The extra fuel storage 'pod' gets constructed fairly quickly. It took only two days because of the supplies available, whereas it would have only taken a few hours at a base. At the last minute, it occurs to someone that there needs to be a way to process the fuel that goes into the pod. While a fuel processor could have been salvaged from the other ships, it was decided that it'd be easy to pump fuel from the fuel tanks into the pod. The appropriate hoses and pumps are stored in the cargo bay for possible future needs.

It takes two days to reach the gas giant to refuel. It's no longer possible to make a jump-2 due to the lack of fuel until you refuel at the gas giant. On the other hand, you have around 44 weeks of operational fuel (which would leave just enough fuel to make a jump-1).

Refueling at the gas giant goes fairly smoothly; after all, the ship was designed to do that.

And then you make the jump to Torpol. There are no problems entering j-space, no problems along the way, and no problems when you exit.

It's up to the captain and the astrogator just where you want to exit j-space in the Torpol system.

BB continues to drift in and out of view of the rest of the crew. Her routine through jump space is to work out exhaustively in the morning, do minor maintenance as assigned by Ingrid in the afternoon, and in the evening she tends to disappear within the depths of the ship or her room to watch trashy reality holos.

100 diameters from the highport. That is the target, then maneuver drive on in there.

Teddy continues to woo Ingrid during the trip. He also trains to keep fit and works in engineering alongside Ingrid on the drives.

"Lets try those papers of Zhouth's and get on with this. Comms, contact the highport and tell them that the Vultan is here in seardh of what Varca? You tell them what Fat Oleb wants them to know. We're looking for pirates and such to clean up their space? Oleb's best wishes in the endeavor. What else?"

"We need to refuel in the ocean too and then set down and look for courier work too.
This message was last edited by the player at 14:09, Sun 16 Aug 2020.

In reply to Theodore McFarlane (msg # 3):

     Down in the Portside Countermeasures Room, Varca quickly calls up the computer entry on Torpol from the Drinaxi Database that Princess Rao had had installed on the Harrier--including information gathered on Drinax's neighboring planets, by the Star Guard Scouts.

     "Ah...Captain Theo?  Sir?  Just which one are we doing--approaching Topol, or heading off to a gas giant to wilderness refuel?  Knowing which one we're doing will influence my hail to their Port Authority."

     "And if we are going to go to the planet first, you should know that the Highport, abouve Torpol, isn't much more than a glorified refueling station.  All other Port Services are done at a Downport located near the south pole of the planet--big landmass down there."

     "If I might make a suggestion...?  Since we have several weeks worth of operating fuel in the Pod, let's go land at the Downport, now, and see what's happened since the Raider attack, weeks ago, now.  Maybe there's more information available, or just more to the story than we know.  We should go look into it, before we decide on our next move."

     "Hell, Theo, we really don't even know what the actual reward is, that's being offered--other than Fat Oleb's statement of 'enough gold and lanthanum to bury a man!', that is.  Let's start by getting better informed."

"You answered your own question Varca. Downport and Port Authority. We'll refuel while we're down there then.

"We need anything for the ship's Locker or are we good Varca? Can any repairs be done here?"
This message was last edited by the player at 14:25, Sun 16 Aug 2020.

  "Hey, it wasn't just Oleb!" Zhouth called out in protest. "That line about being showered to death came from Scholar Voha at the tower!" Shoulders rippled in a shrug as he held his hands out. "Probably a metaphor either way, though, and I don't think that we can rebuild the ship with gold. Maybe some specialized electronics and stateroom fixtures, but the hull? This is supposed to be the Vultan, not the Vanity, right?"

  Glancing at one of the shipboard monitors that was displaying the system and planetary data, Zhouth tapped at the latter with the tip of one finger and added, "Downport is best unless we want to get fuel first, but we should use one of their ports for that either way. They might not like us just scooping water out of the ocean and we're supposed to be making friends here, not annoying the port authorities by avoiding their fuel charges."
This message was last edited by the player at 14:47, Sun 16 Aug 2020.

"Roger that Zhouth. Pay for fuel with what few credits we have to spare. Make arrangements to get the missile turret installed too. Hang out the help wanted sign in the starport for a drive engineer at the very least, Ingrid can't do it all 24/7. We need anyone else? Another gunner? Another Marine?"
This message was last edited by the player at 15:41, Sun 16 Aug 2020.

As soon as you come out of jump-space, your ship's transponder is picked up by the Torpol defense systems. (Whatever papers you agreed on, the ship's transponder has been 'fixed' to transmit that signal. In fact, since you had access to over a hundred such transponders, half a dozen were salvaged and sit in a crate in the cargo bay. None of them have been installed yet. It's generally illegal to have more than one functional transponder on a ship.)

You receive a comm from the ASTC of Torpol.

===BEGIN COMMS: "This is Commander Reldam of the Torpol Air/Space Traffic Control to ship Vultan. Identify yourself!" :END COMMS===
This message was last edited by the GM at 16:58, Sun 16 Aug 2020.

"Respond to them Varca, with what you want them to hear and what they need to hear." Teddy says with a grin. He leans back in the captain's seat and takes a deep breath. It felt good to be back in control IN space.

In reply to Theodore McFarlane (msg # 9):

     Varca opens the channel--pauses a moment to focus--and then begins speaking in a (bad) imitation of a Palacer accent,

     "Greetings Commander Reldam!  This is, indeed, the courier vessel Vultan, inbound to your lovely world from Drinax.  We're looking to land at your downport to refuel, and possibly see about getting some work done on our little courier, here."

     Varca deliberately pauses for a moment, before adding "That is...if you think its safe to do so!  Even on Old Drinax, we heard about those awful raids you had, a few weeks ago.  Oh, I do hope the shipyards weren't too horribly damaged."

     "Back over to you, Torpol Air/Space Traffic Control."

     Varca clipped his mic.

"Well, I'd certainly like a chance to go down to the planet" Ingrid said. She liked to see other worlds, and was more comfortable planetside. Besides, it'd give her a break from her engineering work.

She looked over at Varca when he answered the comms but didn't interrupt.

  "This is the right place to visit if you want to take a break from your work. All the ships passing along the Florian route stop here unless they're in a big hurry. Why?" The accompanying who-knows to ta-da pose transition was quick enough to be almost dizzying. "Pleasure ports! Place is famous for them, and they're really the only reason why most people would go to the surface. Should be able to set you up for sport fishing rather than partying if that's your thing instead."

  His expression shifted to a more thoughtful one, and one hand waved toward the planet before the other waved back in the general direction of the Drinax system as he continued, "I think fish are the only thing that Torpol has as a local export. Maybe we should bring some back to the palace later, once this raider business is dealt with. Would go well with all of the hydroponic algae they usually eat, don't you think?"

"I think we all need some shore leave, AFTER we check on the pirates! And while the missile turret gets installed. Don't forget the help wanted placard for a chief engineer and a missile maggot."

===BEGIN COMMS: "You can refuel at the Highport, and the shipyards at the Highport weren't attacked, so you can have your ship serviced there."

"And you still haven't identified yourself! Your transponder is 200 years out of date! Before you can land anywhere, you need to transmit your engineering clearance, your medical clearance, your owner, your captain of record, your registration, your occupation, route and destination, purpose for visiting Torpol and your news packet." :END COMMS===

"Transmit the information Commander Varca. Time to find out how Zhouth did. The Vultan Transport Company LLC. Captain Theodore McFarlane in command. Follow all flight instructions from them Viridian, I'll work out the course for the Highport."
This message was last edited by the player at 17:51, Mon 17 Aug 2020.

BB gives a nod at Theo from where she was standing off to the side of the bridge.

"It sounds like you have a lot on your plates. I'm a pretty good judge of character and can probably drum up some potential recruits to take a look at. I think we could use another turret gunner to operate those missile pods, but someone who can also handle a gun and a vacc suit to assist on the boarding operations.

The only question I have is how many people are we looking to add to our little posse? We can make it clear these are probationary contracts so we can dump them at the next port if they don't work out."

"Hmmmm, agreed! I think a marine/missile maggot, and a chief engineer will probably suffice. What say the rest of you? Ingrid as the Engineering Officer can take her station then if she wants to, or hole up in engineering."

"We never updated the transponder, I guess we should take care of that. Medical records for everyone Aaron, I guess we need updated too. We got what we need as far as registration goes from Drinax at least."

"Ingrid dear, you got or need anything added?"
This message was last edited by the player at 17:41, Mon 17 Aug 2020.

  "Isn't the chief engineer the officer in charge of engineering?" Zhouth sounded mildly surprised, or perhaps mildly confused, by Theodore's suggestion that she be replaced in that role. "So we want a deputy engineer, not a chief one? That's how I always understood it anyway."

  Ears a bit flattened, he paused to take a quick look around himself, as if expecting to find some heretofore hidden figure lurking and listening to everything that he said. "And, umm, are we going to hire people who know that they might have to do some slightly off-record things while they're here, and will keep quiet about it afterwards? That's going to change our hiring prospects, especially on a trade world like this!" He stabbed one finger toward the distant image of Torpol on one of the monitors before letting it fall.

"Chief Engineer is Chief of Boat, it would be the Chief Petty Officer in charge. Ingrid is the Engineering Officer. She has a post on the bridge but also tells the Chief of Boat what to do to the engines. She can keep it the way it is if she wants, but it would be nice to have someone on the bridge watching the engines too."

"Hiring on Torpol will be problematic, Vespexers would have been better, but we don't have room for a dozen. We can hold off until we get back to Drinax if you want to."

On large capitol ships, there might be an engineering station back where the engines and power plant are, but on the Harrier, there's no such space. As it is, there's barely enough space to make any repairs. Small repairs rarely happen anyway. If an engine stops working, it's not like you can just change a spark plug.

Ultimately, while the ship is in flight, anything Ingrid can do she can do better from the bridge than she ever could from 'engineering'.

There you go, we don't need a chief engineer. BB can run the missile turret short term until we get someone, or Rejji.

Sitting at the gunner's station, Viridian was relieved that they weren't instantly attacked by anything. The Highport was still out of range... from either side, so he decided to delve into the library computer to see what he could find out about Torpol.

After a quick skim, he spoke up.

"Hey, folks! Torpol is a tourist trap!" he announced. "The only people that go down to the planet are tourists that want to luxuriate in the fancy resorts that Torpol is known for."

"There's a Downport, but there's no repair facilities there because it's built on a slab of ice. It's at the capitol on the South Pole. There's little or no land under the ice, so there are no monstrous skyscrapers and stuff. They don't build up, they build out."

When the request for the ship's medical clearance came, it caused a frown on Viridian's face. He tapped at his console for a moment.

"I apologize, folks, for not staying on top of that. I did medical scans on all the Stregors, but, for some reason, I just thought that the Princess had done it for all of us. After all, it was her ship at that point."

"And, like everyone else, I just took it for granted that it was being done automatically... like it's supposed to do."

"I think there's a lesson to be learned here: we can't take anything for granted. I suggest, the first chance we get, we do a complete detailed inspection of the ship. Yeah, we did an initial one, but we were directing our attention only to what needed repaired."

Thanks Viridian. We have several hours, when do you want to do the medical scans? They want them now. We don't have them. Not up to date. I have my records from the Imperium, Varca from Drinax."

"I say line up if we have to, if it can wait, that is fine too."

"Get the turret installed here then at the Highport.

"Oh, there are medical records on file for all of us... I think..." Viridian replies. "I can upload those into the transponder queue with my medical evaluation. That'll suffice for now."

OOC: Hey, Ingrid!  There is no reason you couldn't be sitting near Varca--as you said in your post, abouve--but I just want to make sure that you know that, when the ship drops out of Jump (like just now) Varca is not up on the Bridge!  He's down on the Lower Deck, sitting in the Portside Countermeasures room, where most of the actual Comm & Sensor equipment is located.
     Supposedly, there is a Bridge Station configured for either-or-both Comms & Sensors, up on the Bridge, but Varca just has to be difficult and hide sit down in the Countermeasures room....


[Just Out of Jump.  Aboard the Vultan, Portside Countermeasures Room]


     Varca silently face-palms himself, as he listens to Reldam's documentation demands,

     ~~Dammit, I assumed that Princess Rao's techs updated the transponder!~~ Varca thought to himself, ~~I should have checked that, myself!  Dammit.~~

     Varca removes his gloved hand from his face, and uses it to open the ship's intercom,

     "Everyone transfer copies of your medical certifications from your travel papers down to Portside Countermeasures, now!" Varca demands, "Oh, hell, just transfer me copies of all of your travel papers!  And hurry it up."

     shutting off the intercom, Varca takes a dep breath, then opens the circuit with Commander Reldan,

     "My Goodness, Commander Reldan!  You rapid-fired all those requests at me so fast, you've got my head all a-spin." Varca says in his not-so-good impersonation of a Drinaxi Palace accent (~~ But then, how would this dip-shit know any differently?~~ Varca thought),

     "Now, let me see...you should already know we're registered on Drinax--the transponder should be squawking that, at least.  Oh, and about the transponder appearing to be two-hundred years out of date?  Well, Old Boy, that would be because it is two-hundred years out of date!  A bit of forgetfulness, on my part, y'see."

     "We found this ship, wrecked, down on the surface of Drinax, itself, y'see--have you ever been down to the surface of Drinax, Commander?  Hellish place, sir, absolutely hellish!  Anyway, my companions and I salvaged the vessel--I have documentation of that, around here...somewhere...and we decided to refurbish the old girl and make her spaceworthy--and we have that engineering clearance, too--needed it to get the Registration, don't'cha know."

     "But I forgot to purge the old transponder data and perform an update." Varca pouts, "That's on me, Commander--my bad.  Oh, you must think me quite airheaded!  Let's see, what else did you want...?  Oh, yes!"

     "Well, it should have been in the Registry data, but the Vultan is owned by The Vultan Group--we're a kind of corporate trouble shooting and consulting think tank outfit, also located on Drinax.  The ship is an old Drinaxi Star Guard Naval Courier, Harriet-class.  Our Captain of Record is Baron Theodore McFarlane, formerly with the Navy of the Third Imperium..."

     Varca drops his voice to a stage whisper,

     "The Captain isn't an Imperial Baron, you know!  He's a native of Drinax, and his Title is from there, as well.  He's a little touchy about the subject, so we don't talk about it."

     "What next...?" Varca says, his voice returning to normal, conversational volume,

     "We are actually on Vultan's maiden voyage, and our route is from Drinax to, well, here!  Your lovely world of Torpol--which makes our destination Torpol, as well, doesn't it!"

     One of the consoles near Varca pinged for attention,

     "Oh, right, you also wanted documentation on each of us.  I'm sending you copies of everyone's passports and travel documentation.  As you can see, three of us are Drinax Citizens, and the others are from all over The Reach.  That should do the trick, yes?"

     "Oh, wait!  Where are my wits!  We have nothing to Declare for Customs--the cargo hold just contains some old parts and an extra fuel pod."

     "But it would be just super if you felt you needed to come over and check for yourself!  We could set out the good silver, and have tea.
 You could tell me all the heroic things I'm sure you must have done, during the Pirate Raid."


OOC: "...Navy of the Third Imperium..." -- N-o-t-T-I?  "NotTI" (as in "Naughty")?  Bwa-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!!!!

Teddy sent all of his records over to Varca for transmittal.

  Zhouth's medical records were easy enough to transfer to the system.

  Well, his medical records according to whoever had authorized their release.

  "Vanajen's version probably has all kinds of little details that you'd need twenty different clearances to look at, but these are the officially-official and complete ones they gave me when I left."

"Can we go to Vanajan Zhouth, sounds like a fun place!" Teddy says with a grin.

  Zhouth's ears shot upward, accompanied by a smile. "We could if dodging red-zone defenses sounds like fun! And then there's the security around the station itself, not to mention it being mostly deep underwater to keep things both out and in." More thoughtfully but still clearly in jest he continued, "Or there's the slow safe way of being assigned there as a navy or intelligence type, or as a researcher working for them, or having an impressive enough insignia that you can just visit whenever you want. Shouldn't take more than thirty years to work everyone up to one of those!"

In reply to Zhouth (msg # 29):

"Hehehehehehehehehehehehe, Sounds like a place for a lot of fun!"
This message was last edited by the player at 12:23, Tue 18 Aug 2020.

  "Day-to-day it's actually mostly pretty boring," Zhouth sighed. "It's when something goes wrong that all of the fun starts to happen. Or when there's an unexpected visitor of one type or another, although I suppose then it depends on what you think is fun."

  His ears drooped and his expression became clouded. "I'd really rather not talk about all of that though. Clearances, you know?" Judging by the tone it was more than just administrative formalities that were weighing on him, but he quickly moved on, returning - outwardly at least - to his more usual self. "Anyway, it doesn't matter much with what we're doing now, and Torpol looks like a nicer water-world too."

"Can you design and make me a spectacular uniform Zhouth? Medals and all? We want to impress folks don't we? Or should I wear my Imperial uniform? I'm not an Imperial any more though! I'm not a Drinaxi navy man either! We need out own world! Field Marshal Varca sounds good too! Maybe we could rule our own planet, or start a kingdom on one." He says with a grin and a shrug.
This message was last edited by the player at 13:35, Tue 18 Aug 2020.

  "Uniforms?" Zhouth echoed contemplatively. "I don't think we want those as a courier outfit, unless we're trying to be a military courier outfit, in which case we'd be wearing those ones."

  Then he perked up, eyes brightening. "Wait, don't you have some kind of heraldry if you're from Drinax? You know, from being the twenty-seventh heir of the Most Seemly Keeper of the Viceregal Mustache-Wax, or something like that?"

In reply to Zhouth (msg # 33):

"My father is a Baron. I'm just a squire, not even knighted. Daddy has arms, I just use a version of his that shows me as his son, nothing special. Oh well, thought it was worth asking anyway. Was your father nobility Ingrid?"

"Get everything straightened out Varca? Records sent and everything? I'm laying in the course for the Highport Viridian. We'll check out their port good when we arrive."

"Find us a few folks that are useful BB. A gunner and Chief Engineer for now. Race and sex don't matter. Just as long as they're cut throats." he says with a smile. Kidding of course.
This message was last edited by the player at 16:01, Wed 19 Aug 2020.

In reply to Theodore McFarlane (msg # 35):

OOC:  I just realized I never stated, in my last post, that Varca had actually closed the connection, after he'd finished talking...can we assume that he did...?




     "Sent the documents, Captain.  Just waiting for Commander Rumble-Butt to respond." Varca answers, "At a guess, if they don't respond within the next five minutes, we should run like hell is after us towards the nearest gas giant or ice planet, refuel, and get outta here ASAP--cuz they ain't buying our crap!  Heh-heh."

     "Oh, and hey!  Don't ignore the standard employment methods, people!  We just insist on personal interviews, and hire the folks we get the feeling might be amenable to a little piracy.  And that Gunner's position could be filled by a Ground Pounder, don't forget."

     "I just had a thought, Guys...maybe it's my non-technical background, but, uh...maybe we should run a diagnostic on the Jump Drive, before we dock?  Just in case we really do have to run?  The trip here was it's first use since being repaired, right?"

---

OOC: Although Varca (probably) did not hear the following....





     Y'know, Varca did present a suggestion for "uniforms" we could wear when acting as an "innocent" courier crew...



     And we do have a "crest" to put on those uniforms--works as a "corporate logo", too ^_^

This message was deleted by the player at 12:29, Thu 20 Aug 2020.

Ingrid wasn't against the idea of a uniform as long as hers had a skirt. She had to draw the line somewhere.

She grew quiet at the mention of her father. "No, he wasn't. He moved in high society circles becuase of his military rank, but he was never a noble."

"I'll run a diagnostic on the jump drive" she volunteered.

In reply to Ingrid Gustavdottir Sigar (msg # 38):

"Sorry dear, and thank you, I'll be down to help in a bit. The black and the red and tan and white. They look good Varca, make it so. Pick the ones you want and get them made for us."

BB laughed when she saw the color options.

"The red one is nice, it would help hide any bloodstains we might get. Yellow or Brown uniforms might be useful as well depending on how poorly we end up doing in a fight."

She elbowed the closest person next to her with a grin, which just happened to be Ingrid.

"Maybe we can get color changing fabric. It can start off Black before changing to Red then Yellow then Brown then White as things move against us."

She elbowed Ingrid again, looking for recognition of her joke in Ingrid's eyes.

"Get it? Because we're going to piss and shit ourselves before surrendering? Eh?"

  Zhouth looked over the images that Varca had presented, growing increasingly long-faced. "They're all... plain," he sighed heavily. "You really want me to wear one of those?" The tone was akin to someone who had just been told that their pet had been hit by a passing bus. "One of the benefits of being a researcher at that place was that we didn't have to strut about in things like that all day!"
This message was last edited by the player at 13:50, Thu 20 Aug 2020.

"You design your own Zhouth, you're Vargr and special. We'll wear the ones Varca designed, for now." Teddy told him. "Take charge Varca, I'm going to help Ingrid, call me if you need anything."

In reply to Theodore McFarlane (msg # 42):

Engine Diagnostics 10:43, Today: Theodore McFarlane rolled 13 using 2d6+3.  engnrng check.

  Zhouth's ears shot right back up again, as did his apparent mood, when he was granted a waiver from the uniform requirement. "I'd be happiest just using my normal clothes, really, though I have that fancy outfit if we need to present ourselves to some other high official type. If Oleb thought that it was good then it should also be formal enough for anyone else in the reach!" No trace of irony was evident in his voice at the use of the word normal in relation to his sartorial sensibilities.

  "We should also make a point of restocking the galley while we're here. Ingrid will be busy with all of the ship refit work, but one of us should be able to go around and get supplies, right? Never mind all of those uniform colors; it will be nice to have the food come in different colors again!" Ingrid's skill as a cook notwithstanding, the curse of Asim, where the ship had last been supplied, had limited the options when it came to gastronomic presentation.
This message was last edited by the player at 14:21, Fri 21 Aug 2020.

"Fruits, vegetables, and MEAT! Don't forget the cigars and Brandy. Anything BB might need for the still. sugar, corn, etc. Real beer would be good too."

  "Well, we'll have to get most of that from the spaceport because I don't think they have much farmland down there, but ocean animals should be good for meat, and maybe they have some high-sugar thing in those waters." Zhouth was going at it on his comm again, no doubt writing up a five-times-too-detailed shopping list. He'd set himself up as the administrator and therefore de facto quartermaster, so it naturally followed that he would be the one to undertake the requisition.

  "Armory and locker items." He stopped and looked up from the comm. "I'm not as used to dealing with that, but we'll need things for those too. I mean, most of you seem to have weapons, and we have those armored suits, but especially with new people being brought on board, that might not be enough, and we're working with basic toolkits and not a lot of random storage-closet odds and ends right now. I realize that you can't run a successful ship without keeping storage boxes full of random things that miraculously save the moment in unexpected ways."
This message was last edited by the player at 14:43, Fri 21 Aug 2020.

"Fish meat will be fine. If it is edible, Ingrid can cook it, she's a wizard! She's a Swordie!" he said over his comms to Zhouth. "Diagnostics are done, Jump drive is in number '1' grade 'A' condition."

"Varca, can you and Viridian arrange for the installation of the turret and missile launcher? Or do you think someone else would be better for that?"

"I'll be back up directly," he turns off comms. "Coming dear?" he reaches out his hand.
This message was last edited by the player at 14:54, Fri 21 Aug 2020.

"I like those uniforms!" Viridian responds to the display. "The red ones look pretty sharp, but the gold one looks more like a work outfit. The white would be formal and the black would be... when we go to work!"

"So you set the course, Teddy; big deal! You're the one that stuck me on gunnery!"

"Did the ASTC give you a vector yet? No, didn't think so. Hope we don't run into another departing ship!"

In reply to Viridian Starfire (msg # 48):

"Do I detect insubordination? Get into the pilots seat and pilot, pilot. Teddy says with a frown.

===BEGIN COMMS: "Harriet-class? You mean, Harrier-class, don't you? Not a lot of records survived the War, but we can recognize a Harrier when we see one! Never heard of one used as a courier, but if it's 200 years old, and salvaged at that, it probably isn't much good for anything else."

"Okay, your records--now that we've got them--check out. Still no news packet, but if you're coming from Drinax, don't expect there's much news anyway. You are cleared to land at Highport, port side Docking Bay G. Transmitting your vector now. If you need any work done, it'll cost a bit extra since I'll have to insist that everyone who works on that old rust bucket gets a tetanus booster shot first!" :END COMMS===

He cuts the comm-link before you can hear his laugh--assuming he was joking.

You now realize why Princess Rao and her crew never updated the transponder--it would have had data from Asim and Drinax. Until she knew what you were going to do, she didn't want to handicap you by putting anything in that you didn't want.

"Set your course on the vector given Viridian, head for our designated berth. Docking Bay 'G'. We might need a new pilot too."
This message was last edited by the player at 16:30, Mon 24 Aug 2020.

  Zhouth suddenly held both hands up and out to the sides, palms facing inward, a kind of overhead ta-da that presenters might use, though in his case it was clearly a parody. "Pilot, fly us in and don't kill us all by crashing into the station! Oh, we're going to replace you once you do."

  "That will make for a great scene when this is all being done as a vid. I'd better note it down..." he added brightly, bringing his hands back down and once again tapping away on his comm.

"I never said anything about replacing him, just might be nice if we had extra help. Oh well." Teddy shrugged

BB locked Teddy with a deadly glare.

"I don't know what you are talking about so if you don't want to eat through a straw for the rest of the year I suggest you forget you ever heard that kind of rumor."

Normally there was a bit of levity to her frequent threats of physical violence. She was a marine, busting chops was how they got along as a group. This time was a little different, however. There was an intensity that made it clear she was not joking around or talking with hyperbole.

Granted a bootleg still on a naval vessel would have been a serious crime depending on who caught them and what charges they decided to file. A particularly vindictive commander could reasonably argue treason based on the misappropriation of supplies. Having a still wasn't just a fun way to explore chemistry but a potential court martial and firing squad.

After that little conversation BB goes back to disappearing for awhile. She is seen on occasion carrying spare parts around the ship but once again goes dark.

In reply to BB Nova (msg # 54):

"Hehehehehehehehe, must be a Marine thing! I hear you BB. Maybe I'll start a still then. We need some hard alcohol on occasion too! Now, where is my lovely lady Ingrid hiding at, time for me to find her I guess." He says as he heads toward engineering.

Teddy searches the ship for Ingrid, Galley, her quarters, and engineering. He wanted to be with her when they 'landed' at the Highport. He wanted to celebrate.

Ingrid had changed to a practical brown dress, since she would be working. Teddy found her sketching out the repair work she would have to do. "Oh, hello, Theodore" Ingrid said, curtsying.

In reply to Theodore McFarlane (msg # 56):

OOC: Varca wasn't planning on making all of those uniforms--the different colors were options.  My thinking was that--in keeping up our fiction of being a (cheapskate) start-up Courier ship from Drinax--he could get a supply of old/surplus Star Guard BDUs, then get them color-changed to whichever color we all liked.  Making all of them the same color would be the cheapest...




     Varca heaves a heavy sigh, then reaches over to open the ship's general announce,

     "Rejji!  The Imperial figured it out." Varca announces all over the ship, "Bottle up whatever we've got, now, then breakdown the still.  We'll get by with what hooch we have, for a while."

     Varca cuts the intercom, then looks up at the others.

     "Dammit, Theo, I thought it would take you a couple of months to catch on!" Varca complains, "What, you find the tap on the reactor's heat exchanger we were using to heat the still?"

"Hello love" he pecked her on the lips, "Need help?"

"Leave the still as long as it doesn't interfere with the ship."

     Raising his gloved left hand to momentarily cover his mouth, Varca mumbles something...

     "Yeah, like plugging a jury-rigged alcohol still into a freaking Fusion Reactor ain't interfering..."

     Varca clears his throat, then lowers his hand,

     "Where the Hell is the fun in that? Sheesh!" Varca demands, "Sneakin' around about it provides all the fun, and half the flavor!  Well, after you get past the 'over-heated electronics' taste..."

     "Besides, it's not just for me...mostly..." Varca adds, "...it's for Rejji!  And any other Vespexers we might bring aboard to entertain.  The average Vespexer ain't so-fisty-catered, like me.  Vespexers never had anything but pure, homemade, raw alky, to drink away the suffering of living on Drinax.  Now me, I've come to enjoy the taste of Vodka!  It mixes well with Milk--cuts back that greasy taste that Milk has...."

"We have a fusion reactor! I don't think it's going to overload with a little still when it's handling an entire starship without complaint. Now, I agree that it might not be a great idea to plug a big still into an auxiliary light socket in a fresher, but the main ones in bays mean to handle high-powered tools? That's what a still is!"

Zhouth waved both hands in front of him. "Okay, okay. Laboratory stills are meant to make things other than moonshine, and they're not always built the same way, and the things they're making are usually more poisonous if used incorrectly. Or sometimes when used correctly." He then proceeded to throw both hands in the air. "But the principle is the same!"

Ingrid smiled shyly after the kiss. "Well, I could use some help, if you're not too busy with your duties as Captain. I'm hoping to finish up early and perhaps do a little shopping." A few thoughtful gifts for the crew could go a long way, she felt.

In reply to Ingrid Gustavdottir Sigar (msg # 63):

Teddy helps Ingrid with what she is doing.

(OOC: I think you said that Zhouth was also in the portside Countermeasures Suite, where Varca is--communicating with the Bridge over an open intercom channel--right?  Or, did Zhouth head for the Upper Deck, once we started moving towards the Highport?  Oh, well... ^_^)

     Frowning, Varca turns to look toward Zhouth, leaning away from the Vargr, slightly,

     "Plug a..." Varca starts--then shuts up, as he suddenly realizes what Zhouth is inferring,

     "Oh!  Uh, yeah!  Right." Varca's frown turns quickly into an amenable grin, "Plugging a, uh, electrical plug into the reactor!  Yeah, you're right, Zhouth, that really doesn't endanger the reactor!  What was I thinking?  I'm just not all that used to having reliable equipment to deal with, I suppose."

     Varca turns his face away from Zhouth--apparently looking at a sensor screen--and rolls his eyes.

ROFLMAO, you two make for good comic relief!

The work went faster with Theodore's assistance, and Ingrid was in good spirits. "This is very kind of you, Theodore, you'll spoil me" she said with a smile. "I'm excited to see the planet. I do like visiting new places, and I feel more comfortable on a planet."

In reply to Ingrid Gustavdottir Sigar (msg # 67):

"I'm not sure they'll let us visit, but we'll see, If they do, I'll take you along."

In short order, the ship makes it to the Highport and docks at the indicated bay.

Teddy is the only one slightly suspicious when you are greeted personally by a member of station security whenever anyone exits the ship.

"Greetings! Welcome to Torpol Highport!" she says. "I'm Adjutant Lieutenant Kundu. If you have any questions or requests, feel free to contact me if you need any help."

"If you wish to visit the planet, there are shuttles that leave twice a day for Downport."

Zhouth initially remained aboard. Having set himself up as the ship's designated paper-pusher, he had some work to do before anything resembling the fun of going planetside could be allowed to beckon.

The ship needed to resupply. It needed to refuel. It needed a hundred little details taken care of...

...and it needed money to pay for them. He'd solicited donations to kickstart the ship's fund, and now he had to see just how far he could make it all stretch.

BB gave a half-assed salute at Teddy before heading out to the shuttle bay. Time to find her way to the local authorities and see if there's anyone worthwhile picking up from the local lockup.

In reply to BB Nova (msg # 71):

"I have 30,400Cr. it has to last but we need some stuff, Can we use the gas giant to refuel cheap?"

"Cheap? Yes, if we don't mind annoying the locals with that. Fast? No. It would take another what, three days to do it."

[Aboard Vultan, Docked at Torpol Highport]





     Varca happens to be walking past the pair at this point, on his way down to his favorite hidey-hole aboard Vultan, the Portside Countermeasures Suite.

     "Hey, Zhouth--you're juggling the books, right?" Varca asks, as he walks past, "I need to get onto Torpol's public access computer networks, get it set up, would you?"

     And....he's gone....

  "You can do that from any of the highport termi..." Zhouth's quizzical response - why did Varca want him to do that - trailed off as Varca kept right on marching. Undeterred, he switched over to the comm. "You can do that from the highport terminals, or comm-call them? I don't understand what you need me to do?"

In reply to Zhouth (msg # 75):
[Aboard Vultan, Docked at Torpol Highport]

     Surprisingly, a response quickly comes back over the intercom,

^{INTERCOMM OPEN >>>} "I need to research how a few things work on this planet--look up a few things, a few people.  Then I'll be making some calls.  The kinda calls where it would be a bad thing to make them somewhere I might be overheard.  Really Bad."

     "I need you because I've always been a passenger on starships, when they dock at a port, and I've never, myself, had to deal with all that getting access to local services stuff.  There were Officers, or Pursers who did it, then just told me how to access those services.  So, just tell me when we have access, and I can both start gathering data about the attacks, as well as seeing about getting some quick cash into our accounts.  Okay?" ^{<<< INTERCOM CLOSED}

Zhouth appeared to be no more assured than before, but nevertheless set about humoring Varca's request and brokered a connection between Varca's comm and the highport network.

In reply to Zhouth (msg # 77):

     Once Vultan has access to Torpol's planetary computer network services, Varca begins searching through them, gathering data about the Raider attacks a couple of weeks ago, building his own database.

     After an hour, Varca is confident that he has gathered all the information about the Raiders that he is going to get from local news sources, and begins a different search.  This new search takes him only a few minutes to accomplish, and once he finds he datum he's looking for, he composes a quick note and sends it to the electronic address he's found....

---

To: Commander Reldam, Torpol Air/Space Traffic Control

Greetings Commander,
     Captain the Baron McFarlane was impressed by your quick recognition of our elderly Vultan as one of the old Harrier-class vessels, and so wishes to extend to you an offer to come aboard for a tour of a vessel whose like hasn't been seen in this region of space for over two hundred years.  Tea to follow.
     The entire Vultan Group are quite proud of our accomplishments in restoring the ship, and the Baron hopes that he can impose upon you to allow him to show her off to someone who appreciates fine engineering.
     Tea, afterwards, will be an opportunity to get to know one another better; you can tell us of your lovely Torpol, and we will give you news from Drinax.
     We all look forward to seeing you soon, Commander.  Please RSVP to the attached CommCode.

                                                                                                          for Captain the Baron Theodore McFarlane,
                                                                                                                   V. Lexand, Social Secretary

---

Sadly I'm not a Baron, only Soc A.

In reply to Theodore McFarlane (msg # 79):

But Reldam doesn't know that!  And Theo is the Son of a Baron, he grew up in a Baron's Household--doesn't matter that his Dad was a Pauper Baron from Drinax--Theo knows how to act like a Baron.  So play along, Imperial! ^_^

Ingrid curtsied to Kundu. "Thank you, lieutenant, most kind. I'll be sure to do that." She couldn't wait to take one of those shuttles down to the planet.

When they were discussing costs, she mentioned "I have some money, I can pitch in."

Baron Mersy.

Varca receives a reply from Reldam within a few minutes.

"Thank you for the invitation. I would very much like to see such an old ship. I have nothing scheduled for 1600 station time if that is suitable for you."

In reply to StarMaster (msg # 83):

     Varca reads Reldam's RSVP, then taps a question into the computer, adjusting ship-board time with local time.  With a nod of acknowledgement for the answer, Varca then quickly composes an e-note, which he immediately pings out to all Crewmember's comms.

---

To: Crew of Vultan
     I've contacted that Commander Reldam, from Traffic Control.  The one who signaled us on our approach to Torpol.  I invited him to come take a look at our "antique" starship, and he's replied that he's available at Local Time 1600 Hours.  That's in a couple of hours, 2145 Hours, Ship Time, if you haven't adjusted your timekeepers.
     I told him he was "invited to Tea" to "meet with The Baron" and get a tour of the ship.  So, Theo, you're going to be needed, here.  Ingrid, it would be a big help if you were here, as well.  Between me and Theo, we probably both "know" what needs to be done for a formal, snobby Noble, afternoon Tea, but we'd likely mess it up if we tried to pull it off, ourselves.
     Zhouth, it would be great if you could be here, too.  As an Academic, you've attended similar boring meetings, and your input will be helpful, but I also want your insight and observations about Reldam, when he's here.  I'm going to be trying to get him to give us information about those attacks, a few weeks ago, plus I want to try and see if we can use him as a kind of "back door contact" to quietly get in touch with the Torpol Governors.
     But, if you can't be here, don't worry, I'll be secretly recording the entire thing.
     If we feel we can use Reldam to act as a go-between for us and his Government, I'm considering making an "offer of friendship" in Old Fat Ass's name, and gifting them an entire rack of a dozen of our Advanced Missiles.
     Everyone who can, and wants to attend should do so.  The more of us Reldam sees, hopefully, the more he will take us seriously, if we tell him we're here to hunt down the Raiders who hit them.

     If 1600 Hours Local, or 2145 Ship Time, is not enough time for you to do whatever you're doing and get back here, contact me ASAP.  Reldam is waiting for a confirmation on the 1600 Hour time.

     Varca.

---

Zhouth responded shortly afterward via ship comm, shifting from neutral to hopeful as he spoke. "I'm probably going to be here for a while dealing with all of the port stuff anyway, so I don't mind waiting around a little longer. Maybe we can get better rates for next time if we make a good impression!"

Of course, I'll be there, with tea Ingrid sent back. She was well-trained in playing the hostess, and she put the kind of focus in to pouring tea that miss Nova did for firearms training.

In reply to Ingrid Gustavdottir Sigar (msg # 86):

"I'll be there with bells on!" Teddy responded.

Replying back on comms...

"Yes, by all means, we should be here in our uniforms! Not super fancy ones, just everyday ones that makes us look like a 'well-oiled machine'."

"Everyone should check the ship's roster to make sure you know what role you are supposed to fill. It's flexible; you can wear more than one hat, but Teddy needs to know how to introduce each of us to Reldam."

"Good call, Varca, on using Reldam as a contact to the governors. Not sure it is necessary, but it can't hurt."

"Were you planning on telling them that Oleb sent us to help and to track down the raiders... or is this going to be on our own initiative? I mean, this isn't an unreasonable place to go to get the missile turret installed. It would sort of lend a bit of credence to our claim of hunting raiders. 'We're loading up for bear!'"

In reply to Viridian Starfire (msg # 88):

     "I didn't want to discuss this over open comms, Viridian." Varca grumbles over the comm, in reply, "But it actually would be of benefit to get this out now, rather than try to brief everyone later--when we might not have enough time.  Besides, while these Torpols have good Tech, our comm-encryption is better.  They can likely crack it, but it'll take them so long to do it, we'll be gone.  So, everyone who wants to listen, switch to encrypted channel one."

     Varca switches the ship's comm that he's using to the indicated channel.

     "Okay, I've given this some thought, as we were jumping here.  Torpol is one of the more-or-less required stop-over worlds on the Florian Route.  But all they have to offer passing ships are fuel and entertainment.  Tourism drives their economy, and they are doing okay with that.  However, being focused on tourism does not give them a heavy industry infrastructure--the kind of industry that would let them build the defenses that would have stopped those Raiders."

     "And now, after that raid, they've discovered that of all those Imperials and Florians and Aslan that stop by to enjoy Torpol's various entertainments, not a single one of those bastards is going to do anything to help stop the Raiders.  The big-shot Interstellar Traders that travel the Florian Route could care less.  They only care about defending their own ships, and if Torpol becomes too dangerous to visit, they will stop coming without giving it a second thought."

     "So I did think about showing up and brazenly declaring that King Oleb sent us to help out, all in the Name Of Drinax.  But, after some more thought, I've come to the conclusion that, at this time, that won't work.  For two reasons.  First, it was arrogant saber-rattling like that, which made the frikkin Pussies angry enough to invade the subsector and mess up a bunch of these worlds, two-hundred years ago--might still be some hard feelings about that."

     "Second, as a result of the Aslan Invasion, Drinax was blasted from being a rich Garden World, into being a de-populated, toxic hellhole, and the Drinaxi Star Guard Fleet was effectively destroyed.  And everybody in this little corner of space knows that!  For two-hundred years, Drinax has been a sad backwater.  Even when a handful of Star Guard ships started wandering around the neighborhood, it was mostly seen as a sad joke.  So, just openly claiming that we're a force from Drinax sent out to hunt the Raiders, likely won't instill a lot of confidence in folks."

     "So, what I'm thinking is that we tell them the truth!  Or, a variation of The Truth, at least.  Through quiet venues, we let 'a select few Important People' know that Drinax has been quietly restoring their infrastructures and recovering their old tech--doing so slowly and secretly, to hide the recovery from the Aslan.  We hint at the invasion of Asim being a big part of that plan, with Drinax planning to upgrade the Asimian industries to produce higher tech Drinaxi products.  And so, Drinax is now in a position to begin helping the neighboring planets, even if only in small ways."

     "And offering the Torpols a dozen Advanced Missiles is a gesture from King Oleb, we'll tell them.  The missiles could be used immediately, in defense of the planet--or, the Torpols could choose to try and retro-engineer them and then, maybe, build a whole lot more, on their own.  King Oleb, we'll say, doesn't want to make the Torpols dependent upon The Kingdom for their defense."

     "Which, as we know, is a load of crap!  It'll take years for these guys to retro-engineer those missiles!  And if we do things right, out here, they'll be buying new Missiles from Drinax, way before they ever figure out how to build these old things.  But if we do this, in this manner, then I think that we are addressing any suspicions the Torpols might have about us having ulterior motives.  If, after this, we then go out and do something about the Raiders, our prestige--and the prestige of Drinax--goes up just that much more."

     "So we subtly give Commander Reldam the impression that we wouldn't be averse to, maybe, offering some small token of assistance, on behalf of 'certain Important People' back on Drinax--which he will, hopefully, then pass on to his superiors.  We are, we'll tell them, just out here 'looking into' how Drinax might be of some small assistance."

     "Doing this maintains our pretense of being just a simple Courier crew--we're just investigating a little 'interplanetary diplomacy', we're not looking for trouble.  Wink-wink."

     "And when we turn around and start hunting Raiders like the Privateers that we are, we can keep confusing the situation with the claim that it was just a fortuitous incident, by saying things like 'We had no idea the little pop-guns on our plain-old Courier ship would be that effective!  Of course, the Vultan is Drinax-built...'."

     "Crap like that should start changing folks ideas about Drinax."

The secure channel promptly carried Zhouth's response. "I don't see why we shouldn't say that the cannon works. It makes it look more sensible to be doing something like poking around after a raider, royal commission or not!"

"Torpol is mostly missile-defense from the highport, right? So that gift idea looks even better to them, and it actually is better for them too! Though I suppose that means that the raiders hit things out of reach of the highport."

"We might not want to talk to much about taking over Asim as part of the grand plan, though. That sends the wrong kind of message about what Drinax intends to do, and I get the feeling that there are a lot of people who are still kind of sore about it."

"They could reverse engineer 3 of them to build their own and put the others into their defense, We could make a lot of credits selling a few. How else can we make money? Bounties for pirates we destroy? There isn't much cargo space on the Vultan and not so much of a market for ill gotten gains either. We could sell on Drinax or Tech-World and a few other places. Thoughts?"

"If we take out a pirate ship then we can repossess the stolen stuff, right? Or, well..." Zhouth trailed off for a moment as a note of distress crept into it. "I suppose that if we've radiated them all to death then we could take the ship too."

In reply to Zhouth (msg # 92):

     "That's correct, Zhouth.  On both counts." Varca responds, "There's an old Vespexer meme that goes 'you keep what you kill'.  When it comes to the contents of a pirate ship's cargo hold, Interstellar Law agrees with us Vespexers.  We get to keep everything, including the ship, if it's in any kind of usable condition.  We even get to keep the Pirate bodies, if we want to."

     "But, of course, a lot of Pirates also have Bounties posted on them, so, y'know, we 'd have to hand over the bodies, to get any Bounty Reward...so, no Meat Puppet stage shows..."

In reply to Varca Lexand (msg # 93):

"The suits you had made Varca, they good against radiation?" Teddy asked, wondering if they could take a pirate ship. They'd have to deradiate them he figured, wash them down. A robot or two might be a good idea.

"The vacc suits should be? Well, against the residual kind, anyway. I don't think they'd stop a direct hit from that particle beam, even with a ship hull in the way." Zhouth's voice audibly paused for about half a second. "Or did you mean those uniforms? I'm pretty sure that those won't do anything to protect you!"

"Hehehehehehe, I meant the Vacc suits Zhouth. The uniforms won't stop anything."

In reply to Zhouth (msg # 92):

"So we want to beat the really successful pirates" Ingrid observes.

In reply to Ingrid Gustavdottir Sigar (msg # 97):

Teddy arrived for tea in his cleanest uniform, waiting for 1600Hours local and the Torpolian captain to arrive for the tour and tea. He waited hungrily for Ingrid to arrive, he knew she would look fabulous!

BB took the train and elevators down to the service level of the port. The way to station security wasn't exactly on the beaten path so she had to stop a few times to orient and get directions but finally she found the squat building with SECURITY printed in big block letters. Nothing flashy or fancy, just practical.

Walking in she was met with harsh lighting and a bored looking officer sitting behind the desk. He looked like he wanted to be anywhere but there.

"Can I help you?"

BB flashed him a grin, more predatory than flirty. She wasn't used to being charming but at least could pretend to be polite when the situation demanded it.

"Actually that depends. I am head of security on a ship passing through that turns out is in bad need of some additional crew. Now we could go through the unions and guilds but that takes time and money so I was hoping I could take a tour of your cells and see if there any non-violent criminals that you would like to get off your hands. We get some cheap labor and you get them off-planet never to be seen again?"

The security officer just stared at BB as if she had grown a third eye in the middle of her forehead.

"You...what?"

"Look, just let me talk to your captain or commander or whoever is in charge here."

"Uhhh...sure...one second."

BB ended up having to tell her story several times as the officer didn't go straight to the top but instead she talked her way through two other levels. The watch sergeant was pretty sure that was illegal while the deputy chief thought it would be fine but ultimately it was the station chief's decision. It took a bit more talking but BB was able to finally work out a deal with the station chief.

"So first of all fines must be paid in full. After that we'll commute their sentence on condition that they are confined to your ship for the duration of your stay?"

BB gave a nod. If the fines were too large she could always pass. The station chief gave a shrug and pulled out their roster of who was in for what. It was against policy to just reveal arrest records to a civilian but there was nothing saying he couldn't paraphrase.

"Non-violent, huh? Alright let's see...about a half dozen.

• Collin Ramburton: Solomani. Unknown background. Ended up picking a fight with some members of a local gang and wrecked up the bar....hmmm...looks like this is his third stay here this month.
  
• Roukesh: Vargr. Local. Got caught breaking into a shop. Has a long record of petty crime to fuel his Black Dust addiction.
  
• Donio Scarte: Vilani. Stowaway. Was caught in the cargo bay of an incoming merchant and dropped off with us. We don't even know what we're going to charge him with.
  
• Taliesa Dieros: Bio says she is an ex-marine. Caught hacking a vending machine.
  
• Athes Collee: Vilani. Claims she is a reporter but we can't verify her credentials and caught her trespassing in staff only areas around the space port. We think she might be part of some kind of rebel or terrorist cell. Non-violent but we definitely want her off planet.
  
• Pawsanni: Aslan. Picked up for solicitation.
  
• Benjoe Jenking: Found passed out near trash compactor.

It turned out there was a cornucopia of criminals in the local jail cells. She glanced at the bail and fees associated and struck off several names. She figured the others wouldn't want addicts so Roukesh was out. Same with Benjoe, while a bit of drinking was fine passed out in the trash was a few steps too far. Pawsanni was out as unless she had greatly misread the situation the crew wouldn't have much need for a prostitute. Athes' possible terrorist connections were troubling so that was a name struck through even if the cops were just making stuff up. That left her with Collin, Taliesa, and Donio. Time for an interview session.
This message was last edited by the player at 03:43, Sat 19 Sept 2020.

"Hire the three we can use the easiest and cheapest BB. A few of them are yours, you got to work with them."

In reply to Theodore McFarlane (msg # 100):

OOC: Oh, crap!  I forgot!

     Having confirmed that the people he needs to be there, will be there, Varca quickly sends a response to Reldam.

---

To: Commander Reldam, Torpol Air/Space Traffic Control

Commander,
     Captain the Baron McFarlane would be delighted to entertain you at 1600 Hours, local Station Time.
 The Baron, and the entire Vultan crew, are looking forward to meeting you.

                    for Captain the Baron Theodore McFarlane

                         V. Lexand, Social Secretary

---

     Sending the eNote, Varca then returns to the comm discussion,

     "Okay, folks, we should now figure out how we are going to present ourselves in our roles as the crew of a courier, as well as what I called The Vultan Group.  With that, I was thinking that we could use this Vultan Group as yet another front--but this one is the 'hobby-business' of a Drinaxi Nobleman.  Guess who that is...Theo?"

     "So, anyway, we can use this front, when needed, as an excuse, when anyone asks us 'what are you doing here?'  See, we can always say that 'The Baron <i>heard about...and wanted to check it out</i>'  So, if anyone starts to wonder what Drinax's interest is, we can deflect with 'Oh, we're not Officially here, we're just following the whims of this air-headed Nobleman', or some spin on that."

     "So, Theo is gonna be The Baron--he's got the background that will stand up to inspection for that--for a short time, at least.  And I realize now....that I made a mistake..." Varca admits,

     "I put my name as The Baron's Social Secretary.  I'm now thinking that it might have been better to put Ingrid as The Baron's Social Secretary--that way the yotz-heads we have to deal with will, more often than not, underestimate her.  These same folks take one look at me--a thuggish-looking Vespexer!--and they will immediately have doubt."

     "Any suggestions on a work around?"

Zhouth, still working from his 'office' on the matter of resupply, immediately piped up with a suggestion. "Give her another title that outranks you?"

"She can be Lady Ingrid, Royal Polisher of the Third Pre-Molar, and High Steward of the Baron's Azure Filigree!" Zhouth exclaimed excitedly. "It works both ways! Not only does she outrank you, it makes your underling job as a mere Social Secretary look normal!"

Ingrid wore a long red day dress and heels, and had touched up her makeup and gone with understated jewelry. She giggled at Varca's statement. "Forgive me, mister Varca, but you don't seem much like a secretary to me" she said, smiling.

"Is that how it works on Drinax? " Ingrid asked Zhouth curiously. "I can play the High Steward, I think, although I'm not up on Drinaxi customs. I could be anything from a noble lady to a maid, whatever you need" she said warmly. She often felt out of place with her duties, but for once the ball was in her court with duties she'd been raised for and she felt confident.

Zhouth arrived about twenty minutes in advance of the proposed meeting for tea, having apparently completed the required requisitions, and wearing something suitably formal for the occasion.

Fortunately, it wasn't the outfit that he'd chosen to meet King Oleb.

Unfortunately, it wasn't the outfit that he'd chosen to meet King Oleb.

The pants? A languidly swirling blend of turquoise and aqua hued cloth, bound in iridescent purple thread at the hems.

The shirt? Chartreuse and chiffon check with slightly curved, diagonal olivine stripes weaving in and out from beneath the squares in no consistent fashion.

The vest over that? Lightweight, open-fronted, and wrought in an extensive palmette pattern of red, gold, emerald, indigo, and black, creating the distinct impression that he was wearing a very thin, expertly tailored, and faintly off-hued rendition of what the Solomani would call a Persian rug.

Cyan and magenta shoes with white laces completed the fashionably eye-wrenching ensemble.
This message was last edited by the player at 12:16, Mon 21 Sept 2020.

"I'm not very barony sorry to say, I avoided court like the plague. You look exquisite Ingrid, lovely my dear! Zhouth, you've outdone yourself."

Zhouth held out his hands to the sides and put on the vargr equivalent of a smile. "You like it? I wasn't sure whether it was fancy enough for meeting with official types here, but it isn't a king or even a duke this time, so I suppose that it's okay to be a little less fancy!"
This message was last edited by the player at 05:43, Wed 23 Sept 2020.

"You look fantastic. Promise one thing Zhouth, to never change! Awesome outfit!" He puts his arm around Ingrid and holds her close to his side.
This message was last edited by the player at 16:27, Wed 23 Sept 2020.

In reply to Theodore McFarlane (msg # 107):

     "Yeah--that's a great idea, you two!" Varca agrees with Zhouth and Ingrid, "Sure.  After all, we're messing with Drinaxi social labels--and everyone knows the Palacers are all obsessed with Titles and Hierarchy!  Yeah..."

     "Okay, how about we spin it this way--calling me The Baron's 'Social Secretary' is a kind of In Joke that we all use.  My position in The Baron's entourage is actually that I'm his Bodyguard--that can explain why I'm so often around The Baron."

     "Then, applying the same logic, Ingrid is The Baron's Personal Assistant--both his professional aide and his for real social secretary.  Again, this can explain why Ingrid is often around when 'deals' are being made, and will also allow Ingrid to present herself as a Swordie, and covers why she isn't as familiar with Drinaxi social custom.  It could even be the source of why I'm (jokingly) referred to as the social secretary, we can say that I'm often, quietly, informing Ingrid of 'how it's done on Drinax'."

     "Ditto for Zhouth--you could be The Baron's Technology Advisor--after all, you have the highest level of Technical Education/background of any of us, Zhouth--coming from a TL16 background, as you do.  Zhouth should be able to completely dazzle anyone from less than a TL14 background with amazing levels of technobabble!"

     "Aaron can play the role of The Baron's Personal Physician, as well as his Medical Tech Advisor.  Viridian can be The Baron's Pilot.  BB can play the role of Crew Chief, in charge of running The Baron's Crew."

     "And, of course, this is all just play-acting, for when we are presenting ourselves as the harmless Crew of the Courier-ship Vultan."

     "Any suggestions or objections to this idea?"



OOC: Theo and Ingrid, speaking purely as a Player, most of Varca's/my idea for creating this persona of "Baron McFarlane" is based on both of your Backgrounds, more than any, specific, skillset that you have.  Both of you "grew up" in the households of "Important People".  And what I mean by this is not that you were trained in any specific social skills, but you were exposed, on a daily basis, to the social customs of that level of social structure.
     From what I understand of any Skills that would apply, I'd guess that either Diplomacy and/or Carouse could could cover it.  Diplomacy covers knowing "proper social protocols" for "meetings"--so, yeah, if you can set up a State Dinner, you should be able to arrange a Black-Tie Dinner...and the social interaction covered by Carouse doesn't have to be only Bar-crawling, it could also be a Cocktail Party...or even a non-alcoholic High Tea...
This message was last edited by the player at 04:35, Thu 24 Sept 2020.

In reply to Varca Lexand (msg # 108):

"Agreed Varca. High tea is a form of carouse, sadly I don't have the skill for it but will wing it with 18 years of childhood."

Viridian listened to the conversation that he seems to have inadvertently started and only shook his head sadly now and then. It was all outside his skill set, but it still sounded like they were building a house of cards.

"Look at it this way, Teddy," he finally offered advice to his friend, "your aren't pretending to be a baron--you ARE a baron pretending that you aren't. That way, when you 'accidentally' slip up and say something baronial, it'll sound like that's the mistake, rather than all the rest!"

In any case, he put on his Varca-designed uniform (with pilot wings) and showed up at the appropriate time for the Mad Hatter's tea party.

<orange>OOC: Good call on the insignia, Viridian!</orange


Rejji also put on his uniform at the appropriate time. Although it fit just fine, it was a uniform, and uniform wasn't something Rejji ever wanted to be. He was an individual, unique, nobody else like him. Buck the rules; they weren't for him.

So, okay, that was his attitude, perhaps a persona he projected, but he knew when to put it on hold... like now, at the tea party.

He had no insignia to put on his uniform, but he made sure his uniform looked a bit scuffed up and dirty. He wore his laser pistol at his hip, so he supposed that was like a badge. He was a bodyguard; he tried to look the part. He even wore his 'sunglasses', though they were far more than mere sunglasses. He'd managed to pick up a pair from the captain's quarters on the one of the scavenged ships back on Drinax. At the time, he just thought they looked cool. Or bad. Or rad. Or whatever the current euphemism was. He'd never even heard of shades that could do what these did, but he supposed tech-14 could do it. He'd run across a lot of other weird shit while scavenging Drinax over the years, like that little stuffed animal that had sophisticated surveillance equipment in it. For the life of him, he could never figure out a scenario where that made sense!

He'd even managed to scrounge a few extra batteries for it--tiny wafer batteries, though he'd quickly discovered that it was able to capture motion to recharge the battery.

He'd only accidentally discovered the higher functions (the 'lower function' was that they worked just fine as sunglasses without a battery)... eye-motion activated. For the first few hours of wearing them, he felt like he was in a VR game!

He had every intention of wearing them for the tea party; if nothing else, it meant Reldam wouldn't be able to see his eyes. Good for playing poker!

"Reporting for duty," he said as he arrived at the appropriate time and place for the party. Unlike Varca, Rejji had never gotten into the habit or regimen of adding 'sir' to everything he said.

In reply to Rejji Harrasyn (msg # 111):

"At least most of us are here. BB hasn't reported back yet, wonder how her luck is holding out recruiting a few crew members."

The conversation had Aaron all confused now. He had no idea what he was supposed to be. While it seemed oddly dangerous for Reldam to meet all of the crew, Aaron put on his uniform, making it was the one that matched the others.

On his right lapel, he put his medical insignia and then his sensors insignia on his left lapel.

"Hope I'm not late for the party," he quipped as he walked in and heard Teddy's comment.

"That's probably a good thing, Baron. No reason Reldam has to know who all the crew is. And if BB manages to find some more warm bodies, Reldam is probably going to know more about them than we do! Anyway, we need to keep a few secrets."

"Secrets? Other than the King's Gambit thing that we haven't actually done yet?" Zhouth wondered aloud. He waved his hands in the air in front of him for emphasis as he continued, "We're entirely legal so far!" Then came the easygoing shrug, followed by another finger-point that was probably in the direction of Drinax. "Well, aside from a few minor clerical errors about the ship salvage that the actual person in charge would be okay with, or actually order be done, if only they didn't want not to know!"

He suddenly looked from one crew member to the other quite concernedly. "Or are you all sitting on a bunch of personal secrets that you haven't told us about yet, like most of my Vanejen stuff? You know that I mostly don't talk about that because I don't know whether my liver has been primed to explode if I do, right?"
This message was last edited by the player at 16:45, Sat 26 Sept 2020.

In reply to Zhouth (msg # 114):

Teddy grinned at Zhouth's dramatics.

"Exactly, Zhouth!" Reji replies. "Like... they don't need to know we've disabled the self-destruct function of this ship. In case we need to bluff them at some point."

"Or that we're all psionic renegades! That's OUR little secret!"

Zhouth's ears shot upward at the second suggestion but he quickly recovered with a lopsided grin. "Almost had me with that one, but I'd have noticed it by now!" Then his expression sagged into pained exhaustion as he further contemplated the idea. "Let's not pretend we're hiding something like that, though. Professional experience. Dealing with one psionic renegade at a time on Vanejen was bad enough, nevermind the Zhodani nobles."

At the appointed time, Commander Reldam arrives at the ship, perfunctorily knocks on the outer airlock, and asks for permission to come aboard.

He's alone.

"So, this is a Harrier?" he asks/says as he steps aboard. "Based on the old tales, I thought it'd be bigger. And fancier."

"But I guess after two hundred years, some of the shine has bound to have worn off. I will admit that I find it in better shape than I had imagined. I was expecting dust and cobwebs everywhere."

"Of course, that's a cliche. In order to have cobwebs, you have to have spiders, and out in space, there's just no way for spiders to get aboard a ship. Even on a planet, they can only do that if there's a hull breach somewhere."

"Also, even if you found it in that condition, I daresay you'd have cleaned it by now."

Zhouth, having awaited the commander's arrival outside the ship and alongside Varca, promptly held his arms up and out, ta-da style.

"We're working on the fancier part! It was really non-shiny when we found it, but a bit of work and polish and we've got it this good." He lowered one arm and made a sweeping gesture with the other, symbolically encompassing the entirety of the ship. "All the fiddly bits have to be fixed first though. No good looking shiny if it can't fly where you point it, but we've made a lot of progress there, too. Wouldn't have made it here otherwise!"

All of this was, of course, in slight breach of Drinaxi formal protocol insofar as he was speaking before the Baron, but then he clearly was not a native of that world, nor slave to its customs!
This message was last edited by the player at 09:24, Sun 27 Sept 2020.

In reply to Zhouth (msg # 119):
OOC: Exactly, Zhouth!  No matter how much of a backwater Torpol may be, Cmdr, Reldam is sure to know that you are way to much of an obviously "Flaming Vargr" to be from Drinax... *snicker*
The majority of the following descriptions are mostly bullshit and optical illusion...

     Varca is waiting, at the airlock, for Commander Reldam.  Varca is wearing just his black Hazard Suit (with all the flashy Drinaxi military symbols removed), but isn't wearing the full head-covering helmet.  Instead he's wearing a simple respirator mask that only covers his nose, mouth, and lower face--leaving his red-orbed eyes exposed.  And, just like Rejji, Varca is wearing his sidearm.

     "Commander Reldam.  Welcome to Vultan.  Please come aboard." Varca says to the Traffic Control official, utilizing his newly learned Diplomacy skills.

     "Baron McFarlane is waiting for you up in the Observation Salon.  Follow me please."

     Varca heads inboard towards the wide central corridor, and around the corner, to the nearby lift doors, as Reldam makes his comments about the condition of the ship.  Stopping in front of the lift without opening it's door, Varca turns back to the officer,

     "Well, this is the Lower Deck--where most of the ships operations take place.  It's a working deck."

     Varca gestures aft, at the close-by, large door in the middle of the aft bulkhead,

     "That leads into the cargo bay--look here, Commander--you might find this interesting..."

     Varca turns to face forward--pointing down the long, wide corridor that leads up to the Cargo Scoop chamber,

     "To either side of this wide corridor, on this deck, is fuel storage.  Down there, at the forward end of this corridor, through that big hatch, is an airlock chamber that is equipped with a small but powerful electromagnetic cargo grapple.  With that we can touchlessly grapple a cargo module, and then draw it aboard and into the airlock, there.  Once aboard, and that airlock is sealed, the electromagnetic system can then float the cargo module aft, down this corridor, and straight into the cargo bay."

     "All performed by remote control, from up on the bridge.  Cargo can be lifted, brought aboard, and placed in storage, all without needing to be touched by any member of our crew."

     Varca turns to, again, face the aft bulkhead,

     "As you can see, we have two airlocks--one at either end of this passageway, to port and starboard.  That door to starboard of the large cargo bay hatch, here amidships, leads into our Medical Bay--it's opposite counterpart, that door to port of the cargo hatch, leads into...oh, perhaps I should say anything further.  The Baron wants to show you what's in there later, himself.  He wants it to be a surprise."

     "So, at the far aft end of the ship, as I already mentioned, is the cargo bay, with engines and power reactors in chambers to both port and starboard of the cargo bay.  Our sensor and communications rooms are here, in the corner chambers, behind these two, facing lifts, to either side of the central corridor."

     Varca turns back to the lift and presses the button to open the doors, behind which the lift car is waiting,

     "As I said, the whole Lower Deck is a working deck, so it might still appear a little dinged, but we are still trying to restore the burnished bronze color to the polished hullsteel wall panels, and we have most of the gold fittings--door controls, engraved door labels, the crown moldings, door frames, those items--now replaced or repaired.  The Baron does often comment on how plain-looking this deck appears to him, but since so much of the equipment on this level is fully automated, who's really looking at it, I sez."

     Inside the lift car, "These walls are paneled in a rare hardwood from the northern mountains of Drinax--but no need to worry, they aren't radioactive...any more." Varca says...the whole time thinking ~~Rare wood indeed, if by that you mean you can only get it if a crazy Vespexer will go out into the contaminated mountains and cut the trees down for you!~~

     Varca reaches out to run his gloved hand over the polished wood,

     "Quite lovely, don't you think?" Varca asks idly, rubbing the wood for a few more moments, before reaching towards a golden plate mounted on the wall beside the doors, with just a single button of sparkling crystal set in its center,

     "There's only the two decks," Varca explains, as he presses the crystal button, "So the control only needs to set the lift into motion, to send it either up or down."

     As the car rises smoothly (the reason Varca is using the portside lift), Varca turns to, again, place his red-orbed stare upon the Commander,

     "I'm sorry, Commander Reldam, I forgot to introduce myself when you came aboard--I am Varca Lexand.  It amuses The Baron the call me his Social Secretary, because I am almost always at hand to him...I'm actually his Bodyguard, you see."

     "And, in case you weren't sure--yes, I am a Vespexer." the lift comes to a smooth halt, and the doors slide silently open,

     "I'm not the only one aboard, either.  This way, please." Varca adds, leading Reldam out of the lift.

Once Varca took over speaking, Zhouth fell silent and merely followed along for the tour, smiling brightly but not intervening - actually, looking rather like he was equally parts pleased to see their efforts shown off so and seeing the entirety of the ship's wonders for the first time. Of course he'd seen it all before - and studied it in close detail given his meticulous tracking of everything to do with the ship's restoration and status - but this was the first time they'd given anyone else a tour and that, apparently, rendered it all into an entirely new experience!

Ingrid was waiting for Reldam as he got out of the elevator and curtsied to him deferentially. "My name is Ingrid, sir, the Baron's personal assistant." she said, trying to strike the right balance in her voice between being hospitable but not familiar. "May I get you tea, or anything else?"

In reply to Ingrid Gustavdottir Sigar (msg # 122):

"Captain Reldam I presume, already getting the tour I see. I'm Captain Baron Theodore McFarlane, Baron Mersey officially. Tea?"
This message was last edited by the player at 12:02, Sun 27 Sept 2020.

"When you said 'tea', you really meant tea!" Reldam says. "I thought it was some sort of euphemism or code for the Good Stuff!"

"I wouldn't normally drink on duty, but not only am I actually off-duty at the moment, but in my official capacity, it would be rude not to drink with your hosts. Well, that's my story and I'm sticking to it."

"That being said, have you got any vodka?"

"Even without all the spit and polish, this 'working' deck is far shinier than any other ship I've ever seen. Sure, Imperial ships have a spit-and-polish look to them, always neat and and clean, particularly for an always-working ship, but THIS! Boggles the mind! Very impressive."

"Normally, anything this shiny is trying to hide incompetence, as if flashy decor will make you overlook the inadequacies. I don't see any of that. And I'm not going to look in corners or under covers."

"No, this is definitely a museum piece. AND... it flies!"

Teddy snaps his fingers to bring out the good stuff for Reldam. "We can spare the good stuff too. Scotch? Vodka? even have our own Moonshine still set up." he says with a grin.

Ingrid fetched drinks and poured Vodka for their visitor. "Of course, sir. I hope you enjoy it."

She smiled "The ship is beautiful"

"I can think of a few museums that would love to have a ship like this among their displays, but I'd hate to just see it just sit around after all the work we've put in. A ship like this could do a lot of things if we can just get the rest of the little system issues worked out." Zhouth's smile faded somewhat as he conceded, "It's really hard to get parts, though, and modern-made ones aren't always compatible with the Sindalian originals."

He gave Reldam an apologetic look, "But you probably have to deal with that sort of thing all the time here, what with ships going every which way from however many different places, and none of them build things the same way as the others!"
This message was last edited by the player at 19:22, Mon 28 Sept 2020.

In reply to Zhouth (msg # 127):

"Pour the Vodka in the captains glass Ingrid, thank you. What news from Torpol Captain? I have never been here before, though I here it is quite beautiful."
This message was last edited by the player at 17:44, Mon 28 Sept 2020.

Ingrid politely offered one drink to the visitor and one to Theodore. "Very welcome, sir."

"The ship would be wasted in a museum. There's more to life than being purely decorative." she said with a smile

In reply to Ingrid Gustavdottir Sigar (msg # 129):

"Absolutely true." Teddy says as he admires HER decorative curves!

Outside the Vultan a scrawny kid, looked to be in his early 20s, showed up at the closed ramp, nervously shifting his weight from foot to foot.

After a few seconds he hit the access request button.

"Uhh...hello? Anyone there? I was told by this marine chick to report here for duty."
This message was last edited by the GM at 19:14, Mon 16 Nov 2020.

In reply to Donio Scarte (msg # 132):

OOC:  What, during our Tea with Commander Reldam?!!
     Oh!  Someone is gonna get The Vespexer Treatment!  AKA, really cold, ammonia-contaminated, oily sludge will be found in her boots, come morning wake-up!
     Remember...getting into places without getting caught is one of Varca's "specialties", too .
^_^

In reply to Donio Scarte (msg # 132):

<<"This is Captain McFarlane, someone will be down for you presently,">> You want to show him the way to his quarters Zhouth? We're busy here right now. Or Viridian?"

Teddy turns back to the small talk with Reldam waiting for Varca to take over the conversation. "20 credit tour Captain? Varca?"
This message was last edited by the player at 16:33, Sat 03 Oct 2020.

A look of confusion briefly came over Zhouth as he parsed the two requests. "He was sent here by a marine bird?" And then it vanished beneath one of recognition and a quiet, "Oh. Okay then, I'll go see who it is."

Zhouth, in his formal attire, was therefore the one to emerge from the airlock a short time later, whereupon he gave the fellow a quick look up and down before uttering a relaxed, even cheerful-sounding greeting of, "She only found one down there? Or she's still working on it. I guess that's why you're here on your own!" This was, of course, accompanied by a finger count-of-one with one hand and a fingers-twitch in walking motion wave of his other hand toward the rough direction of the highport's shuttle station and back again.

"I'm Zhouth, and I get the glorious duty of being the ship's official purser, which is a fancy way of saying that I get stuck doing all of the math. Did she give you any documentation?" The cheerfulness drooped a bit. "No, wait. Don't answer that. Of course she didn't. Failure to strangle counts as her official seal of everything."

The mildly morose aspect faded just as quickly as it had come. "Oh well. You don't have much to bring on board by the looks of it, but at least I can point you to your stateroom while we wait for everyone else to show up! Or the mess hall, if you think you've recovered enough from whatever they fed you down there." This, along with his turning to take the lead, was of course accompanied by a come-along arm-wave.
This message was last edited by the player at 16:40, Sat 03 Oct 2020.

This message was deleted by the player at 17:11, Sat 03 Oct 2020.

Reldam takes a sip from his drink, then a second.

"We're still trying to distill spirits from seaweed," he comments, "because we got a damn lot of it! On the other hand, there's not much land to be growing hops and barley and potatoes. So, what little does get grown tends to make vodka a very low priority AND a very expensive proposition."

"So, we have to import it. It's considered a luxury item, so that makes it expensive. It's a toss up whether the import or the native stuff is more expensive. Tends to fluctuate a lot. Take this glass you've so generously provided. Down on the planet, it'd be a hundred credits! Maybe only 75 here on the station if it's an import, as much as 150 if it had to come up from the surface."

"I suppose you've heard about the raid? Two weeks, no, three weeks ago now. We think they were raiders from somewhere coreward. Attacked us and then Clarke a week later. We just heard about that. They destroyed several SDBs coming in and then looted a couple of orbital factories."

"Let me tell you, though--these raiders weren't no desperate brigands. They had the weapons, the technology and, if you ask my opinion, the discipline that mark them as dangerous corsairs."

"Of course, the jackass politicians are still debating whether these were pirates, raiders or terrorists, so, until that's settled, what to do about it is still up in the air. And then there's the funding issue to replace the SDBs. On the other hand, it ain't likely that they'll come back this way for awhile, since they already got what they wanted and it'll take at least a year before there's enough rebuild and restock to make the effort worth while once more."

"The silly Provosts of Torpol and the moronic Psychopomps of Clarke put a combined bounty on the heads of those damned raiders. Anyone who brings back proof of the raiders’ death will be showered in lanthanum and gold."

"Personally, I think it's waste of money... throwing good credits after bad ones. On the other hand... yeah, yeah, I know... we got lots of hands here on Torpol... it ain't like anyone's ever gonna claim that reward. I expect the raiders to be long gone, back to where they came from. Could be a year or more before they return... if ever."

"Enough of the bad news; now for the good stuff! Another resort is opening down on the planet at the end of the month! Casino Grande, they're calling it. Some folks just like to gamble, I guess. On the other hand... no comment! ...there's supposed to be a 25 story ski slope... inside one of the buildings! Most of the skiing is cross-country stuff, cause we don't have any mountains high enough to have snow on them or cold enough to sustain the artificial stuff. It's been tried a few times; never worked out."

"Power skiing is also fairly popular. Slap a jetpack on your back and let it send you zooming over the ice and snow. Straight racing or slaloming or even steeplechase--that's obstacle course for you non-skiers--is the thrill. Some claim it's almost as good as the downhill stuff."

"Don't know myself. Never done either. I can think of better ways to commit suicide. Ha-ha-ha!"
This message was last edited by the GM at 19:43, Sat 03 Oct 2020.

Teddy's ears perked up at the mention of Lanthanum and gold. "How many raiders were there, and how many credits for their destruction? We're interested in the proposal."

Teddy was tensed and ready, he was excited about the chase. He held his arm around Ingrid at the same time, and hugged her at the mention of reward.

In reply to Theodore McFarlane (msg # 138):

     Standing just behind, and to the right, of the seated 'Baron', Varca's red eyes squint-up in a frown (he's wearing a respirator mask over his lower face, remember?).

     "Excuse me, Commander...but did you just say that the Raiders...the Raiders that attacked here, at Torpol...destroyed several of your System Defense Boats?  Just what were the Raiders flying, if I might ask, a Heavy Cruiser?"

Ingrid didn't let her worry at how dangerous the raiders were show, but she was definitely feeling it. Teddy's hug reassured her and she smiled at him. If he was this confident they would destroy the raiders and reap the rewards, he must know better than she did.
"I don't suppose the raiders have been seen since? It could make arranging the Baron's schedule easier."
She looked curious at the mention of skiing; she'd never been.

"What? You think because you got a gun on your ship that a little 500-year old courier can take on two raiders?" Reldam replies to Teddy.

"Here. Let me show you what you're up against. Mind if I use your comp?"

When he's given permission, he connects with the Highport's security system and download the video images of the raid.

"The ships refueled at the orbital dock, just like any other ship. Business was conducted electronically. We think they had false transponders that identified them as Venture and Capital. The ships just bought fuel and departed. None of the crews left the ships."

"Next thing we know, they're attacking the ChemStar orbital factory, an automated
chemical refinery. The factory’s onboard cameras transmitted images of the attack just before they were destroyed. The images show two ships approaching from the orbital refuelling dock. A barrage of deadly accurate laser fire severs the refinery’s cargo module, and one of the ships swoops in to capture it. The other vessel moves to provide cover, then departs. One of the ships was a Far Trader, the other was a 400-ton Vulture-class salvage hauler."

"We're still trying to figure out how they took out the SDBs. Not destroyed, actually, but taken out of action for about a year before they are fully repaired. Well, one may be operational by the end of the month, but it still won't be 100%."

"Yeah, Torpol's offering 2,000,000Cr and Clarke 500,000Cr for the raiders, dead or alive, but you have to have proof that the bodies are the raiders."
This message was last edited by the GM at 02:05, Tue 06 Oct 2020.

In reply to StarMaster (msg # 141):

"Which is hard to do. We'd have to take the ships. Hmmm. Varca? Opinion?"

"We need to install our Dorsal turret and reload it though before hand."

In reply to Theodore McFarlane (msg # 142):

     With a roll of his red-orbed eyes--which The Baron cannot see, as Varca is standing behind him--Varca responds with,

     "It is the ventral turret which needs to be installed, my Baron.  And no need for concern, the laser cannon in the dorsal barbette is in perfect working order.  Sir."

     "As for your question, I would, at this time, my Baron, prefer to hold any opinion about the very dangerous idea of assaulting these raider vessels, to myself.  For I don't believe I have enough information to offer such an opinion."

     "But I would be interested in learning something, Commander..." Varca turns his attention to Reldam,

     "In your video records, those vessels appear to be a two-hundred ton Far Trader and a four-hundred ton Salvage Hauler.  Neither of those vessel types are known for being heavily armed.  When laser fire severed the cargo module from the orbital factory, was it both ships which fired, or only one?  And, were your forces able to determine what other types of weapons those ships were armed with?  Other than the mystery weapon which took out your SDB Fleet?"

"Ventral? You sure? details, details. No We're piqued in our interest is all. For now."

In reply to Theodore McFarlane (msg # 144):

     "Yes, my Baron..." Varca almost-sighs, "Dorsal means 'on the back of', and Ventral means 'on the underside of'.  As Naval terms, Dorsal means 'on top of the ship', for a gun turret, while Ventral means 'on the bottom of the ship', for a gun turret."

     "Onboard ships they have different words for many common things--like 'Port' and 'Starboard' meaning 'Left' and 'Right'--which you also get confused over, my Baron."

     Behind Theo--and likely unseen by him--Varca bows his head towards 'The Baron'...

     "I do not mean to embarrass you in front of our guest, my Baron," Varca adds, "I merely wish to aide you in becoming the best Starship Captain you can be."

In reply to Varca Lexand (msg # 145):

Teddy turned to Varca and winked. "Thank you Varca, I forget sometimes. Ready for a refill Commander, or would you prefer the tour?" He asks politely.

"As you can see from the video," Reldam answers Varca, "both ships fired on the refinery. It was the salvage hauler that swooped in and grabbed the cargo module."

"Oh! You think we have Imperial System Defense Boats! If only! They are old Sword Worlds SDBs by way of the Belgard Sojournate. Two hundred years old if they're a day. Refurbished six times and in desperate need of it again. I've been saying that for years."

"Same with the crews. They aren't quite prison ships, but you can serve on one in place of prison or outrageous fines."

"The SDBs are only meant to look impressive. Up till now, they've chased away pirates pretty effectively."

In reply to StarMaster (msg # 147):

     Varca's red eyes widen, abouve his respirator mask, at the Commander's comment,

     "So, then, Commander Reldam, it sounds like you feel that these Raiders could have been stopped, if only you'd had better weapons in your defensive arsenal?"

     Without waiting for a response from Reldam, Varca leans over and, in a stage whisper, quite clearly says to Theodore,

     "My Baron, seeing as how the Commander has finished with his current drink, perhaps now would be a good time to show him the...mushrooms...we have brought with us...the ones down in the old Storage Area..."

Ingrid is quite impressed by the money on offer. She moves over to the drinks when Theodore offers a refill, although she's in a bit of a huff a the suggestion that Sword Worlds ships are inferior to their Imperial counterparts. They're tough. It gives them character.

"Quite Varca. Perhaps we can go on the tour now and see what my aid has alluded to. It might well answer your questions of defense for a bit if not longer. We have some toys that might interest you and your government."

In reply to Theodore McFarlane (msg # 150):

[Crew Lounge, aboard the Vultan.  Docked at Torpol Highport.]

     "Mushrooms!  We agreed to--oh, never mind..." Varca sighs, heavily.

     "Of course, my Baron, I'd be pleased to continue with Commander Reldam's tour of the ship." Varca says, after a momentary pause, "And we can also show him the...toys...which you have brought along..."

     That last bit might sound as if it were said through grinding teeth, but as Varca is wearing a respirator mask that covers his lower face, that cannot be confirmed...

     "So.  Commander Reldam." Varca starts, gesturing around their current environs, "As I told you upon your arrival, there are only the two Decks--Upper and Lower.  The Upper Deck, here, is almost exclusively for the housing and recreation of the crew--with the exception of the Command Bridge, which is located forward."

     "Where we are, here, is the aft-most chamber, which is designated as the Crew Salon.  Please note that the large, stern-facing viewport which dominates the aft wall of the compartment is actually a super-high definition holographic screen, which we have restored to it's original quality.  It can produce incredibly realistic images..."

     Varca brings up his left arm and types a few commands into the small keypad located on his suits forearm--and the image of a viewport looking out into the space overlooking planet Torpol, changes to that of what seems to be a porch, leading out onto a sunny, white-sand beach, with feathery leaf-topped trees, and lovely blue-green waves crashing on the shore in the distance...an image that Reldam can easily recognize as coming from an advertisement for one of the many tropical island resorts found on Torpol, below.

     "Here, in this spacious Salon, we gather to relax and eat our meals--you can see, over there, in a nook to Portside, our very compact, very efficient automated Galley.  Just beyond that hatch, in a small compartment to port, is food storage, as well as accessory galley equipment, for when we host formal dinners."

     "Opposite the galley, in this nook to starboard, is a small, but very advanced Med-station.  During combat, or any other times of crisis, this entire salon can be converted into an Emergency Medical Aid station, by way of that med-station, on the wall, along with further medical supplies held in the small compartment, beyond.  Some housekeeping supplies are kept there, as well."

     Varca gestures upwards, towards a crystal chandelier that is hovering abouve the large, circular table in the middle of the salon--it has no visible means of support.

     "We recovered and restored this fantastic chandelier from what appeared to be a country estate home, a hundred kilometers outside the devastation zone of one of Old Drinax's major metropolises.  Beyond its historical value, simply due to its age, the crystals, themselves, were something of a rarity on Old Drinax, being similar to a crystal that the Imperials call Amber.  Of course, we had to replace the original contra-grav unit, but I don't believe that that distracts from it's beauty--or it's value--do you?"

     Varca, who was already standing, starts to walk around the large table under the hovering chandelier,

     "My Baron, Commander Reldam, Everyone...this way, please."

     Varca actually only walks a handful of meters forward, leaving the salon and entering a 3-meter wide companionway, before stopping and gesturing,

     "This area is what is called the Central Promenade." Varca says, "Quarters for the Officers and Crew are located here, to port and starboard."

     The Central Promenade, like the Crew Salon, aft, is floored in a luxurious, cream-colored frieze-pile carpeting, with the overhead painted to match.  The walls of the promenade are panels of dark, deeply-grained wooden wainscoting, rising up to about 1.5 meters, abouve which is a fabric wall treatment in what appears to be scarlet velour.  Light in the promenade is provided by several wall sconces made of gold and frosted glass, and the five doors on the portside wall, plus the four doors on the starboard-side wall, are each paneled in a lighter wood than that of the wainscoting on the wall.

     Scattered artfully around the fringes of the space are a number of wood and brass (or, maybe more gold?) planters, located both on the floor as well as hanging upon the walls--but only about half of them hold a small variety of flowering and/or berry-laden plants and vines.  On the floor, approximately in the very middle of the promenade, four such floor planter boxes have been placed around a floor hatch, to aid in avoiding it being tripped over.

     "We are hoping that we might find a few tropical plants to add to our décor, while we are here on Torpol." Varca points out, as he continues forward.

     After running a length of about 13.5 meters, the Central Promenade opens into a square chamber of 4.5 meters by 4.5 meters, where the light, tinkling sound of falling water can be heard.  The décor of floors and walls in this chamber are identical to that of the Central Promenade, however, a tube-shaped trellis, rising from floor to ceiling, is at the center of this chamber.  Flowering vines possessing clumps of small, bright-red berries rise up from planter boxes on the floor to drape over the bars of the trellis.

     Two small alcoves--one portside-aft and the other starboard-aft--lead off the chamber and provide access to the two inter-deck lifts.  A pair of hatches--again, one to port and one to starboard--are forward of these alcoves, opposite each other.  These hatches are not paneled in wood, but are, instead, metal painted in scarlet with gold trim work.  In the center of the forward wall is a heavy iris-valve door, a full 1.5 meters wide, painted a medium grey, over which the ship's logo has been painted--an idealized image in scarlet and gold of a now-extinct Drinaxi Vultan bird-of-prey, it's wings spread wide, standing upon the word "Vultan".

     "This is the Forward Promenade.  From here, we can access the Command Bridge--beyond that blast door, there--or go down to the Lower Deck."

     Varca stops and turns toward Theo, but gestures towards the bridge entry,

     "My Baron?" Varca asks, raising his eyebrows and giving a quick nod towards Reldam, "Access is by your command, only..."

"Enter by all means Varca, lead the way." Teddy responds. "It wouldn't be a tour without a visit to the bridge!"
This message was last edited by the player at 13:41, Mon 12 Oct 2020.

In reply to Theodore McFarlane (msg # 152):

Teddy leads the way onto the bridge but lets Varca continue to do the talking as he leads the way.

Viridian is in the pilots seat I suppose.

In reply to Theodore McFarlane (msg # 153):

In reply to Theodore McFarlane (msg # 153):

     Varca follows along behind The Baron, pointing things out, along the way,

     "The berries which grow on the trellis, here in the middle of the compartment, are Atasans." Varca points out the clusters of vibrant yellow, grape-like berries, "That name might be familiar to you, Commander, as, in the past, they were used on Drinax to make a superior quality wine called Tinggi--very similar to what the Solomani call Champagne, I believe."

     Varca casts an ironic, red-eyed look over his mask, at Reldam,

     "Atasans still grow on Drinax--they adapted to the contamination after the Aslan attacks.  Of course...they are now completely toxic to Humans...but they are still pretty."

     Varca chuckles, then adds,

     "Not to worry, Commander, these Atasans are safe.  We got them from a hydroponic farm on the Floating Palace."*

     As they walk around the meter-wide, vine-covered, tube-like trellis, it can be seen that there is an opening in the forward side of the trellis, directly opposite the hatch leading into the Bridge.  Inside the trellis can now be seen a ladder leading up to an iris-valve hatch in the ceiling.

     Noticing Reldam's glance, Varca gestures to the concealed ladder and hatch,

     "Access to the Dorsal weapons barbette." Varca says.

     Meanwhile, 'Baron' Theodore has stepped up to the hatch into the Bridge and come to a halt.  The Baron simply stands there, silent and unmoving, for a couple of seconds, before the hatch cycles open, and The Baron steps through.

     "A bit of Drinaxi Old Tech, this." Varca explains, gesturing at the now-open hatch, "Remote Biometric Gene Scanner.  The hatch will only open for person's who's genetic scan is on record with the ship's computer--the only manual over-ride is located inside the Bridge, and the computer is programmed to ignore orders to over-ride the lock-out from anywhere except here, on the Bridge."

     The Bridge is a large compartment, 7.5 meters by 7.5 meters, but the forward wall slopes in from the sides, narrowing to a wedge-like form which holds a panoramic viewport.  The heavy iris-hatch blast door opens onto a 'Captains Walk'--a raised observation platform stretching from the hatch out into the middle of the compartment, with a bronze-railed balustrade running around it--with a couple of steps to port and starboard, leading down to the command deck, where several control stations are placed against the outer bulkheads.

     Viridian is standing at the far end of the Captain's Walk, watching over the empty control stations--he turns at the opening of the hatch,

     "Hey, there..." spotting Commander Reldam, Viridian straightens up, then performs a small bow, "...Baron."


OOC:
*  Anybody remember us doing that?  Didn't think so.  But they are Atasans.... ^_^

"We can make wine too? I didn't even know that Varca."

In reply to Theodore McFarlane (msg # 155):

     At The Baron's comment, Varca does a double-take, then silently glowers over his mask at him for a few seconds,

     "Ye-e-e-s-s...." Varca finally says slowly, before turning away and leading Reldam down the Captain's Walk, toward Viridian,

     "Commander Reldam, this is Viridian Starfire, our Chief Pilot--after The Baron, of course."

     As Viridian nods a greeting, Varca gestures around the Bridge,

     "Everything is controlled from here, Commander.  Everything.  The Harrier, as designed, made heavy use of automated systems built with Drinaxi Old Tech, and all of it is monitored by the human crew from up here."

     Varca turns to Reldam,

     "We've restored much of it to original operating parameters, but some of the really advanced gear is still beyond even our recovered tech base--some of the synthetic materials needed for the sensors, for instance, we still can't replicate, back on Drinax.  At current specs, these sensors aren't much better than, say, what your SDB's likely had, when the Raiders attacked."

     "Please do not take that as a slight, Commander!  I did not mean it as such--but remember, the sensors of this vessel were originally the product of a technological development classification of Level Fourteen!  My comment was only an homage that we've managed to achieve sensor quality as good as Torpol has achieved, without, yet, recovering all that Old Tech."

     Varca gestures back towards the still-open hatch, leading off the Bridge.

     "Let us go below, Commander.  The Baron is anxious to show off another Old Tech system that Drinax might provide, now.  I believe you will find it fascinating.  If you'll just come along to the portside lift..."

     On the way off the Bridge, Varca quietly gestures for Zhouth and Ingrid to use the starboard-side lift, while Varca takes The Baron and Reldam to the portside lift.

     "I do not think that it was the age of your SDBs, necessarily, that prevented them from stopping those Raiders, Commander." Varca says, as he, Reldam and The Baron enter the lift car, "I am quite sure that your crews maintained those ships in tip-top condition."

     Varca leads the other out of the lift, into the cross-corridor, and waits for Zhouth and Ingrid to re-join them,

     "No, Commander, I think it was just that the Raiders were prepared for the...contemporariness...of the weapons that they faced."

     Varca steps over to a nearby manual hatch, in the aft bulkhead.  Tapping out a code on a wall-mounted keypad, just to the side of the door, Varca then twists the wheel in the center of the door, and pushes the heavy portal open,

     "However, I also believe that such reprobates as those Raiders would never expect to face these...toys...which The Baron has brought with him..."

     As the heavy hatch swings inwards, the lights come up smoothly and automatically, revealing that the room is packed tightly with storage racks--racks which hold dozens and dozens...and dozens!...of long...sleek...lethal-looking...anti-ship missiles.

     "Commander Reldam, I present to you the Type Z-95 Memukul Advanced Anti-Ship Missile, the standard issue of the old Imperial Drinax Star Guard!  In it's day it was superior to the Aslan missile that we called the 'Lonjakan', and it still holds it's own versus the modern Aslan 'Penipu' missile."

     Varca walks over to a nearby missile and raises his left forearm--typing a short code into the keypad mounted there.  The missile responds with a sudden hum that is felt, more than heard--and a small panel opens in it's side, about midway down the body of the missile.

     "Commander Reldam, if you would, please..." Varca gestures to the display just revealed, "This diagnostic display should be readable, to you.  It's data will confirm that this missile is not only active, but that it's capabilities--as well as the capabilities of all these others--may be superior to armaments currently in your arsenal.  Please feel free to access the missile for any further data."

     Varca raises his left forearm, showing the small keypad display mounted there,

     "I have frozen the detonation circuits--they can only be accessed from my controls, for now.  So you need not worry about accidentally detonating the missile.  Please, Commander, confirm for yourself that this missile can do everything we claim."

"Isn't that fantastic Commander Reldam? Exquisite and lethal at the same time. How would you like a few as samples, or even a small purchase? We know you are not able to make the final decision, but you can introduce us to parties that are. We are here to sell technology to Torpol who can in turn reverse engineer and build their own TL15 Z-95 missile. The pirates wouldn't stand a chance against them!"

Viridian had been sitting in the pilot' seat when the others showed Reldam the bridge. The only thing that really made it different than any other bridge was the Captain's Walk. That was highly unusual.

Plus, the bridge probably looked a bit shinier and spiffier than most bridges. The most functional and efficient bridge was one that was comfortable, though. This didn't quite look like that yet.

The beatings will continue until morale improves! Or until we're all dead, not from the beatings but from the failure of the crew. Fear was not the best motivator; anxiety tended to cause mistakes as you worried too much over whether you were doing the right thing.

That was his 2-credits from the amateur psychologist's chair. But that's what this bridge looked like because it sure as hell didn't look comfortable.

He stood up just as the hatch to the bridge opened.

"Hey, there..." he began before spotting Commander Reldam. Coming to more of an attention pose, he finished with a small bow and said, "...Baron."

"All systems still nominal."

But he was glad when they left so he could 'relax'. It probably wasn't necessary, but most of them were in unknown territory, so someone had to stand watch on the ship.

Ingrid swept along with those on the tour. She exclaimed admiringly over the chandelier and when the passed the galley she fetched refreshments. She smiled cheerfully at Viridian.

Ingrid tensed up when Varca started interacting with the missile. She knew it was perfectly safe, but it still made her nervous. "A nice surprise for any raiders lurking about."

OOC: Makes me think of Dwarves pounding with hammers on a nuclear warhead in one of our D&D games!


"Really? You're selling them? What's the catch?" Reldam says upon being shown the missiles. "I don't suppose you'd be interested in donating them to Torpol in the name of goodwill, would you?"

"Now's the time to strike. While I, personally, don't think the raiders will return any time soon, since the government officials responsible tend to be reactive rather than proactive, I'm sure they'll be happy to buy your missiles merely as a knee-jerk reaction to the still fresh in their memories attack. Wait too long, though, and they'll stop believing the raid ever happened."

"But, sure, I can put you in touch with the proper authorities. It may take a few steps on the heads of the chain of command, but I think I can facilitate that."

In reply to StarMaster (msg # 160):

     "Well put, kuleen* Ingrid!  A nice surprise, indeed!" Varca applauds Ingrid's comment, before turning back to Reldam,

     "It has always been The Baron's intention to make a gift of a dozen of these missiles, to the stalwart Defenders of Torpol...." Varca responds,

     "But, if you feel that your government might wish to purchase more of them, as well, Commander Reldam.  Then...I am sure that we can come to some kind of an accommodation.  And, should you be instrumental in making this happen...we would be most demonstrative in our appreciation, wouldn't we, my Baron?"



OOC:
* = "kuleen", Sindalese for "Noble (-man or -woman)"

In reply to Varca Lexand (msg # 161):

"After the 'assimilation' of planet Asim back into the Kingdom, Drinax has been able to begin rebuilding.  WE are out here on a sort of 'fact finding' mission.  The Kingdom wants to know if there would be a market for our advanced weapons systems, so we are here to sell these 'samples', we intend to deal advanced arms to our friends. Torpol IS a friend of Drinax I assume?"

In reply to Theodore McFarlane (msg # 162):

     Varca just silently nods in agreement with 'The Baron'.




OOC: Yeah...I hate "1 Line Posts", too...but, honestly, at this exact moment, I can't think of anything for Varca to say or do, other than to agree with, and support, Theo's statement, there...

In reply to Varca Lexand (msg # 163):

They have their places sometimes!

Taliesa made her way to the ship in a roundabout way, picking up any local gossip about this ship. She was more than surprised that, by the time she reached the ship, she hadn't heard anything!

There was some surprise that there was a ship from Drinax, and minor concern that it was a vanguard for Drinax trying to take over Torpol, but no one had any serious concern that would happen.

She reached the ship eventually.

She hit the comm-buzzer.

"Taliesa Dieros reporting for duty per BB Nova. Permission to come aboard?"

In reply to Taliesa Dieros (msg # 165):

     The Missile Storage Bay is fairly close to the airlock--not that the sound of the buzzer for somebody at the airlock doesn't sound all-over the ship--and Varca frowns behind the filter mask he's wearing.  Obviously annoyed, Varca points to his fellow Vespexer,

     "Rejji, go deal with that!" Varca orders, gesturing off in the general direction of the nearby airlock--then he makes a quick glance at Commander Reldam, and realizes how that order might sound to the local,

     "And no disintegrations, this time!" Varca adds,

"Hey! I'm supposed to be handling the introductions!" The excited arm-waves could be seen from clear down the hall as Zhouth made his way toward the airlock, a dazed-looking Donio in tow.

Donio didn't get much of a chance to recover from his condition as Zhouth pointed down the hall to where the tour group was gathered. "Okay, there's Ingrid. She's the engineer here, so you'll be working for her. Hopefully those missiles are all stable, but if not, I'm sure that she'll warn you in time to get out a few last words before the explosion!"

This assertion was, of course, accompanied by an expansive double-hand sweep that recognizably illustrated the concept of BANG.

With Donio en route toward Ingrid, Zhouth quickly disappeared from view again.




...and a few moments later emerged from the ship's airlock to meet the newcomer, looking just as resplendent as the first time. "Hello there! BB sent you to join us? And no documentation this time either, which is a good thing. Okay, what's your skill set? The missile bay is a bit crowded right now but I'm sure that I can find somewhere else to put you!"
This message was last edited by the player at 20:20, Tue 20 Oct 2020.

Donio glanced back at the swiftly departing vargr guide and then looked back at Ingrid.

"Uh...hey! I guess I'm supposed to help you out with stuff here in the engine room. I guess? That right there is about all the prep I've had for this job..."
This message was last edited by the GM at 19:12, Mon 16 Nov 2020.

"Excuse me a moment, sirs" Ingrid said to the others before she left to intercept the newcomer. She curtsied to Donio. "Hello, sir, nice to meet you. I'm Ingrid Gustavdottir Sigar. Despite appearances, I'm the chief engineer here. I'll be glad of any assistance. What's your specialty?" she said cheerfully.

In reply to Ingrid Gustavdottir Sigar (msg # 169):

     Varca gives a grateful nod of acknowledgement to Ingrid, as he turns back to Commander Reldam.

     But if those old Palacer Tales about Vespexers having Laser Eyes were true....the red-eyed glare that Varca silently sends towards the new recruit would reduce Donio to a pile of ash in mere seconds...

Teddy noted the expression Varca gave Donio when he interrupted their meeting with the Commander. He continued to make the deal knowing the airlock had a new cleaner.

"What do you think Commander, a small gift you can have, a 'stick' of missiles. Interest perhaps?"

"Up till now, my specialty's been f*cking things up," Donio replies to Ingrid. "Never really had any training, unless you count gambling. But, I've always been able to do a little bit of this, a little bit of that."

"I was one of those kids that liked to take things apart and put them back together again just to see how they worked. Got into a lot of trouble doing that at first... till I got good enough to actually put them back together so they worked again."

"Mostly, I got paid to be a tough guy. Beat up on the opposition before they beat up on me."

"So, BB thinks I could be an... how'd she put it? 'Adequate' engineer. Here to learn, ma'am. Kind of like to avoid cleaning up airlocks and stuff."
This message was last edited by the GM at 19:12, Mon 16 Nov 2020.

"Well, I'm in no position to buy any missiles, not even the hubcap for one!" Reldam replies to Teddy.

"Nor can I say how the bosses will react, but they'd be damn fools not to appreciate a free rack of missiles. Of course, it's a bit like closing the barn door after the horse is gone, but what the hell."

In reply to StarMaster (msg # 173):

"Ah but you WILL pass the deal up the food chain I see. Yes it is too late to stop the last raid, but it might stop the next one and put an end to them. Perhaps you will look kindly upon us. You need a refill? Or is it time to get back to your ship? You're welcome to come back and visit any time Commander Reldam, it has been an honor to host you! Just contact us so we can be up to snuff for such a distinguished visit! We can bullshit over some fine drink and a cigar!"
This message was last edited by the player at 14:25, Sat 31 Oct 2020.

In reply to Theodore McFarlane (msg # 174):

"Well, now that that is over with, what was BB able to dig up on Torpol?" he asks no one in particular as he heads for the crew quarters.
This message was last edited by the player at 14:23, Sat 31 Oct 2020.

Ingrid flinched a little at his language. Then she smiled. "Yes, I kind of started the same way, curiously taking things apart. I had a natural talent" Of course, then she'd gone to college. "Well, I'll try my best to teach. You'll enjoy work on this ship, it's really a marvel."

BB intercepts Teddy and holds up three fingers.

"I found us three shady individuals that were willing to skip over a background check on us as long as we don't look into theirs. They seem competent enough not to blow anyone up and probably won't cut anyone's throat in their sleep. All in all I consider it mission accomplished."

In reply to BB Nova (msg # 177):

"Good job BB, glad you succeeded! That will fill our crew up to give us 2 shifts so someone will always be on watch!"
This message was last edited by the player at 22:13, Mon 02 Nov 2020.

     Varca, again, rolls his red eyes as The Baron abruptly ends the tour, but Varca still steps away from the missile and approaches Commander Reldam,

     "This way, please, Commander..." Varca says, gesturing towards the hatch out of the Missile Storage Bay.

     Out in the passageway, Varca leads Commander Reldam the few steps it takes to reach the airlock the Commander had originally entered via,

     "Feel free to call us at any time, Commander.  And do not hesitate to inform your superiors that we wish for you to continue to take the lead in this endeavor." Varca says, pausing in front of the inner airlock hatch, without opening it,

     "Drinax remembers its friends, Commander." Varca adds, "And we count you as our friend, so we would like to see you, personally, profit from this endeavor as much as your planet will.  Thus we will only deal through you--and you can take advantage of that, in the advancement of your career, however you wish."

     Since the ship is docked, Varca reaches out and enters the sequence of commands that will open both the inner and outer airlock hatches, at the same time.

     "Oh!  By the way, Commander," Varca asks, suddenly, as Reldam is walking out, "There were a few small repair jobs that our limited shipyard, back on Drinax, was unable to handle, and we are hoping to get a few minor repairs done, while we are here.  Could you, perhaps, recommend a good repair contractor?"

With the Commander's departure and the matter of crewing becoming one of general attention, Zhouth offered his own comment and question, having missed out on some of the pertinent details. "We have room for one more person once we've worked out where the needs still are. We should be good for poking about the place looking for clues about the raiders if that's still the plan?"
This message was last edited by the player at 01:18, Mon 09 Nov 2020.

"Thank you Varca, for leading the way on that, you're not to be trifled with, maybe one day I'll have to put you in the airlock since you are so good!" he said with a grin.

"Thank you Zhouth for taking care of the new crew members we just hired in the middle of that. Why do we need more?"

"We don't right now, unless you want another gunner on standby for the missile launcher, but it's a good idea to have an extra or two to stand in if there are casualties, right?" His ears flattened a bit in time with casualties, then a woeful look rippled momentarily across his face, and he hastily added, as if explaining to no one in particular, "They happen in firefights."

In reply to Zhouth (msg # 182):

     Varca removes the respirator mask that had been covering the lower half of his face, as he rejoins the others.


     "You can try." Varca responds with a grin, "My Baron."

     At Zhouth's mention of a second Gunner, Varca speaks up,

     "Crap!  All this time aboard, and I never bothered to check--are there two Gunner Stations on the Bridge?  Usually the turrets are unmanned.  Originally these Harriers had so much automation that all gunnery operations were remotely controlled from the Bridge, and gunners sitting inside the turrets was only done as a back-up."

"That's what the side stations are for. Well, that's how the Sindalians set them up!" Out came Zhouth's comm, and a moment later, a diagram of the bridge with every station marked out. The forward consoles were for piloting and astrogation, one on each side were marked for gunnery, and the lone console at the back of the bridge was designated as engineering. "We don't have to follow their plans though. They're all configurable if we want to play musical stations."

Lolololololololol, it would be interesting, shouldn't ever come to that I don't think!" he says with a grin. "What do you think of the tour and our Commander Reldam Varca? Zhouth? I value your opinions more than you can imagine. Think we can make some Credits here? We need to make money doing something. I value your opinion to Ingrid. Thoughts?"
This message was last edited by the player at 15:45, Mon 09 Nov 2020.

"All starship repairs are done here on the station," Reldam replies to Varca as he exits the ship.

"Since there's a limited amount of spacedock, there are only two companies that do repairs. StarSharp Industrials does most of the internal work. That's the company you want to contact for installing your missile turret, since you'll need to put the ship into the spacedock. Ask for Shakra Kandoro and tell her I sent you. If you want a discount, just tell her 'Reldam says Boogaloo'. She might even be interested in some of the missiles. Probably pay more for them than the government as she'll likely resell them."

"Most of the EVA work is done by Astro Skyworks. Your best contact there is Dunny Manksford, but don't mention my name. We've had a few disagreements over the past year. He likes to cut bureaucratic corners without giving any consideration on how it affects others. I sure as hell don't want to lose my job because he was too lazy to fill out the proper forms."

In reply to StarMaster (msg # 186):

[Earlier, At The Airlock with Cmdr. Reldam]

     "Thank you, Commander." Varca replies, after Reldam has made his recommendations, "We'll look into both, for our needs.  I look forward to our next meeting.  Goodbye, for now."

---

[Now. Meeting In The Lounge]

     "Commander Reldam, as he was leaving, gave me a few suggestions about where we can get our ship work done." Varca says, adding "As well as a possible lead on a private sale of some of our missiles."

     "I think that our best bet for our repairs and modifications would be Reldam's suggestion of an outfit called StarSharp Industrials--he says they're the ones who could handle the turret installation, anyway.  He added that they might also be interested in buying some of our missiles, for resale.  He gave me the name of a contact in the company, as well.  He said mentioning him could get us a discount, maybe."

     "We'll have to ask to see if they can handle our fuel tank issues.  Which brings up my next issue...while I was expecting to do some crew recruiting while we're here, I didn't expect BB to get results quite so quickly. So I'd like to propose a re-organizing of our repair priorities.  I want to make getting the fuel tanks repaired our first priority--assuming the repairs can be done here."

     "My reason for this is that, when the ship's fuel tanks are repaired, we can disassemble that temporary fuel bunker in the Cargo Bay--because we need that freed-up space for BB and myself to begin training the new recruits in the skills of Raiding.  We wouldn't have the ventral turret installed until after the fuel tanks are fixed.  Or as the fuel tanks are fixed, however the money works out."

     "And Theo, I think that you should take the lead on trying to sell-off the missiles.  With your background with the Imperial Navy, you'd be best able to represent yourself as someone with knowledge and experience of missiles, and their performance in combat.  Plus, you've been bending everyone's ear about your salesmanship ability, every chance you get!"

     Varca gives Theo a grin,

     "But...I don't think you should go out and sell the missiles as You!" Varca continues, "I think you should disguise yourself, maybe tell folks you're either this ship's Weapons Officer, or maybe just that you're the Ship's Quartermaster.  Either one would have authority to sell-off any surplus armaments."

     Still grinning, Varca turns to Ingrid,

     "What do you think, Ingrid," Varca asks her, while making a gesture towards Theo, "Should we make him a blonde?  Maybe a redhead?  No!  We shave him bald, and put glasses on him!"

"Commander Reldam seems trustworthy enough" Ingrid said, smiling that Theodore valued her opinion. "I hope the raiders aren't as formidable as he made them sound, though"

"Definitely not bald! He wouldn't be as handsome then. Red, I suppose? It's striking" Ingrid says to Varca. "And I can work on the fuel tanks"

Zhouth looked between the three slowly, his ears going askew briefly before righting themselves as he brought one hand up and traced a line in the air that loosely matched the contours of their would-be missile seller's face as he offered a conspiratorial-sounding alternative. "I think that Theodore should go as Theodore. That way no one will suspect that he's actually Theodore in disguise."

Then he sighed and made a downward hand-wave. "Really though, we shouldn't overcomplicate this. We're the crew of the Vultan, the completely-legitimate courier ship. No need to pretend that we're people that we aren't, or that we have more people around than we do. Best case scenario, we look like we're being silly. Worst case scenario, word gets back to the starport authority that we came in with unregistered crew, and then I have to spend days on end wrangling with bureaucrats who all want a cut of the profits to make the problem go away."

Then Zhouth's ears swiveled upward as a smile crept onto his face. "We could still color Theodore's mustache, though. I can think of a few good patterns to try!"
This message was last edited by the player at 21:03, Tue 10 Nov 2020.

In reply to Zhouth (msg # 189):

     Varca frowns as he listens to Zhouth, but, ultimately, he nods his head in agreement.

     "You're probably right, Zhouth--I'm too used to trying to slip things past Star Guard Army inspectors." Varca says, then nods at Theo, "My real concern, though was that we just spent some time and effort trying to create a 'persona' for 'The Baron' being a self-absorbed, barely-competent, typical Aristocratic air-head.  I'm worried if 'The Baron-the-Fool' now goes out to sell missiles, and he has to start showing Theo's level of competence at space combat, it could get out that 'The Baron'--and thus Vultan--might be a more dangerous opponent than we want folks to think."

     "Theo, you'll just have to try and, somehow, sound like you know all about missiles, while still sounding foolish."  Varca grins, "Shouldn't be too hard for you, eh, old friend?"

In reply to Varca Lexand (msg # 190):

"Thank you for all of your confidence Varca, I appreciate it." he says with a slight frown.

Ingrid giggled at Varca's words.

"I could maybe help sell the missiles" Ingrid added.

OOC: Only Broker 0, but I actually have streetwise 1

In reply to Ingrid Gustavdottir Sigar (msg # 192):

OOC - Good.

So, you contact StarSharp Industrials and make arrangements to have the missile turret installed. You have to relocate the ship to the drydock--there's an opening tomorrow at noon; StarSharp has repair crew available.

Not too long after that, you are contacted on comms by Starport Administrator Provost Falx, from the polar Downport.

"Greetings! Our friends from Drinax are always welcome here! I understand you may have something to sell. If you'd like to meet and discuss this, I can send a shuttle up for you."

Jauth wasted no time in replying to the message with a cheerful, "We would! We'll be ready for the shuttle as soon as everyone's gathered up!"

And he just as quickly set about gathering up any would-be salespeople who might have missed the message. They had a shuttle bay to attend!

In reply to Zhouth (msg # 195):

"Lets go Ingrid, time to sell sole missiles! Every credit we can get!" he says to her as he kisses her on the cheek in greetings.
This message was last edited by the player at 13:50, Wed 18 Nov 2020.

"All ashore that's going ashore!" Aaron quipped.

"Don't know how long this is going to take you, so I'd better stay on board in case we need to move the ship into the spacedock tomorrow."

     Varca comes out of his quarters dressed in his Hazard Suit, as usual--including the usual frowny-face--but without the accompanying full helmet.  Apparently Varca has decided to trust the Torpolese life support systems...


     ...Varca spins around, mid-step, and walks back into his cabin.  Less than a minute later he steps back out, this time wearing his helmet.  Though the pistol holster that is part of the suit's right upper thigh is obviously empty, the odd metal 'staff' he sometimes carries is magnetically 'strapped' across his suited back.

     Varca walks over to stand next to Theodore and Ingrid.

     "Ready to go...My Baron." the micro-speakers in his helmet smoothly emulate the sound of Varca's natural voice, as he makes a tiny bow towards the two.  Straightening, he looks to the group and adds,

     "Viridian, are you coming, as well?  And...why is Aaron--our Doctor--sitting a Bridge Watch?  I mean, I know Aaron is a fair Pilot, but isn't Viridian the actual..."

     Varca suddenly stops talking, and turns his helmet to look back to Theodore--and again makes a tiny bow towards him,

     "Apologies, Captain.  Bridge assignments are your business.  I wasn't trying to interfere, I was just curious."

     Varca then turns his faceplate to look over at BB,

     "Gunny?  We can always get away with another bodyguard for The Baron, here, if you want to come along..." Varca says, "Or maybe a guard for our Lady Engineer..." Varca raises his gloved right hand to gesture towards Ingrid.

     "Or do you want to remain aboard, BB, and start getting our new recruits in line?  There isn't much room in the cargo bay, as you know, until we can take down that fuel container, but there should be enough space to get a feel for their capabilities--if you handle them one at a time."

"We're ready, and Aaron volunteered to sit watch. Maybe he found a good book to read." As he places his hand in the middle of Ingrid's back. He looked on her with love wondering what it would take to actually get married.

"Hadn't really thought about it," Viridian replies to Varca. "Guess it depends on how much security the ship needs... and what sort of protocol is appropriate for this type of meeting. After all, he is a Provost. Is he going to have his own security force, or is he just a fancy bureaucrat?"

"What about you, Zhouth? Torpol is a resort world. No reason you can't go down there to smell the roses. It's not either of us need to be in the sales meeting."

Zhouth held out one hand and pointed downward - downward relative to the planet, that is - as he put on an expression of uncertainty. "I'd think that lilies would be easier to find than roses. It's a water world! But shouldn't I be going with the sales crew if I'm the purser? Or is that crowding things too much?"

"Well, maybe I can find something else to do. We still need all kinds of little things to improve the ship, and I suppose that they have some touristy things at a place like this." Both arms went out and up in a shrug. "Twenty times more expensive than they should be, of course."

A late riser as ever, Rayjay had gone through his morning routines, exercise, hygiene, breakfast, before checking the incoming and the outgoing cargo manifests, speculating on trade opportunities and on the inevitability of the next raid to come. When a single line of data caught his eye, a name, one he was familiar with from some twenty years ago, one which had nearly cost him glory among the stars and his position within the Navy. The old salty dog couldn't help but smile.

So he prepared his things and took a walk to one berth only to learn they had moved to another  before making his way there in good time and leaving him only slightly short of breath, which meant gasping for air only now and again instead of near constantly. So after taking a moment more to recompose himself and curse his youthful self for his fitness indiscretions he hailed the ship with his portable computer to request permission to come aboard.

"Petty Officea 2nd Class Ray-jay-nul Brown requestin permission to come aboard yea fine vessel here, truly a wondea it tis. I 'ear tale be an ol friend of mine aboard, a Tee-ay-dore Mick-Fair-land, ifin tat true I'd be mighty grateful for a meetin."
This message was last edited by the player at 09:58, Fri 20 Nov 2020.

In reply to Rayjaynul Brown (msg # 202):

"I'm McFarlane, permission granted. How may I help you? We were on our way out. But I guess we have time."

"Another one?" Zhouth initially shot a questioning glance BB's way, then changed focus when Theodore's name was dropped by whoever was at the door, although his uncertainty about the situation was evident. "Oh. We do have room... You weren't expecting him though? Perfect timing, then!" The wan grin that accompanied the final words left it open to interpretation as to where on the spectrum of convenient versus suspicious that version of perfect fell.

Rayjay smiled broadly as he heard the captain's voice, or at least whom he probablly rightfully assumed was the captain. "Tee-ay-dore! I assume ya be a Cap'n now? Congrat-ya-lations! I be waitin just outside ya eem-billy-cool but I don' suppose ya be needin a gunna as fine as ol Rayjay do ya? Or maybe a spec-lative investa? Heh-heh-heh-huuh! It surely has been a while, wat two decades now I tink? But where are my mannas, such reminiscin can wait, I'm sure ya got important matta's port side no?" He asked walking the short distance to the airlock while putting his computer back in his bag, the little commdot behind his ear still feeding voice to and from the ship as he waited patiently outside, after all there was no need to use the air lock alarm when he had hailed them only moments ago.

Just outside the airlock any sensors present would get readings on a relatively unremarkable man, save for how rail thin he was with light brown skin, dark brown eyes, black and brown hair worn in some shoulder length dreads, with a fanciful blouse tucked into some jeans beneath an open coverall tied together at his waist, a nice light backpack thrown over a shoulder that seemed awfully full, culminating with some very fine riding boots. Clearly the man fancied himself a swashbuckler of sorts.
This message was last edited by the player at 20:17, Fri 20 Nov 2020.

In reply to Rayjaynul Brown (msg # 205):

"Come aboard, perhaps you can be worked in, perhaps. I don't have time at the moment but in a few hours we can get together. BB or Varca will take care of you until I get back. Then we can chat."

     "Of course your coming, Zhouth--you listen better than any of us!" Varca says, standing just behind Zhouth and BB, in the passageway.

     After Zhouth's comments, Varca turns his helmet to face BB,

     "Please tell me you didn't put out advertisements for Crew Positions!" Varca growls at the ex-Marine, before turning to hear that the person at the airlock was looking for Theo....who seemed to be clueless about the visitor's identity.  But then, it was Theodore...

     "Okay..." Varca says, his helmet's micro-speakers turned down to a whisper, "If Theodore doesn't know who this guy is--BB, you knock his feet out from under him...I'll smack him in the head with my Lonjakan...Zhouth, you eat him..."

"What!?" Zhouth appeared genuinely shocked by Varca's suggestion, recovering somewhat a moment later upon the realization that it was somewhere between a joke and a metaphor - although given the continuing traumatized look, and his response to violent incidents thus far, the metaphor probably wasn't much less disturbing...

Waiting a moment longer, Rayjaynul tried the airlock, not certain if it would open for him or if it might just annoy his future ship mates to be, but when it did open for him, he figured it was a good sign of things to come. As such the slim man entered the inner airlock before closing the outer and checking the inner, and with a satisfying hiss of hydraulics, or whatever else the doors used the old navy dog came aboard content to once more be aboard such a fine vessel.

As such the slim forty something year old man was visible to all as he stood next to the airlock and saluted in the traditional Imperial manner, clicking his heels together as he did. "I hope it's not too pre-sum-chew-us to say Cap'n, but I would love to see such a fine vessel restored. And who knows, may-bay we can fine-ay-lay finish our duel without inter-fear-ants." Twenty years and at least two sectors later two old rivals were reunited. Though only one seemed to recognize the other, for now.
This message was last edited by the player at 22:14, Mon 23 Nov 2020.

     As the airlock opens, and Theodore's 'Old Navy Buddy' comes aboard, Varca 'whispers',

     "We'd need to get rid of the body somehow!" Varca says, an obvious tone of amusement in his voice, "And you told me to stop using the ship's reactor as an incinerator, so...y'know..."

     The newcomer tosses one of those smarmy Imperium-style salutes towards Theodore--and then Varca hears mention of a Duel...

     Turning up the volume of his helmet's micro-speakers to a normal level, Varca says,

     "You know this guy, The--oh, um--My Baron?  Because, now that he's aboard, he's technically on Drinaxi soil--we can kill him for you, if you wish.  My Baron."

     Then adds an aside, "Zhouth...perhaps you should summon the Cleaning 'Bots..."

In reply to Rayjaynul Brown (msg # 209):

"Reginal, do we know each other? Duel?" he asks questioningly putting Ingrid behind him for safety.

"Indeed Cap'n, some twin-tay years ago aboard ay Imperial vessel, I was but a young crewman workin 'ard becomin a Petty Off-sir, and ya were a young Ensign yaself, I tink. Don't quite remember what te duel was over, but it was against regs, toe it wouldn't be our last. So after a time te Cap'n discharged me but left ya be, but don't worry I made my way back after coolin my 'eels, and even earned my stripes. Still I enjoyed our duels greatly, so even if we av notin to duel over, I wouldn't mind crossin blades wit ya now and again, friendly like ofcourse." He explained while scratching his beard, clearly struggling to remember the events himself, before ending it with a flourish of his hands and a shallow bow, and perhaps leaving more questions than answers by the end.

"Also what's tis I ear about a Bay-ron-see?" He asked curiously, looking back and forth between the vespexer and captain as he stood once more at ease.
This message was last edited by the player at 19:02, Sun 22 Nov 2020.

In reply to Rayjaynul Brown (msg # 212):

Teddy visibly relaxed, letting go of Ingrid with no danger about. "Okay, I remember now, the INS Warrior it was, at least 20 years ago, that would have been my first term in the IN. This is my second in command Varca Lexand, cross him at your own risk." Teddy introduces Varca. "You'll get to know everyone if you make the cut."
This message was last edited by the player at 19:13, Sun 22 Nov 2020.

Zhouth gave the newcomer an uncertain look, as if expecting rapiers to suddenly start flying (or at least flailing) at any moment, but even as he did so, one hand was waving about to indicate the exiting party and another back in the general direction of the shuttle bay. "Umm, we've got a meeting to get to, preferably without any duels happening along the way. Maybe BB can break him in?"

Ingrid perked up at the mention of flowers. She had a weakness for roses.

Ingrid gasped when the subject of the duel came up, and she appreciated Theodore's protective instinct. She peeked out from behind Theodore once the situation was sorted out. "Hello, I'm Ingrid Gustavdottir Sigar. Nice to meet you, or at least it will be nice if you don't try to stab Theodore. Are you a mechanic?"

BB had been wandering around, mostly keeping an eye on the other newcomers and helping out here and there with the odd bit of maintenance or repair in between working out in the gym. When she sees Rayjaynul she gives a polite nod.

"Call me BB. I'm the chief of security on this boat so keep that in mind if you're planning to cause trouble."

She folds her arms, flexing her muscles in the process but her tone is friendly and she's got a hint of a smile on her face. Intimidating, maybe, but not threatening.

Then again Rayjunal might have a different opinion of her if he catches sight of her fully armored up and wielding a plasma cannon in combat.

Not wanting to keep the rest of the crew from their scheduled meetings Rayjay nodded to Varca and would correct Ingrid only slightly. "Gunna pri-mare-ill-ee Miss Sigar, but I be a man of many talents." He said with a pleasant smile and another bow before gesticulating with his hands toward the airlock. "Now I fear my few-char Cap'n and crew mates 'ave business elsewhere along wit yaself, but I 'ope to sit down wit ya all later, duties permittin ofcourse." She said all smiles and flourishes aside clearly content with how their first meetings had gone so far, even the Vespexer who at the very least was not shooting death beams out of his eyes as his kind were want to do.

Though the sudden appearance of the young marine made him smile all the more. "But ofcourse Miss Bee-Bee te name is Rayjaynul Brown or Rayjay if ya please, and interview permittin I'll be ya new Gunna and deck 'and. Now correct me if I'm wrong, but are ya te one performin tease interviews? Seein as te Cap'n and first mate be leavin te ship for te moment?" He asked turning his attention to the muscled lady, his own sorely lacking much to his chagrin, not that it showed. All the while gesticulating when introducing himself or asking her about her potential role in the 'cut' he was to make.
This message was last edited by the player at 22:15, Mon 23 Nov 2020.

     Varca's gloved hand actually slaps the empty holster on the right thigh of his Hazard Suit, before he remembers he's not carrying a firearm...

     Pushing past Zhouth and BB, Varca takes a step forward and stops just behind Theodore, on the other side of Theo from Ingrid, before thrusting his left arm out at Rayjaynul, waving an accusatory finger at the man,

     "I am not the First Mate, you...you..." Varca growls...then turns his helmeted head towards Theodore,

     "I wanna kill him." Varca says, much more calmly, to Theo, "He says he knows you...Do you know him?...I don't care...I'm gonna kill him...Can I please kill him?"

"Clearly he's been off-world for way too long," Viridian comments about Rayjay's accent. "He was in the Imperial Navy, probably some backwater world way, WAY off the Main."

"Don't know why you keep getting upset over titles. You make a new one up every other day. Why don't we just make you the Mandarin of Misinformation."

"I don't think anybody on the crew really knows what your title is. I'm not even sure you know. Besides, 'first mate' is second in command anyway, isn't it? If you aren't the captain, then you're second in command."

BB just snorted at Varca's outburst.

"Varca, who on this boat don't you want to kill at any given moment. Excluding me, of course."

She gives him a smart ass grin and stretches her arms up over her head, muscles cording up and relaxing from the movement.

"You're a lot of things but you're not suicidal enough to take a swing at me. That's what I appreciate about you."

She can't contain her mirth and is grinning ear to ear with the friendly jabs. She's definitely something, alright.

"It be a navy position Vespexer, not a marital one." He attempted to clarify, gesticulating with his hands as if to apologize, before the question of his origins was brought up.

"As for my bea-yoo-tiful accent, I inherited it from me mutta', a fair Trav-lar from distant stars. But I assure, me fatta' be Drinax true and true." Rayjaynul said with a toothy grin at the new face in the crowd, touching his own blouse covered chest as he spoke about himself, before those flexing muscles drew his attention back to the young marine.

"Quite te guns on ya Miss Bee-Bee, ya must be able to 'andle not only ya own but 'alf te crew as well? May-bay te 'ole crew?" He said pointing to her with an upward palm before reassessing his statement half way through with an open armed gesture indicating he knew not of what he spoke of.