"To be fair, that printshop looked like it had some terrible electronic defenses.  I'm hoping our Union-Issued comms are a bit tougher to crack; but you're right."  Werner answered Sunder, "Why I didn't go into deep detail on what we found."

He looked around, "Off to Garfield's then.  Let's see if Captain Stavros' friend has heard anything useful."  Werner started walking.

Garfield's is a small pasta fusion restaurant located in the lower levels of Port Conroy. While Garfield's can be found on every IPS-N-controlled world, this establishment is popular for those “in the know” about Port Conroy. The restaurant is owned and operated by Juan Tismon, who functions as both manager and chef while serving customers from behind the wooden counter of the relatively small dining hall.

As a multi-planet franchise, Garfields is doing its best not to appear like one, encouraging its managers to personalize their restaurants depending on the world they are on. Juan, being an old miner, has decorated his restaurant with a plethora of old mining equipment. The crown jewel is a mech-sized pneumatic pickaxe suspended from the ceiling by thick chains.

Patrons can find Juan Tismon wearing a cartoonishly large chef’s hat while he jollily prepares a range of pasta dishes. From calamari lasagna to mole-rat spaghetti, the menu has a variety of local and offworld specialties to offer.

Pasta isn’t the only reason for visiting Garfields. Juan is one of the best-connected individuals on Havelburg, and especially knowledgeable on matters relating to Port Conroy. While nobody is too sure how the old ex-miner turned restaurant owner and chef is so well connected, the fact is that he has his finger on the pulse of the city.

When Werner, Sunder, and Gertrude enter the establishment, a small ringing bell by the door alerts Juan to your presence. He looks up from the dish he is cooking and greets you heartily.

"Hello! Welcome to Garfield's. My name's Juan, how may I help you?"

"Hi Juan. Werner Steinn."  He returned the greeting, "We just got off the ship a few hours ago and didn't the locals didn't waste any time pointing us in this direction.  In fact, Captain Stavros of the Dynast's Embrace said that you not only whip up the best bowl of noodles on Havelburg, but you're also the man to see if we wanted to learn about Port Conroy."  Werner glanced back at Sunder and Gertrude, "I don't know about these two, but I'd love to try your spiciest bowl.  And while we're here, if us newcomers couldn't get some info about Port Conroy from who we've been led to believe is one of the most well-connected fellows in town."

"We're with Union," It wasn't as though the Union-Branded Hardsuits didn't already advertise this fact, "And believe it or not our boss has already got us looking into some things they've heard since we landed here.  You wouldn't know about any local groups or figures who might be into the hacking game, do you?  Someone to keep on the lookout for?"  He continued,  "Seems there's been an NHP abducted straight out of a ship at the port.  Not your typical bit of larceny, and bad news for everyone as far as our boss is concerned.  Know anything we might be able to use, Juan?"

Just then the bell rang again and two equally familiar figures stepped in, Maya in her once-whites, closely followed by RT in his larger, contoured suit. Both were dust-sprinkled from their recent escapades in Upper.

RT raised a hand in greeting and ‘smiled’ at the three.

“Much cleaner down here.”

OOC: So Lower is like Upper in terms of support columns and all, but with a fully-lit sky (giant lamps? Artificial sun(s)? Sky projection maybe?), working ventilation and no dust, correct?

Any perticular style to the buildings and the city layout here?

Juan greets Maya and RT as they come in, waving from the back of the restaurant.



Juan comes out of the back, wearing his trademark chef's hat. "Ah! Lyran told me that you five were in town. Here, all of you folk's meals today are on the house. It's the least I can do." Juan quickly prepares a dish (which is incredibly, unimaginably, melt-your-face-off-and-light-your-tongue-on-fire spicy, yet one of the most delicious pasta dishes you've had) and slides it out to you. "If info is what you're looking for, you've come to the right place. I've been around the block a few times."



Juan's face hardens slightly, and he sighs wearily. "I'm not aware of any dedicated hacking groups, but the folks most likely to have that capability would be the Magenta Syndicate. It's not inconceivable that they have a hand in that sort of business, and they'd be the ones with the tech and the know-how to pull it off. And I heard about the NHPs. Look," Juan says, lowering his voice, "you folks didn't hear this from me. PCPA wanted to keep this quiet. There has been a string of NHP abductions over the past few months. The PCPA and the IPS-N government have been investigating internally, but they haven't had any success. The thing is, none of the NHPs ever end up in Upper. You'd think that someone would sell them at the Dustmarket - that'd be bad enough - but none of them end up there. The PCPA has been scrambling to try and keep this from Union's eyes, but by the looks of things, that ship has sailed, huh?"



Lower Conroy is a bustling and sprawling city built into the bedrock of Havelburg, with underground chambers, streets, parks, and other routes crisscrossing the subterrainian city. All of it is lit up by pale floodlight suns built into the ceiling. As it was built out of a glorified compound of industrial warehouses, workshops, and smelters from it's days as an IPS-N mining program, Lower Conroy still bears the signs of thet past, with its buildings almost universally belonging to one of the many standardized patterns IPS-N provides. Partially as a result from its distance from the surface, and partially as a result of the increased amount of money sunk into it, Lower Conroy is the cleanest and most environmentally secure place on Havelburg since the disaster.
This message had punctuation tweaked by the GM at 00:39, Wed 08 May.

Having divested herself of her newly-acquired cowl, Maya loosened her respirator and let it hang low down about her neck. She shook her hair out like a wet dog and worked her jaw, even bringing a hand up to her chin to nurse it. The mask had pressed shallow lines into her flesh.

"Well yeah," she threw RT's way, clearly in good spirits. "I’d be impressed if it wasn't."

---

Maya sidled up by Werner, listening intently as Juan said his piece. She glanced back RT’s way at the mention of the Magenta Syndicate, a brief but meaningful look shared, and by the time Juan had rounded things out her face had taken on a thoughtful expression. She clicked her tongue.

"So what... you reckon whoever's behind this is keeping the NHPs somewhere on-world on the quiet rather than trying to find a buyer? I guess that'd explain why they didn't bother covering up how they did the job. Doesn't matter if there's a trail if it goes cold right from the off."

Belatedly she offered Juan a shallow nod. “Maya, by the way. Vost.”

Juan nods in turn. "Nice to meet you. And that's my best guess. What they'd be doing with them could be anyone's guess. NHPs are powerful people, in more ways than one."

Juan continues to check in on some of the other dishes he has cooking. "Do the rest of you want anything?"

"Milk," RT furnished after having tasted the dish, helmet opened and raised back. His face remained impassive, demeanor nonplussed, but there was a distinctive redness to it now and his breathing had changed. "Possibly bread. Lots and lots of bread."

As usual the hologram of Sunder projected around the drone that occupies her chair waves away any offer of whatever the place calls food, but she also does not engage in the idle chatter, presumably her focus is still on the hardsuit parked outside and or whatever hacking project she needs to do in order to get the tracking program operational.

The tracking program is deciphered with ease, the poor E-security allowing you to isolate the missing subaltern's signal. A specific signal frequency is needed to locate the subaltern, but once the outlier signals are filtered out, it's a simple matter of brute-forcing the rest of them until you find the one that fits.

The tracking program activates and reveals the location of the missing subaltern - the outskirts of Upper.

Little was added to the conversation as Werner attacked the spicy noodles.  "It's like eating a reactor in meltdown."  He continued eating the noodles, "I can't get enough; it feels like my mouth is in the pilot's seat."  A napkin wiped his nose, "This is the best bowl I've had in years.  Great stuff Juan."

"I'm also of the idea that selling these kidnapped NHPs is not the goal here."  Werner slowed down on the bowl of spicy noodles as he got back into the matter at hand.  "Although our boss is going to want to hear that this has been going on for months.  I can think of a few things someone might be collecting NHPs for; all of them nefarious."

"How big is this Magenta Syndicate?  Seems like they're a known entity around here; I would think that if they were involved with kidnapping NHPs, they would have been doing it for a long time already."  His bowl of noodles finished, Werner pushed the bow away, "And I doubt they would want the kind of attention it would get them from Union."  He thought for a moment, idly tapping the counter.

"Do you know anything about how these other kidnappings were pulled off?"  Werner asked Juan, perking up suddenly, "Could lead us in the right direction.  Or at least provide some insight. Maybe we can track down some of the other victims as well."

"And do they - the victims - have anything in common?" RT added on, capping that with a friendly nod of the head, similar to Maya's earlier one: "RT."

Meanwhile the internal inferno raged on.

“And...” Maya leaned in, slinging an arm around RT’s shoulders “… who is it that’s getting hit? Is it just civilian targets or have they taken a shot at anything riskier?”

She lounged, enjoying the support, before a thought came to her and she stirred. Maya flagged down Juan with two fingers: “You can mark me down for whatever’s popular with your regulars. Good way to learn about a place, you know.”

Juan takes the bowl and shuttles it back to the kitchen to be cleaned, before returning and leaning onto his side of the counter, listening intently to you and the group.

"The Syndicate is big. It mainly operates here in Port Conroy, but it's got feelers out in most of the other cities left on Havelburg. They've had 10 years to expand and grow here, now that the PCPA won't touch Upper. It's to the point that they are functionally the government of Upper Conroy."



Juan nods in an affirmative, sliding RT a cup of soy milk and a plate of some really good-tasting sourdough with a side of butter, before continuing.

"From what I've heard, most in recent times have been kidnapped through hacked maintenance subalterns. Who specifically have been targeted is unfortunately information I lack. I do know that it isn't all ships - there's been some local targets as well."



Juan returns the nod before responding.

"Nice to meet you, RT. And short of having missing NHPs, I couldn't tell you. I've heard there's been ships, a couple of factories, a cargo lander, but nothing I can 100% confirm."



Juan passes you a simple pasta carbonara, with locally-made spaghetti, some cheese, and bacon combined into a delicious dish.

"As far as I know, it's just been civilian targets. I think that if they took a stab at a military installation things would get ugly really fast."
This message was last edited by the GM at 15:47, Sat 11 May.

Backtracking a bit since I missed this:

"Oh? Like what?" RT had been wondering about that. Somewhat.


"We saw some of that up there in the market," the young pilot confirmed with a nod to Juan, "They certainly filled-in the policing role... And they have Shermans."

Although they hadn't seen those yet.


"I would call you a yellow coward, but I'm too hungry right now."

RT went to say something about cowardice... and then re-considered. He went on to twirl and eat from his far-spicer dish instead, trying for different combinations and ratios of bread/butter/pasta/milk, see if he could survive to see the bottom of that bowl.

A man on a mission!

EDIT = *I* may not have learned my lesson, but I think RT would be a little more cautious following the previous discussion? :)


Hm... "Anything new happen in that same peroid? Say somebody new jumping on the scene? A new discovery?"

Ooc: Looking for a potential client that hired the MS for those kidnappings, and/or a triggering event that would suddenly require NHPs?
This message was last edited by the player at 23:26, Sun 12 May.

While the others are busy eating Sunder doesn't worry about rushing herself so she double checks her work, the signals, and makes sure the tracking process can't be done in reverse to warn their target. Only after all of that has been settled does she push an update to everyone's personal maps so they can see the location as it updates by whatever method they use best.

Juan shrugs before speaking. "I haven't heard anything on that end - a new face on the block capable of what's been going on doesn't exactly slip under the radar easily. My bet is that whoever is pulling this off has been here a while - if not the Syndicate, then someone or a group of someones with similar influence. Who that could be aside from the Syndicate, I'm not sure. The local IPS-N folks don't strike me as the kind to take NHPs, and I can't think of any solos with that capability."

"Ah." A bit disapointing, that. Still.... RT raised a hand in a familiar signal- Suddenly twirled it about a bit as if loosing momentum... and then went on: "Mind if I place a call? Have a friend who might be interested in this."

Better? he gestured at Vee?

If the Juan agrees, RT will place a call to Rio, helmet closed so only those with Union comms can hear him:

"Thunder here. Word on the street is that there's been a rash of NHP kidnappings in the past few months, actually, not just Emily? All types. Might have been some before too, but more discrete?" Who knows? "Whatever this is seems to be accelerating anyway... Maybe White Hat can get us details on each of those past incidents, see if Data Analysis can extract anything from it?"

By which he meant Rio's data analysis.(Weight AND near-godlike computing power, that was Union for you, sure)


RT's eyes widenned... "And this came from where?"
This message was last edited by the player at 00:40, Tue 14 May.

"Picture an NHP in a cascade state.  No offense to present company of course, but they can become unpredictable.  Like a human having a psychotic break, but with more options and a lot more power."  Werner answered RT's question, "It's bad enough on the individual scale, but what if someone were to steer dozens of NHPs into a cascade on purpose, even brainwash them and give them direction?  Now we've gone from dangerous to near-apocalyptic."

Werner paused while RT updated the Rio Grande, then closed his helmet to see his HUD upon receiving a tracking update.  "Sunder's a wizard."  He mentioned, nodding after opening up the face shield again.  "Looks like we have a new lead to follow."
This message was last edited by the player at 22:51, Tue 14 May.

Yeah and: "And unshackled NHPs sometimes show strange powers, don't they?" RT recalled from late-night conversations, getting excited. "Inject visions of past, future and could-have-beens into people's head, twist the world around them like putty, all that paracausal stuff..." Or so the stories went. "Is that what we're looking for here?"

Scary stuff all around, if so.


Which didn't explain a thing. "But- but how? When? Where?"

And perhaps most importantly: "Do you happen to know where this is, my friend?" To Juan while pointing at the slowing pulsing point on his data slate. There. There!

In reply to Rolling Thunder (msg # 103):

Almost on que, a rough link is forced through to your comms, connecting the group with White Hat. Though interference tinges it with static, Tumble's smooth voice makes it through.

++Are we through, Alphie? Oh good, let me see it for a sec. This is White Hat to the Blue Immortals, are you there?++

---

Juan's face gains a look of concern as he looks at the location given. He rubs his chin, then responds. "That's Dustbranded territory, in Upper's outskirts. They're one of the remnant gangs left over after the Syndicate came in. Buncha stimmers with stolen industrial frames and delusions of grandeur. They might be a bunch of raving lunatics, but if you're going to be heading into their territory, don't underestimate them."
This message was lightly edited by the GM at 00:00, Fri 17 May.

RT did his best not to look too smugly at the older man: that was his name right there. He'd come up with it after a long, long evening of moderate drinking and playing around in the squad barracks

("But none of us are blue!" Werner had exclaimed.

"Blue is hope, you know: like Cradle's sky?" he'd countered.

"I still say Chicxulub is a much better name,"

"My highlights are blue," Sunder had said.

And that had been that.)

"Blue Immortals copy. Go ahead, White Hat. How is it going over there, Tumble-man?" He still liked that guy.
This message was last edited by the player at 00:22, Fri 17 May.

Maya looked up, an errant bead of sauce marking the corner of her mouth. A thoughtful expression marked her features, and it lingered even as her pink tongue flashed out to swipe her lips clean.

“So what I’m getting here...” she opened, gesturing Werner’s way with her fork, “… is that we’re facing down a total shitshow, and if the authorities haven’t shut things down so far then it’s damn likely whatever nightmare scenario’s in the works’ll go off without a hitch. They’re just waiting to hit critical mass or something – get everything where it needs to be?” A shrug. “Maybe we’ve got that going for us at least. It’s got to feel like they’ve got all the time in the world, no pressure.”

---

As for Juan’s new information…

“Does this seem like something them lot – Dustbranded – would be behind, because I’m not exactly getting mastermind from that? Have you ever heard of them making some kind of move against Lower, let alone something clean and careful like this?” Maya threw out her arms. “’cause you can’t count out crazy, but I’d go for a third-party hiding on their turf before assuming guys with a grudge against Syndicate would play this kind of long game.”

"The reverse maybe?" RT suggested with an I Don't Know shrug. "Magentas trying to point fingers that way if anybody followed the sub out the Embrace?"

Truth be told, he'd sort of been hoping the blip was just sitting there in the basement of that casino of theirs... That would have simplified things.

Ah well... On the bright side: "Combat insertion with full mounts?" Finger taping that spot on the map.

Surrender's first live drop. RT couldn't hide his excitment.
This message was last edited by the player at 23:02, Fri 17 May.

"It wouldn't be the first time a new player moved into an area and hired local muscle."  Werner said in response to the revelation of this Dustbranded gang.  "Assuming our hacker/kidnapper isn't a local themselves.  I'm still not convinced the Magentas are part of this scheme; but I can't imagine they would frown on us kicking around one of their rivals."  He nodded, clearly eager to test out his newest frame modifications, "I vote combat drop.  I doubt these Dustbranded would answer any of our questions unless they were staring down the chamber of a heavy laser anyway.  If we don't learn what we need, we can still parlay the attack into a favor from the Magenta Syndicate."

"The Port Authority, and probably IPS-N, might want to know what we're up to if they detect us making a combat drop in the area.  Luckily for us, Union didn't hire us as diplomats."  Werner nodded towards RT's active communicator, "Gonna need to get marching orders from the boss before we pull the trigger though.  You guys pick any of that up, White Hat?"
This message was last edited by the player at 14:11, Yesterday.