The five of you head out of the hotel and Krssh leads you down a few streets, past several (?) Blacksand Widows, to the edge of the city.

You couldn't help notice that there is a transparent polycarbonate roof over all the streets attached to all the buildings along both sides between the second and third floors. There's a slight upward curve to it with reverse curves along the edges. This, apparently, is to keep the blacksand from collecting on it.

Upon approaching the edge of the city, these covered walkways turn into semicircle tunnels that lead to what appears to be the industrial section of the city.

He leads you to a pub whose sign proclaims it as Freely's Comet. It is just the other side of the tunnel from Kallos Shipyards.

"I gotta touch base with my contacts first," Krssh explains. "Not that I have a lot, I was just a minor cog in the Great Pirate Wheel."

"There are people that... specialize... in information. Don't know how or why, but they always seems to know what's going on. Within reason, of course."

"One of them is Trevor, a kind of local pool hustler. Another is Kazgar. He's a starship tech that hangs out here for lunch and after hours."

"One or the other of them should have an idea... of where we should look, if not actually have the info."
This message was last edited by the player at 02:56, Sun 31 Oct 2021.

"Do you want us with you when you're talking to them, or should we just be happening along at the same time? Zhouth had recovered some of his vocal confidence, though even from within the obfuscation of his suit, it was clear that his mind was still dwelling on the potential for danger in what they were doing.
This message was last edited by the player at 05:02, Mon 20 Sept 2021.

"If they are half as good as they are supposed to be, then they already know we're together, so it won't really matter one way or the other," Krssh explains.

"In fact, it might be better. If it was just me, I'd have to pay for the information.  With all of us, they are more likely to want a favor... even it's one we owe them for later. Or possibly a trade of some sort. Info for info, if we've got any. That'll be up to Varca what he wants to tell them. I'm not talking about bullshrap, not that they'll necessarily know that's what it is, but something that's true and valuable."

In reply to Krrsh (msg # 4):

     "Lead on, then, Krrsh." Varca says, "Where you go, we'll follow.  Right up until we get you a new, bigger and better ship to command."

[Freely's Comet pub, Blacksand Upper City, Planet Theev]

     Varca looks around the pub, for a moment, then back to Krrsh,

     "You see either of your contacts, Krrsh?"

     Varca makes a subtle gesture to his companions, with his gloved right hand, and starts moving towards a table that is near a wall, yet (hopefully) has a view of the main entrance.

     "So...Ingrid...Zhouth...do either of you play Pool?" Varca asks quietly, "Or perhaps Billiards?  Or...I've also heard of something called Snooker, which the tales I've heard say is something similar.  Do either of you play that, perhaps?"

Zhouth turned to look at the table toward which Varca was walking. "Oh, you're talking about that ball-and-stick game that some of the Navy types like." He reasonably (if understatedly) mimed someone striking with a cue. "I never really played it myself. Did you know that the Zhodani have something similar?"

Zhouth held both hands up and wiggled his fingers. "They do it with telekinetic jabs instead of poking at the balls with wooden sticks, of course, and I don't think that they use all of the same numbers and colors and so on."

One hand went down while the other swerved palm-up, presentation style, toward the table. "If you think that this suit won't get in the way too much, and you don't mind explaining all the rule as we go, then I suppose that I could give it a try?"

In reply to Zhouth (msg # 7):

     "Actually, I'm more familiar with billiards, than with pool." Varca says, sitting at the table in a chair that puts his back to the wall--then opens his faceplate,

     "The Palacers are all crazy for the game.  They say it's more aggressive, more of a one-against-one competition.  So I learned to play while in the Star Guard."

     "I was actually hoping that one of you knew how to play pool." Varca adds, nodding to both Ingrid and Zhouth, "Krrsh says one of his contacts is a pool player.  I could probably fake it, but how one plays the balls on the table is slightly different."

"Well, shouldn't you be playing a game of it when he walks in, then, so he knows that you're a player too?" The slow opening cadence gave way to a smiling tone, as both hands lazily waved sidelong toward the table. "That seemed to be how the Navy types did it!"
This message was last edited by the player at 19:23, Fri 24 Sept 2021.

In reply to Zhouth (msg # 9):

     "I.  Wasn't.  Navy." Varca responds with a slight grin,

     "Though, if required, I will attempt a game with Krrsh's friend Trevon," Varca casts a quick glare at Krrsh, "When and if we ever meet up with him."

     "However, Zhouth, you do bring up a good point about the restricted flexibility you may experience, wearing that boarding suit.  Remember--I did caution you about choosing to wear it.  Those suits are designed for engaging in close combat inside the narrow companionways of a ship--oh, and for pushing through dangerous wreckage during rescue operations, too, of course."

     Varca smiles as he raises his left arm out, over the table, and slowly balls his gloved hand into a fist--making the material of his Hazard Suit produce a squeaking sound.  Then he rapidly opens his fist and wiggles the fingers of his hand.

     "Boarding Suits aren't known for their manual dexterity..."

     Varca turns his smile towards Ingrid,

     "How about you, Ingrid?  Do Sword Worlders play any games where you hit small balls across a table top--or do your people only hit each other with sticks?"

Zhouth held out both arms and looked himself over, then lowered his arms as he looked back at Varca and asked uncertainly, "Do you really think that it would have been better for me to wear my normal clothes for this?"

In reply to Zhouth (msg # 11):

     "Well, there's a Yes and a No answer to that question, Zhouth." Varca says, as he starts looking around the table for the computer display to order drinks from,

     "Dressed in street clothes, you'd look a little bit less threatening--you're still a Vargr, which many Humans automatically assume makes you 'a little dangerous', you know."

     "So, in street clothes, you'd likely seem to any Bad Guys as being less likely to cause them trouble--in their eyes, you wouldn't be 'dressed for trouble'--so they might just ignore you."

     "However, the downside to looking like you're not 'dressed for trouble' is that, to somebody who is looking to make trouble, you will be seen as an easy target.  And so, when trouble does come calling, you are less ready to stand up to it."

     "I got us all Boarding Suits purely for survivability in heavy combat.  But here--in this retched hive of scum and villainy--this isn't an open battlefield.  This is social combat--where appearances and presentation are effective weapons."

     "So, you wearing the suit gives you the appearance of being really dangerous...whether you actually are, or not----so the advantage of wearing your Boarding Suit is that most of the pissant Bad Guys will leave you alone--and you'll only need to worry about not crossing the really Bad Guys..."

     "So, it all boils down to whether you want to look dangerous, and whether you can back it up--either with violence or bluff--when danger comes looking for you!"

The uncertainty remained firmly in place. "Well, I suppose that's true, but it's mostly the minor ones that we don't want to have bothering us, right? And I don't think that I look like the most dangerous one here!" He hooked a thumb in BB's direction, and then his tone shifted to apologetic. "Actually, I think that you still look more dangerous than I do too, what with that death stare that you give people all the time. I'm not very good at that part, you know?"

And then it turned to contemplative as one hand idly traced an abstract swirl in the air before him, then turned palm up. "But maybe there's another good point in all of that. This suit might not be, well, suitable, so I should think about what I'm going to wear when we have our formal meeting with the big guy, whichever one of them that turns out to be!"

In reply to Zhouth (msg # 13):

     "Heh.  Nice pun.  Not suitable..." Varca chuckles, "But I didn't say that you wearing that suit was...heh-heh...un-suitable.  I just brought up that everyone should think about the choice to wear hard armour."

     "Yeah, for BB, wearing armour makes perfect sense, because the majority of her personal and professional skillset focuses on wearing that armour.  She can just strike a pose in that suit, and all thought of messing with her will fade from a smart person's mind."

     "And I'm not saying that wearing a hard-suit is a bad choice for you, Zhouth.  In fact, it's probably a good choice.  You've never made claim to any great expertise with weapons or hand-to-hand combat--not a criticism, because the skillset you do have is incredibly more useful than any combat skills--so the limitations that a hard-suit puts on your flexibility and mobility are marginal."

     "And the flip-side of that is, since your combat reflexes aren't that well developed, you'll benefit more from the heavy armour protection, than you would from being able to duck and dodge, in a lighter suit."

     "But like I was saying, a significant element to being a Tuff Guy..." Varca hooks a thumb at himself,

     "...or a Hard-Ass..." Varca gestures towards BB,

     "...is Presentation!  If you look like a Bad-Ass...if you present yourself as a Bad-Ass...then people will believe you are a Bad-Ass!  Even if you never lay a hand on anybody, ever!"

     "When I first Joined the Drinaxi Star Guard Army--before I transferred to the Scouts--I had to read this book written by a legendary Sindalian Warmaster, named Sun Tzu--and he wrote something that's stuck with me my whole life, something that fits right in with Vespexer social philosophy."

     "He wrote 'Conserve your Strength; Do not engage in Battle, if there is Another Way to achieve Victory'.  Those words changed my life.  I came to understand that there are more ways to get what I wanted, than just killing someone and taking it from them."

     "And that's what I'm talking about, when I say Presentation is a big part of being perceived as somebody who's dangerous.  Take what I said a moment ago, about you being Vargr...."

     "I said that to Humans, all Vargr are always perceived to be, at least a little bit, threatening.  That's in the eyes of Humans, Zhouth.  Not in the eyes of other Vargr, not in the eyes of a Bwap, not in the eyes of a Pussy.  I'm talking about Humans!  And why?"

     Varca stops talking, suddenly, and smiles broadly...then he raises a hand and points at his smile.

     "Your Teeth." Varca says after a moment, "Humans have a mouth full of Monkey-Teeth--general purpose, omnivorous, masticators.  But you Vargr...!  When you reveal your teeth to a Human--even if you're actually just smiling--on an instinctive level, we Humans see a mouth full of pointy carnivore's teeth!  And that gives Humans pause."

     Varca shrugs his shoulders,

     "Sure, most of the time we get over that pretty quickly.  But that's because most of the time, when Humans are meeting Vargr, it's in peaceful settings--neither side is looking for trouble.  But, if you play that up just a little bit, you can begin to intimidate the shit out of a Human.  And, with practice and effort, you can escalate the intimidation factor to where, eventually, you can get a Pissed-Off Pussy to back down!"

     "Follow me...imagine yourself, dressed in your best business suit.  You meet a Human, and you smile, revealing those teeth of yours.  For just an instant, the Human has an atavistic fear of those teeth, but he gets over it quickly, because you--dressed in your best suit--are presenting as non-threatening.  Right?"

     "Now, take that same situation--but instead of smiling, you put a snarl on your face.  No growling, just showing your teeth in a snarl.  Again, the Human takes pause, but this time he takes a moment to think about why he's feeling fear, before he moves past it."

     "Keep up the escalation--instead of a business suit, you're wearing a clearly military uniform along with the snarl.  Then, after all that, let's imagine you--all you're doing is showing your teeth in a snarl--but you're wearing that spacesuit, which is obviously designed for combat, then you slowly raise an arm up and have one of the blades that're hidden in the suit's forearm suddenly snap out, and, as you look past the gleaming blade, you growl...just a little bit."

     Varca sits back and spreads his hands wide,

     "The average Human-on-the-Walkway would piss themselves, as they ran away.  And all you'd really have done is show your teeth and clear your throat.  That's Presentation!  That's winning a fight without having to fight!"

     "Of course, the folks around here aren't 'average Humans-on-the-Walkway'.  For these folks, it's all about the escalation."

     Again, Varca gives Zhouth a big smile,

     "But you'll learn."

"It looks like Trevor was in the back room," Krssh points out as someone steps out of the door near the back.

"You don't need to actually be playing pool... just hanging out by the pool tables was enough to get his attention."
This message was last edited by the player at 04:15, Sun 26 Sept 2021.

"Any of you gentlemen interested in a game of pool?" the man Krssh identified as Trevor says as he walks up to the table.

"I suppose you could say I'm the resident in-house champion. Not that I can't be beat, but it'd cost you 10 credits to see if you can. And, no, I don't play for free. I always play for money. If you put up the 10 credits and you beat me, then I pay you 10 credits."

"Well, I don't play pool, but Varca was just talking about how he used to play billiards all the time, and they're not that different, right? So he should be pretty good at pool too!" One could easily sense the smile on his face as he gestured toward Varca and the pool table with each hand one after the other, and it didn't take long for him to produce a ten-credit chip and plop it onto the table. "Here! I'll pay for him to play a game with you, just to see what happens!"

In reply to Zhouth (msg # 17):

     With a forced smile pasted on his face, Varca slowly stands up--but, before he walks away from the table, he leans down, closer to Zhouth, and whispers,

     "I am so gonna drag you out to the middle of the Plasma-Glow Desert and leave you there--buried up to your neck!--when we get back to Base..."

     Turning back to Trevor, Varca pleasantly asks,

     "So, Pool is your game, is it, Trevor?  Yotsudama Billiards is more my game--but I'll give your Pool a chance.  Any House Rules or Handicaps I should know about?"

Though the suit made it impossible to tell how Zhouth reacted to the threat - and his lack of overt motion didn't telegraph anything, either - one was somehow left with the sense that he was still smiling...

"That's what this is... billiards," Trevor replies, looking a bit confused. "You got 15 colored balls on the table, put into a triangular formation in a set order sometimes, but 1 ball is always in the front and the 8 ball is always in the middle. Then you use your cue to strike the cue ball... the white one here... to smash into the rack of balls. If you get the 8 ball into one of the pockets on the break, you win. After that, if you sink the 8 ball before it's the last ball you lose."

"If any other balls go into the pockets, then you can try to sink another ball. You keep going until you miss. You can run the table that way. If you sink the cue ball, you lose your turn. I get to reset the cue ball anywhere at this end of the table behind the line between these two side dots on the rails."

"Cheapshot pool lets you try to sink any ball you want. With true pool, what I usually play, you have to sink the balls in order of their numbers. But there's one exception to that. When you shoot, you have to strike the next numbered ball with the cue ball or it's called a scratch. Even if the ball doesn't go in but another one does, it's still your turn."

"One rack is generally one game. Whoever sinks the 8 ball at the end wins. In tournament play, you play a number of racks until someone scores 125 points, one for each ball sunk."

"There are some variations, mostly 8-ball and 9-ball, but we'll keep it simple. And you don't even have to call the shot, like 3-ball in the side pocket. First game, we usually allow slop shots."

"Guests always get first break... unless you defer."

"Got it? Any questions?"

In reply to Trevor (msg # 20):

     "That's not the Billiards I'm familiar with, Trevor, but the rest sounds simple enough." Varca replies, "The game is true Pool, played through one rack.  Far be it from me to go against local custom, so I break.  That about right?"

In reply to Varca Lexand (msg # 21):

Injuries due to sub-standard Self-Sealing Stem Bolts have increased by 500% in recent minutes!
Have You been injured, or better yet been killed, by a faulty Self-Sealing Stem Bolt?
Then Call Dewey, Cheatum, and Howe right now!  We will get you the maximum amount in recovery for your bullshit legal claim!
Call Now!

Although pool isn't the version of billiards that Varca is used to playing, he quickly discovers that there are just as many nuances to it as billiards, which has both defensive and offensive strategies to it. Pool doesn't require as much concentration as billiards, but the number of balls in play makes it a bit hard to figure out strategy.

It turns out that Trevor is pretty good at the game. When  he doesn't have a shot, he's often able to leave Varca behind the eight ball... which Varca now learns where the expression came from.

It's a short game but gets a bit hard as ball count diminishes, but in the end, Trevor wins.

"Not bad for a beginner," Trevor says to Varca after the game.

"You've obviously used the cue before. I'm vaguely starting to remember other types of pool people have mentioned from time to time... billiards and snooker."

"You wouldn't think there could be that many variations on hitting a ball with a stick, would you? We also play nine-ball here on occasion. It's a shorter game for when there are a lot of customers and they all want to play pool. I usually lose the first game intentionally just to let the others play, and then win the last game when the pot is worth playing for."

He semi-pauses at that point to see if Varca wants another game, or if anyone else does.

Zhouth held up and placed another credit chip on the table as he looked over at Krrsh to deliver a sunny, "Your turn!"

In reply to Zhouth (msg # 25):

     At the end of his game with Trevor, Varca lays down his cue and raises his gloved hands in surrender,

     "Well played, Trevor.  But a few too many balls on the table, for me." Varca says, "I'm going to need a little time to re-think my play strategy."

     When Zhouth puts up another credit chit and tells Krrsh he's next, Varca frowns at him,

     "Feeling your math skills aren't up to snuff, Zee?" Varca asks, "Or d'you just get-off howling in laughter at our failures?"

"Why would I be laughing?" Zhouth sounded quite surprised, and perhaps a bit baffled, by the accusation, although if he'd been given reason to hesitate then it didn't show in his movements. "I'm the one losing money here, you know? You just seem to be the ones who know how to play these sorts of games!"

"What is it with you? Do you think all Vargr play pool?" Krssh says as he moves up the table and eyes it warily.

"Does that mean you're going to play next, Zhouth?"


21:54, Today: Krrsh rolled 0 using 2d6-3 ((2,1)).
Gambling skill roll which he doesn't even have!

He just barely managed to keep from scraping the felt and sent the cue ball off the table several times. Additionally, he never even managed to sink one ball!

"I bet I could do better if I was allowed to use a gun!"

"Is there a version of pool that uses guns?" Zhouth inquired cautiously, as both of his hands meandered in small, vague, not-quite circles. "Besides when people get into a big disagreement about it, that is!"
This message was last edited by the player at 03:43, Sat 09 Oct 2021.

In reply to Zhouth (msg # 29):

     Making sure that he's close enough for Trevor to overhear, Varca gives an answer to Zhouth's question,

     "Yeah, there is..." Varca says, bringing up his gloved left hand in imitation of a pistol--and pointing it at Zhouth,

     "The cesspool I grew up in called it Tag..." Varca jerks his hand as if a pistol had fired, "First shooter to drop their opponent into a pocket, wins.  Bang!  You're it!"

     "Last time I played that game was with this killer dame name of, uh, Miry?--no, her name was Miria!  She got me dead to rights--nailed me right here..."

     Varca taps his left thumb in the center of his suit's chest,

     "Armor stopped the shot, but the impact blew me backwards and down a flight of stairs.  But as I was falling, I had a clear shot at her.  I swear I hit her, but by the time I'd recovered from the hit and the tumble down the stairs, she was gone.  No evidence I'd hit her...but, then, she hadn't stuck around to finish me off, either."

     Varca grins around at the folks standing around the pool table, where Trevor has been so easily taking their money,

     "I've been calling that game of Tag a draw, ever since.  I tell you, I ever meet that Miria gal again, I'm going to buy her a drink.  Then, maybe, ask her if she wants to play Tag again."

     "Last I heard, she was running with some crew from here--outta Theev.  Hey, Krrsh!  You've been around here for a while, yeah?  You ever heard of a killer chick named Miria?  I think her second name was Skimmer, or Shimmer, or Silver...something like that..."

Zhouth's suit once again hid whatever expression he was putting on, and this time his posture didn't give much away beyond the halting of his hand-whirls whilst Varca described the long-ago incident. That, and a mutter of, "We didn't have any games like that where I grew up."

"Really? You met Miria?" Krssh replies to Varca in 'mock' surprise as well as a Vargr pirate growl.

"She calls herself Silverhand now because she's got a cybernetic arm. She runs with Redthane these days. Her ship was one of the ones that attacked Clarke and Torpol."

"You heard about that yet, Trevor? I think Redthane was trying to prove to the others here that he really was the badass he pretended to be."

"Not that he'd stop in here, but you heard if he's back yet? Maybe Miria? I'd pay some good money to see that rematch between her and Varca here! I say she got lucky! If she is here, her luck may have just run out!"

"Yeah, Redthane thinks he's too good for this place, even if his ship's in the docks over there," Trevor agrees with Krssh.

"I can't imagine any reason Silverhand would come in here. If Redthane wouldn't, then she wouldn't either. I think I'd pay some money for that fight, too," he adds as he appraises Varca once again in this new light.

"Ain't seen her, but heard she's back. Either her or one of her crew have been spreading the tale about the raid. Stitch said he saw her the other day, but even he ain't stupid enough to talk to her. Don't know why he'd follow her, but if he had, he'd be dead. Don't think he's dead yet, but he keeps trying."

"When he ain't peddlin' information, he's either crashed in the Camp or Brain Dimming when he can afford it. It's a wonder he's survived as long as he has."

An amused-sounding chuckle escaped from Zhouth's helmet as he wiggled the fingers of one hand together against an invisible coin or credit chip. "I'd pay for the beers just to hear her version of the story! Maybe we should go look that guy up?"

In reply to Zhouth (msg # 34):

     "Huh.  Now that's real interesting, Krrsh." Varca says, then looks over at Trevor, "Because if this is the same Miria I played Tag with, then the last time I saw her -- when she shot me, and sent me rolling down those stairs -- she had two completely natural arms.  I wonder if, maybe, that's why she bugged out?"

     "Of course, if she is the woman I shot at ... it could be kinda dangerous to be me, yeah?  Heh-heh.  Maybe we should look up this friend of Trevor's -- what'd you say his name was, again, Trevor?  Stitch, was it?"

"We could see if he's Brain Dimming," Krssh said. "It's the actual name of the place. Any drug you could ever want can be had there... or so I've heard. Never had the urge to skip out."

"Even if he's there, he probably wouldn't be in any condition to talk to us for awhile."

"If we go to the Camp, we may have to wait for him to return. That's probably not a good idea. We look more like hunters."

"Any drug?" Zhouth sounded rather curious about that, perhaps a little too curious, but his tone quickly lapsed back into conversational chatter. "That sounds volatile, but then but people probably only go there for the you-feel-good-and-stupid kinds, not to stock up on combat stims for their squads, I suppose. Come to think of it, we should do that somewhere while we're here. Any recommendations as the locals?" Zhouth's helmet turned side to side, toward Krrsh and Trevor, as he wheeled one hand about in a line of swirly loops.

Then he started slightly and looked at Ingrid. "Oh. Did you want a go at this before we go start looking up Varca's old gaming buddy?" He pointed at the pool table. "It's not a trid-worthy clash of blades, but maybe it falls under acceptably ladylike for you?"

In reply to Zhouth (msg # 37):

     Varca burst out with a short laugh at Zhouth's question for Ingrid,

     "Ha!  Ladylike!  Not the word I was thinking, when I saw her gut that security guard on our last raid!" Varca says in an amused tone -- while glaring daggers at Zhouth.

Ingrid nodded. "I'll take a try. I've never played a game like this before, but new experiences are part of wandering the spacelanes, right?" At Varca's words, she tried to look fierce and intimidating, not easy for her.

"Take three!" Zhouth exclaimed as he produced another ten-credit chip and clacked it lightly down on the table. "Well, take it once you've won again, anyway!"

He glanced sideways at BB and added apologetically, "I'd pay for a round for you too, but I'm pretty sure that your idea of fun here is to incinerate the table, and they probably wouldn't appreciate that very much."
This message was last edited by the player at 17:02, Thu 21 Oct 2021.

Ingrid's education made her aware of the game even if she didn't know the rules and had never played it before. Having observed it in action, though, and seen that it involves angles and such, her education and intelligence let her get a grasp of the play.

Gambling is the closest skill that would cover a physical game of chance or skill, which Ingrid doesn't have, but, in this case, her Carousing at least offsets the penalty.

13:18, Today: StarMaster, on behalf of Ingrid Gustavdottir Sigar, rolled 11 using 2d6+2 ((5,4)).

Somehow, Ingrid manages to win the game! Trevor looks at the table suspiciously, then shifts his look to Ingrid, and then to Zhouth, but quickly changes to a smile.

13:22, Today: StarMaster rolled 6 using 2d6+5 ((3,1)).  Trevor.

"Well-played, Ms. Ingrid," Trevor says as he hands over his 10-credit chit. "I guess the others must have tired me out more than I thought. I'm still 10 credits ahead, though, so that's not a bad exercise. I'll have to think about how the game went and see if I made any mistakes. If I did, maybe I can correct them for future games. After all, that's one of the reasons you play. The other two reasons are money and fun... not necessarily in that order."

Zhouth happily accepted one of his credit-chips back with one hand, exclaiming as he did, with the finger of the other hand stabbing upward at the air, "And! We just learned that Ingrid has been hiding her talents!" That hand descended and waved between Ingrid and Varca, accompanied by a slightly less vigorous - and slightly more mischievous - "Now I'm going to have to arrange duelling sessions between those two to find out how good she really is. I'm not sure where we'll fit one of these tables on the ship, though." A small sigh of disappointment punctuated that thought.
This message was last edited by the player at 07:22, Wed 03 Nov 2021.

Ingrid beamed. "Oh, that was fun! It's all angles and physics, really. I'm sure I had some beginner's luck, but I liked it. I wonder if Theodore plays."

In reply to Ingrid Gustavdottir Sigar (msg # 43):

     "Congratulations, Ingrid." Varca nods in recognition of her victory, then gives a nasty little chuckle, "*heh-heh* And, I'm pretty sure that that Imperial Boy-Toy you keep on a leash, back aboard ship, plays some version of Pool or Billiards.  All those prissy Imperial types go for that kind of thing.  I'm sure your Theodore understands just how truly humanitarian it was of you to kidnap him away from that pampered life, eh? *Heh-heh-heh*"

     Varca attempts to give Ingrid a conspiratorial wink, without letting Trevor see it,

     "Alright, you mugs, we've had our sit-down and a drink!  Time's a wasting, and we got people to ki--um--I mean, we got people to visit, yet.  So let's bounce." Varca gives his companions a meaningful glare,

     "Trevor.  Next time I'm around this way, we'll do this again.  I'll practice, until then -- so next time won't be as easy."

"It's never easy... at least, I hope I don't make it look like it is," Trevor responds as the group leaves. "Nobody would play me if it did!"

The small group heads out of the bar and across the street to the shipyard. It's not 'across the street' like it would be in the middle of a city, but there are no other buildings in the area. Not only is the bar set back from the road a good 30 yards, but the shipyard is set back nearly 100 yards. The only discernible reason is in case there is an accident. Some blast walls would have been nice, but no one wanted to bear the expense of those, apparently.

There's only minimum security at the shipyard, with a locked from door that only opens when someone comes to the door in answer to the buzzer and you inform him that you're there to see Kazgar.

Once inside, you see why there's no need for security--everyone is armed. On the other hand, besides a glance, no one pays much attention to you.

You're directed over to a ship where several workers are repairing the hull.

After a few minutes wait, one of them disengages from the work, climbs down the scaffolding, and walks over to you.

"Now what have you gotten into, Krssh?" the man says without preamble.

"Heard you were in on that Clarke-Asim raid by Redthane, and then your crew booted you off your own ship. So, who are these jokels?"

"You got yer facts wrong, Kaz," Krssh answers. "I'd already figured out that my crew were a buncha phlags. We almost got blasted from their incompetence. I was considering other options even when they decided to blame me for their incompetence. I let them throw me off the ship. Those buffoons were going to kill themselves fighting over command. Besides, I didn't expect the ship to survive the next jump anyway."

"So, I hooked up with these badasses. Don't let their looks fool you. They may look tough, but they're even worse!"

"Say hello to the scowler-in-chief, the sword worlder, and The Heavy." Zhouth stated, pointing toward the three with one thumb. Apparently only BB's informal title warranted verbal capitalization. Then he turned the thumb toward himself and added, rather cheerfully and almost-plausibly, "I'm the genial one!" The smile could be sensed even though the helmet, and the toothiness of it about as well.

In reply to Zhouth (msg # 49):

     Varca takes a half-step forward, clears the faceplate of his Hazard Suit's helmet, and ... well, scowls ... at Kazgar,

     "You're wrong about one thing ..." Varca says to the Mechanic, in a humorless tone, "Redthane didn't hit Clarke and Asim -- he hit Clarke and the shore leave planet Torpol!  So, I'm betting you haven't, actually, seen Redthane or any of his people since they last left Theev."

     "But, since you know about our friend Krrsh's little tiff with his former Crew -- it'd be a sure bet that you've seen them recently, yeah?"

     Varca shifts his body, to lean a little closer to Kazgar, and softens the scowl a little,

     "Look, Friend ... Redthane stopped by to hit us up for working capital, before he pulled his operation.  Then he skipped out on paying us back.  We're just looking to get what's owed us, see?  If you know anybody on-planet that could tell us how to find Redthane -- or if you can tell us where to find Krrsh's old Crew, so we can ask them -- we can slip you a little piece of what we get back ..."

     "Wadda ya say...?"

"You aren't any more intimidating than this whole frackin' planet!" Kazgar scowls back. "Torpol, huh? Not Asim. Good to know."

"Nah, ain't seen anybody's crew. Not a lot on this planet except Blacksand, so word tends to travel fast. Though... now that you mention it, it does occur to me that someone must be on planet to have started the scuttlebutt. Intentionally, no doubt."

"It's no secret... well, not to some of us, anyway... that Redthane's on the outs with Darokin. No one seems to know why, though rumor has it that it's over woman."

"So, the scuttlebutt would be to get the other pirates to back Redthane in some way. Wouldn't be Redthane himself. He's got a target on his back. Wouldn't be any of Krssh's former crew. He's at least half right about them."

"I'd guess, if it's anyone, it'd be Miria... his second in command."

"Anyway, if I knew where any of them were, 'bout the only think you could bribe me with is a ticket off this dustball. Tired of sleepin' with one eye open."

"Really? You fancy a trip to Torpol yourself, maybe?" Zhouth grinned and held both arms out to the side, then raised them somewhat and wiggled them in imitation of what he was describing. "Warm and sunny with a chance of raining orbital debris. Tomorrow's forecast is wetter, with showers of body parts!" The gesture transitioned smoothly into a shrug. "That's more or less how they were putting it after Redthane's raid, anyway, so maybe somewhere quieter, like Oghma?"

"But let's say that there's a ship out there somewhere that would take you." That was accompanied by a twirling of his forefinger and thumb as he raised his hand skyward, and then he made a throwing-away motion with the other hand. "Better ask for an actual ride, not just a ticket, because knowing this place, it'd be fake."

Another shrug, this time of the long, exaggerated variety. "Anyway, how good are you really at putting these things back together? Or flying them yourself? And how much will Krrsh vouch for what you say?"

"Women, they're trouble" Ingrid joked. "Almost as much trouble as going offworld... but both well worth it." she finished

"I'm pretty good at anything engineering," Kazgar replies to Zhouth. "Got certified for my Masters Rating in 6 of the 7 categories just last month. The thing around here is that there's not much room for advancement unless you want to start doing assassinations. And, down at this level, the pay isn't all that good."

"Theev is like one big mouse trap--it's easy to get in, a helluva a lot harder to get out."

"Are offering a ride outta here?"

"Well, we have a few things to do before we leave, but if everything goes even half-right then we'll be heading back rimward once we do, and I hear that Torpol has a bit of rebuilding to do. You know, system defenses, orbital refineries, that sort of thing!" The smile was still evident in his words even as his hands described several vague arcs and a point or two (presumably toward Torpol). "As long as you aren't hydrophobic, anyway. Water worlds are bad places for that."

In reply to Zhouth (msg # 55):

     As his helmet is sealed, Varca opens the Team Channel, and says,

^{COMM >>>} "We'll bring him back to Asim, Zhouth." Varca sends, "If he's as good as he says he is, he'll be the Starport Chief within a year." ^{<<< COMM}

     Without waiting for any comment, Varca closes the comm, and re-opens his helmet speaker,

     "Yeah, as long as we have a ship, you have a ride outta here, Kazgar.  You and any other of your StarMechanic buddies who wants to go with you."

     "But, let me ask you something, Kazgar ... you mentioned that Redthane was on the outs with The Admiral -- is there anyone else that comes to mind, that you think may be gunning for Redthane as much as The Admiral?"

"Well, no, I can't rightly say that anyone else is foolish enough to take on Redthane, especially since Darokin has him in his sights," Kazgar replies.

"That'd be like shotting yourself in the head to keep from shooting yourself in the foot!"

"If the Admiral doesn't like someone, everyone else tends to keep away from them, too. That's not to say Redthane can't find any allies among the other pirates. Rumor has it that he was looking to challenge Darokin for the Top Dog spot. Not that the others haven't thought about it, but, so far, none of them have been foolish enough to mention it out loud or actually attempt it. Given Darokin's power base, anyone who tried to challenge him would almost certainly start a war. Here on Theev, that's a really bad idea. Bad for business. This place is hanging on by a thread most of the time as it is."

"I suppose the pirates would still keep returning, but they'd only offer someone a way off planet if they'd suffered losses. It could stop what little trade does come here, though."

"I can understand not wanting to get caught in the middle of a civil war here." Zhouth's hands made a wide arc around him to each side, then one went into a person-walking finger-wag while the other mimicked firing an invisible pistol at them. "It would mean lots of repair work, which is good for your business, but lots of shooting at the people coming in to get it, which isn't so good for staying in business!"

"Good thing if he doesn't get that chance, right? Getting out of here will also be a lot easier if we aren't all having to dodge warring factions all the way to the jump point!" Zhouth shrugged, then sighed. "I'd book you out for passenger rate credits. Money is always nice, you know? Working passage is okay too." Then one accusing finger pointed toward Varca to accompany his grumble, "But I know the scowler-in-chief here. He's like you: prefers mutual payment in bribes."
This message was last edited by the player at 08:09, Mon 22 Nov 2021.

In reply to Zhouth (msg # 58):

[Kallos Shipyard, Blacksand City, Planet Theev]

     Varca turns his helmeted head towards Zhouth...

     "Actually -- it just so happens..." Varca says, then turns back to Kazgar, "I do know of a little Class B Starport -- located on a pleasant, temperate world -- that might be looking for a new Chief of Operations."

   "And I can't say it would be a bad thing, to have a buddy who was in charge of such a place..."

One of Zhouth's hands made a lightning-fast snatch at the air just next to where it started, as if he was suddenly catching and crushing an insect, while with the other he rapidly swiped his comm at the same patch of air as if swatting at another - or perhaps the same one; it was rather hard to tell. Even his stance shifted, with his tail spasming forward and then straight again. Whatever had been floating around must have really given him a fright!
This message was last edited by the player at 12:16, Wed 24 Nov 2021.

While one might have thought Varca's offer would have produced an eye-opening look of wonder, surprise, and disbelief, Kazgar's expression is more of a scowl.

"You ain't trying to fox me, are you?" Kazgar replies to Varca. He casts a glance around the place speculatively if anyone notices.

"There's Uppers and Downers on Theev, though most people don't call 'em that. The Uppers generally have good thing going and aren't willing to give that up. Then there's the Downers, including me. We'd sell our mothers to get off this dustball."

"The scarcest and most worthless commodity on Theev is loyalty. Even if you get it, it only lasts until the money runs out. So, I got no loyalty to anyone here at the shipyard. Hell, Billibob over there has been eyeing my job for several months now. He either thinks I don't know or doesn't much care if I do."

"I guess you have to have a certain bent to your character or a lot of luck to get ahead. So far, I ain't got either. I won't strangle kids to have more food or break somebody's leg for a promotion. Not that either of those things are illegal on Theev. Hell, ain't nothing illegal on Theev as far as I can tell."

"So, yeah, I'm interested in your offer. If it's genuine. But let's just say I ain't gettin' my hopes up. Folks often make promises they can't keep. That's just life on Theev."

The smack of Zhouth's hand hitting his face - or rather, the armored plating of both doing the same - cut across the area at his only slightly exaggerated facepalm. As usual, his hand was immediately in motion again, finger-stabbing at the duo in front of him, then over his shoulder, then at several points skyward whose exact direction wasn't immediately certain. His tone was rather matter-of-fact this time.

"Okay, all joking stuff aside, let's do this the simple way. You know something to help us find Miria? Working passage for you, to wherever you want to get off along our route. I'd still recommend Torpol unless you're a hydrophobe. Nice tropical planet with lots of honest work that doesn't involve family betrayal on a daily basis, you know? But if you prefer somewhere such as Norricum?" He shrugged, and it was, likewise, only slightly exaggerated. "Well, your choice!"

He started tapping away on his comm as he continued to speak. "And if Billibob over there knows something useful? Offer is good for him too. Though..." He paused, and sighed, and a note of resignation crept into his voice. "If everyone here is about to parade past us offering solid information then we'll have to start cramming them into cryoberths to fit them all."
This message was last edited by the player at 23:19, Wed 24 Nov 2021.

Ingrid was a bit frustrated. In the Sword Worlds, publicly doubting someone's word like this would be dangerous. But she smiles and says "We mean what we say. It's a big of an oddity in this line of work, but honesty has its advantages."

     Varca silently nods his head, as he hears what Kazgar is saying.  But, before he can respond, Ingrid and Zhouth express support for the idea of offering to relocate Kazgar, but what Zhouth says also brings an issue back to Varca's attention, which he'd forgotten...

^{COMM >>>} "Well, as you can see, Kazgar," Varca says, quietly, after a moment of thought, "My companions are with me, in our offer to help you get off Theev.  We're even helping your buddy Krrsh, here, to recover after the loss of his ship."

     "But my Furry Friend -- " Varca points at Zhouth, "Has caused me to remember that we're already pushing the life support limits of our ship.  But I really do know of an out of the way Class B starport that could use a new Chief Administrator -- tho' the place is a bit of a tech-drop, compared to what you've got here -- but it's a pleasant world, where you don't always have to watch your back.  And I'm sure you'll be able to make a lot of positive changes, there."

     "But first, we gotta finish a contract.  And getting hold of Redthane is part of that contract.  We get this job done, and -- let's just say that some influential people in the Torpol Cluster worlds will be owing us a few favors -- and we take care of our friends.  As soon as we get our payoff, we'll be heading back this way."

     "So, if you've got a tiny hint of how we can either find Miria -- or even just an idea about where we might find any information about Redthane, or any of his Crew -- or if you really got nothing! -- that's fine.  But in about three months, you start keeping a watch for us -- you watch for a ship named Vultan..."

     " 'Cuz we'll be coming back for you, and your family, and anyone else wants to move to a better world." ^{<<< COMM}

"Okay, I get it now--you want something for nothing," Kazgar replies. "Promises are like black sand--it's everywhere and totally useless."

"Throw in some credits, though, and I can tell you what I know. It ain't much and I can't vouch for anything I've heard, of course, but the scuttlebutt is that Redthane is offworld. There was one rumor that he was hiding out in Deepscar Canyon, but no one's taking that seriously."

"The best guess I've heard is that he's in the Palindrome system. Close but not worth Darokin's effort to go after him."

"Miria, on the other hand, would only be safe in the Scrapheap... cause nobody goes there. I suppose, with a bit of disguise, she could stay out of sight in Undercity, but I've only been there once. Once is enough. It's dark, dingy, dirty, gritty... and the people are worse. I don't want to say their the dregs of society, cause I almost wound up there myself."

In reply to Kazgar (msg # 65):

     Varca nods his helmeted head, as Kazgar gives what information he has,

     "More data than we had when we came in here, Kazgar.  Very Credit-worthy, I'd say ...", Varca says, then turns to look over at Zhouth,

     "Wouldn't you agree, Buddy?  I think that Kazgar, here, has earned a consulting fee from us, yeah?  Pay the man ..."

Zhouth walked up to Kazgar and produced another credit chip - this one in the slightly larger 100-cr denomination, and held it out in his palm, speaking quietly as he did. "Working passage offer is still good. Got a comm code? Will let you know when we're headed back Torpol-way."

The concealing helmet of his suit might have masked his expression, but his tone sounded genuine enough...

***

"That doesn't sound like a great place to wander around looking for somebody's street address," Zhouth observed once they were well away from the repair yard. "Especially since we don't know what it is. It's an awfully large area, right?" He held both arms out to his sides with palms forward, this-big style. "So maybe we should say hello to that other fellow who totally won't be off his rocker by way of potent substances." The smile was once again evident through despite the helmet. "Could work to our advantage if he's just awake enough not to recognize all those little words that he's letting go!"
This message was last edited by the player at 09:19, Mon 29 Nov 2021.

"Sure, I got a comm code," Kazgar answers. "It's Theev 7575919."

"I never turn down money. Hell, no one on Theev does... unless he's already dead. But, as I said, I ain't holdin' my breath for you to get back here. Hope's a luxury no one on Theev can afford. It's a killer if you do."

       "Wandering around which place, Zhouth?  The Scrapheap or The Undercity?" Varca asks, "Kazgar didn't exactly recommend either locale as being a tourist paradise.  Although ... didn't Trevor mention that his drug-loving, info-selling buddy made frequent visits to a club which Trevor said was near The Scrapheap, or something?"

      "Maybe it would be a good idea, Zhouth, to swing by that Brain Dimming place, and see if we can find -- what was his name?  Stitch, wasn't it?  Yeah.  Let's go find Stitch..."

"Both Brain Dimming and the Scrapheap are in the Undercity," Krssh informs the others. "Scrapheap is kind of between the two, but off to the east. It's a pile of wrecked ships. You need a part for your ship and can't afford to pay for it, there's a small chance you can find it in the Scrapheap."

"Been there a few times myself."

"Ain't been to Braindimming, but I know where it is. We used to have to pick Charik uup there after one of his binges. He'd set the time on his comm, and if he didn't reset it every so often, it sent a signal to us letting us know he was really fracked up."

"Besides the usual sticks and sniffs, you can also get a small supply of combat drugs. Always limited supply. No anagathics... that I ever heard of. Then again, that'd probably be super secret."

"Brick said he picked up a psi-drug there once."

Zhouth waved one hand, fingers flicking open and shut, in the direction of the Undercity. "Well okay, take the lead to this Brain Dimming place, and we can go poke around the Scrapheap afterward if that person isn't around, or isn't conscious." Then there was a noticeable pause, as if part of what Krrsh had said had only just registered. "Brick got a psi-drug? You had an actual psion among your crew?"

In reply to Zhouth (msg # 71):

     "Yeah, sounds like a plan." Varca agrees, "Go to Braindimming first, then the Scrapheap after -- unless we get better information."

     During the walk to the Braindimming locale ...

     "Hey, Krrsh!  Something I've been meaning to ask you about ..." Varca says to the Vargr ex-Pirate Captain,

     "I've been sorta assuming something, ever since we found you on that old space station ... which is, just how you came to be there, in the first place?  What I mean is, did Redthane catch up to you, and do it?  Did your old crew mutiny, for some reason -- and if so, do we need to be keeping an eye out for them, while we're here on Theev?"


OOC: we may have already asked/gained this info -- I just can't remember the answers >_<

"Can't say I'm fond of psions" Ingrid said.

"You've said that before!" Zhouth declared cheerfully, pausing for a split second before giving curious voice to a related - and thus far unanswered - question. "Have you ever met one, though? Well, one that you knew was one, since it's not like they all wear 'Hello, my name is Psammi the Psion!' tags, or things like that!"
This message was lightly edited by the player at 10:54, Wed 15 Dec 2021.

Ingrid thought a moment before answering. "I've never met a Sword Worlder psion that I knew of... but my father used to speak to Zhodani military and diplomatic personnel, before the war, and of course I would act as hostess."

"Really? What did you think of them?" Zhouth's curiosity had only deepened. "Were there any legitimate mustache twirls performed?"

Of course he mimicked the action, using an invisible set of whiskers that extended well beyond the bounds of his helmet. And well beyond the bounds of any reasonable mustache-width!

"Oh, they're our allies, so naturally I loved them, our dearest friends" Ingrid said, fake-sweetly, before admitting "In spite of being allies, they frightened me. Which made me worried that with their mind powers they could tell I was scared even though I was being polite, which made me more scared... not my favorite guests. Still, if they noticed they were polite enough to pretend they didn't."

Zhouth spread his hands wide, behold-wise, and looked at Ingrid slightly sidelong. The lopsided grin, while hidden beneath the helmet, was not the least bit hidden in his tone. "Well, that also tells you that they weren't poking around in there all the time, right? If they'd been doing that, you wouldn't have been afraid because of all of the happy thoughts they'd replace it with instead!"

"Was it just the mind power that bothered you, or was it something else that actually made you all knock-kneed?" he continued, resuming a less dramatic pose.

"You have a funny way of cheering me up" Ingrid responded, although she smiled. "I guess that's true."

"The mind power was enough, but there's something rather... I don't know, intimidating about them. And you don't expect scary things at home with family."

One hand twirled its way off toward the sky while the other engaged in a vague, slow swirl before tapping the side of his helmet. "Some cultures? That's the most dangerous place. I think the Zhodani are mostly happy-home types, though." The twirling hand stabbed in a point in three directions as he went on. "Gets a bit more varied throughout the Imperium and the Extents, and, well, Aslan protocols can be a bit sharp, you know?" Then a fourth one toward Varca. "And he's told us all about his!"

"But it sounds like things were stable for you. That sounds rather nice, considering some of the alternatives." He shrugged. "Well anyway, with all of the ones that I worked with and worked on, I don't get quite as worried about the whole mind powers thing, and very few of them actually act like the vid villains that everyone watches." A little more quietly, he added, "That stuff is mostly nonsense, and the parts that aren't are deliberate suppressions propaganda. I know that for a fact because I was consulted about it on occasion." Once again his hand was in action, miming the use of a pen. "Even wrote a few lines!"
This message was last edited by the player at 09:21, Mon 20 Dec 2021.

Krssh leads the group out of the shipyard and back towards the city but makes a detour to the right about halfway there. This turns out to be a well-traveled path down and around the edge of a cliff and leads to a plateau ledge where the Undercity sits. At a guess, maybe half of the city is on the ledge and the other half has burrowed into the side of the cliff. Even Undercity is several stories tall as you can see lighted windows up the side of the cliff, including a few balconies. There appears to be a dead body hanging from one of those balconies.

Krssh leads you down the streets of the city, kicking up black sand as you go. Nothing 'outside' is protected down here--you venture outside at your own risk, which explains why you don't see too many people on the streets. The architecture here is crude at best, very ramshackle, with buildings built on top of buildings, sometimes with ladders leading to the upper building. Building material is primarily black concrete or black bricks, with some metal structures built on top. This helps explain why there's a 'darkness' to the Undercity.

You pass a few shops that have names handwritten on the wall or door. There doesn't seem to be any rhyme or reason to the names, though. You see Scrotums, Underblack, Guns Guns Guns, and Crash, among others.

Krssh only gets lost once and has to retrace his steps before he finds the correct street. You find yourself in front of an almost imposing building, two stories tall, made of black concrete with slanted walls. It looks like it's been built in stages, with half a dozen add-ons to the original building.

There's no sign, a dirty window flanking each side of the door that has a crude image of a brain painted on it.

"No secret handshakes? Just in like that? Okay then." So saying, Zhouth strolled right in as if he was visiting a teahouse on Capital rather than a hive of scum and villainy amidst a hive of scum and villainy.

And to the door-minder, or then nearest staff-looking member, he stopped and grunted, "Stitch in? Trevor the Pool Champ recommended him." There was something subtly different about his voice. Grimmer, certainly, but not so much holding an edge as simply rendered flat.

In reply to StarMaster (msg # 81):

[The Undercity, Planet Theev]


     Varca turns his helmeted head towards Zhouth for a moment, then returns his gaze to watching the street, as they progress down it,

      "Y'know ..." Varca's voice calmly buzzes from his helmet speaker, "Zhouth's little comment, there, fills me with a great sense of pride in the survivalist nature of my Vespexer heritage ... And yet ... I somehow also feel as if I am the victim of a back-handed insult ..."

     Varca, again, turns his gaze upon Zhouth,

     "Do be a Good Boy, and remind me to shoot you later, won't you, Zhouth...?"


       As they walk through the Undercity, though he is carefully watching their surroundings for signs of trouble, Varca is still able to assess the environment, as he passes through it,

      "This place may not hold a glowrod to any of the Promenades on the Floating Palace ..." Varca observes, gesturing around at the depressing scenery, "... But it's not so bad ... The streets aren't radioactive, after all ..."

Prior...

Zhouth momentarily stopped in his tracks at Varca's offense-taken, though his body language implied that this was due to surprise rather than fear.

"How was that an insult? You went through all of that and survived it! Shouldn't that be impressive? I mean, there are rougher options out there - you don't want to think about early life as a Hiver, or how Droyne deal with personal mistakes or with surplus individuals - but still!"

Back to present...
This message was last edited by the player at 07:09, Tue 21 Dec 2021.

It isn't until you enter the building that it sinks in that you didn't see any Black Widows down here in Undercity.

The room you step into is dimly lit, but not so dim that you can't see the three people in the room. One looks like a typical bouncer--almost as wide as he is tall, which is about 6'. He's dressed in gray shorts and muscle tee that makes sure you can tell he's all muscle.

Then there's the armored person. He (or she--you can't really tell) is dressed in armor that looks a lot like Rayjay's other than it is clearly piecemeal, though that mean it isn't just as effective. Under different circumstances, the armor would like stupid, but here, it seems more sinister. He's carrying a plasma gun like BB.

The third person is a woman dressed in a revealing outfit that's probably made of shimmereen. She doesn't look unattractive but has seen better days.

"This isn't a social club. The only name in here is Credits," she responds to Zhouth. "What's your flavor? If you can afford it, we got a room for you."

Zhouth slowly held up one hand to about his chest level and looked down at it, rubbing the tips of his thumb and forefinger (or at least the enclosing glove segments) slowly around one another in a lazy circle. Three full circuits were completed before he spoke, and they kept right on going as he did.

"What's his? Will buy him a round or two if he's here to talk business, and get something for me while I'm at it; or while I wait, if he's coming soon. If he's not, or you can't say?" His hand slowly fell back to his side as he shrugged, a hint of disappointment and fatigue creeping in. "Fair, but I can't stay just for pleasure right now, unfortunately."
This message was last edited by the player at 15:11, Fri 24 Dec 2021.

In reply to Zhouth (msg # 86):

     As Zhouth asks after Stitch the Info-Merchant, Varca is standing to Zhouth's left -- in a casual stance ... his booted feet spaced shoulder-width apart ... gloved hands clasped waist-high, in front of himself ... and his opaqued faceplate clearly pointed straight at the armored figure holding the plasma gun ...

"Oh." the woman responds, obviously surprised at Zhouth's words.

"Stitch's preference is anything he can afford. He's currently doing blisswhiff, but does dreamdust and guillotine when he can afford it. He prefers edge, though."

"Blisswhiff is 10, dreamdust is 20, guillotine is 140, and edge is 600."

"Well, if he's not choosy, then how about one of each? The more I like what he has to say, the better he gets, and anything that he doesn't?" His signature slow, expansive shrug punctuated the delivery before he produced a handful of credit chips - just enough 100s to cover the cost. "Well, I'm sure that I can find a use for it!"
This message was last edited by the player at 18:29, Fri 24 Dec 2021.

Zhouth has just made a friend for life!

"I'm Euthanasia. Braindimming is my place," the woman says. "Would your friends like something?"

Zhouth doesn't exactly pick up any innuendos but he's pretty sure that she doesn't care if you kill Stitch as you've paid for the clean-up, at least.

She leads you down a maze of hallways to one of a dozen unmarked doors.

"You've got an hour. Stitch can stay as long as he wants."

She then walks away.

"I'm Euthanasia. Braindimming is my place," the woman says. "Would your friends like something?"

"Up to them! They tend to be all-business types, but maybe they'll surprise me." Somehow Zhouth sounded a little bit mischievous in saying that...



She leads you down a maze of hallways to one of a dozen unmarked doors.

"You've got an hour. Stitch can stay as long as he wants."

"Works for me."




Zhouth taps lightly on the door once Euthanasia has departed, and calls out quietly a moment later - enough to be heard from inside without disturbing anyone else - "Stitch? Got a present from the front desk for you! Another round of Bliss, all yours."

The dose of Bliss in question was waiting in Zhouth's upturned palm, with the other three packets resting very visibly in cost-sequence just behind in the other - very hard for anyone to miss unless they were blind as well as dopey.
This message was last edited by the player at 20:46, Fri 24 Dec 2021.

In reply to Zhouth (msg # 91):

     Varca makes no response to the offer of recreational pharmaceuticals -- either by voice or body movement -- he just keeps silently staring at the fusion gunner.

     When the Hostess moves to lead the group deeper into her establishment, Varca falls in behind Zhouth -- after first giving a slight, respectful nod towards the guy with the fusion gun.

     Once Euthanasia has led us to an unmarked door -- implying we'd find Stich beyond it -- and walked away, Varca moves to stand next to the wall, off to the side off the door -- to Zhouth's left.  There he can grab Zhouth and either pull him, or push him, out of the way, should anything other than a Bliss-addled Info-Merchant open that door...

Ingrid is a little shocked by, well, everything there from the way the woman is dressed to the offer. "Nothing for me, thank you" she manages to get out. No need to lose her manners.

Zhouth has to wait a few minutes (that seems like weeks...) before there's the sound of movement beyond the door, and a few seconds later, you hear the lock on the door disengage and it cracks open a bit.

"Whassat? Whoer you? Got bliss? Well, come on in," the bleary-eyed man says as he flings the door open while reaching eagerly for the bliss Zhouth is holding.

You see a young man with blond hair and bloodshot brown eyes. He seems a bit unsteady on his feet, and his grab for the bliss misses the first time. His clothes aren't ratty but they've clearly seen better days, and could probably stand a good cleaning.

"Here you go!" Zhouth exclaimed cheerfully as he stepped into the room, to one side of the door, and held forth the Bliss, doing his best to position it where the man's hands could actually connect with the package. "That Bliss is on the house, but I've got a few other things here too, if you feel up to something stronger - Dreamdust, Guillotine, maybe even some Edge?"

"They're not really meant for giveaway, but if you're as good at spotting things as Trevor says you are?" A not quite so exaggerated shrug, one that kept his package-bearing arm securely in place even as the other maneuvered a bit, punctuated the brief space between his words. "Well, I think I can part with the next one up for a little bit of useful information, if you feel up to it. And the one after that for more. And the one after that for a lot..."
This message was last edited by the player at 20:43, Wed 05 Jan 2022.

For a moment, when he takes the Bliss from Zhouth, it looks like he's going to inhale it right away, but, in spite of already being high, he still seems to have enough presence to hold off on it.

"'Fo? Yeah, got 'fo," he replies. "Only thing around here that's got any value."

He eyes Zhouth's hand speculatively for a moment.

"Whatcha wanna know?" His eyes managed to focus on you for a moment, instead of staring off into space at something only he can see. "Wait. You're off that new ship in port... the Voltron... and you're looking for Redthane. Well, he ain't on planet no more. No one's sayin' where. Best guess is he's in the Palindrome system. Admiral chased his sorry ass off Theev. Probably did him a favor. Ain't been able to find out why, if that's what you want."

"His second's here. Silverhand. She's tryin' ta get some other caps on Red's side so he can come back. He's better off wherever he is. Silver's holed up in the Scrap Heap. Now she's somewhere in the Intimidator, but she moves around a lot. She was in the Repulse last week and the Dragon week before that."

"So far, she's being staying under Darokin's radar. Don't matter. Admiral don't give a rat's ass about her."

He's not so wasted yet that he doesn't anticipate getting Zhouth's drugs for his info.

Zhouth's cheerful tone remained as he shifted two of the three packets to his other hand and held them out. "That helps!" The third one received a slight juggle in place in his other hand, not yet held out, but clearly ready to be. "Two questions: directions to the Intimidator, for those who aren't local, and is she on her own down there?"

"On her own? Sometimes. Sometimes she's got her crew with her," Stitch answers.

"Scrapheap's on the outside of Upper City though the Uppers think it's downside. Intimidator is one of the early ships that started the Heap. An old Military Cruiser. Don't know where or on what deck she's on. I ever got that close you'd be talking to a corpse."

"Go around north. Look for the half of a lab ship ring. Go through there past the Fat Trader and the S-Merchant. The wall will be the Cruiser."

"She's the sort that doesn't talk to strangers except with bullets, huh? Always has to be one of those somewhere," Zhouth sighed wearily, then transferred the third package to his outstretched hand, the hidden-in-helmet smile returning to his words. "Okay. Only other thing I have: no talking about this." He bounced his packet-holding hand ever so slightly. "Discretion is good for future generosity, you know?"

All three extra packets were Stitch's to take. Generosity was very much the present mood as well!
This message was last edited by the player at 05:08, Wed 12 Jan 2022.

In reply to Zhouth (msg # 99):

^{COMM START >>>} "We got the info we're looking for, Zhouth." Varca says over comms, "Where we're likely to find Silverhand.  Either Viridian or Krrsh can get us to where we gotta go.  Let's head back to the others." ^{<<< COMM END}

     Varca turns in place--hesitating, as if he's expecting Zouth and the others to head out of the room, ahead of him...

Zhouth stepped out of the room once Stitch had taken the packages, stopping just outside, where he half-turned and held it for Varca.

In reply to Zhouth (msg # 101):

     Varca waits to follow the last of his companions out of the small room--but then stops just before going through the door and turns back to look at Stitch, activating his helmet speaker at a low (but not whispering!) level.

     "The name of the ship is Vultan, Stitch.  Vultan.  Not Voltron." Varca growls lowly, "Captained by an ex-Imperial Navy Officer named McFarlane.  Get it right, Stitch.  Captain-the-Baron Theodore McFarlane."

     Varca then turns and stalks away.

The room was only 6-feet deep and 8-feet wide... just large enough to hold a cheap bed against the 8-foot wall. There were no other furnishings. A single array of LED lights in the ceiling illuminated the room. Someone had actually attempted to paint a mural on the back wall behind the bed. It wasn't bad if a bit crude and it was only about 3/4 done. However, it was marred by a lot of graffiti, as were the other walls.

Some of the earlier graffiti still shows through from an effort to re-paint the walls.

There was room for only 3 people in there, unless a fourth was in the bed, so BB, Krssh and Ingrid had remained out in the hall.

"Yeah, yeah, on the QT," Stitch answers. "The name's Stitch not Snitch. Voltron--Vultron... whatever. It ain't the Victorious so no one's going to get them mixed up."

"You're still Nobodies so no one's gonna give a skrang's ass about you. Except me. You pay well. I like your style. If I learn anything more, I'll let you know."


Zhouth has no problem interpreting this as meaning he's slave to the credit, even if he doesn't think of himself that way. If someone offers him enough credits, he'll sell his mother to them... if he hasn't already. On the other hand, Zhouth's assessment also lets him know that you could never torture info out of Stitch. He spends too much time in Dreamland when he's conscious so that's where he'd escape to under torture. And, of course, torture is unreliable anyway. The person being tortured will tell you what you want to hear whether it's the truth or not, and if he doesn't know to begin with, the torturer is seldom willing to accept that.

Not that Zhouth has any interest in rehabilitating Stitch, but he does realize that, under different circumstances, Stitch would be a valuable crew member or possible ally. He's just a victim of this world, like most of its inhabitants. He survives the only way he knows how.

Zhouth also realizes that Stitch is a reasonably educated person. He's able to tell what's valuable intel and what's not. As he explained, Silverhand would kill him on sight if she thought he'd said something he shouldn't have. That means there's no way she'd ever pay him for info. And right now, she's the only person on the planet (as far as you or Stitch know) that would have any interest in the info he now has.

Zhouth gave a cheerful wave and a quiet, "All done! He's fine." to Euthanasia on their way out. Only once they were well clear of the building and of other people did he start to speak again.

"Okay, we know where to poke about, and we'd better do it quickly before anything changes. I'd say now, but if the others are done with their wanderings, maybe we could call them to join up with us just before we get there?" Walking fingers that made an abrupt ninety-degree turn served as illustration.

"Then there's the strategy part. Big Bertha likes to shoot, and likes to do it first, but we won't get much information if we win by shooting back. And, well, she might hit some of us in the meantime." His tone clearly indicated that did not like that idea, though this didn't stop him from accompanying it with a gun-fire hand gesture. "If we can get close enough to talk first? I'd rather try recruitment than permanent retirement, you know? I don't think we'll manage that if all of us march up at once, though."
This message was lightly edited by the player at 19:43, Sat 15 Jan 2022.

In reply to Zhouth (msg # 104):

     "Well, yeah, we want to get Silverhand to talk to us -- whether we recruit her, pay her, or torture her -- we need her to tell us where Redthane is." Varca says via speaker,

     "And while I agree with you, Zhouth, that going after her sooner rather than later would be best, I got the impression from what Stitch said that the word has already gotten out that we are here looking for Redthane -- so it's probable that Silverhand already knows about us.  But ... I don't think that means she's gonna run, yet.  She's here to do a job for Redthane, and I don't think she's accomplished that, yet."

     "And something else that Stitch said ... he said that Silverhand's hiding out alone in that wrecked ship, in the Scrap Heap, and that her Crew sometimes visits her ... that might mean that she doesn't have quick access to her ship.  Like, it's hidden -- out in the desert, or up in a far orbit, or something--it's laying low, while she runs around trying to make a deal for Redthane."

     "So, I don't think that Silverhand will be leaving the planet anytime soon--I hope--but we gotta assume she knows we're here, and that we're looking for her, and that means she'll be ready for us, when we do catch up with her.  But I'm willing to bet that we have time to get back with the others, see what they've found out, and then come up with a plan to catch Silverhand, rather than just racing off after her, right now."

     "Who knows ..." Varca adds with a chuckle, "Maybe me dropping Theo's name into Stitch's ear will pay off, and we get a call from his old Admiral-Buddy, sometime soon.  But for now, let's just get back with everyone, compare notes -- then have Viridian and Krrsh tell us all about this Scrap Heap place..."

"Well, okay then," Zhouth shrugged - this time, not an exaggerated one. "Just remember that if her crew shows up to visit her in the meantime, and she knows that we're looking, they'll probably stay there to help prepare a welcoming party."


Cue a group re-merge, at last!