"Yes, yes, thank you! Thank you very much!" he smiles ear to ear rising and shaking your hand with both of his.

Daphne rose, matching Balducci's smile and handshake with one of her own.

"I celebrate the fact that we reached an understanding, mister Balducci. We should set a way to communicate directly and securely, so I can tell you when my negotiations are complete. Other than that, I think that was all. Any recommendations to see and do, here in Nora'a?"

In reply to Countess Daphne Arslan (msg # 31):

"That is a very good idea Ambassador Countess Arslan. I can be reached at this address." he hands her a paper with his electronic mail address.
This message was last edited by the player at 17:55, Sun 18 Apr 2021.

Beto reschedules the dinner at the TAS, taking into account the outing at the opera. Given that it's not a formal meeting, she's happy to not wear the OLH's corporate uniform, which confuses her to no end ("why am I wearing a white uniform and not the Navy's dark? Did I betray the Service? Oh wait..."), and wears a dazzling cocktail dress that was fashionable 20 years ago.

What is everyone else doing?

"Thank you, mister Balducci," Daphne smiled, taking the piece of paper between two fingers and sliding it into the neckline of her spacesuit with a practice gesture.

"Perhaps you would care to join us at the opera tonight? I am sure you can find us some decent seats, dear sir -  and perhaps, if I may abuse your goodwill, you could be persuaded upong to introduce us to some of the local celebrities?"

* * *

A few hours later, Daphne reappears from her shopping trip, sequesters herself in her cabin and re-emerges ready for the opera.

"I know, I know, it's a bit basic," she says with a sigh, addressing the others. "I wanted something a bit edgier, but alas, I'm still burdened with my professional wardrobe... oh well. Ladies, tell me you're not wearing pink as well, please?"

She smooths a couple of mostly imaginary wrinkles in the fabric and smiles.

"So, everyone ready? Shall we?"

Bannacor wears a black tuxedo with tails, he offers his hand to Daphne's elbow. "My lady?"

In reply to Bannacor (msg # 36):

Guiseppe and his wife meet you at the opera, dressed elegantly, her in a cream dress, him in more modest suit with a vest and tie.

"Mister Bannacor. Why, thank you," she says with a smile, sliding her hand in place. Then she dedicated a little nod to Mr. and Mrs. Balducci.

"Thank for joining us. Let us enjoy the night, then."

Daphne sits back and enjoys the opera, finally being able to just take it in at her own pace, without having to keep constantly ready to slide the right remark or catch some revealing little snippet of conversation. It felt good to work for herself instead of the Diplomatic Corps - and to be able to enjoy her free time in her own terms, rather than "keeping proper decorum pertaining to a servant of the Imperium &tc" as per Section 72, Paragaph B.

Beto Arark was happy to leave the limelight to the Countess Arslan. She sat at the back of the box, half following the opera - despite her intelligence, foreign languages had always been an issue for her -, half examining reports on her pad : refueling, crew liberty rotation, restock, maintenance, papers, system reports, passages sold by Carmichael, reports on the captain's health, other updates. She raised an eyebrow at Yuri's report, and decided to discuss the subject later. She cancelled the dinner reservation at the TAS hotel; if they were still hungry after the reception, they would go to a fast-food.
This message was last edited by the player at 17:38, Wed 21 Apr 2021.

"Mister Balducci," she whispered in the man's ear.

It was rather unnecessary to do so, as she could just have spoken in a slightly hushed tone from her seat, and that would have sufficed; and yet she went with the conceit of having to whisper, which meant she had to get closer, which meant giving him a chance to smell her perfume and get a tantalising glimpse at her dress, or the bits of her not covered by said dress, from a vantage point.

"Mister Balducci," she said, then, in her unnecessarily husky tone, "may I introduce you to my honorable associate, Mrs. Beto Arark? She is an exceedingly knowledgeable woman in many and very varied branched of business. I am sure you would both profit immensely from a chance to collaborate closely."

Daphne extended a languid arm towards the elderly lady, charming smile on, eyelashes fluttering, inviting her into the conversation - as if the happy idea had just occurred to her.
This message was last edited by the player at 15:33, Tue 27 Apr 2021.

The receptions at the Opera are noted in the Nora'a society for their exquisite taste, that captivates their guests. Beto - who was hungry - picked up a delicacy looking like a chocolate walnut, and felt a taste sensation, rich, luxurious, unique. She waved to the chief waiter : "Monsieur, wiz zese chocolates you are really spoiling us"



But then she was introduced to "Mister Balducci" who, for someone who was supposed to be an important planet administrator, did not look very impressive. The real power of a planet conquered from another state probably resided by the naval and military bases.

Beto Arark, briefed by "Ambassador Countess Arslan", did some salutations to Mr and Mrs Balducci, then went to the point :

"We understand how important this endeavor is for the Government of Nora'a, and we will do our best to serve its interests. The success of it lies largely on the trips of our ship - The Old Lady's Hope -, both on the planet and around it, not being hindered by bureaucracy and other police checks and inspections. Sometimes - before they are revealed to the general public - the processes of negotiations, how winding they might seem, have to remain discreet. This coming from a former news reporter.", winked the former journalist.
This message was last edited by the player at 19:45, Sun 02 May 2021.

"Oh I'm so sorry, I was distracted by the opera, it is simply beautiful, yes, yes, quite, we simply must get some semblance of normalcy with the Aslan. I'll smooth the way as best as I can."
This message was last edited by the player at 12:07, Sun 02 May 2021.

In reply to Guiseppe Balducci (msg # 42):

"I'll mark your words, Mr Balducci", insisted Beto. "I hope we don't have to call you for help or influence, but our mission might demand it."
The old lady sat heavily on a chair, observed that the no-barefoot Contessa was still socializing, and waved to Bannacor :
"Please round up the crew, the lady last, and get them into some cabs and back to our ship. It's late and we still have some debriefing to do".

She also calls Yuri back to the ship

===> goto A3Lc Far Trader OLH thread

Daphne smiled warmly, slipped in some polite and encouraging comments here and there, and took her leave when she sensed Beto was done and the soiree had yielded all the results it was going to yield. It was so easy, and to a certain extent, so comforting, to fall back on the old instincts, so intensively trained during the last fifteen years.

Perhaps she was missing a note of rebelliousness, some drunken debauchery to top off the night and act as a palate-cleanser from the formality of the whole business, but she decided against it. Too soon, too early into her new career to start pushing it.

So she left the party and headed back to the ship, humming an epic aria to herself.

Nora'a's downport starport, Far Trader Old Lady's Hope
=========================================================
Beto checked the time again. Yuri's team had left two hours ago, so they should have reached the estate now. The Trader would clear the same 600 klicks in 40 minutes only, but they had agreed to give the recon team one hour to clear the place and gather the guests.

Unless the recon team met some problem as soon as they arrived, and called for rescue.

So the cargo was loaded, the regular passengers had boarded. Airlocks were shut, the motors were warm, the Far Trader was ready to leave the starport and the request for the permission to take off was one push of a button away.

And they were waiting, either for 20 minutes to go by, or for a message from the purple-eyed agent, modifying the schedule.

Beto scanned the bridge for the umpteenth time, noticed the crew at their positions, ready to lift the ship. The countess had finished acting as a steward [OOC : hey Daphne, I suggest you roll your Steward skill to see how good you were ;)]

Beto reached for the intercom. The captain Dahl and herself had greeted the passengers, so there was no need to introduce themselves. She took a mather-of-fact tone and lied:
"Mmh, dear passengers, we're still waiting for the clearance to go, from the 'port authorities. It seems the traffic is dense today. We should take off within the next half-hour, then we'll short-stop on the surface to load an additional cargo, but after that fly directly into space."

In case anyone asked what this additional cargo was, the instruction was to reply "Art works and antiques that couldn't be transported to the starport".
This message was last edited by the player at 13:11, Sat 22 May 2021.

Beto gathered the captain and the pilot-countess for a quick brainstorming session

"How do we organize the voyage to the estate? If Daphne files a flight plan, this would look less suspicious, but then an investigation could go up to them. Do we try to muddle things by mistaking the boarding coordinates? And Daphne, do we fly under the radars, and if yes, at what moment?"

Getting everyone on board was a breeze, surprisingly easier than expected. Then again, Daphne thought to herself, herding passengers wasn't that different from herding foreign representatives - easier, in some ways, as everyone was only there representing themselves, rather than the interests and prerrogatives of imperial powers. Refreshing, in a way, and she had always liked playing hostess.

"Oh, interesting questions," she replied to Beto once everyone was settled, winking a cheeky eye at her. "Lucky thing you have an incompetent aristo on board. Suppose you had this super rich, totally airheaded bitch who wants to play starship pilot for a day, yes? She's paying through the nose for the privilege, so you grudgingly let her play with the controls, punch in whatever wrong coordinates she thinks are right, fly under radars, the works. Suppose she gets caught in it - naturally your first impulse would be to step in and make ammends with the Aslan air controllers, but she insists on using the radio. It's immediately obvious to the Aslan that they're dealing with some rich, bored bitch - and who in their right mind would bring such a person onboard? Not some covert mission operatives, surely. So let her get on their nerves a bit, then you may wrestle the radio from her and step in, red-faced, to apologize and stuff."

Daphne made pouty lips, doing her best dumb impression.

"Would work, or am I too brunette for it?"

---

12:23, Today: Countess Daphne Arslan rolled 10 using 2d6+1.  Stewarding (sorry, I only rolled 1d6 last time).

In reply to Countess Daphne Arslan (msg # 47):

[OOC let's assume Baris is OK with that, since our work as players is to go along and facilitate the other players' input and narration :D ]

Beto laughed so loud she had to hold her ribs together.
"Oh oh, draw the attention in order to be unnoticed... that's a plan, urh urh... Just don't call Nora'a's human AT Controllers 'Aslan', or you'll get more attention that you've ever dreamt of, ARH ARH ARF!"

She regained her composure and exchanged glances with the captain.

"Let's play along. Call the Air Trafic Control, roll out all your titles, mention that you are pilot training on this class of ship, under the supervision of Captain Dahl, and take the ship directly under the radar. However, send regular messages to the Starport and ATC, asking for the weather forecast you forgot to download, telling them you'll leave an excellent eval of their services, and other chat. They may be so distracted by your eccentricities that they won't notice for some time that you forgot to turn on the transponder..."
This message was last edited by the player at 09:43, Tue 01 June 2021.

"Solid plan, XO", nodded Baris, his eyes twinkling with newfound energy, "You may intimate that your Captain is a little senile, if you wish, suggest I'm providing conflicting orders or minimal guidance, but that you need to humour the 'war hero'"

Inwardly, he winced, for his fame was not something he had courted overmuch. Still, it was useful on occassion

He half-forced a smile, though there was glee at the heist they were about to pull off, "Let's be about it"

Daphne smiled wickedly, licking her lips.

"This kind of thing works better when I've had a dram or two, but here goes nothing," she says cooly. She clears her throat, then punches a couple of commands for Traffic Control. When she speaks, her voice is a couple of octaves higher, with a disciplicent note in it.

"Hiya, Trafficker's Control!" she sing-songs into the mike. "Countess Daphne Arslan here. My friends call me Fifi, but - you guys can call me Lady Arslan. Unless you're real cute," she giggles. "Anyway, I'm calling because, uhm... well, to be honest, because the Cap told me so?"

She lowers her voice to a conspiratorial whisper, as if she was sharing dirty secrets over a cup of tea. "He's like, old school, very old school? Like, before they actually built the school? Whatever. A bit of pain in the derriere, he is, old Cap, but like - yeah. You copy me, Trafficker? That's how you say it, isn't it?"

She makes a little pause in her monologue, to allow Traffic Control a chance to get a word edgewise, silently winking at Beto and Baris.

Beto rolled her eyes. In a class A starport, Traffic Control is considered God, and you don't talk to God like this.

However, also in a class A starport, Traffic Control is handled by AIs, and supervised by experts.
The communicator spit with as much authoritarian tone as could be programmed :
"Is this the Old Lady's Hope ship?
Are you ready to depart?
Please state clearly the object of your call, with appropriate Civil Transport codewords and short sentences,
or free the channel."

In reply to Beto Arark (msg # 51):

Thanks Beto.

In reply to Nerull (msg # 52):

The flight to the estate is uneventful after Starport Traffic Control is satisfied. Both above and below radar, though Traffic Control wondered why so low?
This message was last edited by the GM at 13:26, Tue 08 June 2021.

Daphne kept chatting all the while, suppressing a giggle. It was probably overkill, as Traffic Control had surely muted her after the first half-hour of...

"...and like, I always wanted to fly a ship, you know? I just don't get why so many regulations and things? Between you and me, Traffy, I think it's just the old Cap being, y'know, an old Cap? Like, 'uh, gotta follow the rules, this is a ship not a toy, young lady', yadda-yadda. I mean, I knooow, old dude, I'm qualified to fly, amirite? It's not like I don't know what I'm doing, right? So, like, I think it's because I'm young? Yeah, but you know, don't you Traffy? Like, you sound super young yourself, if you don't mind me saying. I'm sooo sure you must be a total ladykiller, with that voice of yours, guiding ships in the night, know what I mean? Ha ha, sure you do, you little perv! Well, anyway, where was I? Oh yeah, so, when I was like thirteen, I asked for a ship for my birthday, and guess what, they got me a sailing ship? The ones that go on water? Can you believe that? The cheek. So all these years, I was like, I really wanna fly a ship, so..."

And that went on, and on. And on.

While she nonchalantly flew the Old Lady's under the radar, never stoppping the stream of empty words, like decoy flares, like a barrage of verbal tinsel covering her true intentions...

...And on...