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Alternity: The Elements of Eternity - Episode 1: Keep The Home Fires Burnin'


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[[An indefinite expanse of space is everywhere. The stars are numerous but light years away, each its own system filled with possibilities and wonderment.]]

Twelve years ago, after nearly two-hundred and ninety six years of peace the Thuldan Empire, in it's quest for power and supreme might, sparked the Third Galactic War. Although the Stellar Ring has been thrown into political and economical chaos the Third Galactic War has been felt the most within a small sector (by Stellar Ring standards) of space known as The Verge.

As the Thuldan Empire continued its attacks on the systems within The Verge the citizens and military found it more and more difficult to keep peace and order within their respective star systems. Over a year ago, martial law was declared by the Concord Military and as one might expect; all hell broke loose, turning The Verge into a lawless place even worse than it ever was.

As the fires of war envelop The Verge and the cries of the suffering populace echo through the stars Fate calls for Heroes. Heroes strong in purpose, wise and valorous, and ready to rise up and take back freedom for the galaxy and restore peace.

Heroes who are honorable and would save the people from the clutches of tyranny and strife...

The infinite expanse of space is torn asunder by the rise of a sleek black ship exiting drivespace. It's surrounded by a rainbow-like iridescent finish in an aura around the ship as it exits the alternate plane of faster than light travel. It's inertial flux engines ignite, exploding to life with a low hum and a stream of blue tachyon exhaust and in a moment is gone from sight.

[[soundtrack]]

With a groan Erebus rolls from his bed and reaches to a night stand and slides a dark visor over his eyes.

"Erebus, we've arrived in the Lucullus System." Shiro Asano, the ships pilot, spoke over the on board comm unit. "Erebus?"

"Shut it. I'm up. Set a course, 225 mark 44." He mumbled as he sifted through befouled laundry before settling on a pair of dark leather pants sans undergarment. "Damn robot... told it to do the laundry." He turned to the desk in his quarters and sensing his approach a holographic display appeared and hovered at eye level with him. He tapped a few digital display buttons.

"Wake up people, we're in Lucullus. Get yer asses up and take care of your Three S's, we'll be at the Lighthouse in a couple of hours." His voice boomed over the intercom of the ship. "And ISIS... do some damned laundry for crying out loud. Corso, tell your pet trash compacter to do some damn laundry."

The crew of the Machiavellian Rue, although unknown to them, are Heroes fated to change the course of galactic history forever.

This is their story...

Click to reveal..
Location: Erebus - Left his quarters and is in the main corridor leading to the bridge until his next post.
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Gabe shuts down a summary entry for the Lucullus system and brings up the Engineering main controls on his display on one side of the bridge.

"Well Shiro, all I can say is I'm glad we're heading for the Lighthouse. I wouldn't want to be heading to anywhere else in the system. Have you been here before?"

He briefly checks the Hyperdrive status to be sure it will be ready should anything unexpected come along.

"Has Erebus mentioned to you what we might be doing here, or is it another case of wait and see? Not that I mind, this is probably the best place in the Verge for me to pick up some training materials I've been wanting to get."

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The voice of Isis is calm and feminine, with perfect intonation and a cultured lack of accent that could only come from knowledge programed rather than learned organically.

"Good morning, Captain Erebus," she replied over the intercom. The words were perfunctory, spoken without warmth or sarcasm...simply parts of a standardized greeting. "The ship's laundry was completed last night at oh-four-hundred hours. Any clothing you had placed in the designated laundry receptacle would now be returned to you, folded and cleaned. As per shipboard procedures, clothing that was not in the receptacle was not taken for laundering."

Isis released the intercom switch and looked back over her cabin for a moment to give it one last once-over before heading up to the bridge. She had the smallest cabin, but it was sufficient to store her small supply of gear. There was a bed even, a small futon-style cushion on the floor. She had determined that it was preferable to lie down on padding on her recharge cycle. The position was less likely to result in damage from falling over should the ship undergo maneuvers. There was a desk and a chair. The walls and desk were bare, unpainted, and unadorned. There was a small closet, in which she kept her clothes, and a small lockbox of her gear. The box had a lock, but she didn't bother to lock it. It would waste time to do so, and she was not concerned about the security of her possessions at the moment.

Her room was clean, and ready to serve her needs. She was satisfied.

Isis moved out into the corridor of the Machiavellian Rue at a brisk but unhurried pace. The speed of her walk was determined by a complex formula of energy expenditure versus distance to the bridge versus apparent urgency of the request; which in this case was not very.

To the eye, she was a young woman, perhaps in her early twenties. Of medium height and slim figure; a generous bust and fresh and pretty face. Her eyes were a somewhat pale shade of blue; her hair was sandy blonde and would fall past her neck to a point between her shoulders if it wasn't in a ponytail, and it was perfectly straight, without curls or waves. It was hair that was well suited to styling, though she did not bother to do so unless it was necessary to change her appearance.

She was an android; a robot crafted in the image of her makers. The technology that had built her was second to none, utilizing gravitationally triggered microfusion cells, an incredibly durable nanotube endoskeleton, and artificial musculature that was designed to operate in precise emulation of a human's. Overlaid was a complex artificial skin that incorporated biological systems. It looked and felt like skin, even bled and healed like skin. Her design had sacrificed greater protection in favor of greater infiltration capability.

As advanced as her body was though, it was nothing compared to her brain. Her creator had pioneered the miniaturization of artificial intelligence, and had outdone himself with Isis. The unthinkably complex crystalline matrix that was the source of her emergent sentience was packed into the rear third of her skull, immediately adjacent to her main processor core.

Unfortunately, the circumstances of her coming to the crew of the Rue had precluded certain things, including complete technical specifications. There were systems in her body that she lacked the software to use properly. There were other systems who's function and even fundamental technological underpinnings were undecipherable. In her own way, she was a bit like the Machiavellian Rue...a unique and powerful device that came with a lot of unanswered questions and mysteries.

Her expressionless face betrayed none of the answers to those questions as she entered the central lift, and made her way from there to the bridge to answer the call of Erebus.

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As the com switches off Shir swears. "Damned Erebrus, if he already fucking knew then why did he ask to be told when we got here?" Shiro dutifully plotted in the new course and got them moving. Only then did he regard the other growing pain in his ass with a short succint answer.

"Not in awhile no."

He considers the other question and comments. "Inasmuch as we wait for him to get here and then see exactly what he wants to do yes. Otherwise I'd say he already knows what we're doing here. "You got anything you need done, go get it done now. Ya ain't gonna get a second chance later Gabe."

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With a weary groan, Annwn lifted her head from her arms, blinking sleepily as she reacquainted herself with the waking world. Voices more alert than hers bantered across the comm system, and dimly she understood that they must have been close to their destination. The tiny wheels and uncoiled spring of a battered old pocket watch- remarkable only for its obsolescence- glittered where they lay atop her desk. Several other timepieces and assorted bits of technological antiquity were arranged about the small cabin like so many objets d’art, all stripped of their casings to expose intricate puzzles of gears or delicately patterned processors that appealed to both her aesthetic and academic sensibilities. It was anyone’s guess whether or not the tinkering that kept her hands busy between missions actually made her happy, but certainly it seemed to improve her temperament in dealing with other members of the crew.

If she were completely truthful with herself, she’d be forced to admit that these little “projects” were only distractions. They kept her occupied, of course, along with the list of repairs and maintenance the Rue required, but they did nothing to further her goals, and she knew it. The constant effort was only narrowly enough to busy her hands and her brain when she dearly wanted to be doing something more important, more satisfying than jockeying around space. Sure, travelling around the Verge had proven interesting, and her shipmates were intriguing companions, but after months of dealing with corrupt tradesmen, brigands, and shady “investors” she hadn’t made any tangible progress. She was no closer to completing her research than when she started, and they hadn’t even acquired anything unusual enough to qualify as a challenge.

Sighing as she surveyed the jumble of small parts scattered across the top of her desk, Corso rubbed at the reddish impressions her sleeve had left on her cheek and retrieved her glasses from where they lay on the floor. She could only hope, walking down the corridor toward the galley, that whatever Erebus had in store would be profitable.

The application of genius, after all, could be quite expensive.

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"Clothing that was not in the receptacle was not taken for laundering." Erebus mocked the tone of the android like a five year-old might mock their parent. "Damn robot." He mumbled.

The doors to the command deck slid open with a trademark "shh". The area was well lit, despite the dark outward appearance of the ship. At the bow of the ship was a large reinforced crystal that appeared from the outside to be an opaque hemispherical windshield. From the interior however, the hemisphere acted as a massive display that gave the pilot of the ship all sorts of read-outs and information. Although opaque on both sides, during flight the crystal functioned like a massive screen allowing the pilot to view everything within the forward arc of the Machiavellian Rue.

The bridge was set up in a triangle theme. The pilot sat in the front of the ship, nearly in the center of the crystal sphere allowing him an excellent view of the ship's present course. To left and right of the pilot just behind him were two more stations, weapons and defense.

Directly in the center of the bridge was the captain's chair. Although as the 'owner' of the ship Erebus was recognized as the captain, he rarely preferred the title and the captain's chair was usually sat in by whomever was currently overseeing the ships activities. Each of the crew, except the techno-inept psion, and Shiro (who seemed to prefer sitting in the pilots seat) had had their time in it so far. To the left and right of the Captain's Chair were the communications sensors consoles.

Shimmering lattice work of glowing energy coursed across each of the consoles and throughout the chamber and billions upon billions of mega-pulses of data were transmitted about the ship constantly. Several holo display screens popped into existence as Erebus approached giving him (and anyone else who had been absent from the bridge for any period of time) complete readouts on anything relevant since his last visit to the bridge; in this case... six hours and forty-seven minutes of reports that basically said "we went from point A to point B, and didn't blow up in space".

"Look alive ladies," He said, sipping a mug of something that the rest of crew called 'boiling tar and shoe leather'. He called it coffee. "Hit me with all the boring stuff."

"Hyperdrive coolant hose five doesn't seem to be functioning as it should." Gabriel said to him. "It's only operating at seventy-eight percent."

"Have Corso take a look at it." Erebus thumbed back towards the entrance of the bridge. Gabe wasn't sure if he was thumbing in Corso's direction, or the Hyperdrive. "I'll take over Shiro, if you wanna go get cleaned up. Gabe, I need you to keep talking to the computer, see if you can't tell Corso what might be acting up."

Click to reveal..
After the next go-around of posts the party will most likely arrive at the Lighthouse, unless some would prefer some extra time to RP some interactions
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Shiro nods, and quietly walks from the bridge back to his quarters. After a shower and shave he feels infinitely more human and puts his jumpsuit on. He snags a cup of coffee from the galley and starts making his way back to the bridge to resume his duties.

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Gabe turns back to the holo display and tries to glean more information from the engineering controls and their diagnostic sensors before putting a call out on the intercom for Corso.

"Annwn, Hyperdrive coolant hose five is down to 78%. from what I can make it here it looks like a slow accumulating buildup in the hose that is causing it to go into turbulent flow. Erebus would like you to look into it."

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Rolling her eyes, Annwn tossed the half-eaten container of instant oatmeal into the waste disposal unit; she hadn't been all that hungry, anyway. "Of course he would," she muttered to herself, before replying more clearly. "Fine, fine. I'll go have a look, but it's still going to need some real maintenance soon, and we still don't have the supplies."

The sound of boots on metal grating rang out clearly through the corridor as she strode purposefully down to Engineering. It didn't take long to find the problem, despite her grumbling, and flushing out the accumulated debris (a buildup of otherwise microscopic garbage found in the cheaper grades of coolant) took perhaps half an hour. It wasn't complicated, but it was tedious, and she complained quietly to herself throughout the entire process.

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Isis pauses just inside the bridge after exiting the lift. After taking note of the crew already there and the stations they've taken, she proceeds to one of the operations positions and quickly configures the controls to perform a routine sensor sweep of surrounding space.

To keep herself occupied during the scan she quickly rotated communications frequencies to see if there was any interesting chatter.

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"Rodger that RCCV025263714 'Alastor'. You are clear for docking." The modulated voice of the Lighthouse's docking control staff sounded through the open channel of the The Mack as they sat, impatiently waiting for their chance to dock. "XXXX075000001 'Machiavellian Rue', you will be cleared for docking shortly."

"Yeah, whatever." Erebus grumbled under his breath as the perky, pig-tailed operator on the main holo-display smiled and blinked out.

"She's a beauty, ain't she?" He said aloud, as he stared at the busy space station several thousand times larger than their own ship. "1,464.1 meters long and 401.31 meters at it's beam. 2,854,035 metric tons of the Verge's last chance for sanity in this war-torn galaxy. God knows if I had 10 Mark VIII heavy plasma cannons, 24 M0-7 Launch tubes, 56 A85 Laser cannons with 2.84 meters of heavy neutronite protecting Ol' Mack here... best bet I'd be takin' the fight to those Thuldan cowards." Erebus scowled. "Buncha bitches."

He rolled his eyes, grinning as he looked at Gabriel who seemed to be double checking something on his dataslate. "Ya'aint gonna find info like what I just said in your lil' data bases kid." Despite not looking much more older than Gabriel, or the other members of the crew, it was common for him to refer to every one as 'kid' at times. "You want to learn facts like that, you gotta know the right people."

2.5 hours later after a very lengthy docking dispute over past fines...

The lift doors opened on deck 198, an open air deck that looked more like a city than a space station. Almost three dozen large buildings and several times that in smaller ones could be made out just moments after the doors slid aside. Deck 198 was the 'Social' deck. Bars, nightclubs, hotels, motels, and all manner of entertainment could be found on 198. There was no day or night in space, just hours and minutes, so at no point in time was there ever a slow moment for all the visitors, tourists and staff looking to blow their Concord Dollars on a good time, or to just unwind.

The six filtered from the lift tube taking a "V" formation. Erebus and Shiro took the lead (they knew their way around). Behind them Gabriel and Corso with ISIS and Jordan bringing up the rear.

[soundtrack]

Most of the on lookers gave them a wide birth as they casually strolled down the center of the open street. Several shot them dirty looks or rolled their eyes but all the mercenaries did was offer grins. Sure, their reputation wasn't stellar around here, but when it came to the 'don't fuck with' crowd, the crew of The Mack were certainly on the top the list... at least since their last visit.

"Oh, shit." A recruit from engineering said as they approached a loud flashy building covered in neon with a large crowd gathered outside. "It's the 'Rue Crew'."

"No, kiddin?." Replied his buddy, looking around for them. "They really kick Mungo's ass last time they were here?"

"Not his ass... per se. See the red head?"

"Yeah."

"As I heard it, she kicked him in the balls so hard that his twig n' berries had to be... imported... from Aleer."

Woah," his buddy seemed shocked and somewhat in awe. "Cyber junk?"

"Yep."

"Then I think I'll pass and go for the blonde... she psycho too?"

"No clue," the engineer said. "Great tits, doesn't talk much. A guy I know in 1st platoon said he nailed her last time they were through. Real screamer. Go get her, Tiger."

*****

"Alright people," As the crew stepped into the smokey atmosphere of "The Corner" the most popular 'night' spot on The Lighthouse. Erebus turned to to face the crew. "Drink up, but don't fuck up. We can't have trouble like we did the last time." His glare at Corso could have frozen the air, which was pretty icy, considering he was wearing black shades. "I'm going to gather some intel from Jezzie," He grinned. "And see if we can't make a buck or two off all the galaxies misery. Keep comms open, and start a tab. Drinks are on me. You guys did good back at Silver Bell, you've earned it."

When he said 'gather intel from Jezzie' the crew knew what he meant. Although they had never the mechalus woman who was rumored to be a dancer and part time call girl, they all could easily put two and two together to guess how the negations were going to be handled. His grin gave it away too.

Click to reveal..
Yer on your own people. RP it up and have some fun. If you like you may start a 'fic' about your fun times here, ISIS could have some interesting interaction coming her way.

You're a crew, a team. Interact, have some fun, build some bonds. If all goes well, you have the opportunity to earn an AP (Achievement Point, 1XP basically).

Besides... I'll bet it's only a matter of time before Mungo hears 'the boys are back in town'.

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Gabe heads to the bar to set up the tab for the crew, keeping an eye out for anyone he recognises, especially any of Mungo's cronies after the last visit. He'll also pick up their first round of drinks, a low alcohol beer for himself and the usual for the others. Gabe had learnt early after leaving the Order that trained him, that being drunk while having the ability to produce a grenade effect at will was not a good idea, so until he learnt to flush alcohol and other substances from his system, like Brother Zachariah, he would have to stick to the weak stuff. Despite the hilarity it seemed to provide Shiro and Erebus.

Since the Lighthouse still has a permenant Orlamu contigent, for the temple, and the rumours of dodgy Mindwalkers in the local system, Gabe opens his mind to the flow of Psi energies in the area to see if any effects are in use.

(OOC activating Sensitivity from Broad, 2 psi pts if succeed, duration of 1 minute, range 20m around him, detects if any Psi effects are active/activated for the duration.

(10:01:55) ChatBot: (Rorx) rolls 1d20 and gets 8.

(10:02:05) ChatBot: (Rorx) rolls 1d4 and gets 3. = 11 - Ordinary)

He carefully makes his way through the always crowded bar to pass the drinks round to the rest of the crew, dividing his time between watching where he is going and who is around and their reactions to the Mack's crews presence.

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Isis takes a seat directly across from Corso, so she can accurately assess threats to her well being. Due to past altercations involving Annwn and others, she considered this port and this establishment somewhat higher than neutral on her private scale of threat assessment.

When Gabe returned and set a glass in front of her, she sipped from it. The liquid would be stored in a small internal holding tank until it started getting full. Then she'd expunge the tank in a manner meant to lend her humanoid disguise verisimilitude. It wasn't a bad analogue to how human beings dealt with liquids, in fact...though absent any need or benefit a living being might get from the process. Her sense of taste gave her some idea of the chemicals present in the concoction, though it wasn't connected to any aesthetic judgement as a human's might be.

In short, she could taste, but had no taste.

She wore her shipboard jumpsuit and her hair was tied in a somewhat frayed bun. Though her head didn't move unduly, her eyes flicked around as she sipped her drink, watching for trouble.

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Shiro nodded and hit the bar. Timbiqui Dark was one of the better beers he'd had over the years and this place kept a pretty good stock of it. The bartender knew he liked it and when he held up his left index finger brought him on of the dark bottles. "Here long Shiro?"

"Who knows, hopefully without incident this time though. Captain's doing his usual thing and here we are for the duration."

"Those women on you're crew..."

"Erebrus' crew, my crewmates, friend, and yeah, hopefully nobody does anything stupid this time again. No man likes to see another man kicked there that damn hard."

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Gabe comments to the others as he tries his drink, "The Mindscape is clear at the moment, but I'm unable to check it very often. It won't be long until Mungo knows we're back, how do you want to play it Corso?"

He continues to look around the joint, takng in the dancers, the long bar and the shadowy booths around the walls, trying to spot any potential trouble before it starts or anyone familiar to him. The two Fraal briefly catch his attention and he nods to them if they look his way.

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As unsettling as the idea of telepathy was, she had to admit it was handy for keeping tabs on people. When Gabe mentioned Mungo, however, Corso forced herself to take a long drink- not because she was thirsty, but because the broad grin summoned up by the memory of their last trip would be visible if she didn't.

"He'll either be bent on revenge for the loss of his..." She bit her lip to stifle a chuckle. "...pride, or he'll be too afraid to try anything. Either way, he puts himself at a tactical disadvantage. If he, or any of his friends, try anything, then we deal with them."

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Gabe nods as he continues his observation of the bar.

"My money would be on revenge of some kind, but not in person. I think he'd be reluctant to be in a position where you might be able to do something similar again. I've never really spoken to him myself, do you think he is intelligent enough to attempt some form of non-physical revenge? Although considering the injury to his pride, I'm inclined think that he would have to respond in kind to maintain his image and standing in his community."

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Click to reveal..

Gabriel - Awareness [Perception] = 5 (Roll d20 = 1, +d4 = 4)
-Good Success

Jordan - Awareness [Perception] = 24 (Roll d20 = 20, +d4 = 4)
- Failure, not present.

Shiro - Awareness [Perception] = 18 (Roll d20 = 18)
-Failure

ISIS - Awareness [Perception] = 10 (Roll d20 = 14, -d4 = 4)
-Ordinary Success

Corso - Awareness [Perception] = 10 (Roll d20 = 6, +d4 = 4)
-Ordinary Success

With the pulse of the strobe lighting and the distracting gyrations of The Corner's exotic dancers the crew hardly notice the two men moving through the throngs of people. Although they managed to make enough minor faux pas that marked them as out of place.

The two men, one a seedy fraal in a CF jumpsuit and the other rather grimy looking human in CF leathers, were certainly out of place among the scant clad party girls and the cologne ridden Lighthouse residents spending their hard earned Concord Dollars (credits). Although it's enough to put them on edge, the men seem to disappear into the crowd.

Gabriel Only
After a few moments of keeping the men in sight Gabriel notices the human nudge his head in the direction of the crew and where they're sitting (except for Shiro, whom they don't seem to notice at the bar). He tells the fraal something and the fraal begins to make his way to the clubs front entrance.
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Gabriel keeps an eye on the fraal as he heads out the door, covering it by taking another sample of his drink.

"Heads up people, we got a scruffy couple taking an interest in us. I don't know if you noticed them, a grimy human in leathers who is still over there (surreptitious pointing with a finger on the table surface), and a seedy looking fraal ina jumpsuit who has just been sent towards the front door by the human. I'm not sure that they have spotted Shiro yet. Does anyone know if Shiro brought his com gear with him?"

"Hang on, I'll try to see if they have anyone else outside."

(OOC attempt a Clairvoyance to look around outside the front door. Skill = 14/7/3 d20+d0. 1d20[16] = (16)

http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/1826416/ )

"No, there are too many distractions in here. Just have to wait and see what they do next I guess."

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"It is not likely that they will act against us in the bar," Isis says without turning her head, though her eyes flick over to where she last saw the two.

"There is a higher probability they will seek aid, then wait to ambush us outside."

She pauses then adds, "If their intentions are hostile."

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Gabe keeps an eye on the man, but also glances around the bar to see if they already have any similarly dressed companions inside the club, or if there is a reflective surface he can get a glimpse outside from.

"I agree, any trouble will almost certainly take place outside the bar, both to limit interference and to reduce the number of witnesses. I don't suppose any of you would be proficient enough with computers to see if the management have a camera watching outside the front door? Isis, do you remember where the rear exit is in here?"

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They were being watched and they knew it. As the minutes ground down to nearly an hour they were all aware of the eyes that were lingering in the crowd. Mungo's men were everywhere, and they'd learn soo that when you mess with the crew of the Machiavellian Rue, you either put up, or shut up.

"Drinks flowing and blood spilling, or what?" As Erebus shouted over the music he nearly startled the hell out of those less relaxed in attendance. "The hell has you all so jumpy?" He asked.

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"We're being surveilled," Isis reports placidly, without looking around. "I estimate six to eight individuals spread throughout the bar are watching us with varying degrees of covertness. None of their faces match known henchmen of Mungo. We first noticed them just under an hour ago."

The android pauses, then adds, "There is a high probability that they are waiting for a particular event to act."

It was slightly distasteful, boiling elegant numbers down to vague euphemisms like "just under" and "high," but the Captain had made his views on being informed of precise numbers of things perfectly plain in the past.

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"Eh," Erebus shrugged it off. "What d'you expect? Corso cracked the guy in the junk so hard he was bed ridden for almost a month. Of course they're watching us."

He didn't bother sitting down. "But, for now, forget em'. If they're feeling froggy they'll leap, and we'll break our foot off in their ass when that time comes. For now, we have to meet a StarMech Liaison in the hangar. We go a job, and it pays a metric fuckton, which means be ready for a double cross, or a suicide run."

"Shiro," Erebus puts his finger on his ear, pressing the button on his commlink. "Where ya at bud? We got work to do. Meet us at the hangar in fifteen."

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Gabe quickly finishes his drink and stands ready to leave with Erebus.

"StarMech? In this system it probably means a suicide run against one of the pirate or gang factions here."

He looks around the bar, not bothering to hide that he is looking directly at each of the people who have been watching them.

"I wonder if they will try to stop us getting to our destinations? Never mind, we'll deal with it if and when we need to."

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Twenty-two minutes later...

The galley of the Rue wasn't much, but it served as a decent meeting room when the need arised. Well lit and comfortable the crew waited, watching the pulses of energy stream through the seams on the walls and ceiling passing the time with idle conversation.

She the liaison strode through the threshold there was a bit of relief in the air as they'd finally be getting this waiting over with.

"Hello, thank you for seeing me." Her voice was polite and sincere enough. She was attractive, in a geeky, librarian, techie kinda way with long black hair, pretty eyes, and stylish glasses. She wore the typical StarMech jumpsuit that appeared a bit more padded than usual which meant it was configured for zero-g environment, had a layer of CF weaving for protection, or both and she seemed to have the zipper tugged down just low enough to keep these negotiations from being boring. "I'm Bethany Chang, a chief engineer with StarMech and as you've already heard, we'd like to potentially, hire you."

Two men in combat gear (nothing heavy, but certainly not civilian grade stuff) followed her in and took their place to each side of the doorway. On their thighs were high powered pistols, but in their hands were stutter rifles. They used high powered bursts of compressed air to knock opponents unconscious. A non-lethal choice for most riot control officers and a decent way to handle ornery mercenaries.

As a sign of good faith Erebus allowed the stutter rifles as long as the pistols stayed holstered. Although they weren't a blood thirsty lot, the crew knew they could mop the floor with these guys if things turned ugly.

"Well, we're listening. Tell us the job, tell us the pay." Erebus grinned. "If that pretty little ass of yours is sore from bouncing on the hangar deck on your way out, you'll know we were insulted, Miss Chang."

She cleared her throat a bit intimidated and not to mention worried. "Please, call me Beth." She managed after a moment of collecting her thoughts.

"Based on reliable intel, six weeks ago a mining facility ceased communications. Cauldron Station," The gauntlet on her wrist lit up and projected a holomap of the Verge. A reticule homed in on a particular place outside the boundaries of the Verge and zoomed in on nothing but empty space. The reticule zoomed in again, again until finally a debris field, an area rich in minerals floating through space could be made out. After few more reticules a space station could be seen. Small by most standards but pretty impressive since it was build directly into the largest asteroid in the vicinity. "Several light years outside the Coulomb system is a mining facility that houses no less than one thousand personal. They're not responding to transmissions, and they've not sent a distress signal. We're unsure what's going on, but we're sure it won't be long before the Galactic Concord opens an investigation. We'll need you in case things get out of hand."

She leaned onto the table, giving the crew an eyeful of cleavage. "Simply put, we at StarMech want to get there and either solve this problem, or investigate it first. My men and I will accompany your crew. We're paying 27,000cds (Condord Dollars, or 'cds' for short) for the use of your ship and its Drivewave, plus 1,500cds per day for the use of you and your crew." She stood up and folded her arms. "So, any questions?"

Click to reveal..

Corso Only

(Insight) Intelligence - Business (1d20 +d0 = 3,+0 Total:3) Amazing success!

-The pay is way off for just a 'mining facility' that StarMech doesn't even seem to control... and wanting to impede a Concord investigation in the process? You smell bullshit. If you had to guess... StarMech is sending in 'Elite Recon' to gain control of the facility before the Galactic Condord does. How do you know this??? Simple... it's what you would be doing were you in their place right now.

Everyone Else

If someone has the stones for it, you can negotiate for more scratch. The pay amounts will be adjusted by a percentage based on whether you win or lose. Only one player may attempt it, and all have to live with his/her success or failure. If you win with a good or better I'll award 1 AP, but you must provide an RP post to back up your negotiations.

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After a brief glance around the table Gabriel opens the discussion, "Ok, I have a few. Why is someone who claims to be a chief engineer in charge of troops and on an investigation mission? And how many troops do you intend bringing with you to investigate something that presumably got the better of what you estimate as greater than a thousand personnel?"

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The two men at the door look at each other, but Beth fields the question. "A little early to be calling me a liar, don't you think? The systems within the station were designed by StarMech, I've been sent because I know how to bypass security in case o fan emergency or, God forbid, an administrative lockdown." She looks at Gabe and smiles politely. "I don't command troops, I have only my to men with me, assigned by my superiors to keep me safe from all the Verge has to offer... like... paranoid mercenaries."

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"Ahh, well. If you only have your bodyguards (he nods to the two by the door) that explains why you're not a field officier, but it still strikes me as strange that you are being sent to take charge of this situation with so few resources. I suppose that's why you'll be needing our help so much?" (with a smile)

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"Well, doesn't look like anyone objects." Erebus said after a moment of silence. "We'll take it. Finish your preperations and meet us here when your ready."

He looks to the crew. "Sorry, looks like leave is being cut short, paying the bills supersedes getting drunk and laid." With a grin he looks to Beth. "Do whatcha ya gotta do, we'll get things ready for departure."

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Once Beth and her cronies have left Gabe will comment to Erebus and Corso, "I would recommend making sure they are locked out of all systems but the entertainment functions. I wouldn't want a self-proclaimed 'chief engineer' poking about in the Mack's systems or our data."

In the meantime he will start getting the ship systems ready for departure, assuming that Beth will be supplying a course, but if he has enough information to work from, i.e. where the destination is, then Gabe will grab sometime to do a Navcognition route as well.

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"I will prepare the security protocols," Isis declares. "Not just on system access, but on physical access to the ship. Deckplans showing security zones as well as user access levels to computers and systems will be submitted within the hour. I will also check supply stocks and make sure we have sufficient food and water for the passenger load over expected timeframe."

She pauses for a precisely calculated interval to allow Erebus' brain to absorb all that.

"Will there be anything else you require of me?"

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"Yeah, alright." Erebus says with a nod to Shiro. He looks across the table "Good ideas Gabriel. She has no business in Engineering. Corso will, for the duration of the trip be permitted exclusive access. No one will be permitted unless accompanied by her and I don't either on the bridge unless Shiro or myself are present."

Casually he stood, grunting slightly and seeming to feign old age or weariness. "Let's get ol' Mack ready for go time. Y'all know what do to, get to it."

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