Chapter 3 - The package

She had a name and a place. That should be useful at least. They probably wouldn't get anything else out of him unless a medic stepped in forthrightly. The blood was seeping over her hand, so she slid the knife into her belt and then placed her right hand over her slick left one in an attempt to try and keep some more of the blood from escaping.

Leaning back with her head, she saw an older male enter, ask Elan about her and then move on toward the cabin. Someone would definitely be needed there soon.
In a loud voice, she announced from her position crouched over the bleeding body.
"This turnkin, Cheng I think you called him, isn't long for this world. Do you have a medic, or any supplies with you? He might have more useful stuff in his bap yet."

Faanku wrote:

"Believe me, Ms Chen; for the next few hours you'll feel like you can do whatever you please." Rena gives Taelor one of her customary winks as she clips the end of her suture away, leaving a clean stitch that's already barely visible.
"Just don't get too used to it, my supplies have been dwindling ever since I left for Astyoc."

"I hope I won't have to," Taelor says with a grin. "I'd prefer fights to the death to be more on the occasional side."

Nitafrong wrote:

In a loud voice, she announced from her position crouched over the bleeding body. "This turnkin, Cheng I think you called him, isn't long for this world. Do you have a medic, or any supplies with you? He might have more useful stuff in his bap yet."

She cocks her head towards the door. "I think you best go help our new friend."

After the doc disappears through the door next to the bar. Taelor finds herself alone on the deck. If it wasn't for the dead body resting in a pool of blood, it'd be really nice. She pulls her jacket back on and goes looking for something to cover the body. She finds some tarps, probably used to cover the lounger chairs, and drags them back to the cabin.

When she sees Ilic's crumpled form, she gets the sudden urge to throw up. He's lying in what would be a very uncomfortable position for someone alive and not extremely flexible. The pool of blood has spread across the floor, sloshed around by the boat's gentle swaying. She takes a few deep breaths, waiting for the feeling to pass, then moves closer puts the tarps down on top of the cooling corpse.

Elan stares grimly at Lola's knifework. Guns operate remotely but knives are so... personal. Laser blasts can burn and smell bad, but they're comparatively antiseptic and don't leave big pools of blood. They're also quick and don't have the victim clutching their throat as they consciously grasp that their life is draining out of them.

Elan is no assassin, even though he's pretty good at it. He's no hardened killer, preferring to leave folks alive to minimize the legal complications and the desire for revenge. He'd rather take a wallet than a life, but he's not exactly feeling guilty about what just transpired.

He steps past Graham, jerking his thumb over his shoulder to indicate the controls.

"Rena, if you please," he says to the doc while she works on Taelor. The tilt of his head and the tone of his voice suggest that he'd like her to follow him presently.

"Everyone, this is Lola," indicating the woman with bloody hands. "Lola, this is is everyone." There will be time for full names in a minute.

In the meantime, Elan goes to work frisking Ilic since it looks like the body might make Taelor sick. He makes sure that Lola gets Cheng's monoknife rather than the cheese knife she had been working with. Then it's off to the engine room to open up the locked door. Elan can't stand locked doors.

Graham, anxious not to trigger any alarms by taking the boat off its set course, instead takes a moment to work with his compad.

"Now, let's see if we can talk to Mr. LabCoat..." he mumbles, as he fidgets with the files left by their mysterious benefactor.

He selects the latest text file, and tries to open it for editing. "Somebody in network security is going to be upset when they find out about this", he chuckles to himself.

//Will boat return to its launch point? Will it set off alarms if auto-pilot is interrupted? Henchmen neutralized, need to dispose. Are there cleaning 'bots on board? Do we need security cards from henchmen? Can we get personal items from Tsunami, or take Tsunami? Where and how shall we meet?//

The questions come pouring out of Graham as he realizes how little the group knows about their situation, and how thin the thread is from which they dangle.

He calls out to the group from his position at the control console, "Any luck finding keycards or anything else of value? And do you think this boat has any hidden stores of weapons?"

Elan comes onto the deck like a whirlwind and is gone just as fast. Taelor turns to the newcomer. "Hi... Lola, was it? I'm Taelor. Um... Would you mind helping me out with, uh..." she cocks her head towards the prone, covered form of Mr. Ilic.

"I saw some bungee cords where I found those tarps. I figure all we need is something heavy? The lounge chairs near the bow look pretty sturdy. One of them might do. I'd just need to unbolt it from the deck." She smiles apologetically, feeling a bit awkward about inconveniencing this stranger with such an unpleasant task.

Then, she remembers first seeing Lola crouched over Mr. Cheng's bloody form, knife in hand. For better or worse, they were in this together.

Rena pats Taelor on the arm (the good one) and moves to see where her skills are required next.

Upon encountering Lola she glances to Elan, who introduces her with a tone that says she's to be trusted for now, then greets the soldier with a smile that hides her apprehension; seeing all that blood puts the last few minutes back to the forefront of the doctor's mind, and the uneasy feeling in her chest begins to return. "Rena Young, a pleasure."

It takes less than 3 minutes for Rena to have the dying suit stabilised and lucid. He's ready for any questions the team might have for him. "He doesn't have much longer. Make your time count."

Elan quickly taps the body of the Mr. Ilic, sliding his hand into all the pockets and under the belt. The yield is a compad, a half empty pack of nikotine gums, broken sunglasses and an unlabelled swipe card.
After the frisk Elan walks down to the locked engine room. The lock is simple and he has no pressure to be fast or subtle, so a few experienced movements with his tool open the lock quickly. The door opens into the room and reveals a room full of machinery, a shelf with maintenance and cleaning supplies and a locker. The locker contains a change of clothes and a laser rifle.

Graham walks into the cockpit and sits down at the desk. The multiple screens show a wealth of information, it takes him a bit to comb through it. The main screen shows data about the ships current trip, speed, distance traveled, battery status and the like.
The other screens display various other things, the most interesting one being a map of the closer area, with a small icon displaying the position of the ship. A thin dashed line shows the planed route, which continues on a relatively straight course towards the coast. It ends up in the middle of a particularly large bay, which is still about, 20 min away according to the numbers Graham understood.

Captain_Hoyt wrote:

He selects the latest text file, and tries to open it for editing.

//Will boat return to its launch point? Will it set off alarms if auto-pilot is interrupted? Henchmen neutralized, need to dispose. Are there cleaning 'bots on board? Do we need security cards from henchmen? Can we get personal items from Tsunami, or take Tsunami? Where and how shall we meet?//

It takes some time, but a reaction comes surprisingly quickly.

Quote :

The ship will stop in the bay.
Come back at night, I will open the port.
I will have access cards ready.
We will get you on the Tsunami, but first, will you help me with the device?

Elan slides his handsome self into the engine room, feeling pleased about 1) surviving and 2) triumphing over a relatively simple lock.

His eyes light up when he sees the laser rifle. "I'm so sorry, Bets," he whispers to himself as he grabs it from the locker. "I never meant to cheat on you." He grabs the rifle anyway.

On his way out he snags a couple bottles of cleaning solution and brings them back up to the deck so they don't have to walk around in blood for hours. Assuming, of course, that someone actually goes to the effort of using the cleaning agents.

"Scored a rifle," he announces, keeping it well away from Taelor and her dilated pupils. "And a keycard."

He looks back and forth between Taelor and Lola, wondering who needs the clothes more. "There's a change of clothes in the locker in the engine room," he announces.

"I'll keep watch."

He laments the broken sunglasses, which might help shield his eyes from the sun. He sets himself up on a perch that gives him a nice view of the surrounding water. Is he sunning himself up there? Or is he just avoiding Taelor's awkward efforts to bury a man at sea?

//Will it be dark by the time the boat completes its schedule, or will we need to get into its controls to delay its arrival? If you can get us off this planet in the Tsunami (or another ship), we can probably do something to help with the device.//

Graham forwards the contents of Mr. LabCoat's message to the others, and begins to scour the ship for cleaning robots, weapons lockers, first aid supplies, and anything of value he can find.

Lola looks up from her position on the body as Rena introduces herself. She grins, her hands still in position around his neck.
"Hunts luck Comrade. I take it from your equipment, you'll do a sight better at keeping this one alive than I will."

Sliding back off his body, she uncoiled herself in a single fluid movement, so she was standing again, and giving the younger woman space to operate. As Elan moved past, in a hurry to go somewhere, he indicated the monoblade, and she nodded back. That was one way of showing trust. Not only were they not disarming her, but allowing her to pick up something more deadly. Moving down to where she'd kicked it, she paused and then looked at her hands. They were covered in blood. The older male had talked about cleaning away the mess, she'd be as well to not get bloody fingerprints on everything. Moving back to the galley, she spent a minute throughally washing her hands. There was little she could do about the blood on her fatigues but at least she would limit the evidence.

Lifting the monoblade, she tested its weight for a moment. She'd never actually held one before. Her training had all been with guns, and clubs and daggers had been the weapons of choice in the hive. If this was going to continue, she'd gave to get some practice in with it. Sliding the weapon over her back, she passed Rena, working on the body, and headed back on deck.

As she blinked her eyes in the light, she was addressed by another new figure. Nodding back, she gave her an easy smile.
"Hunt's luck Taelor. Happy to help out any way I can."

Following over to where the other had indicated and lifted the tarp to give the body a brief look to judge its size before dropping the tarp back in place. Eyeing the woman again, she saw that she appeared to be bit awkward and unsure. Probably to do with me. She didn't think she was ex-military, none of the others on the boat gave that impression really. But the way she was holding herself, made Lola think she might be capable in a fight. She'd hopefully learn more about them at some point, but right now there were rats to be culled.

"That all sounds well thought out and sorted. If you want to get the chair unbolted, I'll see about getting this turnkin properly trussed up and ready for his final rest."

Padding over the deck she unhooked a number of the bungee cords, Taelor had mentioned and brought them back to the body. Working in a smooth and unhurried manor she laid the tarp flat on the  deck. Bending down to her haunches she rolled the body over onto it, and then pulled its legs up, so it would take up less space. Rolling it again, so the body was now completely covered she secured the bundle with three of the cords, and then stood again as she waited for Taelor with the chair.

Grinning at Taelor when she returned, she raised her eyebrows momentarily.
"Wish I could say I didn't normally brush noses with new folks over a dead body, but my old profession unfortunately made it all too common. Similar for you all? I'm a little curious if these two were meant for me, you all, or we both got lumped in a two for one deal."

As Elan returned, she looked at him and the other woman again and shrugged.
"If its ok with you, I might grab them after we dump the body. If we meet other people and all, I'm a little red rooster at the moment."

Nitafrong wrote:

Grinning at Taelor when she returned, she raised her eyebrows momentarily.
"Wish I could say I didn't normally brush noses with new folks over a dead body, but my old profession unfortunately made it all too common. Similar for you all? I'm a little curious if these two were meant for me, you all, or we both got lumped in a two for one deal."

Taelor puts the heavy lounge chair down loudly. She sighs, then smiles at Lola. She seems nice. "I think it was a two for one... or 5 for 2... a package deal. We got warned by a guy on the inside. Allowed us to strike first."

She bends down to pick the body by its feet, while Lola grabs it by the shoulders. "Can't say this is how I usually meet people. I met Elan and Graham while trying to stop a terrorist. Rena, we just sort of... ran into? Elan knew her."

They lift it and drop it onto the chair, then set to work strapping it in with some of the bungee cords. "I'm a pilot by trade, so I can't say I've dealt with a lot of bodies directly. What was your old profession?"

Nitafrong wrote:

As Elan returned, she looked at him and the other woman again and shrugged.
"If its ok with you, I might grab them after we dump the body. If we meet other people and all, I'm a little red rooster at the moment."

Taelor looks at the state of her clothes. There's a bit of blood on her jacket and pants, but they're in much less of a state than Lola's. She shrugs back. "Sure, go ahead. If we need to look presentable, I'll just zip up my jacket to hide my undersuit."

They lift the chair and carry it to the railing, then flip it overboard. Mr. Ilic's wrapped form quickly sinks down into the blue water, disappearing from sight. "Fuck you very much, you dick," Taelor mutters. She then turns to the other woman and smiles. "Well, guess you can go get changed now. Thanks for lending a hand."

The ship closes into the bay, the coast looming over it with steep sheer cliffs. Straight ahead a river falls into the sea in a magnificent waterfall. The late afternoon sun paints colourful rainbows into the spray of the falling water and let's the water of the bay glow dark blue. The ships autopilot steers the vessel into the middle of the bay and stops.
The black cliffs reach a good 100m high above the water and continue deep below it. The bay reaches a kilometer in both direction of the ship. Everybody on board is awed by the site of this natural beauty and nobody can help to feel at least a bit small and insignificant below these forces of nature.

The trip from the headquarters to here took about two or three hours. Graham estimates that by the time they would return it would be around sunset. The network folder does not show more activity or answers to his latest questions.

Further investigation of the boat reveals an abundance of fancy foods and drinks, but no cleaning robots, other weapons or other suspicion details.

The autopilot has turned off and the boat simply holds position in the middle of the bay, awaiting further instructions.

Lola worked alongside Taelor, making sure that the body was securely attached to the chair.
"Warned by someone on the inside? Seems like I'm not the only one who can be thankful for help turning up at just the right time."

Bending her knees she helped lift the chair up over the rail and let it drop with a dull splash.
"Pass your regards to the deep dark turnkin."
There was a brief pause before she continued.
"Up until a few hours ago I was a recon sniper for the Silent Legion. No particular rank at time of 'decommission'."
She grinned broadly at this, before leaning back against the rail.
"I guess I'm unemployed now. Ches'n great guns not to be owned by anyone at present. My thanks Comrade, lets have a gander at what these two kept for fashion."

Moving down to the engine room, she found the clothes in question in the locker. Black jeans, about a size too big, a green polo and some kind of white animal wool sweater. They'd do. Stripping off quickly, she changed into the new clothes, strapping the belt tight and keeping her old boots, and then rolling up her former fatigues. They could use them to clean at a push, before dumping them over. Finally she transferred the small knife over to her belt, and the monoblade over her shoulders. Tearing off some bread from a roll, and smearing it with cheese, she moved back up to the deck, where she leaned against the wall next to the door and watched the view with some enjoyment.

Finishing her food, she looked back across to those that were on deck.
"I know I've stumbled into you all, the wandering chicken saved from drowning, and don't really know what's going on, but I'm curious. We heading into land here or back to sea?"

Graham arrives back on deck, announcing that there isn't much of value.

And no cleaning robots, he says with a laugh.

The beauty of the setting lightens his mood, and he more-or-less ignores the mess on deck. His eyes settle on the stranger on deck, and he steps forward, hand extended for a handshake. "We can save introductions until unfriendly ears aren't listening", he says, with a sidelong glance at Cheng. "Welcome to our little soiree. Do you dine here often?"

He doesn't wait, business awaits.

"The boat appears to be off auto-pilot. I figure waiting about half an hour before heading back should get us back after dark. Then we'll see if keeping our friend Cheng alive is worth it. I sure hope he's helpful, but if he's not, we can see how well he holds his breath. In the meantime, what do you say we keep discussions to compad-only?"

Again, the sidelong glance to Cheng. His presence is inconvenient, for sure, but may be useful in time.

After disposing of Ilic's body, Taelor cleaned herself up and found a seat in the dining area, propping her feet up on the table. Rena's drugs have left her feeling pretty mellow and able to enjoy the fresh, crisp sea air, the warm sun, and the soothing sound of the waves against the hull.

She sits with her eyes closed, looking content. "Why don't you just tie him up where Lola was? Elan's text said she was restrained. Then we can just talk."

Rena joins the crew above deck after a short while, the concern in her eyes gone and the languid hint of a smile on her face. Leaning on the edge of the boat alongside Taelor, she seems to mirror the pilot's expression a little too well. She stays like that for a while, looking at the view, unconcerned with the goings on aboard the vessel or even the greater situation before speaking softly. "That's the first time I've ever shot someone."

Her tone is distant, nonchalant. "I've had people die in front of me, but I'm usually trying to prevent it. Never caused it, you know?"

She isn't addressing anyone in particular, more just speaking her mind aloud.

Taelor opens her eyes and pivots her head to look at Rena, her words cutting through the drug-fueled haze. Memories of the first person she'd killed come floating back. The dark alley, his crumpled form, his gasping, way-too-late apologies as his life slipped away, his blood flowing into the sewer with the rain, Belle's shuddering against her back. She feels her chest tighten, like it had back then, and a mix of righteous fury and guilt.

Rena might have dulled herself for now, but it would wear off eventually.

Taelor stands and moves to Rena. She puts her hands on her shoulders and looks into the doc's dilated pupils. "It was him or me. You saved my life from a fucking psychopath." She hugs Rena. "Thank you."

After a bit, Taelor pulls away, gives Rena a pat on the arm, then leans against the railing next to her. The dark memories have faded away again. "I'm hungry. I'm going to get a snack. Anybody else wants a bite to eat?"

While Taelor does the dirty work disposing of Ilic, Graham gets to work moving Cheng back to the room where Lola had been held. Finding the chair with the oh-so-convenient restraints attached, he slumps Cheng into the chair, and fastens Cheng securely.

"Sorry about this, old chap, but you were intending to kill us, and we can't have that now, can we..."

He shuts the door behind him, and returns to the deck to join the conversation and grab a bit of a snack. Oddly, he doesn't feel as disgusted about the dead body as much as he thought he would, but he mentally shrugs that off for another time.

"Well, we've managed to stave off certain death for a little while, at least, but we still have a few more cracks at it before we get off this murder-rock." He grins a wry smile and gives his mustache a little scratch. "Mr. LabCoat thinks he can get us back to Tsunami, but he wants our help retrieving the helmet. He seems to think it's awfully important, that Freyer getting a hold of this technology is exceptionally bad. But if it's our only chance to get back to the ship, do we have much choice? Let's hear some options."

He leaves it at that, and sits down to listen.

Elan suns himself, figuring that if these are his last hours then he might as well enjoy them.

Taelor asks if anyone wants a snack. Elan almost makes a crack about what's available for their final meal, but refrains. It's not time for gallows humor. Yet.

"Yeah, I'll eat," he says. "Are we sure it's 'clean'?" He looks to Rena, wondering if her bioscanner works on consumables. If not... maybe they can fish on the way back.

"Options?" he asks rhetorically. "We might find ourselves in a similar position as we did with Cerebrus, namely that our ship is impounded. Or, at least, it logically should be. We might have to play ball with the locals to get it back. On the other hand..."

He trails off for a moment before turning to Lola. "Speaking of locals, any insight as to what security is like and what we'll need to do to evade it? Companies that control the entire environment often get lax about internal security procedures; they're more concerned about external threats than internal ones. I'm guessing that their security protocols are quite a bit less developed than a comparable HQ located in a dense urban environment, and that can work to our advantage."

Lola looked over at the two woman, a wry smile twisting her scarred cheek.
"It's always different to kill. To hit out uncaring of their life. As your comrade says, it was necessary but it should still make you feel something. Its when ending life, becomes nothing more than picking a flower that you are really in trouble. I've seen it in some of the soldiers and once they pass that point you can never turn your back on them again."

As Taelor spoke, she nodded in agreement
"I'd eat now. I had a bit of the bread already, so hopefully that's not where they put the hardcore stuff."

Looking over at Elan, she thought for a moment running over everything she'd seen on the planet so far. She was always watching, one consequence of being constantly monitored was that she was constantly wary to her surroundings. Your only chance was to watch the watchers and wait for the moment they blinked.

[Going to leave what she actually says to Elan blank for the moment, because I don't know what the security is like]

Rena smiles back at the pilot bemusedly, then laughs. "Well, you're certainly worth saving!" Then more quietly. "Thank you."

She slaps both her cheeks and takes exhales loudly, returning some lucidity to her demeanour, then agrees to Lola's suggestion. "Hard to think on an empty stomach. And the gods know we've got enough to think about right now." The good doctor checks out the food, scanning it for obvious poisons or similar, but her bioscanner's readings comes back clean. Would be an interesting gambit to poison your own supplies in case of theft. she thinks, but the busy work helps take her mind off of the recent combat. As she tucks into the surprisingly tasty rations, Rena eagerly awaits what Lola has to say on the corp's defences.

Tecumseh wrote:

"Options?" he asks rhetorically. "We might find ourselves in a similar position as we did with Cerebrus, namely that our ship is impounded. Or, at least, it logically should be. We might have to play ball with the locals to get it back. On the other hand..."

Graham nods in response to Elan, happy to hear at least some input regarding the group's options. After listening to the others for a bit, he realizes they're not ready to talk about the options. He checks the time on his compad, then leans a little in Elan's direction.

"It's probably time to head back, and it might take a few minutes to figure out the boat's controls. If they come up with any ideas, come see me and give me a heads-up, would ya?"

With that, Graham gets to his feet and heads into the cabin.

After Rena confirms that the food is clean, Taelor starts piling it on a large serving platter. The meats make her queasy, so she mainly steers clear of them (except for the Halianti prosciutto. No one can resist Halianti prosciutto) and focuses on the fresh fruit and cheeses, both luxuries where she comes from and on long space trips.

She carries the platter out, careful not to slip on the blood congealing on the floor of the cabin. She sets it down on the table in the dinner area and settles in, listening to Lola detail what she knows of Freyer's security as she eats.

"Sounds like our main problem," she says, still chewing a mouthful of a soft cheese on bread with some sort of caramelized onion spread, "would be if someone's waiting for our assassins to check in." She swallows and washes it down with a sip of fruit punch. "Our guardian angel seems to think he can get us in. I think we best go along with him for now. He helped us out and the longer we can avoid a fight the better."

Elan listens along with only a modest degree of smugness as Lola largely confirms his suspicions.

"Security is mainly focused outward," she says. "There are landing restrictions and defenses against ships, but nothing dramatic. They obviously have high quality ground personnel" - Elan wonders if he sees a small puff of pride in this statement - "but it is usually more reactionary. When no incoming ships are expected, patrols are much less frequent and alert. Response teams are deployed on an as-needed basis. Whether the ship would be locked down or not, I don't know."

Elan nods when Lola finishes.

"It's entirely possible that we dealt with two professionals who have a spotless track record of success and, thus, nobody looking over their shoulder. I'm less worried about them needing to check in on the way back than I am about, say, a cleaning crew - like, literally cleaning - meeting us at the dock. Then our body count starts to multiply."

He looks to Lola.

"I'm not sure how much access Lola might have just by nature of her position. Maybe she can walk around with this laser rifle without drawing attention, for example.

"We have a key card" - he holds it up helpfully - "that also might open some doors.

"What we might have to figure out, perhaps after meeting Mr. LabCoat and getting they lay of the land, is if the size of our group works against us. Yes, splitting up creates its own risks, but in this case it might be less of a risk than maintaining our current footprint of five people. It's possible that a couple of us could pursue the helmet while the others arrange for our departure via the Tsunami.

"But we won't really know until we get back and see what we're dealing with."

After she finished, Lola moved over to where Taelor had laid out the spread. She'd grabbed a quick bite before, so she wasn't very hungry. It was good to fill up on energy now though when there was an opportunity. Sometimes you never did know when your next meal would be. She kept it simple again grabbing bread, cheese, and a couple of slices of the fancy looking meat. Taking a bite of this she almost spat it out again in surprise. Ches'n split wheel! It tasted like nothing she'd ever had before. It was like the food was making love to her mouth. She chewed the rest of it slowly and then took a small bite of the meat. What by all the graces was it made of? Meat had been a rarity basically all her childhood, and the legion mostly survived off ration packs and nutra tubes. She'd thought at least she had an idea what it tasted like though. Her eyes immediately went to count the remaining meat on the table, which Elan words dragged her back.

"We can question the prisoner about their return protocol. Perhaps we might be able to dock in a different berth and disappear into the streets before they turn up. I'm not sure what my situation is. I've some splittin shatters from when I woke. As if they've been mind controlling the Silent Legion, and I stopped obeying orders and so I was for the hammer. In that case they've probs kept it all quiet about me, so yeah I think I could be armed pass myself off as still 'commed'."

She paused for a moment, and eyed them all in turn.
"Don't know the baldies about this helmet, or the Tsunami which I'm guessing is your ship, and you know less about me other than they want us all dead. I'm content to throw my lot in with you, help you either regain control of your ship, or this helmet. There's a chance there might be old comrades of mine with either. I'd agree with Elan, splitting up would make staying stealthy a ches'n way easier."

She grinned and then took a large bite finishing off her remaining food.
"Only thing I'd ask in return would be a way off this planet."

Graham walks into the cockpit and sits down on the chair. He'd gotten a rough overview over the controls earlier, not much changed. The autopilot was off and the boat was in 'hold position' mode. He hesitantly taps a few menus and tries the find the trip planning module. The navigation computer is different than the ones he used before, but the design is impeccable. Intuitively he finds it the map and the recent trips. Looks like this ship almost exclusively went between the HQ and the bay.
It is simple to reprogram one of the recent trips back to the HQ and soon the boat is back in motion.

Quote :

Arrival time 20:37

Satisfied that the boat isn't going to beach itself, run into rocks, or otherwise self-destruct, Graham heads back to the deck, where the crew is in conversation. He waits for an opening, then inserts, "Boat's scheduled to arrive at 20:37. Sending a message to Mr. LabCoat that we'll be there at 20:45. If he's found out, and the company sends a welcoming committee, I'd rather arrive a little earlier than they expect."

He looks at each of them in turn. "Looks like play time is over. Is Cheng sleeping with the fishes? Are we going along with Mr. LabCoat?"

"Yeah," Elan nods. "Mr. Lab Coat."

He puffs up a bit. "I always wanted to steal something that would make the planetary news," he says, but then deflates slightly. "Although I'm not sure if it really counts if the target is the only thing on the planet though."

He shrugs this off after a moment.

"They thought they could erase us. Let us show them the error of their ways."

As it gets dark the headquarter is visible from far away. The boat steers towards it tirelessly and it quickly comes closer. The ship is only a few hundred meters out, when the crew suddenly spots a flashing light a bit to the right of the port. The light flashes in short and longer bursts.

Quote :

_._. _ _ _ _ _ . .... . ._. .
_._. _ _ _ _ _ . .... . ._. .
_._. _ _ _ _ _ . .... . ._. .

Graham looks at the series of flashes with a puzzled face.

"Does anybody know Morse? It looks like something something blah blah 'here' repeated over and over. Looks like we've found Mr. LabCoat."

He doesn't know if the auto-pilot is taking the boat where it needs to go, and looks for signs that it may be diverging from the desired course. He lets the auto-pilot do its thing, expecting the boat to swing out a little before making its way to shore.

Taelor frowns as she notices the blinking lights. At first, she figures it was LabCoat trying to get their attention, but then, the patterns becomes apparent. "Yeah," she says, "hold on a sec, I'm a bit rusty." She had learned Morse code from a young age. Comm outages were frequent back home, so the miners often used it to communicate with their emergency lights. She'd gotten a refresher in the militia, but that seemed like a lifetime ago too.

She counts the bursts, paying close attention to the pauses. c... 0... e... h... e... r... e... c0ehere... What? She pays closer attention as the pattern is repeated. Oh, it's not a 0, it's o and m... "C-o-m-e-h-e-r-e... Come here!" she says excitedly.

She clears her throat and adds, with a more professional tone: "He wants us to change course to head over there."

She looks back out across the water. "Why'd he even bother with a code? Making it more complicated than it needs to be..." she mutters.

"Doesn't seem like 'come here' would be the message if Mr. LabCoat was standing where the boat was already going to go. I'm going to take it off auto-pilot."

He goes back to the cabin, and heads straight to the control console. Taking it off auto-pilot is simple, now that he's done it once, but he has no sense for the craft's manual throttle and steering. He throttles down a little, figuring it's better to undershoot than overshoot the target, and gives it a little steering input. For a luxury boat, the response is surprisingly nimble. "Nothing but the best for these corporate types. Probably good for a tax write-off, too."

Graham gets the prow lined up with the source of the signal, and brings the boat into shore with a little scraping sound. "If Cheng didn't die on the way back, he may give us away. Probably should have dumped him in the bay."

Graham takes his sleeve, and wipes his fingerprints off the controls and the touchscreen. The last thing the group needs is to hand their identities to the fine folks at Freyer.

He makes one last visit to Cheng to check on his condition, and heads back to the deck. "Let's get on with this."

The ship gets closer to the light, driving into the dark under the construction. As the ship gets closer to the flashing light, a small service platform comes into view. Graham slowly steers the ship closer to it and stops the boat reasonably close to the platform. One by one the five crew members jump over to the platform, where Mr. LabCoat is waiting. With a whispering voice, he says "I'm so glad you made it back. Those lunatics wanted to tie up loose ends, I guess. My name is Faraz Whiteley. I run part of the research department and you guys brought us the Imprinter. It's a fascinating device, but Freyer must not have it. We need to get it off planet and... Well I don't really care who gets it, but Freyer mustn't. Best it would be returned to Innovative Networks. Will you help me? I brought some maintenance overalls and a key card that should get you into most areas.
The ship is still parked where you left it. Security is lax today, no deliveries. "
Faraz continously nervously fiddles with his lab coat, looking down at his hands or feet and only occasionally shily looking up at his listeners.

Elan's eyes light up at the sight of the maintenance overalls as if they were a treasured holiday gift. He accepts the overalls and the keycard, passing Ilic's keycard to Lola.

And perhaps there's some eagerness inspired by the researcher's statement that he doesn't care who gets the Imprinter. Innovative Networks might pay handsomely to have it back, or... there might be less-ethical applications available to someone who has the flexible morality of a thief.

Elan pulls on the maintenance overalls. "Where is the Imprinter being kept?" he asks. "Can you lead us there?"

"The Imprinter is in a vault on the research ward. Unfortunately it can only be checked out with personal identification at the guard. If I check it out and it's gone, I'll be on the line for it. I was hoping you have an idea how to solve that challenge.
The ship is up on the platform, obviously. The command center is in a building at the beginning of the arc. They handle flight control. But I don't think the ship is grounded. If you are willing to leave without a flight plan, you should be able to just leave. But unplanned flights trigger defenses, so, it's up to how much you trust your pilot, I suppose. "

Taelor puts on the maintenance overalls as she listens to Faraz sum up the situation. She makes sure her pistol and knife are out of sight, but keeps her metatool in full view. If they're posing as maintenance techs, it would help sell the bit.

She frowns as Faraz expresses worry about checking out the imprinter. "So... you want to keep working for these assholes? Even though you don't want them to have the device and, you know, they kill people?"

She crosses her arms. "Seems to me you'd be better off leaving with us. If you return the thing to Innovative, they'd probably throw you a fucking parade. Not to mention you could help them win their lawsuit."

Faraz looks down to his feet. "It's not that I want to work for them, but..." , he pauses and hesitates, then continues "I'm afraid. My knowledge about the research program and everything, I worry that I become a loose end. If anybody finds out I helped you, I'm dead."

Thelonius wrote:

"I'm afraid. My knowledge about the research program and everything, I worry that I become a loose end. If anybody finds out I helped you, I'm dead."

"Well, you're looking at five other loose ends" Graham says, slipping into the coveralls. "We need to get moving, or we'll all get the loose end treatment. Would somebody like Cheng be in a position to sign out the helmet, you know, for 'experimentation'? Maybe we could put in the request for him using his compad. Anything you can tell us about the sign-out process will help."

He slips the coveralls over his shoulder, and looks to the others to make sure there's no hint of blood on their clothes. The coveralls seem to be doing a nice job with that. He adjusts his holster so his pistol isn't too restricted, in case he needs it, and gets ready to follow Mr. LabCoat into the building.

Rena joins the others in going incognito, gaze lingering for a second on the las pistol as she tucks it into her waistband out of sight. She listens to Whiteley's summary of the situation and the gears start turning in her head automatically. Taelor's good at what she does, but planetary defences aren't anything to be taken lightly; a flight plan is a necessity. The bigger problem is how to get one. Hacking the system could be viable, though Rena has only a passing familiarity with the team's capabilities in that area. Elan breaking in in a more traditional manner is an option, but splitting the crew without a set plan could prove to be more dangerous than it's worth.

She ponders for a few moments longer, then addresses the labcoat. "Faraz, when we leave, you are coming with us. There is too much we need to know and not enough time now." Her tone is uncharacteristically decisive, stating fact rather than offering an opinion. "For now, we need to know the safest and most direct way to obtain a flight plan to get off-world. Will we need to enter the complex physically?"

Faanku wrote:

"Faraz, when we leave, you are coming with us. There is too much we need to know and not enough time now. For now, we need to know the safest and most direct way to obtain a flight plan to get off-world. Will we need to enter the complex physically?"

"Agreed. After tonight, there's nothing you can say or do that will take the suspicion off of you, and we see how they deal with loose ends."

Graham searches Whiteley's face for recognition of his current situation. Is he hopeless? Hopeful? Determined? Resigned? He likes to know the people near him, to know if he can count on them...or if they'll turn when the chips are down. He's never had so many variables to deal with, since joining Tsunami's crew. His heart races, just thinking about it.

"If we can get to to their flight control system, possibly through your compad or Cheng's compad, I may be able to file a flight plan, or clear Tsunami for flight. Cheng might be the kind of employee that had exceptional leeway without anybody asking too many questions. Flight control software is pretty standard -- if their stuff isn't proprietary, it shouldn't be hard to do. Who got Cheng's compad?" He holds his hand out to whoever grabbed the compad, so he can get to work.

Elan hands Cheng's compad to Graham.

"Look, doc," he says, not really knowing if 'doc' is the correct title or not. "If you're not a loose end to them, you're a loose end to us, savvy?"

Is that a threat? A statement of fact? A poorly-timed joke?

"Stop being part of the problem; start being part of the solution. Help me get the doohickey, get on board, and get out of here. Stop living your life in fear."

Tecumseh wrote:

"Look, doc," he says, not really knowing if 'doc' is the correct title or not. "If you're not a loose end to them, you're a loose end to us, savvy?"

Is that a threat? A statement of fact? A poorly-timed joke?

Graham takes the compad proffered by Elan, listening to his words with a slightly slack-jawed 'WTF' look on his face. He glances at Whiteley, back at Elan, again at Whiteley.

With another look at Elan, "What, are we hustling this guy for his lunch money?" he says with a grin, then looks back to the on-edge scientist. "We'll get you off-planet. We need to get moving, no time to waste. Lead the way."

Lola had been keeping to the back of the group, her head turning slowly, eyeing the darkness carefully. If she'd been planning an ambush she'd hit them just after they met with this Mr Labcoat. A long open space like this pier was perfect for a sniper. There were two buildings in particular she didn't like the look of. A tall tower like structure with glass windows to her north east, and a cavernous looking flat rooved warehouse to her north west. The light having fallen, there was no chance of seeing anyone in either. She was almost perfectly still as she watched both for a long second, only the first two fingers of her right hand tapping her thigh, her mind accessing the distance. From a standing start, maybe eight seconds to get the tower door? There was little point even reaching for her new blade. The moment she heard anything she'd have to sprint. The sniper wouldn't be on her own of course, but the other troops would probably be waiting to block runners at the two obvious exits. There was a chance she could get the sniper, get an actual weapon, and then.... Judge from there.

The moment came, but as the others took the overalls, no shot rang out, and she allowed herself to relax a little. The fox could run free a little longer.
Taking the card from Elan, she nodded her thanks at Faraz as she relieved him of the last pair of overalls. Placing the card between her lips she quickly stepped into the overalls, pulling it over the monoblade which was still strapped her back. The little knife though, she stored into one of her new hip pockets, as well as the keycard.

She grinned suddenly at the labcoat, as the others all disagreed with his suggestion of remaining behind.
"You know your business best comrade. I think though they've squeezed enough blood from you. Don't let these donkey sucklers get to breaking your bones."

Looking over at Graham, she asked
"Would ye be able to set the boat to autopilot to go back to where it took us to earlier? These bastards are going to get suspicious when Pig and Puck don't report in but if they discover the boat out there, they might waste some time looking for us there."

The look on Faraz's face shows a mixture of confusion, fear and anger. "I... I don't understand. You think they will trace all this back to me? Oh god, what am I doing. I should have kept my mouth shut" , he says, frantically looking around to spot imaginary soldiers in the shadows. "Can't you go back on the boat and out to the sea? I have to..." he turns left and right a few times, obviously at a loss what to do next. Panic starts showing in his eyes.

Thelonius wrote:

The look on Faraz's face shows a mixture of confusion, fear and anger. "I... I don't understand. You think they will trace all this back to me? Oh god, what am I doing. I should have kept my mouth shut" , he says, frantically looking around to spot imaginary soldiers in the shadows. "Can't you go back on the boat and out to the sea? I have to..." he turns left and right a few times, obviously at a loss what to do next. Panic starts showing in his eyes.

Graham puts his hand on the scientist's shoulder. "Just breathe, it will be fine. You're committed now, and we'll be able to set you up with a job once this is all over. You already knew this, you knew Freyer wouldn't be happy about losing the helmet. And you knew they were going to kill us over the helmet, as well. We're in your debt for your warning, and it sounds like many others will be in your debt for making sure the helmet doesn't remain in Freyer's hands." Graham looks Whiteley square in the eye while nodding, until Whiteley nods back. "We're all going to walk out of this, but we need to keep our wits about us."

Graham turns to look back at the boat. "This might take a minute or two."

He gets back on the boat quickly, checks Cheng's status, and uses Cheng's thumb to swipe his compad. He quickly navigates to the security settings, and shuts security off, then heads straight back to the controls. He sets the boat's path, and selects a slow, meandering pace. It will take several hours for the boat to get back to the bay, for sure. Graham wipes his fingerprints off again, and dashes back to shore as the boat motors away.

As Graham moved to go back on the boat, Lola took up his former position next to the labcoat. He was in danger of losing his nerve. Her feelings were mixed as she gave him a friendly pat on the shoulder. On one hand, she felt a little contempt for panic over a situation which was to be expected, the donkey sucklers rewarding any attempt to fight back with violence. On the other, he was a fellow cog which the big wheel was trying to crush. He was like many of the boys and girls who'd gone to pieces in their first assault, orbital bombardment, or pinned down under sniper fire. Everything broke if enough pressure was applied and to scorn the weak because of the strength of the powerful merely played into their hands. She'd led them out, and she'd do the same again.

She thus smiled at the man, as she kept the soft pressure on his shoulder.
"Graham is right. You've not only saved our lives, but countless others. In stepping up today and doing the right thing, you've been a real hero, and a real human being. You've done the hard thing now, just relax and let us help you now."

Faraz relaxes visibly. "I suppose you are right, I will come along. So first we need to go and get the Imprinter and then head out, right? For checking out the device we will need to go to the research vault and I will sign the device out. But I don't know whether they tagged it, it could be raising internal flags. So we might need to act fast", he scratches his temple, "am I forgetting anything?"

Thelonius wrote:

Faraz relaxes visibly. "I suppose you are right, I will come along. So first we need to go and get the Imprinter and then head out, right? For checking out the device we will need to go to the research vault and I will sign the device out. But I don't know whether they tagged it, it could be raising internal flags. So we might need to act fast", he scratches his temple, "am I forgetting anything?"

"It seems the first thing is to make sure we have nothing and do nothing that will trigger alarms. Are there weapon sensors or other alarms that we could trip?"

Graham's mind races, trying to cover all the bases, but that's all that comes to mind.

"Can you release a map of the facility to the secret network location we've been using? In case we get split, we want to know where doors are, we want to know where the research vault is, etc. We should also know our 'cover location'. If we're going to look like workmen, we should know where we're going to fix the thing, am I right?" Graham smiles an easy smile, hoping to settle the nerves of the scientist and the crew.

"Are there any industrial/electrical/HVAC closets near the research vault?"

Elan looks along a little enviously about the suggestion to send the boat away on autopilot, wondering why he hadn't thought of that himself. Graham skips off the boat before it departs.

Elan stows the laser rifle in a duffle bag while Graham grills Faraz. Graham asks sensible questions but Elan can't help but wonder if he's asking about HVAC systems because the team is ostensibly composed of mechanics or because Graham has some sort of fetish about crawling through tunnels and vents, a Freudian desire to return to the womb. But Graham's psychoanalysis would have to wait.

"Is the hour a concern?" Elan asks Faraz. "Are there regular working hours? Will they be suspicious because it's after dark?"

He looks to Faraz and Lola. "Basically what I'm saying is that we'll need some guidance about how to act, the local etiquette as it were. Just don't let us blunder into any major transgressions."

"Erm... We do work almost around the clock, so maintenance crews should not be too suspicious. Just be... Normal, I guess."