That pause though...

RT gestured. "Sorry?" For not understanding what this is about? He turned back around, black stripes evident on the back of his arms, and resumed trudging after Sunder's pushed coordinates, towards the Embrace's boarding ramp (Ladder? Stairs?). In a lighter tone: "You did shoot me first though, just so you know."

"Shooting your squaddies is a team-building exercise.  Like trust falls and Secret Santa."  Werner interjected, "Live-fire training for friendly fire incidents.  All these doom-lasers and missile barrages shooting every which way, we can't always be certain who is in the blast radius."  He paused, "Of course, that was the OpFor doing the friendly kills in our last mission, so good on them for that."

"And abount being too far gone to fix..."  Werner's face shield was opaque but the grin was audible, "They started calling me 'Fossil' for more reason than one, I'll have you know.  I think Old Man just didn't have enough oomph behind it."  He chuckled, "You think teaching an old dog is hard, try a dinosaur."

"So did they tell us whether this was a diplomatic, best-behavior kind of meeting?"  It appeared they had arrived, "Should have put on a suit and tie under this hardsuit.  Oh well, the civvie captain is probably expecting a group of ruffians if we have any sort of reputation at all."
This message was last edited by the player at 23:31, Sat 23 Mar.

Backtracking a bit:

"See?" RT told Maya with a laughing ping Werner's way. Plus, he'd asked *Werner* a question: Can't really blame a mine for exploding when you go out of your way to step on it, now can you...?

And, about Gertrude... You're too easy on her, said his eyes, if not unkindly.

Not that he really cared or anything.

---

RT 'frowned', trying to figure it out even as as his gaze patrolled through the dust wiping around him and the others...

Still a lot he didn't understand about her. She about him... They never had finished that conversation...

Oh.

He'd just joked about dying again, hadn't he?

... Ah Crap.

Foot in mouth. Insert up to knee.


Yeah. Distracted by his other thoughts. "I was pretty ruthless there at the end wasn't I...?" By which the others - those that had been there anyway - knew he meant Red.

Thinking about it didn't lighten his mood any: the things that had to have happened to turn him into Me... *


"We're armed," RT pointed out, one feet finally clanking onto the composites of a rising ramp he could barely see. That meant business.

He triggered general comms: "Dynast's Embrace, Blue Immortals on your boarding ramp." **


* = I'm thinking RT would likely have already discussed/mentioned this with Werner in a getting-pissed session, away from Maya if that's alright with you Werner? Sunder can have been there too/overheard if she wants. (He won't have brought it up to Maya on his own, although he would have done his best to discuss it honestly if she did... Some complex feelings there.)

** = Correct me, I dare you :D (Seriously though: will swap-in anything else we agree on; I'm thinking Maya might not be too happy with 'Immortals' maybe?). Or react to it IC, as you will
This message was last edited by the player at 14:51, Sun 24 Mar.

A gruff voice replies over the comms.

"Roger that, I'll open her up."

The door to the Dynast's airlock opens up, allowing the group to make their way inside. The Dynast’s Embrace, despite its haughty name, amounts to no more than a cargo hauler and merchant vessel, dealing in both raw materials and luxury goods. Its captain, Lyran Stavros, is a big, gruff-looking man who greets the group the moment they step through the ship’s airlock, albeit with a dejected look on his face. His reddish hair is unkempt and he wears a battered-looking flight suit with what appears to be coffee stains on it.

"Welcome to the Dynast's Embrace. I'm Captain Stavros. Pleased to meet you."

Stavros gestures for the group to follow him into the ship, ushering them into a cramped conference room with barely enough space to fit everyone. The Embrace has a lived-in feel, and coffee is silently brewing in a corner as a small orange feline sits in another, observing the newcomers with three vertically-arrayed eyes.

Stavros sits down at the small table with a grunt, offering the group seats around it. With a sigh, he begins to outline the current situation.

"The original plan for us and the Rio Grande was to be leaving and on our way within the next 24 standard hours. Unfortunately, our departure has been postponed indefinitely. I am aware that this is a breach of our agreement between us and the Grande, but there have been..." He hesitates here and inhales sharply, "... extenuating circumstances. I've made the Grande aware that I am willing to find another ship to accompany them, but I am also aware that we are on a relatively accelerated schedule."

The more perceptive members of the group may notice the captain's clenched hands start to shake as he recounts the next section.

"I'm sure you may be wondering why my ship can't leave, and why you were sent over from  the Grande. That would be because she... our shipboard NHP, Emily, was kidnapped from the ship. I... I wanted to ask you to help find her. Your reputation preceded you, and I figured that if anyone here could find her, people with your skillsets would be the ones to ask. Assuming you are willing to help, I have the vid-feed of it from the security cams, if you need it."

Having left her hard suit in the cargo compartment near the main boarding ramp Sunder accompanies the captain to the conference room in the form of the hologram projecting drone, thus reducing the cramped nature of the room a bit.

Although u concerned by the change in plans Sunder's hologram leans forward in a very good reproduction of intrigued body language to address the captain's problem.

"I can process that for you if it can be put on a portable drive."

RT politely cracked his suit, rounded helm folding back and up with a hiss of equalizing pressure, freeing most of his head to the ship's recycled air. The dog swayed on its horizontal chain.

"Rolling Thunder." He shook the captain's hand, armored grip firm but no more. "You can call me RT." And then he just stepped back.


If Sunder doesn't introduce herself (as seen probable ;) ), he'll add at the end:
"Sunder, our resident tech specialist."

Maya freed herself from her helmet just the same, running hand through the mess it'd made of her hair ... and only succeeding at turning it into a completely different mess. She didn't seem all that bothered either way.

"Vost, Maya," she announced herself with a nod (and no further pleasantries). Her free hand gestured Sunder's way. "So I know it'll be on the tape, but how'd someone pull off lifting an NHP like that? Sounds like a hell of a security breach."
This message was last edited by the player at 23:28, Sun 24 Mar.

Stavros nods to each group member as they introduce themselves. He runs his hand through his hair as he replies to Maya's question.

"That's the thing. It wasn't someone, it was something. One of the spaceport maintenance subalterns - the same as the ones working on any of the other ships - just walked into here and cut her casket out of the ship. I'll show you, just give me a second."

Stavros leans over and taps at a console built into the table. A projector activates in the center of the table, showing grainy, soundless footage as the lights in the conference room dim slightly to allow for better viewing.

"I'll send it to Sunder as well," Stavros says, "but I'm sorry, I have to leave for a bit. I don't think I can watch this again. I'll come back in once it's over."

The projector plays. The feed starts with the subaltern working amongst similar models away in the engine room, calibrating, scanning, and adjusting machinery before seemingly becoming startled as if called by someone. It ceases work and, with jerky motions, exits the engine room. The subaltern is bulky, with stumpy legs and three arms outfitted with various tools, plasma cutters, pneumatic shears, and rivet cannons. It enters the corridor leading to Emily’s casket chamber. A holographic projection appears in front of the subaltern, seemingly questioning it. The bulky automaton barrels through the projection, distorting it for a moment before Emily reforms in its wake, visibly startled. As the subaltern continues to move toward the casket chamber, the bulkhead protecting slams down, likely triggered by Emily herself to stop it. Faced with the obstacle, the subaltern engages its fusion cutters and steadily dismantles the bulkhead. Emily stands behind it and appears to shout at it. It takes the subaltern five minutes to dismantle the shutter and free the doorway. Inside the chamber Emily has positioned her projection in front of her casket, arms outstretched as if to stop the machine. Once more the subaltern barrels through, distorting the projection
for a moment. It employs pneumatic shears to disconnect Emily’s casket, each disconnected coupling making Emily’s hologram – now aghast and on her
knees – more and more transparent. As the last coupling is sheared apart Emily vanishes. The subaltern removes the casket, almost gingerly, and strides out of the chamber, prize in hand. The remaining footage shows it exiting the ship, corridor by corridor, before stepping out onto the dust-choked space port and disappearing in the haze.

Stavros returns once the feed concludes, and his distress is plain to see. He sits back down and puts his head in his hands for a moment, then starts to speak again, fury starting to build in his voice.

"I initially tried to speak to the Port Conroy Port Authority, but they didn't do anything. They just sent some of their goons when I called them, but they just shrugged their shoulders and moved on, saying there was 'nothing they could do at that time.' The Dynast's Embrace isn't an IPS-N chartered vessel, and I was a dumbass and didn't buy into the Havelburg security insurance before landing here. Bastards still charged me for showing up and shrugging their shoulders, though."

Stavros sighs again, and seems to almost shrink in his chair.

"It's been eight hours. The crew and I had left for Lower Conroy when this happened. We had a long journey here... we thought we could relax. God, she... she called us over the Omninet when it happened. Said something was wrong, then cut out into static. We called the PCPA and tried to get back, but between the elevators and the damned hardsuits, we couldn't make it."

"Hold up.  They just walked right in, spent the better part of five minutes carving in...  And she only got a chance to give a shout before getting cut off?"  Zephyr asked, a moment after her visor popped open.  "That doesn't really add up, you had someone who apparently had your system by the throat, and they didn't bother cleaning up after themselves?  Good enough to cut off your communications and just walk in and carve Miss Emily out of there, but they left evidence that this happened behind?"

Her lips purse together, and she frowns.  "That smacks of someone trying to play games.  Is it supposed to be bait?  Or is this proof of ransom?  I mean, I'd give it a crack myself on the off-chance they left something behind because they were getting fancy--but I'm not really a specialist in the field either."

Her Hardsuit's arms cross together, her mind wandering while she mulled the whole thing over.  "Real problem is what they're hoping to gain out of this.  If they wanted to screw you over in particular, they could have done a lot worse than this.  If they just wanted to kidnap her for some reason, they should have better covered their tracks.  Is it bait for a trap or are they going to make a ransom demand next."

She pauses then, and seems to snap out of her verbal contemplations. "Oh!  Right, Zephyr here"  Her Hardsuit gives a little wave--which looks a little awkward given its bulk admittedly, but it's the thought that counts.  "I'm just sort of the rookie here, I'm just trying to lay my thoughts out while the specialist gets to work on this!"

The hologram of Sunder shakes her head sadly as she recording players out.  When it is done the projector drone appears to settle in her outstretched hand as an offering to the captain as she explains.

"This is another example of the problems inherent in not allowing an NHS to manage their own safety.

If you would like I can use this drone to connect directly to your systems and see if there are any other hidden cashes of information left behind, or explanations for the communications blackout that happened so suddenly."

"Not that the evidence here gives us much to go on."  Werner's face shield retracted into the hardsuit once they were inside, but he kept the full suit on.  He rubbed the side of his helmet after viewing the abduction tape.  "It looks pretty clear to me that some off-site hacker took control of that maintenance unit.  It had to be someone who knew that the crew was off-ship at the time too; that subaltern wouldn't have been able to stand up to even civilian grade weaponry for long.  Those things aren't built to fight."

"Their tracks seem pretty well covered to me."  Werner responded to Gertrude, "A faceless maintenance subaltern was hacked from offsite.  They struck during a dust storm so the unit won't leave any tracks to follow.  No one was here to witness or intervene in the abduction; and this recording tells us that they don't care we know they are capable of taking control of machinery for nefarious purpose."  He nodded, "Abducting Emily looks like the entire purpose here.  I think someone is out to kidnap NHPs."

"The Port Authority likely doesn't care, because of their protection racket...or 'Security Insurance' anyway."  He scoffed, then continued, "But I doubt they would abduct an NHP in retribution.  They don't want to get into that kind of trouble with Union."  Werner crossed his arms, "IPS-N is another big player around here, but abducting NHPs isn't their style.  And it's doubtful they would have Dynast's Embrace even on their radar.  So we're looking for a person or group new and unknown around here.  Who has resources and technical prowess."  He turned to Sunder, addressing her holo-projection, "You've used HORUS code to take control of enemy machines on the battlefield.  Think what was employed here is similar?"

"We may need to canvass the port and ascertain whether other ships have had similar problems."

Stavros's face shows another emotion, somewhere between anger and pained acknowledgement of his failure. His jaw works, but he only agrees to let you have a look around the ship's systems. If you do, unfortunately not much is apparent from here. The hacker was either good enough to cover their tracks, or something else was interfering with communications. What may strike you as most likely is that Emily attempted to stop the subaltern herself, then contacted the rest of the crew only when it was apparent that there was no other option.



"There's a few ways you could go about that, plus being able to try to track down a lead," Stavros adds, "at least that I can think of. Creighton's Printshop is where the subalterns are from - you could apply some pressure and see if something cracks. The Dustmarket in Upper Conroy could also provide some answers. Maybe whoever abducted Emily pawned her casket off? You could also ask Juan Tismon - He's an old friend of mine, runs the local Garfield's in Lower Conroy. He knows a lot about what's going on here."

From his now-usual spot next to Maya RT raised a hand for attention: "Excuse me. She does seem to be important to you." She did, didn't she? "But because of that, wouldn't a PI be more your speed, sir?" the young soldier inquired, feeling a bit out of his depth. "I mean, they clearly didnt come in here with mechs..."

(And what was it with kidnapping people these days? Some sort of fashion trend? )
This message was last edited by the player at 12:45, Tue 26 Mar.

Stavros nods at the question.

"She is. Very much so. But PI's aren't exactly common, and Port Conroy can be a hostile place. It seemed to me that an available team of Lancers with a history of finding and bringing back missing people was the best option I had."

Stavros pauses for a moment and wrings his hands, staring at the table. He looks back up at the group before continuing.

"Look, I know I'm asking a lot. But I'm willing to do whatever it takes to help you get Emily back from whoever took her. I'll pay for your stay, your mechs, any expenses you accrue, anything. Just get her back. Please."

"We also can't discount that Dynast's Embrace was targeted because of its upcoming mission with the Rio Grande."  Werner added.  "That makes this a Union problem; and by extension, ours."

"Looks like it's time to get our detective hats on."
This message was last edited by the player at 22:45, Mon 25 Mar.

Oh. So the man was grasping at straws.

AND they were cursed.

In reply to Werner Steinn (msg # 34):

A sideways nod to Werner - good point there.

Sympathy on RT's face and body when he turned back to Stavros, for those who could read it there... Not unkindly: "So you told Rio and Captain Farris about the kidnapping then. They are aware?"

He simultaneously pushed a message to Kim, Farris and Rio: How much effort should we put into recovering the kidnap victim? By which he meant How important is this to Rio...

He'll share the response with the rest of the squad.
This message was last edited by the player at 14:15, Tue 26 Mar.

Stavros clasps his hands together and nods.

"They are."

Rio's reply comes in quickly, the digital message playing in your HUD.

++ Do whatever you need to do. Even aside from the kidnapping, a missing NHP is a problem that needs to be dealt with ASAP. I can hold down the fort on the Grande, have Garcia and his marines keep boots on the ground in case someone shows up here in the meantime. But you keep focus on finding Emily. ++

That wasn't as long an answer as RT was expecting, obviously.

He'd just started opening his mouth for more when Rio's reply came in.

(...)

"Looks like they're treating it like a possible attack," RT summarized for the others. He fired back a short confirmation ping Rio's way. "Posibly serial? It... It seems more personal to me, but..."

But he'd been wrong before. Lots of times...

What if it wasn't?

Should we warm other NHPs on planet? he pushed back to Rio.

Meanwhile this had acquired a brand new urgency. For him at least.

Right: "So what do we do now?" This wasn't his field - at all - but... heck: "Maybe the subalterne's the easiest way to go here...?" They did have Werner and Sunder on the team, as a steady look to both of them confirmed...
This message was last edited by the player at 22:30, Tue 26 Mar.

Rio quickly sends another message back, the text scrolling in the corner of your field of view.

++ I don't think we should raise alarm bells just yet. We don't know for sure if there are other cases happening - this is a precaution. Keep it in the back of your head though, just in case. ++
This message was last edited by the GM at 22:55, Tue 26 Mar.

“Well I’d say that depends…” Maya began, turning her attention back to Stavros.

“You mind filling us in about those places we should look up: Printshop, Duskmarket, Garfield’s?” She ventured over folded arms. Her thoughts were on clear display: why am I having to drag this out of you? “Doesn’t sound like we’ll have much time to case them ourselves, so I don't want to just go in blind. Better to have the right person asking the right questions, you know?"

Stavros agrees, apologizing for not filling you in on Port Conroy (his mental state hasn't been the best, and he had expected the Grande's crew to fill you in).

The city of Port Conroy is split into three main sections: Lower Conroy, Upper Conroy, and the Surface.

Bustling and sprawling, Lower Conroy is dug deep into Havelburg’s bedrock. Vast subterranean chambers and corridors, streets, and even parks, are all constantly illuminated by pale floodlight suns installed in the ceilings. Administered and supervised by IPS-N, Lower Conroy is undoubtedly the safest, cleanest, and most environmentally secure place on Havelburg since the Disaster. Even so, it doesn’t hold a candle to the amenities and services available in the heart of Union space. Connected to the various launch and landing pads on the surface via ultrafast elevators, it has become a maze of corridors and hallways. Once a glorified compound for warehouses, manufacturing plants, and smelters, it has evolved into a city with over three million inhabitants. Most people whose settlements became dustgraves found refuge in Lower Conroy’s cavernous halls, quadrupling the city’s population in just a few years after dustfall became commonplace. While this transitional period posed many problems, the people of Havelburg showed remarkable unity in the face of a crisis. This, coupled with generous IPS-N funding and material support, has stabilized the situation for the population.

Upper Conroy is Lower Conroy’s opposite. Built close to and on the surface of the planet, it lacks the environmental protection needed to withstand the near-constant dustfall. While some people still live here, they are few and far between and usually have their own reasons for doing so – often tied to the fact that law enforcement has long since abandoned the upper layers of the city, leaving a vacuum filled by gangs and criminals. Not quite a dustgrave, the oppressive external environment nevertheless makes itself known throughout the upper levels. Going outside without a breathing apparatus is all but impossible and streets are often blocked off by dunes of dust, constantly reshaping the layout of Upper Conroy. Having fallen into disrepair over the past decade, most elevator shafts connecting the upper levels have long since broken down. They can still be accessed via various maintenance shafts and hatches which, while nominally locked and sealed, are too numerous to permanently secure. While the buildings of Upper Conroy are slowly crumbling under ever-growing amounts of dust, it has become home to Port Conroy’s criminal “Upper underworld”. This is partly due to its proximity to the surface-level spaceport, its landing and launch pads just above Upper Conroy, as well as its de facto status as a lawless zone. This has encouraged smugglers to offload their merchandise here, where it is either stored to be picked up by different ships or distributed directly and discreetly throughout the city. If you’re looking for anything illicit on Havelburg, chances are you can probably find it in Upper Conroy.

The Surface is just that – those external parts of Port Conroy originally designed as a spaceport. Landing and launchpads stretch on for miles over an enormous flat plane constantly patrolled by blow drones, their large frames outfitted with oversized fans, perpetually working to clear the spaceport of any dust that might impede the constant stellar traffic. While this ensures that the flow of ships is never disrupted, it also compounds the problems of Upper Conroy, which receives the runoff cleared from the spaceport premises. With ships and freighters coming and going every day, Port Conroy has, despite the hardships of recent years, maintained its status as an important economic asset for IPS-N’s mining branch. Overseen directly by the PCPA, the spaceport is technically a different jurisdiction to Lower Conroy and is often seen as somewhat stricter. In addition to providing law enforcement, the PCPA governs all traffic to and from orbit, as well as the convoys that bring resources from all over the planet. If Port Conroy is the heart of Havelburg, its surface-level facilities and the PCPA are what make it beat in the first place.

Locations (That you/Stavros would know about) by District:

Lower:

Garfields - : Interplanetary chain restaurant pretending not to be. Mainly known for its variety of fusion pasta dishes. This franchise is owned by Juan Tismon, who was a miner and prospector in a previous life.

Upper:

Dustmarket - Gray- and black-market bazaar. Vendors wrap themselves in flimsy enviro-tents to protect themselves and their wares from the near constant dust showers. Almost anything can be found here, including milspec gear.

Outskirts - The dilapidated outskirts of Upper are in even worse shape than the rest of it due to greater exposure to the environment.

Surface:

The Tower - The Tower: Headquarters of the PCPA; the nerve center of Port Conroy’s vast surface spaceport.

Dynast’s Embrace - The ship that was supposed to accompany the Rio Grande off Havelburg, currently stranded on its launchpad after the abduction of its NHP.

Creighton’s Printshop - : Extensive printing facility, usually used in the repair of ships; it offers its services to private individuals as well. Does some shady business right under the PCPA’s nose, supplying Upper Conroy with whatever printed parts they require to keep their machinery operational.
This message was last edited by the GM at 00:18, Wed 27 Mar.

"Sounds like we have a few options to search for leads.  The printshop and the Dustmarket both sound promising."  Werner looked around the squad, "I say we split into two groups and check out both.  Meet at Garfield's when we're through to share what we found and get some noodles; then see if Captain Stavros' friend Juan can help while we're there."

"They say investigating is all about the legwork, don't they?"
This message was last edited by the player at 07:59, Wed 27 Mar.

Hm. By his looks RT sort of disagreed with that... A lot actually.

A quick glance at Stavros. Didn't feel quite right to speak about it in mixed company... But this was important, damn it.

Not looking very comfortable. "I don't know, I sort of disagree with that?" RT gestured, "I mean they've got to know we're going to be looking for them, right? So no disadvantages in having other NHPs on high alert if they're done kidnapping people, and *every* disadvantage if they're not done..."  Right?

Was he crazy?

---

A hand on the back of Maya's shoulder: "What do you think, Vee? Print shop?"

They were going together, obviously, wherever it was.
This message was last edited by the player at 17:29, Wed 27 Mar.

Rio sends another reply, the text continuing to stream through your field of view.

++ I will warn the other NHPs, but 'lighting the beacons' and putting out a large-scale warning could alert the culprit and cause them to flee before you get a chance to find them. This is a situation I'd like to avoid. ++
This message was last edited by the GM at 14:38, Wed 27 Mar.

As the little drone disconnects from the ship's systems Sunder's hologram returns to its more animated presentation, rather than the pensive semi static and focused facial expression it has had for the last minute or so.

”It looks like we won't find anything else here, if we are going to split into groups I doubt I will be of any use in the market place so I should go with the group headed for the print shop.”