'm worried about them realizing that the security code is fake. If we're trying to be deniable then finding it somewhere other than conveniently parked just below the palace would be a good idea."
This message was last edited by the player at 12:51, Tue 11 Aug 2020.

As they work close on the fuel pod, Teddy works close with Ingrid, a subtle touch here and there and an embarrassed look and smile, a pause with flesh on flesh touch. Teddy was in love.

Ingrid giggled at Varca's comment. She worked well together with Teddy on the fuel pod, although she blushed a little at the attention. It wasn't unwelcome, but when she was in 'engineer mode', so to speak, she had a hard time thinking of herself as worthy of attention.

08:29, Today: Theodore McFarlane rolled 8 using 2d6+2.  engnrng check

"Well, the fuel pod is finished Varca, We lauch and refuel then off to Torpol. Where do we refuel? The Gas Giant? Take your stations everyone, Viridian take the helm for now, I'll set our course once we figure it out and Varca can take comms and Zhouth sensors. Ingrid gets to baby her babies for now in engineering. We need a Chief Engineer so she can be Engineering Officer."
This message was last edited by the player at 14:15, Wed 12 Aug 2020.

I'm going to suppose that the documentation issue has been dealt with by the time this happens...


Zhouth gave the sensors station a thoroughly skeptical look. Nay, more one of the sort that was usually reserved for unstable and smouldering explosives. "Sensors? You know how bad I was at that kind of thing back on Rockball? Enough that I was encouraged to become a paper-pusher instead of flying drones and such like most of the people living there! In a a completely different polity!" His hands waved and pointed in seemingly random directions, illustrating (or perhaps comically over-illustrating) the idea of being encouraged to go somewhere else. Anywhere else.

He caught himself and appeared to be trying very hard to force an ever-so-slightly guilty look into hiding as he muttered. "It's not as though it was always my fault..."

Despite this ill-omened objection, Zhouth crossed over to the station and took it up as his post, although the obvious uncertainty with which he looked over and began poking at the controls probably didn't do much to inspire renewed confidence in his abilities.
This message was last edited by the player at 19:27, Wed 12 Aug 2020.

In reply to Zhouth (msg # 536):

"Hmmmm, Okay, BB? You want to try sensors for now. Before Zhouth goes apoplectic. I guess you can double check your documents for awhile Zhouth. Assist Aaron with logistics for what we'll need, or Aaron can assist you.

"Varca and Rejji can work on what they and BB will need for boarding parties.

"Viridian can man the particle accelerator in case we are attacked by someone, including Drinax, because we aren't supposed to be here, Oleb thinks we're at Torpol already, he believes we magically fixed this scow."
This message was last edited by the player at 14:51, Thu 13 Aug 2020.

In reply to Theodore McFarlane (msg # 537):

     Varca will handle Comms & Sensors as a Shipboard Duty--"It's what I'm trained for" he says.

     However, despite there actually being a station on the Bridge for that job, Varca insists on doing the job in one of the Countermeasures rooms, down on the Lower Deck--"better access to all the gear" he says.

In reply to Varca Lexand (msg # 538):

Wow, learn something new everyday. Do it where you want to Varca."