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  Oh, and about the transponder appearing to be two-hundred years out of date?  Well, Old Boy, that would be because it is two-hundred years out of date!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.