If any of the crew want to go to Drinax, there is enough room on the system shuttle since it was only out there for the Princess.

"What tools and  parts can we cram on the system shuttle to bring back and work on the ship. It is the only way to or from the planet or word will get out that we are here and someone would try to take her for salvage."

"There might be some small tools that can be brought back," Princess Rao responds to Teddy. "For the most part, though, everything that could be used on the ship has been used. Given the nature of this operation, anything that could lead back to King Oleb or Drinax has been removed from it. The ship itself is so old that any claim about it would be highly probable, while any claim to Drinax would be perceived as ridiculous."

"Well tools are a start Princess, hard to work on repairs without them. No other spare parts available?" he says to her.

"Can you offer us any other help, contacts, ideas. I'm sure we can do okay, but every small bit helps."

  "I've seen standardized toolkits for things like electronics and engineering work on starships, although I don't know if the Drinax versions would be the same as back on Rockball or Vanejen. If we can put those together, it would help a lot. You have a top-end starport here, right? So those things can't be too hard to get..." Zhouth trailed off for a moment, then continued, "Medical tools and drugs, just in case. Maybe some expert programs for people like me who don't know what the big red buttons on the bridge do?"

Teddy nods to Zhouth's suggestions.

Cyrus arrives on the shuttle dressed sharply, wearing a dress sword, and ready to dance.

"Altesse, Professor, Theodore."

"Are you all prepared to dance?"

I just hope I'm dressed right to meet royalty” Ingrid says. Ingrid was wearing one of her best dresses in pink, pretty but modest, with tight sleeves and layers of skirts and petticoats. The style might have been called early Victorian, if Ingrid had known ancient Solomani eras better. It even had a bonnet. It had been the fashion on Tizon when she had left.
"Really nice upper-class ladies’ fashion on the Sworld Worlds is out of the question, it takes servants. And of course flowers for my hair… that’s not possible under the circumstances. My hair is probably a mess compared to what royals are used to” she frets. She nervously checks her makeup.

Cyrus’ appearance and talk of dancing reminds Ingrid of old times, and she blushes slightly beneath her bonnet.

"Chere, you are a vision!"

In reply to Cyrus Alexandre (msg # 9):

     Varca steps aboard the system shuttle dressed in the same Hazard Suit he's been wearing since everyone met, back on planet Asim--including wearing his helmet.

     Only, now the black, leather-like synthetic material of the suit looks to be...gleaming...as if he'd polished it.  Even the hard composite of his helmet sparkles under the subdued lighting of the shuttle, as he walks to a seat, reaches back to remove the long-handled mace-or-whatever that's magnetically clipped to his back, then sits down--strapping the weapon into the seat next to himself, before attending his own seatbelts.

     Varca has also added something new to his suit--over the center of his chest is now displayed a four-inche diameter crest of the Kingdom of Drinax, in crimson and gold.
This message was last edited by the player at 06:05, Sun 15 Sept 2019.

  Zhouth's outfit stood out in exactly the same way as it had on Asim... because it was exactly the same outfit that he'd had on Asim. The Harrier wasn't exactly well-stocked when it came to wardrobe options and those were entirely human-fit spares. Add to that the fact that the rest of his travel kit was in transit on another ship, and he'd had to do a little bit of improvising and a lot of daily cleaning. The Harrier didn't have much in the way of conveniences, either...

  "We need to get some things to make the ship livable. No industry, but high tech. They can at least put together autolaundries, can't they?"

Teddy wore his best uniform complete with decorations, highly polished medals and snow white jacket and trousers with unbelievably shined shoes. He found a seat near Ingrid to talk to her during the flight.

"Aaron, and Rejji, can stay aboard to secure the ship and begin clean up. The rest of us can meet the king."
This message was last edited by the player at 12:47, Mon 16 Sept 2019.

"You should have asked me professor. I have my autolaudry wizh me and you would have been welcome to use it."

"Impressive turned out Theodore, and Varca you look very...safe I think. Zhe symbol is clever as well."

     "After our meeting with the King, Zhouth, after we've been released to our own devices," Varca says through the vocoder in his helmet, "I have a few ship supply sources--from my days back with the Star Guard Scouts--that I can tap."

     Varca turns his helmeted head, to momentarily glance forward, towards the Princess, then back to Zhouth, "I have a feeling that the use of a lot of that scrounged, lower-tech equipment in the Harrier was intentional on the part of the Drinaxi technicians.  They didn't want the repairs traced back to Drinax."

     Varca leans a little closer to Zhouth, and the volume from his vocoder lessens,

     "We need to keep that in mind, somewhat, as well, with any repairs we make prior to arriving at Tech-World...or wherever.  If the plan is to claim we found the Harrier floating in space--or crashed on a planet--and we're salvaging her, we shouldn't go having clean synth-silk sheets on the beds and fresh gourmet Drinaxi foods in the cooler, yeah?"

     "I'm not saying we don't stock up on that stuff while we're here--I can get that kinda stuff here, easy.  I'm just saying we should store it away, and go easy on it's use, until after we get the ship registered someplace far away from Drinax."

  "I wasn't thinking of luxury bedding with the royal seal!" Zhouth exclaimed with a wave of one hand, then grinned and added with an almost mischievous look. "And, well, you have a different idea of luxury food than I do."

  "We've clearly passed through Drinax, though. The astrogation logs will tell them that much, right? So no harm if we get some things here, as long as the receipt doesn't have Oleb's name on it." A thought came to him and he added, "Well, maybe one of the really old Olebs, if we find pieces that look the part! Everything I've heard and read so far says that shouldn't be too hard."

     Varca hooks a thumb towards Theo,

     "He looks like an Imperial." Varca sneers through his helmet's vocoder, "And nothing like a Prodigal Son of Drinax, returned Home at last."

     "Still..." Varca turns his helmeted head, and looks Theodore up and down, "Damn, Theo!  You win the last war all by your lonesome?"

     Varca turns back to Cyrus, "As for this..." Varca taps the Drinax Crest on his chest, "I'm allowed.  I'm a Veteran.  I just...took a little...liberty...with the placement..."

     Varca reaches with his gloved right hand and taps the side of his left shoulder,

     "That's all..."

     "True enough." Varca responded, "I recall the words of a Sanitation Engineer I met on the Floating Palace, some years back--a Baronet something-or-other--she referred to going through forgotten back rooms of the Palace and checking old closets and lockers as...Antiquing..."

Ingrid smiles shyly at Cyrus "Thank you, you are too kind."

"What sort of things are you looking for?" she asks Zhouth curiously.

"Good morning Teddy" she chirps. "Looking forward to meeting his majesty?"

"Oh, I should like to get some foodstuffs for cooking, but I won't get anything too fancy" she said to Varca. "Wandering through forgotten areas of the palace, that must be interesting."

In reply to Ingrid Gustavdottir Sigar (msg # 19):

     "I suppose." Varca responds to Ingrid, with a shrug, from his seat, "As you might expect, Vespexers are Minimalists.  The Palacer's tendency to...hoard...all those artifacts--to have so many...possessions...that you can forget about some of them for decades...centuries..."

     Varca's vocoder does an impressive job of passing on a remorseful sigh,

     "It's completely irrational behaviour to us.  It's one of the reasons most Vespexers have such a hard time relating with our sky-bound cousins."

     Varca's tone suddenly changed to one more wistful,

     "Although...during the last few years I was in the Star Guard Scouts, I gained the patronage of someone who showed me some of the more...pleasant...aspects of a non-Minimalist lifestyle.  I didn't give up the Vespexer Way completely, mind you, but I learned to appreciate some of the better things, beyond just survival."

     "Don't tell Rejji." Varca adds with amusement.

"I'll tell him all your dirty little secrets!" Teddy says with a grin.

"You look simply delicious Ingrid!"

Teddy fastens his seat belts when they get ready to land, making sure he doesn't get thrown from his seat.

"Oh oui..yes, we can all tell you have gone soft!"

Cyrus laughed at his own joke.

"Zhis zhing is a zhing I do not zhink you need to worry about mes ami."


Knowing that her dress could be a hindrance in the situation Cyrus offered to help Ingrid get buckled in.

"You will save me dance Chere, non?"

The shuttle is only capable of Thrust-3, so it'll take about 36 hours to reach Drinax. The ship had jumped to a point in the near asteroid belt that was closest to Drinax in its orbit.

The system shuttle is reasonably spacious. The seats recline, there's a fresher at the rear (2 actually), and the ship serves 'airline' food, though it is first class airline food. Plus there's plenty of alcohol.

Almost oddly, the Princess is, apparently, the co-pilot. She does come back into the aft passenger compartment from time to time to converse with the group, including answering any questions they might have. But it quickly becomes obvious that she doesn't have a lot of answers... at least not to the questions you have.

In reply to StarMaster (msg # 24):

     As the system shuttle starts towards Drinax, and everyone settles in, Varca polarizes the faceplate of his helmet and settles back in the seat--then remains completely still for the next several hours.

"I suppose I can understand that" Ingrid says to Varca. "Some of the people on Sting have similar beliefs."

Ingrid smiles at Theodore. "Oh, thank you!" she says happily. She twirls around, letting her skirts swirl out around her. "This is the style on Tizon, I think it suits me. I hope the royals will agree"

She lets Cyrus help her buckle in. "Oh yes, I will" she responds shyly. "You know I love dancing"

Ingrid passes the time asking questions about Drinax, about what she still doesn't know much. She also reads a novel from home, and chatters sometimes to Theodore about the Sword Worlds, since he's been there too; Ingrid never says so, but she is homesick sometimes.

After reminiscing with Ingrid for several hours, Teddy takes a nap in his seat. He'll sit quietly while she sleeps after he wakes, millions of thoughts going through his head as he thinks about what is happening to them. The king was a fool and they would probably all die, but they would die in glory.

  Zhouth lackadaisically plopped down into one of the seats as if they were about to go on a theme-park ride rather than taking a shuttle trip to meet local royalty, but that was very much in keeping with his personal style to date. He could put on a bit of gravitas when he had to, but they were at least a day and a half away from that.

  It didn't take long for the sight of everyone in dress uniforms to make him think of one of the earlier exchanges he'd had with Cyrus. "So, tell us all about these psionic pirates and your gallant battles against them! Professional interest, you know, and it sounds like a good story!"
This message was last edited by the player at 15:38, Sat 21 Sept 2019.

"Psychics... that's frightening" Ingrid adds

"Gallant is  perhaps too strong a word Professor."

"Zhe first time was some years ago when I was still serving in zhe Strend Intersteller Navy aboard zhe light cruiser "La Bourreau", Zhe Headsman in Galanglic."

"Zhe Strend cluster is proud of it's navy you see and zhe safety zhat it can provide. It is known zhat no one will lightly face zhem in battle. Not even zhe Hierate or zhe Imperium."

He cast a sidelong glance at Teddy.

"Only zhe very best can do so and survive."

"L'Œil Mauvais damaged this reputation. He struck zhe cluster's outposts wizhout warning or mercy."

"In his zhird raid he stole a frigate, zhe Epee, which had halted at Sable Des Etoiles for emergency repairs. Zhis bold move would prove his downfall."

"Zhe navy personnel zhat survived had recorded zhe attack you see and many of L'Œil's secrets were revealed to us. He had zhree espair marines who could teleport wizh 'orrible accuracy."

"We 'ad not seen zhis before you see and zhe crew of zhe Bourreau was enraged."

He looked away thoughtfully at that and his mouth formed a grim flat line before he continued.

"Zhey had no chance to escape us. Zhe Epee's J Drive was broken you see, and repairs had not been completed. Zhe escaping nazy men had set a bomb zhat guaranteed it could not be done quickly."

"We hunted zhem among zhe planetoids for two days. L'Œil could have made good his escape in his corsair at any time but he would not abandon zhe men he had sent over to crew zhe Epee. We were too close for hem too be recovered."

"When at last we had zhem trapped he attacked. A four hundred tonne Corsair and a crippled Frigate against a Light Cruiser of zhe Marine Interstellaire de Strend."

"It was zhe bravest, most foolish, act I have seen. Both pirate ships were completely crippled in a quarter of an hour. But L'Œil Mauvaise was not yet defeated..."

"He and his espair marine commandos teleported aboard the Bourreau, directly onto zhe bridge."

"Zhey detonated TDX mines, gravitically polarized charges, upon arrival zhat disabled or killed most of the bridge crew instantly. Many of my friends died zhen."

"Zhe Captain and myself were spared by an accident of architecture. On zhe Sabre Class light cruiser you see zhe captain commands from a dais raised one point five meters above zhe level of zhe bridge. As zhe Zhird Officer by Strend Navy tradition  my battle station was as zhe captain's bodyguard and so I was wizh him on zhe dais."

"Zhe blast passed above zhe raiders and below zhe Captain and myself. I killed one of zhe raiders almost immediately wizh my stagger laser rifle but ztill we were outnumbered zhree to two."

"To his credit Captain Beaudonnier was a master swordsman. Much of what I know is due to him. He quickly struck down one of zhe raiders leaving our battle even but my foe was as skilled as myself and I needed time to gain zhe advantage of him."

"It was zhen zhat L'Œil revealed his most terrible power. Wizh his Esper's Mind he struck down zhe Captain, as a maid might snuff a candle at bedtime, and zhen he drove his blade into him where he lay."

"A great man died!"

Cyrus' emotion, somewhere between anger and sorrow, was clear.

"In my rage I beheaded zhe last raider and, seeking to distract L'Œil, hurled his head at the pirate captain as I charged him."

"Zhere were you see many zhings I did not know at zhe time."

"I did not know zhat only zhe most rare and powerful of espers can perform a telepazhic assault more zhan once."

"I did not know zhat zhe man I had just killed was L'Œil's 'usband."

"He met me wizh his blade and went berzerk. We fought like animals. Both in righteous fury and feeling zhat any gambit, no matter how low, was justified in order to gain revenge."

"In zhe end...I was younger, perhaps stronger, and due to my Strendian heritage I was augmented. His esper powers were spent."

"In zhe end my static blade pierced his armor and he died. He fell zhere wizh his men."

Again Cyrus' eyes took on a faraway look.

"He spoke to me before he died."

"His last words were, "Against All Flags!"

"The pirate was a Zhodane? Or just trained by them?"

"We found evidence aboard his ship zhat he was a Zhodani noble but it could not be confirmed. Zhe Consulate denied any knowledge of him or even zhe possibility that a Zhodani noble could turn pirate."

"Ahhh, the only good Zhodani is a dead one! All those head games!"

  Zhouth's expression was knowing at first - the threat of teleporting Zhodani marines was one of the reasons why the Vanejen program had been set up to begin with - and transitioned quickly to disquiet and sympathy as the story progressed, especially as the duel unfolded in words.

  "Teleporting marine squads are a signature Zhodani trick, but they're hardly alone in doing it, they're just the organized ones that the Imperium likes to wrangle with. Zhodani or not, hearing you tell it, that was a bad day for everyone. You're right though: brain-melting more than once after a teleport? That would take psi-drugs. A lot of psi-drugs. Enough to risk melting their own brain." The wan grin was back once again in a way that suggested that Zhouth may have witnessed just such an event...

  He took a moment to settle himself and gave Cyrus a quick pat on the arm. "You did what you had to, and now I get why you want everyone to know how to use those things." He pointed at Cyrus's ceremonial blade. "I'm trying, but so far I think I'd still be more dangerous waving a feather duster about."
This message was last edited by the player at 18:31, Mon 23 Sept 2019.

"A most enlightening story, Cyrus," Princess Rao responds.

"The Sindalian Empire had worked out a defense against teleporting marines... or any other teleporting people. You can use life sensors programmed to target anyone who wasn't there five seconds ago."

"A less sophisticated method is to fill all open spaces with a maze of razor wire. Only the real crew will know how to get through it."

"Both are a lot of trouble, and no one really takes those precautions until and unless they know they will encounter such an enemy."

Ingrid listens attentively to Cyrus' story. "That was brave of you, Cyrus." she says; a very high compliment from a Sword Worlder. "I'm sorry about Captain Beaudonnier."

"I don't think I could live like a Zhodane… afraid of what I was thinking" she says, shivering a little.

"Sword Worlders often fight with swords. It's traditional, as one would imagine" Ingrid says. She giggles at Zouth's joke. "Why don't you leave the dusting to me, Zhouth?"

  Zhouth shook his head in response to Rao's description of Sindalian countermeasures. "That sounds like something error-prone to me. Five-second sensor outage, or even just a blind spot you're in for five seconds, and suddenly your own defenses are shooting at you? Safer to deal with the marines!"

  Ingrid's second comment prompted a laugh and an attempt to lighten the mood around the subject. "Oh, Zhodani don't need to worry about what they're thinking. They only need to worry about what the thinkers think of what they're thinking!" He held one hand up and out and swirled it in a circle, smiling broadly. "Sorry, Vanejen humor. Now you have to hope it doesn't get stuck in your head!"

  He lapsed back into a quieter mood. "Something I learned working there though? Most telepath types aren't really big on joy-riding in other peoples' brains. It takes effort to do it, and they have enough thoughts bouncing around inside their own, like anyone else, so if they do go poking about in yours, they've got some reason more important than because it's there." He paused for a moment, considering his own words, then shook his head and sighed. "That doesn't actually sound very reassuring, does it? Guess it's just one of those professional perspective things."
This message was last edited by the player at 23:21, Mon 23 Sept 2019.

     "Yet another example of the kind of heavy-handed thinking that brought down the Glorious Dragon Empire of Sindal." Varca says via his helmet's vocoder, from where he reclines, "And it's many Inheritor Kingdoms."

     For the first time in hours, Varca finally moves--raising his gloved fist and extending his index finger upwards,

     "Brought down all the Inheritor Kingdoms--save one!" Varca lowers his hand and taps the Royal Drinax Crest adorning his armored chest.

     "Mostly..." Varca adds.

     Varca raises his seat to an upright position, and de-polarizes his helmet's faceplate, exposing most of his face to view.

     "Although, filling a room with razor wire sounds amusing." Varca turns to look over at Zhouth, "I'm not claiming any expert source materials, Zhouth, but most of the entertainment vids I've seen that had anything to do with teleporting villains usually made a point of saying that it wasn't possible to teleport into solid material--y'know, either the place they were teleporting into had to be completely clear, or they couldn't...y'know...arrive."

     "I always wondered about that, because, what about the air that they would be displacing, even if they are teleporting into a so-called clear area?    Is there some kind of Mass-Density restriction, there, or what?"

"Materializing with razor wire through your heart would be a bad and messy thing I believe." Teddy chimed in.

  "Oh, you want to get into teleportational displacement physics? Well, okay then, but I can't promise that your brain won't melt from a completely non-telepathic cause!" This time Zhouth's grin was definitely mischievous.

  Several minutes later, when Varca's eyes were in danger of becoming permanently crossed beneath his visor, Zhouth brought his brief, impromptu lecture on the subject to a close.

  Yes, relational corporeity was a legitimate concern and that most of the time gaseous environments allowed for sufficient absorption or displacement (and neither were a concern in a vacuum, assuming that one had the means to survive in it), or failing that, reciprocal, ambient, or indeterminate transposition of the offending medium.

  Likewise, razor wire was only a hazard if the clairvoyant tasked with vatic reconnaissance failed to notice it, and even then probably only at the point of arrival, since teleporting marines tended to wear some form of battle dress.

  That was a simple summary of his explanation, anyway!

 
  Zhouth conducts a condensed psionicological lecture...
  22:01, Today: Secret Roll: Zhouth rolled 10 using 2d6+4.

  ...with +2 Effect: reasonably perspicuous to the unelucidated.
 

In reply to Zhouth (msg # 40):

     "So...then...the entertainment vids did get it right!"

"At least that's a little bit of a relief" Ingrid replies to Zhouth saying telepaths can't always be scanning.

"Oh, you are not hanging razor wire around the ship. It'll snag my skirt" Ingrid complains.

She listens to Zhouth; listening to a technical lecture takes her back to her college days. "Well, let's just avoid any teleporting marines, and the problem won't have to come up."

  Zhouth folded his hands on his lap. "Simple answer? You need a clear image of the place to teleport to it, and that's hard to do with the inside of something solid, right?"

  He looked sidelong at Varca. "Slightly more complicated answer? You don't just look at the place like a vid image and say 'I want to be there.'. You experience yourself into that spot, and that means all of you, not just your eyes, so even if you could somehow 'see' inside the solid thing, or the thing itself is transparent, it still doesn't work because you can't be there to know what it's like being there."

  "Although if you aren't solid yourself, no problem, since you can be there to be there. Could have a lot of fun playing at being a ghost that way: teleport into the wall, then drift out and moan about being the shade of Life Days past." He held up both hands, palm out, and widened his eyes as he exclaimed. "Everyone would be running in terror!"

  He folded his hands in his lap again. "I'll skip the complicated answer, and all the little corner cases where things might be different. So the vids have it right, but only sort of, and for the wrong reasons. It's like most of the other science stuff they explain in those shows. Sounds plausible and close enough to how people think it works, even if someone who knows the field is cringing. But it's good enough for dramatic effect, right? Just like spaceships going *whoosh* past the camera in hard vacuum, and all those other silly things they do!"


  To Ingrid's closing suggestion he added, "Good idea there. And if they do show up, we'll just tell them that they've popped into the wrong set!"
This message was last edited by the player at 02:32, Wed 25 Sept 2019.

"Air pressure and heat must make up some part of zhe equation, non?"

"Zhe most sophisticated equipment zhey brought on zhe raid were zhe environment monitors and zhe coolant systems in zheir armor."

"All vacc-suits have a heater but zhese had refrigerators as well."

  "Oh, yes! Potential energy differences are a big limit on how far and how quickly someone can teleport themselves, assuming that they don't just run out of spooky mind power from trying too often. Jump too far or too fast and you end up cooked or frozen; even if it's not that extreme, you don't have to skew your body too many degrees before bad things start happening to it!"

  Zhouth raised one hand and mimed fiddling with dials and switches. "So there are all kinds of little systems to help with that, and all kinds of different suits they're put in." Then he shrugged. "Doesn't have to be battle armor, either. As long as it covers enough of someone's body to do the job, it works. Could make fancy business attire with that sort of thing built into it if you had the money and the need."

  He swirled his raised hand back and forth, snapping his fingers at each end of the arc. "Gets harder and harder with more stuff, though, so they either have to be really good to carry the heavy gear, or it has to have psionic attunement so it isn't doing the lead anchor thing."

  He looked directly at Cyrus. "Could be visible or not depending on how the armor is designed, so I can't really be sure unless you've got those pieces lying around somewhere, but my guess is that if they were Zhodani operatives, or used to be, then it was probably attuned stuff. They have a lot more of that kind of tech to lose than most places do!"
This message was last edited by the player at 03:13, Wed 25 Sept 2019.

In reply to Zhouth (msg # 45):

     Varca makes an open-palmed gesture towards Zhouth and Cyrus,

     "Your talk about spacesuits and customization reminds me--after our...meeting...I'm going to meet with a supplier I know, the people who helped me design and build my custom Hazard Suit..." Varca gestures at the suit he's wearing.

     "Zariid Excursionista Outfitters.  They sell some of the best gear on the Palace--even the Hawk Warriors wear their stuff.  I'm going to see about filling the Harrier's need for Vacc Suits, Emergency Suits, Rescue Balls, all that stuff.  I'm also going to get myself a Vacc Suit--this Hazard Suit is only Space Rated for ten minutes."

     Varca looks around the group, "So, if any of you do not have your own Vacc Suit, plan on coming with me to get a suit custom fitted."

  "I'll have to get one. Or maybe more than one if they're going to get holes poked in them during all of this." Zhouth didn't appear too happy about the latter prospect. "We should get emergency suits that can fit vargr and aslan too, not just human ones. Never know when we might need to pick someone up!"

"I need a suit too. Maybe self sealing so I don't have to worry."

The various debates have served to pass the time quite well, and system shuttle is soon landing on the Floating Palace's Royal Docks.

As the crew disembarks from the shuttle, they are met by Lord Wrax of the Star Guard and Chieftain Galx, the Vespexer representative from the surface. She's wearing her full-body hazard suit just like Varca.

"Welcome back, Varca!" the commander addresses Varca. "What brings you to the Floating Palace these days?"

Teddy shakes hands with the representatives if offered, knowing he was nobody here, he had been gone for more thane 20 years, and, being a black sheep of a lesser noble family, he was unknown. Teddy was surprised at how well Varca was being received! He did make an impression though!

He left Drinax to serve in the navy, the Drinaxian navy was so small there were few opportunities, that was why he went with the Imperial Navy.
This message was last edited by the player at 20:25, Wed 25 Sept 2019.

     Varca slowly turns his face towards Theodore, then stares--unblinking--at him for several seconds before speaking,

     "You spent all those years in the Imperial Navy...and you never got your own spacesuit?  What the frell, Imperial?  You were the one person I figgered would have their own--no, actually, I thought you'd have your own Battlesuit!"

     "Imperials!  Sheesh!" Varca snorts.

"It was old and worn, I served 24 years. It was also not the highest tech level, looking to get one here for the tech level and gadgets included."

[ABOARD THE SHUTTLE, PRE-LANDING]



     "Yeah, well you've forgotten a lot of things in those twenty four years, too.  Prepare to lower your expectations." Varca responds, "You've forgotten that while the Floating Palace still has access to Tech Fifteen knowledge, the manufacturing infrastructure on the palace isn't quite that high--you did see most of the repairs made on the Harrier, didn't you?"

     Varca taps his chest, indicating his Hazard Suit,

     "This suit is cutting edge, custom tech--I paid top credit to have it made." Varca says, "And not a bit of it is better than Tech Thirteen.  A lot of locally produced tech runs about that--though there is some Tech Fourteen being produced in small lots.  I'm going to be buying in bulk, so I'll be buying regular production--I'll wrangle the custom fittings just because I know these guys.  If I'm really lucky, I might even be able to get my guys to upgrade us to Boarding Suits."

     "I'm not saying that you won't find a Tech Fourteen or Fifteen Vacc Suit, somewhere, on the Floating Palace--if you look real hard.  But it'll either be imported or over two centuries old.  And very expensive, either way."


[ARRIVING ABOARD THE FLOATING PALACE]



     Varca, out of old habit, comes to attention before speaking to Lord Wrax,

     "Greetings, Lord Wrax..." Varca turns his helmeted head towards Chieftain Galx and nods in her direction, "Chieftain Galx.  It is good to be home again.  Or...to at least be in the air of Drinax."

     Like every other Drinaxi present, Varca is ignoring Princess Rao until, and unless, she makes her presence known (she may be here, aboard the shuttle, incognito).  But he does cast a quick glance to the side, in her direction, before continuing to address the Star Guards High Commander,

     "I'm returned to apply for a minor government job, My Lord.  Something about...resource relocation."

Teddy waits to answer Varca until after his greetings with his old comrades. "I have a few credits. And if I can't get one here, there is always Tech World."

Ingrid curtsies formally to Wrax, although she's not sure how to read the rank of these two, and maintains a demure silence.

  Zhouth could have continued on about psionic theory all trip long, at levels both approachable and incomprehensible... but fortunately for the sanity of everyone present, he had no particular reason to do so!

  He strolled around to the side of the group when they disembarked, thereby keeping some distance to allow the locals to handle the opening ceremonies while still having a good view of the proceedings - and a good view of the surrounding, once-royal starport.

  As to the matter of what sort of suits to get, he was willing to leave that to the experts, but in his mind more protection was definitely better than less if they were going to deliberately put themselves in front of assorted sharp and shooty things as part of the job.

Cyrus stayed immediately near the princess and watched the interactions.

In reply to Cyrus Alexandre (msg # 57):
[ABOARD THE SHUTTLE, PRE-LANDING]



     "Truth be told, I would rather wait and buy suits at Tech-World, as well." Varca says, "But the ship doesn't even have any emergency suits--I wouldn't dare take the chance of making at least two jumps with some of us not having protective suits.  We have to get the best we can get, here."




[ARRIVING ABOARD THE FLOATING PALACE]

     "I'm honored, of course, that two, such Honored Citizens, as yourselves, would meet me, as I disembark a shuttle," Varca added, again bowing his helmeted head to both Lord Wrax and Chieftain Galx, "But surely the two of you are not here simply to welcome a miscreant like myself back aboard the Floating Palace...?"

"We have two or three days before we have to get back so I suggest we assign tasks to accomplish some stuff, like tools and parts. We need vacc suits, SMGs for the ship's locker and programs. Maybe we can afford a bot on Tech World."

[ABOARD THE SHUTTLE, PRE-LANDING]



     Varca gives Theo a hard stare,

     "A Bot!  Haven't figgered out how, yet, but I'm planning on getting an entire Platoon of Robots, my Imperial Friend!  We need combat troops, and I'm not about to recruit and trust real Pirates."

     "Oh.  Meaning no offense to you, Cyrus."

Unless any of the group has some sort of secret identity, then you all show up on the routine passenger manifest for the shuttle, which is part of the standard transponder interchange between the shuttle and the Air/Space Traffic Control system on the Floating Palace.

In general, if anyone shows up of significance, the proper people are notified.

The Princess did not exit the shuttle with the rest of you.

Wrax, as the highest authority present, will escort you to guest quarters once you explain that you will be here for a day or two.


Once settled in to your rooms, you are free to go about your business. You are given the usual invitations to dine with Wrax and Galx.

In reply to StarMaster (msg # 61):


     "Thank you, Lord Wrax." Varca says after being shown to a room, "I'm honored that you took time from your busy day for an old Vet, like me.  Thank you very much."

"Thank you for your kindness and hospitality, Lord Wrax" Ingrid says politely. "It's most generous" she adds, smiling.

Teddy nods his thanks as well.

At some point, each of you is approached by a fancy-dressed individual who seems to have his nose permanently stuck in the air. He stands six feet tall but his nose seems to make him appear taller. He's thin almost to the point of emaciation, with an angular face. His red-and-gold outfit barely fits him.

"Greetings and felicitations. I am Lord Pompus. His Sublime Majesty King Oleb the Sixteenth, Dragon Emperor of Sindal-in-Exile, requests the honor of your presence in the Royal Throne Room in one hour. Should you choose not to attend, you will no longer be welcome on the Floating Palace or on Drinax."

  Zhouth was slightly taken aback by the invitation, mainly because of the wording with which it had been presented, and he couldn't help but react with a half-thought, "My presence is an honor? Well, okay, if he thinks so...." before gathering himself into a slightly more formal pose. "I'll, umm, well, I'll be honored to meet with His Sublime Majesty, of course! Is there any special protocol for this? Anything I should bring or say or do?" There was a split second pause, then, "Or not bring or say or do?"

  He was no doubt making a marvelous first impression on the messenger, but the questions were nevertheless quite valid. He'd never been summoned to a royal audience before, let alone one in the distant corners of the Reach!
This message was last edited by the player at 00:41, Wed 04 Dec 2019.

In reply to Zhouth (msg # 66):

In reply to Zhouth (msg # 66):

     Varca was on his way to a place at the starport he'd only heard stories about--or, more specifically, stories about the person he'd find there--when Lord Pompus found him.

     "Please inform the Da--*ahem*--His Imperial Majesty, that Star Guard Scouts Explorer Varca Lexand, Retired, will attend." Varca responds with a nod of acknowledgement towards the Court Official.

     "Obviously, Lord Pompus, I'm a local..." Varca adds, gesturing towards his red eyes, "So...will standard protocols for this meeting be in place, or will there be any special requirements?"

     After hearing Lord Pompus' answer (Varca assumes standard protocols), Varca continues to a landing bay in the public part of the tiny starport area.

     Seeing the indicator light for the bay, beyond, shows that a ship is present, Varca reaches over and presses an annunciator button,

     "Free Trader Dancet?" Varca says in a low voice, so as not to carry any distance, "My name is Varca Lexand.  I'm a Vespexer from down on the planet.  I wish to consult you about some...artifacts...I might have possession of.  Could you spare me a few minutes, please?"

"Hmmmm, I guess it won't disturb my schedule too much to attend, I'll be there."

Teddy heads for the Great Hall, the Royal Throne Room, for the meeting with the king, realizing Lord Pompus left no time for sightseeing or dawdling.
This message was last edited by the player at 13:52, Wed 04 Dec 2019.

Ingrid curtsies formally to Lord Pompus. "His Majesty is too kind. Of course I would be most honored to attend."

After he made his way to the Throne Room in the Great Hall, Teddy began looking for his ship mates to arrive, knowing he wasn't the only one 'invited' by the king.

He saw Lord Pompus come back in, but continued to look for Ingrid, Varca, and Zhouth.

"Standard protocols will be in effect," Lord Pompus replies to Varca, and then goes in search of the next person on his list.


"This is Julan Kaar," comes the reply from the external comm unit on the Dancet. "Permission to come aboard."

Varca then hears the locks on the hatch/door disengage.

Varca can do his negotiations 'behind the curtain' as it were...

The hour passes quickly enough yet not quick enough when you are waiting!

As you approach the Throne Room, you see two guards at the door. While they appear to be ceremonial, not unlike the palace guards at Buckingham, they still seem to be rather well-armed, and Varca at least recognizes the stance of a professional soldier.

Since they are standing in front of the double doors to the Throne Room, they will have to move for you to pass. Neither says anything, but one of them glares at you questioningly. Once you identify yourselves and your reason for being there, they step aside. BUT... they don't open the door for you; you'll have to do that yourself.

Entering the Throne Room, you are greeted by a factotum. He seems to know who each of you are and why you are there. He doesn't introduce himself, though.

Once you are all in, the doors close behind you. The factotum points to where you are each to stand in a line. Once you are in place, he turns and leaves through another door.

The Throne Room is roughly circular with the perimeter interrupted by soaring half-columns. The walls curve inward as they go upward until they meet in a central circular window that shows the sky above. The walls are silvery with the history of Sindal etched into them.

The most prominent feature in the room, however, is the Iron Throne. It is a mishmash of parts from a hundred or more ships, everything from hull plates to ion cannons to a pair of rocket thrusters apparently being used as supports for the whole thing. Some of it appears to welded together while other parts are bolted. It arches over and behind the actual throne seat.

In the midst of it is an overlarge seat that could easily seat three but, instead, only holds one overlarge king, though two well-endowed redheaded women are perched on either arm.

The King (or, at least, you assume it's the King for those that haven't met him before--who else would dare sit on the throne?) looks to be middle-aged (later forties or early fifties), probably tips the scales at around 300 pounds, has black hair that forms a neatly trimmed beard with mustache on his chubby face, and he's dressed in some maroon velvet robe with gold brocade, a dark blue shirt and a gold ascot. A gold crown sits on his head; it has a single large red gem in the middle of the forehead.

He holds a large bejeweled silver tankard in one hand and has his other arm around the woman on his left whose breasts he is fondling.

There is also a plush-cushioned bench along either side of the throne, but they are currently empty.

In front of the throne is a long table built in the trestle style but probably not actually a trestle. A dark blue silk runner with gold trim is in the middle of the table, and the table is set with several bottles and pitchers, goblets and tankards that appear to match the tankard the King is holding.

"Come in! Come in!" the King calls out in a loud boisterous voice that's just shy of shouting. "Help yourselves to wine and song! The women are mine!"

It is only then that you notice that there is music faintly playing from somewhere.

Teddy waits to see what Varca does. He doesn't know the protocol. He was still a teenager when he left the palace.

  Zhouth arrived with about a quarter hour to spare and spent most of his time meandering about the waiting area and looking over the artwork on display before calmly strolling in through the opened doors and taking his place in the lineup once the ceremonies began. Despite this, he was far from inconspicuous. Quite the contrary, in fact.

  He'd finally had a chance to change clothes, and was now bedecked in what would have passed for a slightly gaudy suit of patterned silver-on-black were it not for the tangled knots of faintly-glittering, varicolored thread that were fastened hither and yon across its surface, single lines crossing to and fro between them, creating the jarring impression of a walking jump-lane map viewed through a malfunctioning chromatic filter.

  And if that wasn't enough, it was partly covered over by a curious hybrid of bead-fringed cape and lab coat wrought in a screaming spread of oversaturated sunset hues, the sheer intensity of which might well have had fire suppression teams across the palace mobilizing at that very moment!

  **

  In contrast to Theodore's reaction - or lack thereof - Zhouth took the invitation to help themselves as a cue to do just that! Within reason, of course.

  And so he promptly made his way up to the laden table where, following a quick glance over the contents, he filled a tankard with one of the lighter offerings, and held it momentarily aloft in a silent toast before taking a quick sip and stepping back to allow easier access for the rest, who by then had also stepped forward.

  ...right?
This message was last edited by the player at 12:19, Mon 09 Dec 2019.

In reply to Theodore McFarlane (msg # 74):


     When Varca showed up--just minutes before the designated time--he was fully outfitted as a Vespexer.  He was wearing his helmet, his suit looked freshly polished--including the Drinaxi emblem he'd attached to his suits breastpiece--and, while the staff-like melee weapon he normally carried across his back was missing, Varca now had a gaudily bejeweled, sheathed ceremonial dagger hanging from his suit's utility belt on a thin chain.

     The only response he gives to questions about his lateness or activities, is to answer with a distracted "Later..."

     Varca surrendered the dagger to the guards, of course, before they would step aside.  Nobody is allowed into the King's presence while armed (except his guards).

     When the guards moved aside, allowing access to the door, Varca raised both his gloved hands....and removed his helmet.  However, instead of hanging the helmet at his left hip, as he usually does, Varca tucks it under his left arm, upright and faceplate forward.  Then he looks to either side of himself, casting a quick gaze at everyone (and giving anyone--except Ingrid--who might still be wearing anything on their head an extra intense glare).  He does not, however, make any move to assist in opening the door (Vespexer thing...)

     Varca scowls at the factotum as everyone is shown where to stand--knowing that the feeling is probably mutual.  As Varca has only ever seen vid representations of the throne room--this is his first time here--he can't resist the urge to look around a bit.  So he notices when the lighting very subtly brightens over at the Iron Throne, when the King makes his 'entrance'.

     ~~...He watched, silently, from the shadows, as we got settled in...assessing us...shrewd...~~ Varca thinks to himself.

     When the light is fully upon the King, Varca snaps to Attention--raising his booted right foot up then stomping it back down on the floor, bringing his ankles together, and assuming a ram-rod straight, rigid posture.  Eyes fixed forward, staring into the distance, Varca brings his gloved right hand--balled up into a fist--up and thumps it into his chest, directly over the Drinaxi emblem, there.  He holds the position, unmoving, awaiting the King's pleasure.



     With a short, silent, nod of acknowledgement, Varca assumes a more relaxed pose--though he makes no move towards the refreshments.

Ingrid says to Varca "A most impressive look" She gives the guards a friendly smile in response to their glares.

Ingrid curtsies deeply to the King. Although her father moved in reasonably high society, as befitted a man in his position, she'd never met a king before. "Thank you, your highness" she says demurely. Imagine me meeting a king! Wouldn't they all be impressed back home! she thinks happily.

And yet, part of her couldn't help but be disappointed. A King ought to be the sort of man who could sign a treaty with one hand while battle his foes with an ax in the other. He should lead the way into battle. Bravery was expected of every Sword Worlder. At his size and appearance, the king hardly seemed the type. But perhaps she was being uncharitable; it wasn't her nation, after all. And feasting was traditionally Kingly, although she didn't usually go to parties with-she takes a look at the king's companions and keeps her embarrassment from showing on her face-such company. But the music was nice.

Teddy bows and moves forward but touches nothing just saying "Thank you Sire" when invited.

Not at all interested in meeting Oleb, nevertheless, Rejji complies with the command. He shows up at the correct time, follows the standard protocols and nods solemnly at the king before visiting the refreshment table.

Knowing Oleb is fond of wine, Rejji is not surprised to find several different varieties on the table, along with some cheese and crackers. The crackers might be a product of the Floating Palace's hydroponics garden, but the cheese is clearly imported. He's not sure about the wine. If it's any good, it probably comes from off-world.

He pours some wine into a goblet and sips at it.

He has a hard time accepting the scene as innocuous as it appears, and constantly scans his surroundings for the 'hidden surprise'. Then he notices the guns on the Iron Throne. Merely decorative, right? If he was the King, he'd make damn sure those guns all worked and were under his command!

Teddy waits silently for the king to explain why they were summoned and to answer any questions the king had for him.

     Varca waits while everyone else moves towards the table--flashing a momentary frown of annoyance towards Rejji, when the younger Vespexer moves forward with the others, but then inwardly shrugging his shoulders--remembering that Rejji hasn't spent much time off Drinax...or dealing with the Nobles of the Floating Palace.

     So, after his 'Betters' have moved to the refreshments, Varca then joins them--stepping up to a spot just between Ingrid and Zhouth.  Pausing to look over the table for a moment, Varca reaches among the bottles and withdraws a narrow, clear-glass bottle containing a water-clear beverage and sets in down in front of himself.  Then he collects a small tumbler, places a few ice cubes into it--sets that near the bottle--then looks for and collects a pitcher from near where the coffee and tea service is set up.  All this he does with his gloved right hand, exclusively--his left still holding his helmet tucked in under his let arm.

     His components collected, Varca starts to assemble his drink, his head tilted down towards the tabletop--thus placing his lips out of sight.

     "Drinaxi enjoy Authoritarian Rule." Varca says, barely moving his lips, in a voice so quiet it's obvious he's only intending it for Ingrid and the sharp-eared Zhouth.

     "Assume observation." Varca continues, pouring what looks like milk, or possibly cream, from the pitcher into the tumbler and over the ice, "Reported to King."

     Varca fills the tumbler half full of milk, sets the pitcher down, then, one-handed, opens the narrow bottle with it's water-clear contents, picks up the bottle and starts slowly pouring the liquid into the tumbler.

     "Call him 'Majesty'--'Highness' for Prince and Princess." Varca finishes with the liquor, sets the bottle down and re-caps it.


     Varca lifts the tumbler towards his lips, hiding them with the glass, "'Imperial Majesty', you wanna kiss his fat ass."

     The hesitation in Varca's moving hand is barely noticeable, as his eyes leap up to the throne--or, more specifically, as they dart from one to the other of the autoguns mounted to either side of the King.

     "Guns're real." Varca whispers, just before taking a sip of his drink, "'Is GranPappy used 'em to stop a Coup, back when."

Seeing everyone else get a drink, including Varca, Teddy got a shot glass and gave himself a double shot of Single-Malt Scotch and downed it. When done, he sets the glass back down on the table. Hoping the liquor gave him a little edge, stopping so it didn't inebriate him. There was definite fire in his belly. He looked over the fat king and his disgusting public appearance, a total disgrace! The guns on the throne looked real enough though so he stepped back to the side a little bit to get out of their path!
This message was last edited by the player at 18:58, Fri 13 Dec 2019.

"You look lovely Ingrid, come on over here where it's safe, the guns are real." he whispered to Ingrid.

He nods to Varca a knowing nod as he steps back from the barrels of the weapons.

Ingrid looks terribly embarrassed that she addressed the king by the wrong title and covers her embarrassment by turning away to get a drink. She recovers and says "I rather like the music."

"Now that you've all wet your whistles... ha-ha-ha," the king bellows out, "we can get down to brass tacks... though we haven't had any of them on the Floating Palace for about 50 years! Ha-ha-ha!"

"I'm sure my daughter has explained The Plan to you. While she came up with it, I had similar thoughts because, frankly, I'm tired of things just 'going on' the way they always have. I REFUSE to die in obscurity!"

"So... it's about turning things around in this Sector. Yes, technically I'm the king--in exile--of the Sindalian Empire, but, let's face it, the Empire has been dead for a few centuries. Given it's history and status... I don't see any reason to resurrect it."

"That's not to say that something shouldn't arise in its place... with me at the top, of course! Ha-ha-ha!"

"There's an old adage: Safety in Numbers. As long as all the worlds are fending for themselves, the Aslan can pick us off one by one. They did such a number on Drinax that they don't even consider us worth bothering with. Eventually, of course, once all the other worlds have been conquered, some Ihatei will think Drinax is just another territory to conquer, no matter how worthless it is."

"Well, DAMN IT! I'm not going to wait for that to happen... though I'll probably be long dead by then."

"The Plan is to stir things up in the region, get the worlds to start forming an alliance and, eventually, come under the protection of Drinax."

"To do that, we need to get the Imperium to support us--let us function as a buffer zone between them and the Aslan. Once that happens, we can start pushing the Aslan back. Reclaim some of the worlds they've taken."

"Now, the way we're going to do that is bring back the old commerce raiding. Just not as extreme. Attack resources but don't kill. It's even harder to rule dead people than it is living ones! Ha-ha-ha!"

"Keep your identity secret when you raid. Don't want them to think that it's Drinax behind it."

"Rao said you'd probably need assurances that I'm supporting this plan, so there you have it. From the horse's mouth! Ha-ha-ha! I love that expression! I've got Voha working on how to make a horse talk! I almost gave him the 'teaching a pig to sing' tale! Ha-ha-ha!"

In reply to StarMaster (msg # 85):

     Varca puts down his drink, clears his throat, then looks up and addresses the King.

     "Majesty." Varca says with a small nod, "I am Varca Lexand, formerly with your Star Guard Scouts.  May I speak in consideration of...adjusting... some aspects of The Plan?"

"Of course, Mr. Varca!" King Oleb responds to Varca.

"You can have your say! All of you can! That's more or less why you're here. But, yes, I am well aware that no plan ever survives contact with the enemy. The Plan is not carved in stone."

"It's the end result that is important."

"So... speak up!"

  Zhouth did exactly as instructed, smiling brightly but not broadly - too many teeth could be taken the wrong way!

  "I have a question! Two, actually: how much do we have your permission to promise tech from the Tower toward winning favor from all these worlds, and are there any where you think it's especially important to win it?" Holding his drink steadily in one hand, he hooked a thumb in the direction of the Scholar's Tower for emphasis. "I'm an academic, so I like the idea of using that sort of thing as a carrot along with the raiding stick to get the horse talking, you know? I wouldn't want us to promise something that you aren't okay with us delivering, though."

In reply to Zhouth (msg # 88):

     After the King had given him permission to speak freely, Varca then paused, deferring his comments until after Zhouth had spoken.

     "My thoughts follow similar lines to those of Scholar Zhouth, Majesty." Varca says, following Zhouth, "I understand how covert commerce raiding by us can be manipulated to increase tensions on the planets of the region--scare them into thinking that they would be safer in some sort of coalition, rather than trying to stand alone."

     "But while that part of the plan seems easy, to me, I am less certain as to how these activities will cause those same planets to look to Drinax for leadership and protection...?"

     Varca pauses a moment to make a quick nod of his head towards Zhouth,

     "Unless there is some kind of follow-up program being conducted, here at Drinax.  Tech sharing will go a long way towards rebuilding old alliances.  But so will financial, manpower, and military assistance.  Covert raiding and piracy are fairly easy, Majesty--dangerous, but simple in operation.  But when we are not engaged in such activities--if we should find ourselves in a position to offer some kind of assistance to someone, but it would be offering aid from Drinax--just how much authority will we have in such circumstances?"

     Varca shifts his stance from one foot to the other, "I mean, I would not presume to go so far as to set foreign policy, Majesty, but will we have the freedom to offer small assistances, or will we need to communicate back here, just to help out a community with Natural Disaster recovery?"

     Varca pauses and twists his plain face up into a grimace,

     "For that matter, Majesty, do we even have the ability to provide such assistance, even when it would provide political leverage?"

     "Again, we would not presume to set Official Policy, Majesty, but a couple of us have discussed this, and we have come up with a few...ideas...for parallel projects that could be started, here at home, that would supplement The Plan, while maintaining a sufficient distance of deniability."

     "For instance, we have an idea for expanding your Majesty's Star Guard Fleet..."

Teddy listens to the others, but says nothing.

"Trading tech is an option, but promising it for something that you may or may not ever get in return... THAT is not advisable," Oleb replies to Zhouth.

"I understand your point of view, but our technological knowledge is all that we have left. If we give it all away, we'd have nothing left."

"I am not you and you are not me. So, it's not about what I would do, but what you will do. Pax Rulin and Thrush would be good allies. Other than that, everyone is welcome. The more the merrier!"

"The follow-up program is you. There's no assistance from Drinax. You, Varca, know that better than anyone. We have no resources to provide assistance. If you think assistance will sway them, then you have to provide it yourself. Negotiate with another world that can. But let them know that it was King Oleb that arranged it."

"If you have some way to increase our fleet, that would be a very good thing. We can't steal a ship from some other world and then add it to ours! That would be disastrous when they found out!"

Teddy listens to Oleb, letting what he says sink in. At the moment, he remains silent.

Ingrid is a little dismayed that Oleb admits how little resources Drinax has, and that he plans to work with the Imperium.
"Your Majesty, I will be honored to help you push back the Aslan. But do you believe you can trust the Imperium?"

  "Of course he can trust the Imperium! It's perfectly reliable in looking out for its own interests!" Zhouth accompanied the proclamation with a grand, sweeping gesture with his free hand, then promptly drew it down into a small back-and-forth tilt as his voice dropped back to normal. "Just have to play to that fact, right?"

  "And, well, I wasn't thinking of giving it all away. Don't think we could carry that many data chips, for one thing! But one bit here, another bit there, to remind and entice with what else Drinax could do for them? Word gets around, too. Makes dealing with the skeptical types a bit easier later on."

  He tilted his head a bit and brought both hands together around the mug. "Uhh, but if we're going to be saying we're there on behalf of King Oleb, we might want to have something we can wave around to prove it. Something that isn't the pirate-on-my-behalf paper, I mean. That thing gives away a bit too much that we really don't want them knowing."

In reply to Zhouth (msg # 94):

     Varca had paused to collect his thoughts, before he answered the King.  He continued the opportunity, made by Ingrid and Zhouth expressing their thoughts, then spoke after Zhouth.

     "Exactly, Majesty.  The Plan, as presented, is an excellent opportunity for us to go out and make many people--even planetary governments--feel grateful towards Drinax, and Yourself.  But, as you've wisely pointed out, the resources available to Your Majesty here, on Drinax, are incredibly limited, and have been for almost two centuries."

     "And everyone in this stellar region knows this!  That we may go out and hunt down Pirates--sending all our captured Prize Pirate Ships back here, for you to add to Your Fleet--will still only amount to a handful of ships....and merely grateful neighbors.  Any offer by us of "protection" to these star systems will not be the Grand Gesture that we might hope for.  Oh, it will improve everyone's opinion about us, maybe even get planets around here to stop thinking of Drinax as some decimated backwater--but just running a single ship around the subsector on anti-piracy patrol?  That is not going to make our neighbors come beating on our doors to join a New Drinaxi Kingdom, or even a Local Cluster Protection League headed by us."

     "Of course, as we know, part of The Plan is also for us to join in the piracy, disrupting the flow of Trade in the subsector--to increase anxiety--to get the other worlds more concerned that they could become isolated--and thus prey for future Aslan expansions."

     "It is in addressing that concern--making our neighbors think they need Drinax involved in their lives--I believe, that Scholar Zhouth brings up our Tech advantage.  Remember, Majesty, that many of our neighbor planets were once in thrall to Drinax--their infrastructures were making use of our technology.  Then the Aslan Attack smashed much of that on most of these worlds.  What we are proposing is that, as we--this Crew--ingratiate ourselves with these other planets with our 'anti-piracy' patrols, we also look at the other needs of these planets, and if we see something where Drinaxi Technology might aid a world, we then mention it to those planets--as well as report it back to you--then Your representatives can contact these worlds and make offers of Technical Assistance."

     "Your Majesty can offer to send in Technical Advisors to upgrade the world's infrastructure--in exchange for either hard specie, or in exchange for raw resources or trade goods."

     Varca dares to raise his free right hand towards the King in gesture to pause,

     "I know what you're going to say, Majesty--that we do not have the personnel to engage in such major projects.  And I grant that you are correct about that--sort of.  We do not have the trained personnel here, on the Floating Palace, nor do we have such a large workforce such projects would require, again here, on Drinax.  But we do have those resources available to us--we've just been ignoring them for years.  I'm talking about..."

     Varca dramatically raises his right hand up abouve his head and points towards the ceiling,

     "Planet Asim!  There are hundreds of thousands of people on that planet, Majesty, and like it or not, Drinax has Occupied that world, and it is now a part of Your Realm.  It is time we stopped dealing with planet Asim as an Occupied Territory that nobody wants to talk about, and started incorporating it's inhabitants as Citizens of the Kingdom of Drinax.  I have lived on Asim, Majesty, I have served there with the Star Guard.  The majority of the Asimites have no love for the Theocratic Government that we tossed out when we Occupied the planet, and while our Military Colonial Administration has had a gentle hand, and allowed for much local autonomy in governing themselves, the Asimites still see us as Occupiers--as Foreigners."

     "As an adjunct to The Plan, I would suggest to Your Majesty, that a program could be started on Asim--a Program to recruit Asimites into a workforce, in exchange for Advanced Education, where they can then be sent out to worlds we choose--that is, which Your Majesty chooses--who have a need of assistance.  There, under the supervision of both technical Experts from Drinax, as well as Asimites trained to be Supervisors, they can implement our superior Tech."

     "In dribs and drabs, as Your Majesty said, but enough that these worlds come to need Drinax--to want Drinax--to follow Drinax."

     "Plus, as we send captured Pirate Ships back home, for you to integrate into an expanding Star Guards fleet, you will be needing people to Crew those ships.  It is time for us to begin to elevate the people of Asim up to our level, and let them join us as Royal Citizens.  In fact--knowing how hard it is for folks to leave the pleasures and luxuries of the Floating Palace--you might even strongly....suggest....to several of your more wealthy Feudal Technocratic Nobles, that they might consider investing in Asim.  Maybe, if they invest their money & tech into upgrading and improving similar industries on Asim, you might reward those Noble Families by giving Land Grants and Titles to their Second and Third Children--who, let's admit it, Majesty, have little chance for Noble advancement here, on Drinax."

Teddy nods at Varca's wisdom and stares at him in awe and wonder.

"But that's what you will be doing!" King Oleb replies to Varca.

"You have pointed out a few additional options, however, for which I am grateful."

"The Floating Palace is a bit overcrowded, so, perhaps, we can offer some land grants to the younger citizens... let them go to Asim and become productive citizens. Ha-ha-ha! I'm not going to hold me breath on that! Too much of the Good Life for them. Haven't done nothing their whole lives."

"I'll send my son to negotiate with Asim. We'll trade some tech for training, bonafide citizenship for land grants... I'm glad I thought of it! Ha-ha-ha!"

"Now, as for trading some of our tech, that's a good idea. We've been sitting on it for so long, we've forgotten what it can do. This old Palace is going to need repairs soon enough. Hell, I can't even get anyone to tell me how it frickin' works, let along how to repair it!"

"We get our tech working again, we'll be a match for the Aslan easily!"

"Now, you might want to consider your first mission to... Torpol and Clarke. Raiders from coreward recently attacked them... looting their orbital factories and destroying their system defense boats. These weren't desperate brigands – they have weapons, technology and discipline that mark them as dangerous corsairs. The Provosts of Torpol and the Psychopomps of Clarke put a combined bounty of the heads of those raiders. Anyone who brings back proof of the raiders’ death will be showered in lanthanum and gold."

"Not that we have any need for those things... exactly, but it's a foot in the door. An opening gambit for trade and negotiations."

"Think you can swing it?"

  Zhouth's ears perked up as King Oleb started talking about the very same incident that Scholar Voha had brought to his attention earlier, but they almost immediately lapsed askew.

  "Uhh, I'd already thought that we might end up doing that once we get the ship repaired, since Scholar Voha mentioned it to me earlier, but getting the ship repaired is going to take some doing, especially if we're supposed to be chasing it after dangerous corsairs that can shoot down defense boats!"

  Zhouth was very carefully keeping both hands on the mug to suppress his usual penchant for grand gesticulations, but the uh-oh look on his face clearly signaled what he thought of their current chances in any sort of firefight.

In reply to Zhouth (msg # 98):

     Though the look on Varca's face remained stoic, his pale skin turned a shade of pink which couldn't, quite, match the crimson of his eyes.

     "Ah, I'm afraid, Majesty, that Scholar Zhouth is....correct.  At the moment, the....uh, the Harrier is unable to get to either planet Clarke or planet Torpol.  The Jump Drive is in need of serious repairs, and is, currently, incapable of performing a Jump of that distance.  We will need to acquire parts and make those repairs, before the ship can perform a Jump-Two, again.  Steps are being taken, even now, to try and accomplish just that."

     "And, also as Scholar Zhouth pointed out, the Harrier barely qualifies as being armed.  Oh, the weapon fires--and it's a very fine weapon, too, Majesty!  Excellent for capturing ships!  But the turret mechanism is broken.  It's not that complicated a fix, but it will take time.  Now....if we focus on repairs to the Jump Drive--and luck is with us--we might be able to launch for planet Clarke in a few days, maybe a week."

     "We had discussed making our way, quietly, to Tech-World, and getting the majority of the repairs done there--where they have a tech base closer to the original one that built the Harrier.  But it sounds as if this situation in the Torpol Cluster cannot wait the few months it would take us to get to Tech-World and get back."

     "If memory serves me--planet Clarke does have starport facilities rated as Class B, but the planetary technological classification was....eight, I believe, the last time I was there.  Any repairs we tried to have done would require we use imported higher-tech parts.  Costs will thus be higher.  But we should be able to get many of the maintenance and resupply type jobs done fairly easily, and hopefully for not too many credits."

     Varca shrugs, "Even tech level eight parts should suffice to fix a weapon turret, without complications, I would think.  Then, with a working weapon, we should be fine."

"Sorry Sire, we need repairs before Torpol and Clarke can be reached as they say. It may take time to get there without your help here."

Ingrid frowns at Varca's reply, clearly not happy about it.
"I can do a lot of the repair work, but of course we need facilities" Ingrid says. "I do rather like the idea of this Torpol mission."

     "Well said, Lord McFarlane, Lady Sigar." Varca says, nodding towards each, "The repairs to the Jump Drive will be difficult, even if we could bring the Harrier to the facilities here, on the Palace.  But since we can't risk anyone seeing the Harrier here, to possibly make the connection between the Harrier and Drinax, we must do that job in a less optimal location.  But, I hope--no, I'm certain, that parts should not be a problem."

     Varca turns back to look up at King Oleg, "Majesty, I hope our suggestions have encouraged you to consider additional ways to supplement The Plan, and get our neighbors to look to Drinax, and yourself, for aid in the....uncertain....times to come.  How else, now, may we be of service to you?"

Teddy nods acknowledgement to Varca when he is mentioned as he awaits reply from King Oleb for their points.

     Varca straightens his posture even more, as he decides to take the final step with King Oleg....

     "For....if your Majesty has no further issues, I would....respectfully....like to bring up the matter of Command aboard your Harrier."

     Now committed, Varca pushes on, "Majesty....I hope that you will consider Lord McFarlane for the position of Captain.  Though he chose to leave his Family and Drinax, many years ago, he has come back now, at this propitious time.  And with him he brings the knowledge and skill of an Imperial Naval Officer.  I believe him to still be a True Son of Drinax, Majesty--this opportunity will help him to remember that."

     Varca turns his head, momentarily, to look over at Theodore and flash him a quick grin.

     Then Varca turns back to Oleg, his serious demeanor returning,

     "However, success of this Plan will rely upon more than skill at naval operations--though, granted that will play a large part of The Plan.  But we will also need to perform diplomatic and humanitarian operations, ground combat, salvaging--and even outright theft.  The Commander of this mission should be able to see all of that, to be able to make use of the...." Varca pauses a moment, as he searches for a word, "....eclectic knowledge base of this diverse Team that Princess Rao has assembled for you.  And, when needed, make the hard decisions, swiftly."

     "Majesty, I believe that I fit those qualifications, and respectfully ask that you consider me for the position of Mission Commander.  My loyalty to you, and to Drinax, remains as strong, now, as when I served in your Star Guard.  I am yours to command, Majesty."

     "And further, Majesty, the Commander of this mission should be someone whose loyalty towards Drinax is beyond question.  I put to you, Majesty, that I am the person for this task."

"Oh, for Pity's sake!" the King responds. "There is no Plan! It's just an idea. And it's not my ship until such a time as you do something to make it my ship!"

"It's up to you to decide who is captain, commander, Grand Poobah or whatever! I don't care as long you get the job done! Stop bothering me with details!"

"You wanted assurances that Princess Rao was telling you the truth--you've got those. The ball is now in your court."

Teddy's eyebrows arch up and he stands straighter listening to the King, Maybe he could be a count or something in the new empire.

Ingrid curtsies again "Of course, your Majesty. We will sort out these details."

  Zhouth tilted his head to one side. "One other thing? You and Rao and Harrick all know about this, right? Is there anyone else? I just want to be sure who we can safely talk to about it while we're here, especially if we have to drop your name into the conversation as part of something we're arranging!" He sounded almost apologetic about the further inquiry, but it was rather relevant to the security of the plan, idea, daydream, or whatever else they were going to call it.
This message was last edited by the player at 06:41, Thu 16 Jan 2020.

Teddy was wondering who they could rely on and trust as well. He waited for the king's answer.

"Prince Harrick knows about the idea, but not that I've actually authorized its implementation," King Oleb responds. "He doesn't agree with it, so you should avoid mentioning it to him."

"You can't trust anyone on the Floating Palace. Everyone is out to backstab everyone else to get ahead. It's a way of life here, practically bred into everyone simply because there was never anywhere to go, so this was all there was."

"Sadly, none of them see it as a bad thing. I suppose that's my fault. I may not encourage them, but I don't do anything to discourage them either."

  "Well then that Asim idea sounds even better! Get them out of the place, shake some of the dust loose from between the ears, right?" Zhouth's smile was accompanied by a slow wave of one hand in the general direction of the Asim system, the first gesture that he'd allowed himself in the last few minutes. The cup remained securely wrapped in the other, of course - no spills allowed!

  The smile faded as he brought his hand back down. "That's everything I can think of right now, though. Guess we'll just have to see how this all goes!"
This message was last edited by the player at 01:12, Sat 18 Jan 2020.

     "And whenever any of these Palace Twits try their aristocratic crap down planetside, they end up in some Vespexer community protein vat." Varca adds in a not-quite-a-whisper aside to Zhouth.

     Varca clears his throat (after a moments awkward pause) then reaches out with his gloved right hand and lifts up his tumbler of milk and vodka from the nearby serving table.

     "Nyshinden arn Syngshongden...." Varca quotes the Old Sindalese for Ladies and Gentlemen, as he presents his drink to the left, to the right, and then higher, towards the King,

     "A Toast....to the Success of this Operation, and the Glory and Prosperity of Drinax!"

     As Varca brings his drink to his lips, he turns slightly and catches Theodore's eye--giving the expatriate Drinaxi Noble a meaningful look, and making a slight nod up towards King Oleg.

Teddy takes a drink of the toast, his eyes sparkle when Varca motions toward the king.

Next stop: planet surface?

You won't be able to take the space shuttle down, only an air/raft or two or a grav vehicle.

In reply to StarMaster (msg # 115):

OOC: Yeah, the plan Varca has....is to load the shuttle that brought us to the Palace with the things we've bought while we were here meeting with the King, then fly the shuttle out to meet with the Harrier--which Varca has already messaged to move closer to Drinax.  Then we'd take the Harrier down to the planet, to the mountain valley location of an old Star Guard base which Varca had seen (but not, actually, visited) back when he was in the Star Guard Scouts.

Back then, From an over-looking mountain ridge, Varca had seen a narrow landing field with "hundreds" of lined-up and wrecked ships, laying exposed out on the flight line, as well as what looked like hardened, yet damaged, bunkers leading into the mountainside.  He never reported this (thinking he could come back after he retired, and use the salvage to fund his retirement).

When we were all recruited on planet Asim by Princess Rao, Varca recognized the Harrier as the class of ship he had seen "hundreds" of wrecks of, down in that hidden valley base, those years before.  It is Varca's hope, now, that here might be undamaged (but old) parts for Harrier-class ships in the deepest storage spaces, under the mountain, and/or, that there may be salvageable parts to be found amoung the wrecks, out on the tarmac.  This trove of (potentially) useful parts is what Varca is offering as "Ship's Shares".

If the Harrier is not, yet, arrived at the rendezvous spot, closer to Drinax, Varca suggests waiting--perhaps spending the time in beginning to get Ingrid familiarized with her new Vacc Suits.

In reply to Varca Lexand (msg # 116):

Sounds like a plan

OOC - Are you going to tell us your plans Varca? StarMaster, is the royal summons over yet?

"To Drinax and the King! Teddy salutes in his own toast!
This message was last edited by the player at 19:19, Sat 25 Jan 2020.

In reply to Theodore McFarlane (msg # 118):

OOC: Finally!  You took the hint! ^_~
Yeah, Varca has dropped a few hints about this plan--and it's been my intention to have him reveal his intentions after this meet-n-greet.  Of course, I've also been assuming that we'd be returning to the Harrier fairly soon after this, anyway, so the two events kinda go hand-in-hand in my/Varca's mind ^_^


     Varca again raises his tumbler and joins Theo's toast,

     "To Drinax!  To the King!"

     Varca drains off the remains of his milk & vodka, then thumps the empty glass--upside down--upon the table.

  Zhouth saluted with his mug when the others called out their toasts, but he didn't add anything further. A couple of small swallows were all that he needed to empty it thereafter, and he was quick enough on the uptake - or sufficient accustomed to these sorts of formalities - to follow through on the upside-down placement.

The audience with King Oleb is over, and he dismisses you with a casual wave of his hand.

Varca had received a single word on his comm just before entering the throne room: Done.

If everyone goes back to the shuttle, you find that your purchases have all been loaded on it, and Princess Rao is once again sitting in the pilot's seat.

"If anyone asks, I'm dropping you off down on the planet," she says to Varca and the others.

Once everyone is aboard, she requests clearance (not that she would be denied, but she's following protocol), is granted, and the shuttle takes off.

She takes the ship into a low circumpolar orbit until it is out of sight of the Floating Palace and then heads out into space, keeping the planet between the ship and the Floating Palace.

Out in space, she appears to be heading back out to the asteroid belt again, but Varca realizes she's heading for the L2 point.

Teddy buckles himself into his seat and waits for the trip back to the Harrier.

"Can't wait to see space again! Pounding sand and such isn't much fun."
This message was last edited by the player at 15:41, Thu 30 Jan 2020.

In reply to Theodore McFarlane (msg # 122):

     Once the shuttle is on course, Varca gets up out of his seat,

     "Will it alter your definition of 'fun' if the sand is contaminated, Imperial?" Varca says with a chuckle, as he heads forward to the piloting compartment.

     Once there, Varca tries to be unobtrusive as he looks over 'The Pilots' shoulder at the course settings,

     "When I messaged Viridian," Varca says quietly, so as not to distract the Princess, "I told him to make the best use of the stealth qualities of the ship--so hopefully it should be hard for us to locate him.  If I might suggest, Prin--uh, I mean, Pilot--that you just maintain operation of the usual avionics and guidance electronics, and let Viridian find us."

  Zhouth was preoccupied with unpacking and examining his new combat suit, which stood out for both its shape and its color scheme even in absence of decals. Changing into it took some further doing; he hadn't been kidding about being unaccustomed to anything so heavy - simple vacc suits and hazard suits had nothing on it - and while he eventually got everything settled into place, it was obvious that he would be ever so slightly less than graceful when moving about in it.

  "Good thing we have these to deal with the contaminated part, right?" came his voice over the internal comms. "Though I have a feeling I'll be spending more time falling down than digging things up. I hope we don't run into anyone shooty down there, either." Zhouth wobbled a bit, not quite properly compensating for the suit's bulk, as he waved his hands about for emphasis. "I mean, I might manage to topple over under the first shot, but I don't think I'd be any good at rolling away from the second!"
This message was last edited by the player at 20:56, Thu 30 Jan 2020.

Ingrid sighed. "I rather liked being on a planet again... even if it was only for a little while, and it wasn't a Sword World. I am not a natural spacefarer like my father"

  "Neither am I, but we can both learn, right? Nothing to stop us, here. No rules to stop us, anyway. Just..." Zhouth had waved his hands side to side as he spoke, thereby illustrating the lack of barriers before him - but the suit was clearly something of a barrier around him still. "Well, just getting used to it all, like this thing. I've already learned how it feels to be a tinned product!"
This message was last edited by the player at 09:47, Sun 02 Feb 2020.

"Tinned Vargr, sounds tasty!"

Generally, the L2 point was a large area. But, technically, it was really a specific mathematical point where the gravitation of Drinax and Starfire (Drinax's sun) created an equilibrium where a ship, station or planetoid could sit indefinitely in a stable orbit without having to use its engines (if it had any) to maintain position.

In any case, a tight beam scrambled signal to that point would be received by anything that was there, which is what Rao did.

It was only a minute later when a ship appeared. It was the rear end of the Harrier that still had functional camouflaging holoscreen, so as long as its ass was pointed to the planet, it was pretty much undetectable. Of course, now it swung around on its stabilizer jets so that it could rendezvous with the shuttle.

"Ahhhhh the ship! Cyrus failed to show up, I guess that makes me captain?" he said to the others. "What in the world happened to Cyrus?"

((OOC: Yea! Finally!))


It was actually Aaron that was 'on duty' when the signal was detected, and even before the computer decoded the scrambled message, he knew who it had to be from--Varca! The disadvantage of a tight beam signal was that it was directional, and if there was anything farther out on that heading, it could not only pick up the signal but trace it back to its source.

On the other hand, space was so huge that picking up one tiny little signal was virtually impossible, even if there had been someone farther out to do so.

So, since the heading of the signal was directly through the L2 point, Viridian deduced that it must be from Varca. Otherwise, why would anyone send a signal to an empty orbit?

Rather than reply by return signal, which had all the above conditions reversed, Viridian just used the Vernier maneuvering thrusters on their lowest setting to rotate the ship so that its non-stealthy front end would be visible.

He deemed it still prudent to maintain comm silence so didn't transmit a signal back, letting the ship's action speak for itself.

"We should prepare for a hostile boarding party... just in case," he said to Aaron. He was perfectly aware that they didn't stand a chance against any serious threat, but he was damned if he was going to give up without a fight!

"Oh, I've spent a fair bit of time on ships already. I try to think of it just like my home, only mobile, but it's not quite the same. I still feel better on planets" Ingrid replied. She smiled at Zouth's joke. "There she is" she said when the pick up the Harrier. "His Majesty's ship. An odd man, his majesty."

  Zhouth took carefully-measured steps as he moved over to one of the viewscreens to get a look at the ship as the shuttle approached it. "I haven't met very many kings, but I don't think this one wants us to call it his ship until it's to his advantage! We never did come up with a good name for it, though." He held up one hand, index finger raised in a classic ah-ha gesture. "How about Vultan?" The upward point transitioned into a shrug. "That came to me earlier when I was talking to Voha. Still don't know why, but it fits here too somehow!"

"Jabberwocky, Lewis Carrol wrote it."

  Zhouth half-turned away from the viewscreen to regard Theodore (albeit through hte heavy panel of his face-plate). "Jabberwocky? I don't think I've heard of that one... wait, no. It's a Solomani word for talking nonsense backwards, or something like that? I mean, the jabber part makes sense, but how does the walking part relate?" His tone of confusion was quite evident - and sounded genuine to boot! "Oh. You walk backwards while talking nonsense! Is that it?"
This message was last edited by the player at 21:32, Tue 04 Feb 2020.

"Vultan is good too."

  With that matter more-or-less decided, Zhouth turned to another topic. "So, what's the plan? Go down to the surface, scavenge some stuff for repairs, then... Tech-World for more repairs? Chasing after these raiders would be great if we had a working ship to do it in, but... well, we don't, and scavenged parts won't be enough to change that, will they?"

  With a wave of one hand back toward the palace, he added, "Voha told me about that raid too, showered in gold and lanthanum, and all. Guess everyone wants to see this looked at..." He paused to call up an astrographical map of the region. "Nowhere else that's really good to do repairs around there though, even if the jump drives are working again. We'd have to double back to Tech-World, unless we want to take a few months to go all the way to the Imperium!"
This message had punctuation tweaked by the player at 13:03, Wed 05 Feb 2020.

"Right", Aaron replied to Viridian, "I'll start setting something up. You will join me in a moment?"

There were mixed emotions in his tone, a strange mixture of happy to see the others, as well as nervousness of possible, however unlikely, combat. He moved to his quarters put on his cloth armour, puts on breather mask, and grabbed his laser carbine. He felt kind of ridiculous meeting his friends like this.

He moved to the cargo deck and on to the cross-side ship corridor.

^{COMM START >>> "Any idea on which side they will dock?" <<< COMM END}, Aaron asked the merc while looking around for material to use in a makeshift barricade.
This message was last edited by the player at 14:19, Wed 05 Feb 2020.

"Did you have something else for Cyrus to do Princess? I thought he would be here too."

  With docking imminent, Zhouth took the sensible precaution of settling into a seat and buckling himself in, just in case. It was a little more challenging than usual thanks to the boarding suit's bulk, but ameliorated by the fact that the seats were sized for humans.

  It wasn't that he doubted the princess's piloting skills, but accidents did happen, and an armored suit did nothing to increase the appeal of being smashed against a bulkhead!

     When the Harrier reveals itself, Varca smiles and--momentarily forgetting himself--slaps the back of the 'Pilot' seat in silent satisfaction.  Varca turns to head back to his seat, before the shuttle starts maneuvering for docking.



     Varca halts and smiles at his friend from so long ago,

     "Yes, Lord McFarlane, the Captain's Chair does, indeed, await your Imperially-trained Ass, once we are back aboard the Harrier." Varca says, clapping the former Imperial Navy man on the arm, "My congratulations....and my apologies that we left so fast you couldn't get any fancy new uniforms tailored."





     "Vultan....Vultan?" Varca repeats the word, frowning, as he returns to his seat,

     "I have heard this word, I think?  A long time ago....in a story my Zǔmǔ told....some fairy tale about Old Drinax.  Is it a Sindalian word, Zhouth?  My Zǔmǔ used to use a lot of Old Drinaxi when she spoke--and that's, mostly, a Sindalian dialect...."

     "Well, he's not here, so just drop it, Theo!" Varca snaps out, as he's belting himself in.

     "*sigh* Sorry." Varca says, after a moment, "I spoke with Cyrus just before the meeting with King Oleb--I got there just barely in time, remember?  I told Cyrus that I had contacted what few friends I have among the Drinaxi military command, and--without going into specifics with them--I had gained their support to be made the Mission Commander of this secret mission.  I added that, if I had to, I would tell the King this.  Cyrus....was not happy."

     "Cyrus was angry, but we're friends.  We argued about it, and, in typical Strendian cybernetic foolishness, he chose to....pursue a different course."

     Varca shrugs, "Turns out it wouldn't have made a bit of difference to the Damned King.  Probably would have amused the fat-ass to find out Cyrus and I were arguing over the job--he might even have had the two of us duke it out to settle the issue."

     Varca snorts in wry amusement,

     "Like I could ever beat that augmented bastard in a fair fight--unless I wore powered armor!"

  "I don't know!" Zhouth held up one hand, palm out, and waved it side-to side. "It just came to me when I was talking to Voha. Maybe it was on one of the decorative pieces somewhere?" The hand went up and swirled around once before returning to Zhouth's lap. "That whole palace is filled with them, and the Tower isn't any different! It's not even all academic stuff there. Or the other kind that universities seem to like..."

  The obscuring faceplate of Zhouth's helmet couldn't block the sense of his ears and whiskers drooping at the announcement of Cyrus's departure, and his tone was nothing short of glum. "Oh. I guess that's it for the sword-fighting lessons, then. And one less person again. We can't afford to keep having that happen or the ship will be drifting empty again before long!"
This message was last edited by the player at 13:15, Thu 06 Feb 2020.

"I'm not as good as Cyrus was Zhouth, but I can teach you too."

  "That would work... we've got a good medic handy for when I end up impaled, right?" There was a smile behind the words, albeit one a bit faded. The loss of another partner in their project was clearly weighing on him.

"We got Aaron! What else do we need?"

  "So I'll be fine, except for the little turning into a mushroom side effect? Well, okay then!" Zhouth managed a lightly-rumbled chuckle at that.

  He held up both arms, elbows bent, as if presenting something for examination - though in this case it was what he was wearing that warranted concern. "I hope you don't want me to do it in this getup to start with. I really will end up falling on my own sword, and it won't even be for anything dramatic!"

"Make sure you're strapped in for docking Zhouth!"

  Zhouth looked himself over and then side to side to check the fastenings that he'd set in place a few moments ago. "Uhh, I don't think I can get any more strapped in than this?" Running his hands along its contours as if searching for something, he wondered aloud, "Does this thing have built-in grapples and no one told me?"

Teddy smiled seeing his friend was strapped in tight, Ingrid looked comfortable, Varca was ever plotting.

Aaron stood in the cross-ship corridor, with his weapon aimed at the port-side airlock waiting to hear the metal sounds he associated with docking. Ready to switch to the other side if they docked there, he figured that a 50% chance was at-least something without more info. Nervous with sweat dripping, the medic was breathing heavily underneath his breather mask. He hoped the merc would soon join him for if it was a hostile boarding he knew he had little chance.

At the same time, he was wondering how ridiculous he looked in the more probable scenario that his friends were returning. He *knew* the Vespexer would dedicate a comment or two to it, and Teddy would probably just look at him wondering what he would think. That thought made him smile, but also think of possible excuses he could quip.

No, no, I was checking if this armour should be adjusted. Was the best he could come up with for now...

Still, Viridian was right, better safe than sorry.

     "I don't remember the details, exactly," Varca says, "But what I remember of my Zǔmǔ's stories, 'Vultan' was either a Hero's name, or it was the name of some vicious beast.  Either way, I think it would make a fine name for our Harrier.  That is an excellent suggestion, Zhouth.  Thank you."

     Varca then settles back and reflects on something else that Zhouth had mentioned, just moments ago, when he said....

     Zhouth brought up some valid points--some even more so, after that audience with the Damned King.  Varca believed that Oleb understood the realities of interstellar travel times, and he might even have a glimmering of just how damaged the Harrier still was--but despite all of that, Varca now believed that King Oleb was impatient for some kind of activity with the plan.  Any activity with the plan.  And he wanted that activity soonest.

     So far, the more immediate long-term objectives for the Harrier which had been discussed had involved taking the time and spending the effort and resources to properly repair as many ship systems as possible, before going out, looking for trouble.  If Varca's assessment of the Damned Kings attitude was correct--and he believed it was--then Oleb might not allow them the time that making all those repairs would require.  Varca could imagine the Damned King making a demand for a return on his 'investment', no later than....three months from now.

     That wouldn't be anywhere near enough time to go to Tech-World, get the needed work they wanted done there done, and then get back to the Torpol Cluster to look into the goings on, there--in order to keep Fat Oleb happy.

     Varca spoke up,

     "People, if I could have your attention for a moment?  Okay. We have all chosen to participate in this operation, and, as responsible, safety-conscious professionals, we all want to get our decimals in a column, and plan our tactics and strategies well into the future.  But I'm afraid that we just have to much work to get done first, before we can make any solid, definitive plans for even a month down the way."

     "Unfortunately, I, personally, came away from our audience with King Oleb with the feeling that His Majesty is expecting us to produce results sooner, rather than later.  So I'm thinking it is pointless for us to make any plans beyond dealing with our immediate need.  And right now--before we can decide to either go to the Torpol Cluster, or head off for the shipyards of Tech-World--we can do neither until the Jump Drive is repaired--for either location is a Jump-Two trip away."

     "So, I am proposing that, once we have secured cargo from this shuttle upon the Harri--that is, upon the Vultan, that we proceed down to the surface of Drinax, to a hidden, damaged military facility I know of, where I am almost certain we shall find parts for our Harrier-class Commerce Raider.  Even parts for the Jump Drive."

     "Let us focus on this task.  We can consider future actions, of course, but we shall not plan for them, until we are sure of the success of this task--fixing the Jump Drive--first and foremost."

     "Does anyone disagree with this?" Varca asks, looking around.

  "Well..." A note of uncertainty rang in Zhouth's voice as a matter of logistics came to the fore. "We're using the shuttle to go down, right? The landing gear on the Vultan still doesn't work, unless Aaron and Viridian have managed to do something about that while we were gone. But, uhh, that means keeping Rao with us a bit longer than she might have planned. Or we can try to land the Vultan somewhere really flat and stable and hope the hull doesn't mind it too much."

In reply to Zhouth (msg # 151):

     Varca cocks his head to the left and frowns at Zhouth,

     "When did the landing gear break down?" Varca asks, "It was working well enough when the Harrier landed on planet Asim, to pick us up.  But we won't be able to hold the....Pilot....and her shuttle, any longer than needed."

     "Besides, we're bringing the ship down to the parts--where we'll install them, ourselves.  Down there." Varca grins, "So we will just have to hope that our pilots are up to the task of landing this ship....with, or without, landing struts."

     Varca's grin suddenly takes on an almost nasty appearance,

     "That's why we bought all those anti-radiation treatments and broad spectrum anti-biologicals.  After all," Varca sneers, "The modern planet Drinax is a contaminated Hellworld, you know...."

  "It wasn't working then, either!" Zhouth responded urgently. "But Asim's a bunch of brown flat soft stuff. Drinax won't be so comfy for the ship to land on, right? So more dangerous to belly-flop Vultan onto, but I guess we don't have a choice if we want to maybe get it working again." There was a hint of a resigned sigh woven into the last.


  Landing Gear is on the list of things-not-working, under Hull Systems: link to a message in this game


  Oddly, Zhouth didn't seem to be distressed by the threat of biological and radiological hazards. Or maybe it wasn't all that odd. It could've been the shiny new suit, but the more likely explanation hearkened back to Zhouth having spoken at some length about his past work in a secret military life sciences laboratory, and the occasional bouts of excitement that doing so entailed...
This message was last edited by the player at 11:12, Fri 07 Feb 2020.

SHIP SYSTEM STRUCTURAL RU TECHNICAL RU COSMETIC RU NOTES
  HULL
  ..Outer Hull Integrity 7-9 --- 20 1 RU = 2D HP; max of 88
  ..Armor --- --- --- Armor is integral to the hull
  ..Internal Structural Integrity 0 0 0 ---
  ..Landing Gear 2 1 0 ---
  ..Lanthanum Grid 1 0 0 can probably do it yourself
  ..Holographic Hull 0 1 0 can probably do it yourself

In reply to Zhouth (msg # 153):

     Varca's 'nasty grin' changes back to a frown,

     "Huh--Really?  I didn't notice, at the time." Varca says, then shrugs, "Well, honestly, we'll just have to hope the winds in the narrow valley we're headed to will allow us to try for a grav-powered vertical landing, rather than a powered glide-in landing--and, as I recall, the landing strip wasn't in that great a shape, anyway."

     "Back when the base was built, I'm sure that wind conditions in the narrow valley were accounted for, and even mediated, where needed.  But since then the Pussies have gone and wrecked the entire planetary environment, so it's anybody's guess what the winds'll be like in there, now.  Just hope that Viridian, or Theo, here, are up to the challenge of making it a soft enough touch down to avoid any gear failure."

"I'm a decent medic" Ingrid said with a pride she almost never expressed in her greater mechanical abilities. She looks a little nervous at the thought of landing with the landing gear in the state they are in, but she's not the pilot. "I'm sure we'll get down. I just can't wait to get my hands on those old Harriers... imagine how exciting that would be."

Teddy awaited the bump and click of the locking ring before unstrapping from his seat and then went and started carrying 'stuff' to the airlock. Spare vacc suits and such as well as brandy and cigars and tool kits and parts.
This message was last edited by the player at 16:28, Sat 08 Feb 2020.

[Planet Drinax L2 Lagrange Point, aboard Harrier-class Commerce Raider "Vultan"]

     Varca follows Theo's example, unfastening himself from his seat once the shuttle is docked to the Vultan, and assisting in moving gear from shuttle to raider.

     "Hello Aaron!  Ready to Repel Boarders, huh?" Varca says, seeing his old friend waiting on the other side of the airlock,

     "Is that a laser carbine you're holding?  Hey, why isn't the little red light on the side glowing?  Is the safety still on?  You can't charge the firing chamber with the safety on, y'know...."

     Varca chuckles and gives Aaron a wink, then heads aft with the small barrel he's carrying.

     It takes Aaron only half-a-moment to realize he's never, actually, seen Varca handling any kind of laser weapon....and there is no easily seen 'little red light' on the side of his laser carbine to indicate the safety is off--that would be a dangerously obvious tell-tale!

It was very easy to make the mistake that Aaron was looking right at the large Vespexer the moment Varca came onboard. And it was only natural then to assume Aaron did fell for the raider's joke about the little red light and the safety when the medic slowly turned his carbine to flick the safety switch.

Instead however, Aaron was looking at the newly minced laser mark on the bulkhead he created but moments before, when he, being only slightly tense, accidentally squeezed the trigger as the shuttle and the ship connected. And instead of flicking the switch off, the medic's slightly trembling hand switches the weapon's safety on, knowing that meeting his friends could have turned into a unmitigated disaster.

He let out a soft sigh to calm himself, unclipping his breather mask, and responded with a soft, "Hey Varca", as the large man passed him by.

Recovering enough to keep up appearances, the medic greeted everyone as enthusiastic as he could and slung the weapon over his shoulder. "Anything I can help with?", he asked the returning group, both to be kind and to avoid drawing attention to the latest redecorating he had done.
This message was last edited by the player at 10:33, Sun 09 Feb 2020.

  Moving cargo while wearing the suit wasn't going to be easy, which was precisely why Zhouth chose to do it. Making things more difficult for himself on purpose certainly wasn't one of his priorities, but acclimating himself to the boarding gear most definitely was, and cargo hauling struck him as being among the safer options for doing so.

  The office equipment was the first thing to be moved. After that he worked his way through the crates by size, starting with the smallest and therefore least likely to send him sprawling (and possibly land atop him) when he misjudged his step.

  This did slightly anonymize him when he first emerged from the airlock in front of the carbine-toting Aaron, although the net effect would by no means be mistaken for a competent corsair!

Teddy stowed the cigars and brandy in his quarters. the other stuff went to the cargo hold or where it would be used.

"Hello, Aaron! Lovely to see you again" Ingrid said warmly, smiling and curtsying to him. Meeting royalty put her on her best behavior. "I bought some food on Drinax, I'd like some help with that if you'd be so kind."

Aaron quickly stepped aside as the bulky suited Vargr stepped into the corridor. "Welcome back Zouth, nice suit", the medic said while trying to tap the suit on the shoulder whil reaching about half-way, then adding an unsure, "That was Zouth right?.", as he turned towards Theodore. "Hey Teddy, how are you doing", the medic stated with a wave as his friend passed.

The scholar made a deep nod when Ingrid curtsied. "Good to see you  too miss. Sigar", he added with a deep nod and a warm smile. "I'll get right on it, where shall I put them", Aaron asked as he walked up to the boxes. After he had pick-up some, he turned and asked, "How was the trip? Anything noteworthy happen?"

"Doing fine Aaron, how was the space time?" he asks on his way past to his new quarters, the captain's stateroom.

"We had an enormous amount of fun", Aaron mumbled in a flat voice, "Oh, and Viridian is bad at cards.", making a face as he emphasised the word.

"Well, now it's time to get to work on repairing the ship and getting down to business. Stow everything from the cutter. Where is Viridian Aaron?"
This message was last edited by the player at 20:56, Sun 09 Feb 2020.

In reply to Theodore McFarlane (msg # 166):

     Varca, on his way back to the shuttle from the cargo bay, pauses to cast a puzzled frown at Theo,

     "Perhaps the guy flying this tub of wreckage-looking-for-a-place-to-crash might be found at the Pilot's Station....on the Bridge....Captain." Varca says, pointedly, raising his gloved right hand and gesturing vaguely towards the deck, abouve.

"RAZZBERRY we're just 'orbiting' right now."

  "Hello, Aaron!" Zhouth exclaimed cheerfully on his way past. On his way back - unburdened by any crates or salvaged office machinery - he paused to hold out his arms and let Aaron take a proper look. "You like it? No skull stickers on it yet, but we have the printers now to add them! Could do it for your suit, too."

"We'll move them to the stores. Thank you kindly for your assistance" she responded to Aaron. "The trip was quite enjoyable, we got to meet the King. And I'd never actually been to Drinax before."

"I'm right here," Viridian comments. "Watching Aaron's back... in case you weren't who you were supposed to be... or were brainwashed... or bribed... or coerced... or you all got greedy."

"For all I know, you could have been alien doppelgangers."

"Besides, I kind of got used to not talking to people. I'm sure I'm a bit wiser for it."

"Yeah, we fixed the landing gear. I think. One of the self-sealing stembolts hadn't sealed itself, so it sheared off when the ship landed. Kept the mechanism from working automatically when the ship took off. Had to be retracted and extended manually. Aaron's drone was a big help."

"Neither of us are engineers, though, so if one of you mechanical geniuses want to double check it, we wouldn't consider than an insult."

"Well done! That takes care of that one. Now to fix some of the other defects. I'm moving into the Captain's cabin, on the ship, I'm captain now. Off ship or in boarding actions, Varca leads the way."
This message was last edited by the player at 18:03, Wed 12 Feb 2020.

Aaron nods in a 'will do' kind of way and asks Ingrid with the box in his hands, "What did you think of the king?". "The Palace is quite nice, it's the planet that is a waste ball", he continues while deliberating between moving away to deliver the box or to stay and keep conversing.

As Zouth returns, the medic cheers, "Yeah, I really like it." "It", he begins, then halts his sentence as he considers if he should continue this line, "... suits you ...", finishing the sentence with a half-grin. "Say", he says with a bright face, "we should design an insignia and put that on our suits."

  "I hope it suits me! I don't want it suiting someone else," Zhouth replied, leaving it somewhat ambiguous as to whether he'd missed the joke or was making one of his own. "Insignia? You mean, other than the skulls that Varca wants everywhere? Well, okay, but only if it doesn't link to Drinax. The king was really insistent that none of this be announced as connected to him. Except when it should be, anyway."

  He moved his hands together and tapped his fingertips against one another, producing a clattering-pat sound akin to hail landing on a roof. "Something different for pirating than for when we're doing legitimate stuff, right? I mean, we're going to do at least some of that." One hand went down to his side while the other waved in a circle. "Do we want to use actual images, or something abstract? I have no idea if there's actually a protocol for this."

In reply to Zhouth (msg # 174):

In reply to Zhouth (msg # 174):

     "I actually have an idea for that." Varca says, returning from the shuttle with another small barrel in his arms--which he sets down, before continuing.

     "Yes, The Damn King wants there to be as little association between us and him as possible--but come on!--this ship is a Drinaxi-built, Harrier-class Commerce Raiding vessel.  It doesn't matter how old the design is, or how long it's been since one of these ships was seen--I have little doubt that that fact still exists in databases around the region.  Especially in Aslan databases.  So, no matter what, when word starts to get around about a ship that looks like this one does, somebody is gonna make a connection to Drinax."

     "What we need to do is figure a way to confuse the situation--to be able to give the Officials on Drinax some kind of plausible deniability.  That's why I've been advocating that we try to create the illusion that there are two ships, out in the void, that both look like an old Drinaxi Harrier-class.  One ship we use to disrupt things--make raids, steal cargos, interfere with Sunday Brunches--that kind of thing.  Because, unless we kill everyone and leave no witnesses--something which even I am unwilling to do, to achieve success--then there will be reports of what that 'raider' ship looks like.  Eventually."

     "But, at the same time, we also poke around--very openly--as a privately owned, salvaged and refurbished, Harrier-class vessel--this would be us as the Crew of the Vultan.  I'm even thinking we register out of Port Asim, under Drinaxi authority.  The whole scam being that we present ourselves--the Vultan, that is-- as being so obviously from Drinax, that we couldn't possibly be the Raiders everyone is talking about, because it would be suicide for the Raiders to expose themselves like we would be doing."

     "To help with the scam, I've even got a few ideas about how to use the holographic hull system to make just enough tiny alterations to our appearance to create some question as to whether the Vultan and the Raider were identical, or just two ships with similarities."

     "One of those alterations being...." Varca raises his left arm and starts tapping on the computer interface built into the forearm of his Hazard Suit--then points his left arm at a nearby bulkhead,

     "Years back, when I was still in the Star Guard Scouts, I was looking through an old historical database, and I came across an image of the Battle Standard of the 307th Retribution Fleet of the Sindalian Empire....I really liked it."

     A two-dimensional image flashes up on the bulkhead that Varca is pointing his arm at....


     "I was thinking we could use this as the Ship's Crest for the Vultan--for when we are being 'Legitimate'.  We can always change the color scheme, if using the old Sindalian colors doesn't work for everyone."

  Zhouth needed only a moment to turn and take a look before pronouncing, "I'm not really a good judge of these things, but it looks okay to me. What about when we're doing the naughty stuff? Got one for that too, or should I make some things up with the old printers?" He hooked a thumb in the direction of the mess, where the first of them had been temporarily stowed.

"You can use the printer for that Zhouth, I like it Varca, accepted, our new crest. Unless Aaron or Viridian comes up with something better."
This message was last edited by the player at 13:17, Thu 13 Feb 2020.

"I'm taking the Captain's cabin, anyone want to lay claim to the others, have at it. Zhouth, you want one where you can set up? I don't know who is where, work it out."

  "What? Oh, right! Officer cabin for the mad scien... I mean, the ship's office! I can use the one that Rao won't need anymore for that, right?" The vargr equivalent of a great big grin was abundantly clear in his words even with the suit's faceplate blocking all view!
This message was last edited by the player at 16:28, Thu 13 Feb 2020.

"You can set your office in the cargo hold too if you need to Zhouth, if the stateroom isn't big enough. Ingrid gets one, others can double up if necessary. We have 8 of them. Aaron and Varca get singles as well."
This message was last edited by the player at 16:25, Thu 13 Feb 2020.

  "That's something else that we need to deal with. This ship needs parts, yes, but it also needs a full crew, and we're only half way there. One thing at a time though, right?"

  Zhouth's cargo-hauling shifted toward hauling the office materials (and his still-sparse personal effects) into the officer stateroom that was being vacated by Princess Rao. The stateroom itself - like all of the others - still needed a lot of work, but it was just spacious enough to allow for a small and decidedly ramshackle workspace to be set up in one corner.

  He had been keeping the ship's records from the moment they boarded the ship. Now he had somewhere to keep them!
This message was last edited by the player at 17:36, Fri 14 Feb 2020.

"Nice to see you again, Viridian" Ingrid said with a smile. "I'll double-check it, but I'm sure you've done a fine job" she added confidently

"The king? He's, uh..." Ingrid's politeness warred with her honest for a moment. "...less majestic than I expected. He's friendly, though."

"I like the design, but the bluff seems a little too much" Ingrid said. "But I'm not expert on these things."

     Varca shuts down the image he's projecting on the bulkhead,

     "Excellent.  I'm glad everyone likes it." Varca says.



     Varca gives a small shrug, "I hadn't thought about that, actually.  I mean, we'd be acting like Pirates--I guess I was just assuming we'd use the old standby of a skull-and-crossbones....but I suppose we could go in a different direction."

     Varca raises an eyebrow and gives an evil smirk,

     "I wouldn't mind using a stylized Aslan hand, claws out, raised as if ready to strike--and then we transmit our demands for folks to surrender in Trokh! Heh-heh.  But then, I want to have the Pussies take the blame for our actions."

     Varca looks over at Zhouth, and loses the grin,

     "Bu-u-u-ut....I understand why that may not be a good idea. *harrumph*"

     "Oh!  I got it!" Varca suddenly says, his mood brightening, "How about we stick with the Pirate Skull theme, but instead of crossed bones below the skull, we put the skull over the blade of an upright sword--one of those straight, double-sided long blades, like the ones I hear that Imperial ArchDuke, over in The Marches, favors.  Theo, what's his name?  ArchDuke Norbert-or-something?  Anyway, we make it look like the skull has been impaled down on the blade of the sword--that sounds pirate-looking, doesn't it?"

"Sounds okay to me. You're in charge, make a decision."

In reply to Theodore McFarlane (msg # 184):

     Varca squats, grabs the small barrel he'd been carrying, then (lifting with the legs ^_^) regains his feet.

     "Oh, I will." Varca says, starting off, towards the Cargo Bay, aft, "I'm just asking for input, then I'll have to sit with a graphics program and whip up a few designs....have to look up some course data from my old PsyOps training....make sure the imagery is appropriately--uh--intimidating...."

     "Probably have something by mealtime...." Varca finishes, turning the corner.

Teddy chuckles out loud knowing Varca WOULD follow through

Aaron shakes his head and states, "No, I'm not much of a designer, I try but...". Seeing Varca's symbol, the medic nods approvingly, "It's old school indeed, but I Like it Varca.", then adding with grin, "though I am surprised at the lack of bones."

The small man is silent for a moment before continuing, "I actually like the false colours, using an Aslan symbol.", starts to fiddle with his wrist-comp for a minute and then shows a symbol near where Varca showed his design. "I was thinking of something like this?"


"It's risky, but then ... so is anything else.", Aaron adds with a shrug.

In reply to Aaron Lancaster (msg # 187):

     Varca pauses, just before disappearing around the corner on the way back to he Cargo Bay, and looks over Aaron's concept.

     "Very nice--open hand with dewclaw extended, yes?  Obvious Aslan Threat symbology--I like it!" Varca responds, a gleam of excitement in his eye.

     "We'd want to put that over a black background--y'know, the whole Pirate Black Flag thing--so, maybe, brighten that red just a little bit, y'know, for better contrast.  It's perfect!"

     Once again, Varca squats and sets down the small barrel, or maybe it's a drum--either way, this time a product name, in large Anglic lettering can be seen printed on the side of the container, "ALCONOX"*

     Straightening, Varca assumes (for lack of a better term) 'a pose'--booted feet slightly apart, gloved left fist resting upon his left hip, just abouve the belt, his gloved right hand extended forward, gesturing for emphasis as he speaks, while the red of his eyes lends an intensity to his visage.

     "Alright, I know I've suggested trying to put the blame for us doing....really bad things....onto the Aslan before--and the arguments against doing that all made sufficient sense that I dropped the idea.  I did."

     "But not too long ago, I saw Zhouth get surprised by something--and it started me thinking about this, again."

     "We hadn't been on the Floating Palace for very long, and we were walking through The Bazaar, when Zhouth suddenly points and asks 'Is that an Aslan male, over there, all by himself?'"

     "Do you remember that, Zhouth?  A full grown Aslan Male, dressed as a Warrior but carrying no weapons, walking through the Bazaar of the Floating Palace unescorted, and obviously trying very hard to ignore the throng of Humans all around him, and likewise being ignored by them.  All I did was scowl and nod my head yes, then walk away."

     "Well, I'll have you know that that was Kasiyl--formerly Lord Kasiyl--of the Ahroay’ Clan.  Yes.  That Ahroay’ Clan, the one that bombed Drinax into a contaminated Hellworld.  And Kasiyl lives on the Floating Palace....by permission of King Oleb.  That's right.  And, according to some rumors, that Pussy can trace his ancestry all the way back to a Task Force Commander in the Fleet that hit Drinax.  And the Damned King let's him live."

     "Now, nobody knows for sure--except, maybe, King Oleb--and Kasiyl absolutely refuses to talk about his past, but most of the rumors about the old Pussy have it that he's broken ways with the leadership of the Ahroay’ Clan.  Not sure why, but the most popular story is that the Clan did something, or wanted to do something, that offended Kasiyl's personal Honor--but because whatever it was, was something the entire Clan Council had agreed upon, Kasiyl would have had to take his whole family to war to object about it.  And when he tried doing that, nobody in his family would go against the Clan and support his position.  So, disgusted and disappointed, the old Pussy just up and walked away."

     "I forget what the Aslan term is, for a Warrior who does that--turns his back on Aslan Society--but the Anglic translation works out to be 'Outcast'.  And when I remembered that most folks on the Floating Palace, like the Damned King, treat Kasiyl as an Outcast Aslan, that got me to thinking, again, about us putting the blame for our raiding onto the Aslan."

    "Before, I was thinking in too broad a scope--I wanted to pull a scam that would make the entire Ahroay’ Clan look bad!  You guys--well, okay, mostly you, Zhouth--talked me out of that idea.  And you were right!  It would have been too hard to maintain that front, and it would, eventually, have blown up in our faces."

     "But now I'm thinking, not that we try to blame the Aslan in general for our outrages, but that we create a completely fictitious character--an Aslan Outcast--who is running the operation.  We are just his flunkies, we are just pirates following a rogue Aslan Outlaw.  I'm even thinking, if we can get the computers back up to original spec, we might try and create a CGI image we can use, so our "Boss" can make Comms."

     Varca, finally, shrugs his shoulders, and winds down,

     "I don't know.  I'll admit I am a bit obsessed, when it comes to sticking it to the Pussies--and maybe I'm over-thinking this--but I do think the idea merits, at least, some consideration, before we decide on something else."

---

OOC:
 * = Alconox is a IRL product.  Check it out....
https://alconox.com/resources/...techbull_alconox.pdf
     Only difference, here, is that Varca has gotten the Tech/13 version of the stuff, not the IRL, Tech/7-8 stuff....five 45 kilogram (100lb) drums of the stuff ^_^

  "Actually..." Zhouth had been about to head off and fetch another crate, but paused and turned around, still completely hidden within his suit as he began, slowly and thoughtfully at first, then with increasing enthusiasm (and gesticulation) "I think we need to do this the other way around, especially with that Sindalian symbol you showed us."

  "We were given a contract to go after anyone who doesn't have proper Sindalian documentation, which is pretty much everyone right now. So we use that Sindalian symbol and order people to heave to in the name of Sindal and the whatever type of throne it had! If we want to be all holovid about it, we can make up some story about having woken up from cryosleep and now we're carrying out our orders despite the minor setback the empire had in the meantime! Maybe some people believe that, but even if they just think we're all crazy, it means that every ship crew starts thinking, Oh, if only we had Sindalian documents. I wonder who could sell us those for a nominal fee?"

  "Maybe planetary governments start thinking the same thing! If we could just come to some arrangement with that nice King Oleb over at Drinax, ALL of our ships would be safe from these space-crazies, since they actually seem to respect the documents if you have them, which we don't."

  "And when we're not causing all that trouble, we're a totally professional and completely honest courier company taking jobs around the Reach. Maybe we even take some for Aslan! And maybe King Oleb hires us now and then to help his neighbors with their problems. Nothing strange about a courier company stopping by Drinax now and then, right? We don't need to be all hidden when we do it, and he can even talk to us in person if he wants, because it's all totally deniable. Those guys can't be the space-crazies! They never act space-crazy around here, and their ship doesn't even look the same! I mean, the logo is all wrong!"

  "And if we start getting more ships into our Retribution Fleet? Well, clearly those space-crazies are good at rallying other space-crazies to their crazy cause, because they're all crazy out there, so it looks even better to come to terms with that nice King Oleb who keeps sending his emissaries out to help us in the middle of all of this trouble, right?"

Kasiyl of the Ahroay’if will be my mercenary contact then. Aslan exile. - contact for Teddy.

In reply to Zhouth (msg # 189):

     Varca listens as Zhouth lays out his idea--seemingly a slight frown of disapproval on his face....or maybe Varca's just hungry....

     After Zhouth makes his comment about '...that nice King Oleb...', Varca raises his gloved right hand, finger raised to make a point, and opens his mouth to speak....but quickly snaps it shut, balls up his right hand into a fist, and brings the fist in, to lightly tap against his chin--a thoughtful look is on his face.

     "But if...?" Varca starts, just a moment later, but again lapses into thoughtful silence.

     Another couple of seconds has Varca, again, looking up,

     "So, then..." a pause, "Then why would...?" silence, followed by Varca slowly beginning to nod his head up and down--a look of complete understanding spreading across his face.

     "By the Dragon, Zhouth!  Sindalian Empire era Winkles!  It's frelling perfect!  It covers everything!  The old ship, our sudden appearance, apparently attacking everyone indiscriminately--it even lets us send folks to Oleg, while keeping him out of it!  We just spread the word that, as you said, 'proper Sindalian documents' can be got, not at the Kingdom of Drinax--no, no, what would Sindalian soldiers just out of centuries of cryosleep know about the Kingdom of Drinax?--but those Sindalian soldiers would send people to the Tongchiture at Drinax!"

     "A Tongchiture was a Sindalian, um, Administrative Center?  Provincial Capital?  King Oleb won't have a clue what's going on--we don't tell him--and that will work to his advantage!  Plausible deniability, indeed!"

     "Zhouth, that's a perfect deception.  So.  Will the Vultan be the Sindalian ship, then, or the Drinaxi Courier?" Varca asked, "And, wherever we use Vultan, we'll still need a name for the other alter-ego."

  "What? Oh. Well, I think this should be the Vultan when it's doing legitimate work, and then we look up something all old Sindal fleet-sounding for raiding time! It adds to the story, right?" Zhouth clearly sounded pleased that his idea had been taken up. Maybe he did have some useful part to play in this escapade!

In reply to Zhouth (msg # 192):

     "Right, right.  I agree." Varca nodded, "So....Sindalians always gave their ships such threatening and overbearing names--like Devastator or Eviscerator or Irritable Bowel, stuff like that."

     Varca thinks for a moment, "How about Masticator?  That's something horrible....I think."

     "And, if we're going to be using the 316th Retribution Fleet's Sindalian Dragon Crest for our Bad Guys persona, I don't think we should use either a Pirate Skull or Aaron's Aslan Claw Sigil for our Drinaxi Vultan persona.  We need something more....'Courier-ish'.  Y'know, all warm and cuddly, like."

     "Oh!  I just had a thought--Zhouth, before we leave Drinax, you should contact your friend among the Scholars at The Tower, and ask them if they have any software that would translate our spoken Anglic into spoken Sindalese--preferably the dialect spoken at the height of The Empire.  That should help us maintain the fiction, yeah?  Because I really only know a few words and phrases--stuff I remember hearing my old Kumu saying."

     "And library images of what Sindalian Navy uniforms looked like."

  One of Zhouth's hands swirled toward the floating palace and back again. "We'll have to go back to the palace for that, but that's okay, isn't it? We'll be doing salvage work first and stopping there? Or do we need to borrow another shuttle?"

  "Maybe I can tell Voha something about having heard rumors of this group of space-crazies and its occurred to me to look them up while I was here. Will get the talk going a bit before we're even started, and it won't put him in an awkward spot!"

Ingrid shows cold fury for a moment when Varca mentioned the Archduke. "His name is Norris, the-" she begins furiously, cutting herself off before she could say something very unladylike. "May Odin curse him" she adds.

The moment passes when Varca mentions mealtime. "Oh! I should change and get on that... between that and all the repair work, there's so much I need to do." she says, slightly stressed. "Privatering can't all be meeting royals and shopping, or I would have started years ago" she adds with a smile.

"I don't know any Sindalian; even Galangic isn't my best language" she admits

  Zhouth's train of thought carried on unabated amidst Ingrid's outburst. "Actually, maybe I shouldn't ask Voha about it. I've already asked him about Harriers, and that's a bit too much being put together if I ask about a Sindal language database and uniforms. Rao can get us the language stuff, maybe? I mean, she has all kinds of reasons to look up all kinds of things related to all the old traditions, so who's going to think anything of it? Especially if she calls up some other random stuff at the same time!"

  "Either way, we'd better get the rest of that cargo off the shuttle or she may get tired of waiting for us!" About he turned again, with just a touch of clumsiness, and headed off toward the airlock.
This message was last edited by the player at 05:24, Tue 18 Feb 2020.

     "Yes, good idea." Varca says to Zhouth, as the Vargr starts to head back to the shuttle, "Since you're headed that way, you ask Her!  And if she asks you what you want that stuff for--just smile and give her the Vespexer Answer!"

     Varca then turns to Ingrid,

     "I'm sorry, Ingrid, I didn't mean to upset you, when I asked what Norbert's name was.  Is." Varca apologizes, "It's not like I give a damn about Imperial Noblemen.  I only asked because I thought I remembered hearing, somewhere, that the Imperial Big Shot up in The Marches--you said his name is Norris?--yeah, well, I thought I'd heard that he carried one of those longswords that's really straight, with two edges, and a kinda broad, shallow point at the tip."

     Varca shrugs, "Beyond looking for confirmation of that fact, I don't give a tinker's damn about the Imperial bastard.  He's nothing to me.  But I am sorry, if I upset you.  That wasn't my intent."

Ingrid looks down, embarrassed. "You have nothing to be sorry for, Varca. I'm sorry for my outburst. It's just... bad memories. War leaves men with glory and ladies with grief. Forgive me."

In reply to Ingrid Gustavdottir Sigar (msg # 198):

     "Ah!  Don't worry about it!" Varca waves it off, as he squats--again!--to retrieve the drum of chemicals he'd put down--again!--on the deck.

     "The man obviously irritates you.  But, y'know, us Vespexers live in close quarters, as you might expect, living in sealed bunkers like we do.  So we came up with three ways to deal with people who irritate us, like that...."

     Varca shifts his hold on the heavy drum, then starts to walk aft,

     "Live better than them, and live longer than them." Varca says over his shoulder.

"In other words, accidents happen, to everyone. Some are fatal."

Not knowing how much cargo was being unloaded, Viridian moved to help, and mostly did so silently as he listened to all the ideas being bandied about.

"I kind of like the idea of the Sindalian winkles," he said. "So, us Sindalians are the space-crazies, right? We do the raiding?"

"I think we should use that Sindalian symbol for our fictitious winkle squadron. Make up a name... something that was created just at the end of the war and got lost in the shuffle."

"What if we change the colors? Make the claws and tongue blue and the background red, with a yellow border around it instead of the white one?"

"As for that Aslan symbol... that can still be our 'good guys' symbol... rotate it 90 degrees, make it bright red on a black background and make the gray shadows yellow. Or maybe instead of red, make it blue. Move it a bit further away from its Aslan source."

"Now, as for the ship... if we can get the holo-hull working, we should use it to make the ship look like our Sindalian raider. Maybe we can put some extensions on the front or rear or top... fake turrets... Once we have them figured out, we get the holo-hull to match it."

"That way, when the hologram is turned off, we look just like a regular ship."

"While we were out here waiting, I was thinking about the plan, too. It occurred to me that reviving the Sindalians might be a good idea."

As Zhouth returns to the shuttle, he finds a data storage crystal sitting on top of the last crate. Before he even asks, Princess Rao insists that it isn't hers.

It's a library file from some place called Falkenberg.

  "Oh, how terrible that someone lost it in our cargo shipment like this! I guess we'll never figure out who it belonged to now..." Zhouth's exaggerated declaration of regret at some unfortunate individual's loss was exceeded only by his comical overacting of the part with a dizzying veer between throwing his hands up in despair and burying his face (or rather, his face-plate) in them.

  Equally jarring was the sudden, shrugging transition to cheerful nonchalance as he tucked it away and took up his next armload of cargo. "Well, maybe there'll be a use for it one day. Just have to wait and see!"
This message was last edited by the player at 05:15, Thu 20 Feb 2020.

"Heheheheheheheheheheh."

     "Pretty much." Varca calls back, stepping through the large, open hatch into the central corridor, and disappearing aft--his voice fading as he moves away, "And when they do happen, we're considerate enough to make sure there are no witnesses.  Makes the unfortunate situation easier for everyone, y'know."

Ingrid laughs. "Thinks are a little more direct on the Sword Worlds, but I take the general principle."

"Hmm... I have to see what can be done with the holo-hull"

In reply to Ingrid Gustavdottir Sigar (msg # 206):

     Varca makes several more trips back-and-forth from shuttle to ship, and back.

     After finishing with storage of the decontamination equipment, Varca will move on to the unloading of, then storage and hook-up of, the Boarding Suits into the suit lockers at each airlock.  Those suits that have been assigned--currently only the suits for himself, Theo, and Ingrid, as Zhouth is already wearing his--Varca will deliver to the appropriate stateroom.

     As he's placing the suit he'd bought for himself in the stateroom opposite Theodore's 'Captain's Stateroom', a thought concerning the extra suits occurs to him....

     Grabbing his Hazard Suit's helmet from where it hangs at his left hip, he slips the helmet over his head, then taps a quick command on the suit's computer interface, on his left forearm--connecting his suit's comm system to the ship's internal communications.

^{COMM START>>>}"Varca to Aaron and Viridian.  Please respond.  I never asked--what experience do you two have with Vacc Suits?  Aaron, I know you've worn a Hazard Suit, years back, but have you ever worn a Vacc Suit?  There are some significant differences.  And Viridian--if I recall, you said you've got experience as a professional Mercenary.  That includes basic Vacc Suit training, doesn't it?  What's your level of expertise with Vacc Suits?"^{<<<COMM END}

After all of the cargo is shifted, Teddy stands in the cargo hold with his hands on his hips. "Finally done! Now we get started on all of the actual work, starting with what should be done before we even move. Lets divide up tasks and get started."

Aaron continued with carrying food boxes to the stores. As he plpaced the last box, he was contacted by Varca.



^{COMM START>>>}"Aaron to Varca. Yeez mate, I'm an ex-scout remember; yes I have full vacc suit training and some experience to boot. The medic paused for a moment, before adding, Although I will admit it has been quite a while I have used it.^{<<<COMM END}

He then moved to his stateroom, the last one on the starboard side, right next to the medical stores. He stored his carbine under his bunk and started to remove his armour.

  With a one-arm-only shrug, Zhouth conceded to his known limitations in this area. "Well, if you want me to do basic maintenance work, I probably won't mess that up too much, but I think I'm better off keeping track of everything and watching the system readouts while everyone who knows what they're doing does their stuff."

[Cargo Bay, aboard Harrier-class Commerce Raider "Vultan"]


     Varca nods acknowledgement to both men,

     "Well, then, Zhouth, as long as we'll just be sitting here in space for a little while, do you feel qualified to pull a Bridge shift?" Varca asks the Vargr, "Just sitting there, monitoring the automatic systems....Screaming bloody murder if an alarm sounds...." Varca smiles, then turns to Theodore,

     "With Captain's permission, of course.  The Bridge is his bailiwick, after all." Varca adds, with a bow to Theo,

     "I'll go tell the....Shuttle Pilot....that we're done unloading, and see to uncoupling the airlock."  Varca says, as he heads forward, towards the airlock where the shuttle is docked.

     At the airlock, Varca crosses over to the shuttle and steps up to the small control cabin, where the Pilot and her Copilot have been waiting.

     "Reporting that we have finished unloading operations, and are ready to uncouple.  Thank you for the ride....Pilot." Varca says, with a smirk, to Princess Rao.

     "We're still working on just how we're gonna do....what we're gonna do.  But I think it's gonna be some time before we get back here, to Drinax.  Y'know--best not to be seen around here.  But we'll stop by planet Asim, whenever we're in this part of The Chain*--that's where we'll offload anything we have for you, and you can leave messages for us, if you need to get hold of us."

     Varca grins ruefully, "I just don't know when that'll next be.  But....if you start to hear some really--and I mean really--strange stories about things happening around the subsector, just remember...."

    Varca straightens up and tosses off a casual salute, as he starts for the exit,

     "This Drinax!  We don't know nothin 'bout nothin!"

---

OOC
* = "The Chain", i.e., "The Drinax Chain".  A Jump-1 Route following a line of stars from the Aslan-occupied world of Khusai (formerly planet Banks, of the Kingdom of Drinax) curving around to Trailing, past planet Drinax, then down Rimward, past several more former Kingdom of Drinax member worlds, and ending at the two neighboring Aslan worlds of Tyohk and Iroioah.  Planet Drinax, and The Drinax Chain, used to be a part of The Hierate Route, a major trade route between the Third Imperium and the Aslan Hierate, but now only the former Kingdom of Drinax world of Paal is used as a stop over on the way to the Aslan world of Tyokh.

"Carry on Zhouth, you're on watch on the bridge, we'll do fuel first and the jump drives followed by checking the life support and maneuver drive. Someone can update the computer too."

  "As long as I don't have to do any sudden evasive maneuvers. The only thing I know about that sort of thing is that the big red button probably isn't the right one!" It wasn't the most reassuring thing that he'd ever said, but at least he clearly knew his limits!

  **

  It didn't take him long to settle into the captain's chair and call up the general operations interface on its holographic control system. To one side rested his comm, with copies of all of the lists and assessments that he'd made earlier ready for reference as work was done and reports (or chatter amounting to the same) came in. Comm or sensor activity from outside the ship had its own little area on the main readout, and he could only hope that, aside from the expected notifications as Rao's shuttle took its leave, both would remain idle. Interesting times were not among the things he wanted to live in that day!

     Varca sidles over to stand next to Theodore, then leans his head a little closer and speaks in a quiet voice,

     "Um, Theo, maybe wait on any repair work?  I mean, we're floating out here in space, and our primary Ship Engineer is Ingrid--and as good of an Engineer as she is, she doesn't have any space EVA experience--if outside work should be needed.  Actually, I think the only one of us who does have any real spacewalk experience is....you.  Maybe Aaron, he was a Scout--so was I, for that matter, but I spent all my EVA time planetside."

     "So, let me suggest an alternative plan for our immediate activities....if I may?" Varca does pause a moment, but he isn't even watching to see if Theo makes to object.

     "Ingrid has already said she is going to start preparing a meal--while she does that, let's let everyone else spend the time putting their quarters together.  Remember, a lot of the supplies we bought at the Floating Palace were things for the 'housekeeping' needs of the ship.  We can all change the linens on our beds, do some clean up, put our gear away--y'know, get settled in."

     "Then, after we eat, I should have my old map notes on the location of the Harrier base converted into a landing coordinate, and we can all suit up and head planetside.  We've already got the list of the parts we need--we made that during he trip from Asim, remember.  All we have to do is find them, now."

     "I think getting us down to the planet is a bigger priority than starting any repairs, up here, yeah?  What'cha think?"

"Carry on XO Varca, you got the bridge." Theo says with a smile and heads for his cabin to put away his cigars and brandy and tidy up. "Ooops, I just gave the bridge to Zhouth, whatever!

"I had 24 years in the navy, and never had any vacc suit training, perhaps you will instruct us Varca?"
This message was last edited by the player at 19:04, Tue 25 Feb 2020.

^{COMM START>>>}"I wasn't that kind of mercenary. Ground forces and stealth. So, I can put on a vacc-suit and take it off, but that's about it. I did always think that my training was a bit on short side, but when you are flying around in a spaceship, you don't really expect to have to need a vacc-suit... any more than you do flying in a jet on a planet."^{<<<COMM END}

Ingrid had changed into a more practical dress and an apron, and was singing in Sagamaal as she worked on preparing a meal; it reminded her of life back home.

In reply to Theodore McFarlane (msg # 215):

     "X-O?!  Ha-ha!  That's a good one, Imperial!" Varca bursts out, backhanding Theodore on his right shoulder, "What a joker!  But anyway--you really didn't get any spacewalk time in the Imperial Navy?  Wow.  I figured, of all of us, your Imperial training would cover that.  I find my faith in the Imperium Navy is now lessened...."

    "Oh, well, no matter.  Yeah, once we're on the ground, first thing I'll do is run everyone through some familiarization drills for the suits.  Pretty much, as long as everyone is careful in their actions and slow in their movements, there shouldn't be too many accidents--and hopefully, nothing catastrophic."

"Basic training was the only time I ever saw one."

The cargo has all been unloaded from the shuttle and stowed away in the cargo hold for the moment, the shuttle has departed, and the crew is going to spend a day doing what repairs they can while Varca figures out just where he wants the ship to go on the planet.

Zhouth looks over the memory stick that the Princess didn't give him. It's a full library data file... from Exocet. As near as he can tell, it's only about a year out of date.

"Three jumps to Exocet. Do some research so we can figure out why she didn't leave it for you Zhouth. A suggestion for a base? It is only tech level 8. UWP of A574126-8"
This message was last edited by the player at 17:30, Thu 27 Feb 2020.

"How do you know I didn't leave it?" Viridian says at Teddy's comment.

"It was just sitting there on the cargo crate, so anyone of us could have left it. And that's the point."

"Hmmm. I think you may be reading too much into the source. Whoever left it could have gotten it from some other ship in the past year. What it's saying is that it isn't from Drinax."

"Not that you don't have a point. How does the planet support a Class A starport? There's nothing and nobody there!"

"A few dozen people, representative democracy, allowed to carry shotguns. Did you or anyone else leave it on the crate? Then it was the Princess."

"And if she is asked if she left it and says 'no', are you going to call her a liar?" Viridian replies.

"And, if you do, who's going to believe you over her?"

"So, you see, the Princess did not leave it on the crate. If could have been someone else from the Palace. Or maybe it was concealed in one of the crates and moving it around dislodged it."

"Just to be on the safe side, once Zhouth downloads it into the ship's computer, we should probably slag it. Remove any possible evidence."
This message was last edited by the player at 18:49, Thu 27 Feb 2020.

"I don't have to believe to know Viridian."

  Zhouth tilted his head to one side a bit and looked sidelong at Theodore, sounding somehow both doubtful and determined at once. "Someone lost it at the starport and it ended up in our shipments by mistake. That's how it happened, right? Nothing to do with the Princess, who wasn't here anyway."

  Resuming his more customary level of casual enthusiasm, he held up the data crystal. "The files are just from Exocet, not about Exocet. So not from Drinax, which is the important thing to no one in particular, because plausible deniability isn't something we're worried about at all! So we don't need to rush off there, which is a good thing, because right now the ship can't even do that. Umm, and lots of planets have really good starports compared to the rest of the place. Okay, Exocet is outside the Imperium, so it's probably a corporate starport, or the Exo...cetians? Well, maybe that's what they put all their money into so they can keep exporting mushrooms."

"Might be a good place to 'hide' out between 'jobs' too. Review the crystal Zhouth, I thought it was ABOUT Exocet, didn't know it was FROM Exocet. Shit happens, who knows where it came from then. Sorry for doubting you Viridian."
This message was last edited by the player at 20:52, Thu 27 Feb 2020.

  Zhouth waved the crystal back and forth a couple of times as he spoke. "Oh, it's from Exocet alright. It'll look like we data dumped from their computer systems to fill our library if anyone goes poking through it looking for the source. And a year ago at that! Going to need updates whenever we get the chance. A bit here and there so it looks properly makeshift, just in case? Could say that we found the ship somewhere near there, maybe. Puts some distance between it and Drinax, origins-wise, right?"

  He shrugged and lowered the data crystal. "We could have just been using another ship from there when we scavenged this one, I suppose. Makes it even murkier. Just have to make sure that we're settled on the story before anyone asks!"

In reply to Zhouth (msg # 228):

     "Jesoo Kristi, Theo!  You've spent too much time in the Imperium!" Varca says, "You're frelling from The Reaches!  You'll need to refresh yourself about the local astrography, if you're going to pull off the act of being a local trampship captain."

     "So....planet Exocet....planet Exocet..." Varca frowns, as he recalls information from his time in the Star Guard Scouts,

     "As I recall....Exocet is the other side of the Torpol Cluster from here--two parsecs to Coreward and Trailing, just within Tobias Subsector.  It orbits a hot, lonely, F-type main sequence star, that's a Jump Two away from any planet worth noting."

     "Planet Blue, in the Torpol Cluster--a one-time member of the Kingdom--is close.  And then in The Borderlands Subsector there's planet Arunisiir--which is full of squabbling, Aslan barbarians--and also planet Tanith--which is full of squabbling Human barbarians--and finally, there's planet Lilgan, in the Tobias Subsector, like Exocet, which is a Rich Agro-World that has managed to stay out from under the Imperium's boot-heel.  Unlike the majority of the rest of Tobias Subsector."

     "Wait...." Varca pauses, his frown deepening, "A lonely planet....a Class A starport with a small Crew, and no planetary population to speak of....only a Jump Two away from a Rich World that has easy access to the markets of The Imperium...."

     Varca's eyes go wide, and he grins,

     "I feel a sudden affinity for planet Exocet!"

"The light goes on in that muddled brain, there ahead of you, with 2 dozen residents, shotguns allowed, representative democracy. I KNOW where Exocet is by the way."
This message was last edited by the player at 13:16, Fri 28 Feb 2020.

In reply to Theodore McFarlane (msg # 230):

     "That's not what it sounded like, to me...." Varca sniffs, "But you are not only correct, Theo, that Exocet could be a good place to hide out, but it could also be a good place to fence some of our ill-gotten goods."

     "When we're at Exocet, we claim any cargo as 'stuff we swapped with other Free Traders', then we sell it to ships headed into the Imperium, for whatever we can get.  Even if we sell cheap--since most of it will be stolen--it's all profit.  And I'm sure the Damned King would prefer currency over any other valuables."

     Varca shrugs,

     "Zhouth, you'll have to look into that file and try to figure out how....amenable....the local Customs Officials on Exocet might be to taking a small cut of such profits.  But, for now...."

     Varca gestures towards the Galley, "Let's find out what wonders Ingrid has prepared for us, yes?"

  "You want me to work out how easily they can be bribed from old library data about the planet?" Zhouth sounded (and looked, especially in the set of his ears) both surprised and perplexed by that request. "Well okay, I'll do my best..."

  The suggestion that everyone vacate to the mess hall presented him with another, more immediate practical problem. If he was supposed to be monitoring the bridge stations then either he'd need a very long extension cable or would simply have to wait until someone came to relieve him. And everything would be cold by then!

In reply to Zhouth (msg # 232):

     "Well....yes, but....I mean, when you say it that way, you sound like....me." Varca acknowledges with a grin,

     "What I mean is, you're better at 'reading between the lines' than the rest of us.  As a Scholar, you're used to looking at reams of data and picking out hints that go a long way toward explaining why things are the way they are.  I look at that data, and all I see is twenty technicians working together at an isolated starport, agreeing not to carry sidearms or throw explosives at each other while they sell high-grade fuel to passing ships."

     "And all I pull out of that is that, on a supposedly uninhabited planet, they feel the need to carry longarms....a-a-and now I have an urge to just fly in there and steal everything--the entire Class A Starport."

     Varca frowns and tosses his hands up, in front of himself, in a gesture of frustration.

     "See?  I read 'only twenty people with shotguns operating a Class A Starport', and I immediately think 'ripe for the raiding'!" Varca grinds out, "But obviously things there can't be that easy--or that valuable--otherwise the place would have been raided into the ground a long time ago.  But from the data I recall, I couldn't tell you why that hasn't happened."

     "So, yeah, I'm hoping that, maybe, you can pull something from what's in that data file, that might not be being said openly, but can be inferred."

     "So, come on, let's go eat, and we can look over the data some more." Varca says, casting an eye over the Pilot's station, "Um, the automatics look to be all set, and we're just floating here.  If anything happens an alarm will sound."

     Varca turns to look at Theo,

     "Right, Theo?  I mean, I've trained to fly a starship, but I was trained on a Scoutship--and that's all I've ever flown." Varca points at the Pilot's console, "I don't recognize some of the controls on this Harrier, but I think I'm reading the board correctly....aren't I?"