Chapter 3 - The package

"If I'm in charge of getting the cat, we're getting it from a shelter, so it'll depend of what they have."

She loads the crew's surplus gear onto a platform cart and wheels it out of the spaceport. She hails a cab. IN had graciously landed their new ship at a nearby terminal, but on a planet such as Aldega, it was still some ways away. She chats with the cabbie as they drive, inquiring as to where to find an animal shelter and a good place to eat, then getting into a heated debate about the last-minute pulseball trades before the deadline.

When they reach their destination, Taelor and the cabbie pile the bags up on another cart. She warmly bids the man goodbye and heads off towards her new home.

The very corporately named INS-CX-1343 rests on one of IN's private landing pads. Taelor pauses for a moment to admire the ship. She's a blunt thing, but she has an honest, hard-working air to her. With a bit of sprucing up, she would make a wonderful place to live.

An IN security guard approaches and Taelor shows them the slip detailing the transfer of ownership. They chat a bit and the guard helps her unload the cart in the ship's cargo bay. Once the guard has left, she tours the ship, getting the lay of the land. As promised, it is in good working order, if a little bare. Some decorations wouldn't go to waste... Taelor logs in to the computer and changes the access codes. If IN wants their ship back, they'd at least have to make a modicum of effort.

She picks out her bunk, puts her stuff away, then heads back out.

She visits three animal shelters before she finds a suitable cat. The last shelter she visits is a sad thing and a less-well-to-do neighborhood. The cages are all bare concrete and metal mesh. As Taelor tours the place, a grey, scrawny, curious feline climbs up its cage's mesh and calling out to her.

"I'm not sure you want this one, miss. Unless you're not one for sleep. She can't sit still for a second. Bit of handful."

"What's her name?" asks Taelor, in awe.

"Doesn't have one. She was a street cat. They're... difficult pets, if you don't have experience with them."

"She's... perfect!"

An hour later, Taelor is back aboard with the cat and the necessary supplies: litter, food, bowls, a bed, and a few toys. As soon as she opens the cage, the cat bolts past her and disappears down the corridor.

"You can run. You can hide," Taeor says, determination burning in her eyes. "But I will find you. And I will pet you."

Tecumseh wrote:

Then he turns to Lola. "Want to go visit the old 'hood and watch my back? You walk and talk like a local. Plus, the way you make that knife disappear, I bet you could hide a pistol. You want one?"

A smile crossed Lola's face. It would certainty be tempting to look around her old factory complex, to see who and what still remained from her time. Craddock was far enough from where she'd grown up that it would have taken over a day by foot. People had talked about it for sure, just as they'd mentioned Haydock, Bantry and Slack. All different Zavod's. There would be the occasional person who'd been transferred or managed to blag their way on some kind of transport. Back when she'd been growing up they'd seemed like different countries, the distances between them all something she'd take a lifetime to traverse. Her experience now was that they were probably between seventy to a hundred miles apart. A distance, but a vehicle would make it easy.

"Sure I'll walk through the Zavod's with you. Back in my time, any new arrival would be sussed as cow or bear and treated accordingly. And if you have a pistol I'd gladly take one. I'm much better with them than blades anyway."

Following Elan's lead she laid her pack out with the luggage to be taken to the new ship. She wasn't happy to leave the rifle behind but it wasn't really suitable for where they were going. Much better to pack light. She left her knife where it was and just grabbed her binoculars and compad. Looking over at Elan she continued.
"My Zavod was, is called Marple. How about we head there first? If we're lucky, there might be somebody who's recently been over Craddock way. And then head on to the real deal."

She paid no attention to the cat. If it wanted to interact with her it would, and she'd respond back.

"I don't have a pistol," Elan says. "I figured we'd borrow one. Let's take Graham's. His gun is only a danger to himself and nearby shrubbery."

Elan is glad that Lola leaves her rifle behind. Some people like to carry one as a fashion statement, but most locals tend to take it as a big middle finger. He nods with her description of Marple.

"I grew up in a similar place. We didn't call them cows or bears. A mark was a 'simp' or a 'dupe'. The old timers might say a 'gull'. A bear might be a 'shark' or a 'sharp', I don't remember which. Maybe both; the local patois involved a lot of rhyming and mumbling. And swearing. Lots of swearing, most of it anatomically impossible."

He nods with her plan.

"Alright, Marple first. After that, I was thinking of checking out the replacement location, see what it looks like. Then we can compare to the current location and see how they stack up.

"You know the drill: we'll look for tagging, listen to the neighborhood. We'll figure out if the 'The Last Boulder Kin' is really a gang or a neighborhood watch or what. With a name like that - which doesn't exactly intimidate, and doesn't precisely roll off the tongue - it wouldn't surprise me if it's some family operation.

"We'll buy some noodles, talk to some street urchins, spread a handful of creds around if we need to. We'll keep it quiet but if they pick up on it, no big deal. If we're going to broker something then we'll need their attention anyway.

"And if these donkey sucklers are trying to push them into a garbage dump then maybe we'll lead the revolution, neh?"

"Lola, is that you?"
Lola and Elan had spent the last hours getting to and around the Marple sector of Aldega. Everything is still exactly the same as Lola remembered, yet completely different. Run down high rise houses, with layer over layer of graffiti. Overflowing trash containers.
A small garden with fresh produce.
Dirty streets, hunched over people rushing back home.
An open window through which music spills onto the street and a group of people joyfully dancing out in the open.
Marple, as many of the rim sectors, is full of contrasts. Tristesse next to beautiful signs of people making the best of nothing. This place is very far down - but it is far from the end.
Lola just lead Elan out of a small corner shop where they bought hot dogs. A place Lola used to love to go to and that by some miracle of the universe is still open and still serves the same fantastic hot dogs.
"Geez, it must have been more than a decade. How are you, where were you? Just left without a word and never seen since. What happened?"

It all seemed so much smaller. This Zavod used to be her whole life, and a whole world fit into these streets. She remembered running down the hill from the tannery with its horrendous stink down past the general store to the mechaniks. Back when she was younger and they'd managed to skive away they'd occasionally used the street as their pitch. Moving down it now, she barely noticed the incline and all the shops were basically beside eachother. Still though, it stirred something inside her when she saw a familiar poster in a window, faded but still there. This was nothing to the laugh she gave as they turned a corner and she recognised a dirty non descript alley. Giving Elan a poke with her elbow she nodded at it.
"First time I had sex was down there. Bit of a turnkin in the end but I was ches'n pleased with him at the time."

Shaking her head with a grin she moved on looking through the open window at the people dancing.
"I've missed seeing life lived this way."
Initially they'd attracted a bit of attention when they first arrived, a group of kids stalking them at first, before eventually coming close enough to ask for money. Lola had mimed reaching into her jacket before boxing the lead boy on the ear. The blow was hard enough to send him staggering, but not enough to cause any real damage.
"Plenty more teeth in this sows ear if you fancy some."

Lola swallowed down her bite of the delicious meal, halfway through explaining to Elan, that they'd never been quite sure what the meat was actually constituted of and about to give him some of the more colourful rumours when she finally saw a familiar face.

"Serge! You old zalupa!"
Striding over she wrapped her arms around the wirey man, who though about the same age, was already losing his hair, and his eyes had the yellowish tint of someone who was a bit too fond of the bottle. Kissing him on both cheeks, and receiving the same, she stood back and looked him up and down appraisingly.
"Hunt's luck me old comrade. A decade eh? Looks like it's treated you split wheel worse."
"You've not learned how to hold that lip of yours then while you've been off and away? Where did you escape off too in the end?"
"No escape or anything like it. I ended up being dragged in with a host of others after a riot. Either I got 'scripted into their army or rot away in a cell. Just finally finished my time and thought I'd visit the old Zavod."

The gaunt looking man shook his head and spat.
"Ches'n donkey sucklers. You're looking well though. Whose this with you? Yer ring pointer?"
Lola laughed, and then indicated over at the other.
"Chance'd be a fine thing. You know what I'm like. Elan meet an old comrade of mine, Serge. Two of us got up to kinds of nonsense on these streets. Serge, Elan 'n me are crewmates."

After allowing the two to greet eachother, she turned to Serge.
"Serge, would you be up for a drink in Hugo's? There's one or two things I'd like to ask you and I'm guessing they wouldn't stop us drinking there now."

(Assuming he says yes.)

A couple of minutes later found the three sitting at a heavy wooden table, pushed away into the far corner, away from the vigorous dancing going on in the middle of the room. Shadows flickered around them, the flaming torches in their brackets creating a nice ambiance but not hugely practical as a light source. Clicking her glass against Serge's and Elan's, Lola took a deep draft of Kronstadt. She'd never been able to drink this inside here of course, they'd had to hide out in alleys and broken down rooms to do their drinking. The taste was probably mostly coming from then too, but that familiarity made it seem delicious to her.
"First off Serge, do I ask about the family? Military weren't big on allowing communications and I can't say I was the best spiting them."
Serge was already shaking his head as she started.
"I was goin to ask you the same. All I know is they shipped out three... or was it four? Couple of years ago anyway."
"Shipped off world or some other Zavod?"
He shrugged his shoulders and Lola let it drop, though for a couple of seconds her knuckles showed white on the glass handle.

"On another side. You know much about Craddock? We've got a little bit of business there and all my knowledge of that place dragged itself out to die years ago. Specifically, we might be talking to 'The Last Boulder Kin' or sommit similar silly name. You know anything about them, what they do, where they are based and what their rep is like."

She grinned over at her old comrade.
"I might be a habitual foot stepper but I'm trying to improve."

Elan finds himself the third wheel.

There's a professional debate among cat burglars as to whether they are on the offense or on the defense when they're busy sneaking around. Elan is decidedly in the offense camp, equating his movements to the predator sneaking up on the prey, not the prey wishing to stay undetected. It's just a mindset thing: he's there to get what he wants, and no rent-a-cop, security system, or sensors are going to stop him. It's the same way when prowling around for information, putting your ear to the ground and listening.

But then Lola flips the playbook by heading to Marple, where the goal is to be seen and recognized, maybe even run into an old chum or two with info to share. And so instead of slinking around in the shadows, Elan is strutting around in full sight along with Lola. The dynamics put him on the wrong foot. This is her turf. She's older. She might not be taller than Elan, but she's decidedly, ah, sturdier? Stronger, if he's being honest with himself, which he's not.

And so he finds himself having drinks in some hole (which is fine), not really involved in the conversation (which is awkward), and unable to pursue his favorite past time of looking for things to steal (which would be impolite). So he keeps his trap shut and waits patiently for Lola to do her thing.

"Cradock? Yea, I hear it's been a bit of a mess there. But that name doesn't ring anything? A gang you say? Never heard. Actually Cradock has been fairly peaceful for a long time. Nice place. Not the haven that is Marple, mind you, but still, nice.

Wait Boulder, you said? I heard a druž of mine talk about this guy, he is a monk or priest or whatever, they have this really old stone somewhere there, maybe those are your friends?
But watch out, bunch of corpers", he turns his head and spits on the floor, earning a colorful and long curse from the barkeep, "Ches'n donkey sucklers, lurking around there. Heard they want to stomp another Zavod out of the ground. Like we don't have enough." Serge lifts up his cup and finishes the drink in one long, almost professional gulp, puts it back on the table and looks at the empty cup a bit sadly, then cheers up again, "So how long are you and Speechless here in for?"

Taelor's armored undersuit had proven its worth once again. Most of her opponent's strikes had been harmlessly deflected by the armor and only a few, desperate attacks had managed hit her vulnerable spots. She'd had to bandage a few of her fingers and apply one to her jaw to stem the bleeding. Despite her foe's superior agility and aggression, Taelor's resolve had proven unshakeable. She had won.

The cat lies sleeping in her lap as she sits at the table in the ship's barebones galley. Her dataslab is unfurled in front of her. She uses her right hand to search the planetary information network for job opportunities while petting the napping cat with her left. A simple transport job sounded pretty good to her following the crazy work she'd had to do over the past few weeks. She'd hated cargo runs while she served, but she felt like she needed to find her footing again. Then she could go back to adventuring.

When she feels she's seen all she can find online, she lifts the cat up and puts it down onto its bed. It opens its eyes and yowls in protest, but quickly drifts back to sleep. She locks up the galley on her way out, types up a quick message to the others saying //be careful opening the galley. Cat's asleep// and attaches a pic for emphasis before sending it out.

She makes her way off the ship and out of the spaceport, looking for a nearby watering hole where she might find other opportunities.

With the others out of the ship, Graham settles into his bunk for a quick nap. Too many things in his head fighting for attention, and laying down helps him to clear his head. On his back, he holds the compad above his face, and searches for online marketplaces. He settles on 'Aldega-Bay.com', and searches for sales of all the things needed by budding entrepreneurs on a shoestring budget.  
"Hmm. Racks, baker.....racks, server....ratchets....reaction catalysts.... Here we are, reactors." He pages through them, sorts by price, sorts by age, sorts by type. The prices vary wildly, depending on capacity, from five thousand credits to fifty million. "Well, that narrows it down", he says to himself sardonically.

He studies them for a while, then heads over to the 'bots section. Worker 'bots, void drones, civilian security 'bots, all kinds of stuff. "Who the hell on a high-tech world wants a bunch of slug-throwing security 'bots..." He chuckles to himself, "Maybe these folks Elan is going to talk to. Or maybe not."

He looks up the Codes and Regs Department, or whatever they're called on Aldega. If they're going to sell a piece of industrial equipment here, they're probably going to need permission. "Industry protectionists don't like getting cut out of the action, and if we're ever going to get labeled as smugglers, it's going to be for something a lot more profitable than an old industrial generator."

The 'ding' on his compad pulls his attention away with an accompanying picture of a cat. "Ah, the whole reason for the internet", he thinks, envisioning endless hours of making cat videos. He taps out a quick response, //Mind if I tag along? This thing is roomy, but some time off the boat would do me good.// He hops out of his bunk, holsters his pistol, and almost runs to the galley to get a quick moment of 'kitty-time' with the new crewmember before catching up to Taelor.

A PIS - Aldega Planetary Information System
The genius title of the planet wide net serving everyone the information they seek, when they seek it.
Taelor browses through the pages, starting at the welcome page of the space ports hub. It does not take long until she finds a virtual board where companies post transport offers, or, more interesting to Taelor, seek transport from willing shipping companies. Most of it is on Aldega, but  a few are posted for deliveries to Mentta.
A shipment of a drilling machine to Staconago has to be discarded as it requires a larger capacity, leaving two shipment requests for Haliant. One shipment of entertainment devices and one of unspecified 'consumer goods'.
Both pay reasonably and there is no tight schedule attached.

Graham is also going for A PIS research, regarding the reactor. He flicks through ad after ad until he finds what he is searching for.
"Radiator, new"
"Rations, almost new"
"Relatively attractive woman looking for companionship"
Wait, he goes back one entry.
"Reactor, fusion, in original packaging"
Graham taps on the ad, with a satisfied smile. No, I don't agree to collect my data for personalised advertisements.

Quote :

Fusion reactor, ca. 1 MW, used
The reactor is used, but in very good condition. Original packaging included.
Price includes delivery.
40.000 cr

Taelor and Graham step out into the space port. The place is buzzing with life, people of every gender, color, social level, height and all other possible attributes roam around, busy or not so busy with their respective errands.
The port includes a lounge with A PIS terminals and a spacious bar that is very busy. The walls of the bar are all made of glass, one side overseeing the shuttles landing pads. A long bar with a few drink dispensers to the one side and plenty of tables filling up the rest.

Lola had initially been disappointed but as Serge continued her eyebrows had raised. Valuable stone? Corpers stomping down on the locals. It was as could be expected. The fact that Serge hadn't heard of the gang didn't mean anything particular. Without any close connection random Zavodists weren't likely to know who really ran the different communities. She'd grinned when Serge had called Elan speechless. If her old friend had been known for his mind she might have credited his intuition for being ironic. She'd known Elan for almost a week now and it seemed to be a rare moment when he wasn't speaking. Maybe he thought he was giving her time to catch up or something? Other peoples heads were often a mess.

Looking over at Elan she grinned and gave him a wink.
"Ah don't be teasing the wee cub. He's probably shocked to see someone as handsome as you in a place like this. You've still got most of the teeth in your head."
Taking a big drink, she placed the drink precisely down on the table.
"To be honest I don't think we'll be about for long. Come in and see who's about and then back on the road again. It's been great to actually meet someone from the old days. Most seem to have moved on or moved down."

She reached out and tapped her glass against his.
"Just one last thing. You don't happen to remember the name of that monk or priest? Probably be easy enough to find when we get there anyway."

Taking another drink, she finished her beer and looked over at Elan.
"Anything I've forgot to ask gorgeous here about you think? Otherwise we might have to get a shift on."

After waiting for a bit to give Elan the chance to ask anything and get a response (I'm assuming not but if it does we can ignore this next part.) Standing up, she moved over to give Serge a goodbye kiss on both cheeks and to clap him on the back.
"Its been good to see you comrade. It might be a while before I return back but I'll give you my datapad address if you need to contact me again or anything comes up."

Moving out of Hugo's, she walked briskly back towards the Sakhalin, the large industrial rail transport which transported freight as well as the occasional passengers between the different Zavods. Raised up on on high metal girders, the rail lines ran high above the various other working settlements on the planet. While they waited by one of the girders for the dirty juddering elevator to take them back up to transport hub, she turned to face Elan.

"Thoughts? I'm ches'n interested in hearing a bit more about this old stone. Sounds a lot more like these sucklers are trying to rob the locals blind. As always but I'm wondering by how much. I'm up for heading over there directly and digging a bit more if you fancy?"

Elan has questions but he doubts the drinking-and-spitting Serge can answer them. So he defers to Lola, lets her kiss the old souse, and then continues on with her to the Sakhalin.

"I read it different," Elan says as they wait for a train. "We'll know more when we get there, but if it's a monk or a priest in play - and the name of the gang is 'The Last Boulder Kin' - then I'm guessing the 'old stone' in question is the object of their veneration."

Elan thinks to himself that 'old stone' is a bit redundant, as pretty much all stones here are going to be old unless there's some volcanic activity on Aldega that he doesn't know about.

"I'm guessing the stone itself isn't valuable, except for the role it plays in their spiritual fulfillment. 'Boulder' suggests a large stone, one that may not be feasible to move. Thus, their unwillingness to relocate."

He clicks his tongue. The secondary implication of this is that it's too large to steal. Pity.

"But we'll know more for sure once we're on the ground. I agree, let's head over there and see what we dig up."

Lola cocked her head slightly to the side as Elan spoke, listening intently.
"That's a clever bit of deduction there. I'd taken all the words as very straight and plain but your suggestion makes sense. The only thing I'd say is that the stone would have to be not just large but massive. Otherwise and if that was the main impediment the donkey sucklers really have their thumbs up their asses if they are trying to pay us off rather than just move the thing."

She shrugged her shoulders.
"Though it wouldn't surprise me if they hadn't even asked why the Boulder kin didn't want to move. Doubt the corpers respect gods other than themselves."

Stepping into the elevator, she waited on Elan before dragging the door down.
"Time to get our spades used."

Home is the first thought that goes through Lolas head, when they reach Cradock. It looks very similar to Marple. Again the triste facades of high rise buildings, graffiti, dirt, but playing kids, friendly faces. Just as in Marple, these are people that made their peace with the fact that they are where they are and only a wonder can get them out of the trenches. Make the best of what you have and enjoy, while you can.
Serge had left them with a name, at least what he could remember of it. "P... Peter... Piotr... Martinez. Piotr Martinez. Brother Martinez, I think..."
Cradock looks the same as Marple, but it's layout is different and trying to find an unknown chapel, monastery or stone/boulder quickly proves to be an impossible task.
On a whim, Elan asks a group of kids playing ball on the street whether they know Brother Martinez and after they confirm and point them into a direction the endeavour quickly becomes fruitful.
On the ground floor of one of the high risers colored glass in the windows and rich decorations point to what could be a chapel of sorts. "The Last Kin" in large florescent light above the the door shreds the last doubt about being at the right spot.

Graham looks around at the bustling activity in the spaceport, a wide grin spreading across his face. After all that time on Astyoc, he felt like a prisoner on his first day of parole.

"C'mon, let's get out of the spaceport and see if we can find a nice restaurant that's never heard of Astyoc spiced beer. And afterwards...", he slows down his stride and raises his eyebrows, waggling a finger, "afterwards, maybe we can shop for some nice pistols and rifles that don't look like they came straight out of army surplus. Maybe a shear rifle? Mag pistol?"

Taelor and Graham walk for a couple blocks, looking in store windows, walking past restaurants, looking at menus in the glass displays, or drooling over the holo-projections of house specialties. Graham stops a passing hostess, requesting a patio table. This place may be a little expensive, but after securing a ship, Graham feels like celebrating. If he's lined up in anybody's sights, he doesn't know it, and he feels more relaxed than he has in quite some time.

They sit at a table, where Graham immediately orders a bottle of sunfruit wine, made from fermented berries only found on Aldega. "I think you'll like this. Not to put any pressure on you, but if you don't like it, I'll be forced to drink it all, and you'll have to drag me back to the ship by my feet."

Captain_Hoyt wrote:

Taelor and Graham walk for a couple blocks, looking in store windows, walking past restaurants, looking at menus in the glass displays, or drooling over the holo-projections of house specialties.

It felt good to wander the city without having to worry about jobs, plots, lobotomiser VIs, or homicidal corpers. For a country bumpkin like Taelor, Aldega was an amazing place. Chracle had metropolises, of course, but she hadn't spent much time in them. The Tecmeda Militia wasn't needed in the stable city centers, so even during R&R, she'd mostly had access to smaller, remote towns. The multitude of shops, restaurants and people had her in awe.

Captain_Hoyt wrote:

They sit at a table, where Graham immediately orders a bottle of sunfruit wine, made from fermented berries only found on Aldega. "I think you'll like this. Not to put any pressure on you, but if you don't like it, I'll be forced to drink it all, and you'll have to drag me back to the ship by my feet."

Taelor grins. "Or I can just leave you in the gutter. A night in the drunk tank might do you some good."

moarhair wrote:

Taelor grins. "Or I can just leave you in the gutter. A night in the drunk tank might do you some good."

"True, true, it probably would... but if it comes to that, I formally request that you drag me back to the ship by my feet. I'll sleep it off with the cat, and hope my face is still attached in the morning." He laughs, and raises his glass for a toast: "Here's to a tall ship, and a billion stars to steer her by."

Graham savors the Aldegan Prime Rib -- unsure what meat they used, or what animal on Aldega was big enough to sacrifice its ribs for a meal. All he knew for sure was that it beat space rations, and was (quite literally) worlds better than anything he'd had on Astyoc. He picks up his glass and looks at it thoughtfully. "We should grab a case or two of this stuff and take it to Astyoc. For anybody sick of Astyoc spiced beer, and that means basically everyone, this would make a nice bribe. We have much to do there, and this stuff can grease a few spike drives."

"Well, whaddya think? Check in with Elan, make sure he's not dead or dying, then do some shopping? I wouldn't mind getting something a little less primitive. Maybe something with a little more zap and a little less ricochet." He taps at his holster.

He signals for the check. It's not cheap, but they won't have to sell the ship to pay for the meal. He signs over the credits on his compad, then taps out a message to Elan //Are you dead? Dying? or OK? (pick one, no details necessary)//

Elan looks around Cradock thoughtfully. It reminds him of his home too, although Cradock is in better shape. Elan's neighborhoods might have had the music but it was as much to annoy your neighbors as it was to enjoy yourself. Elan's home definitely didn't have the playing kids or the friendly faces. Most people were so ground-down by their blue-collar drudgery that there was little joy or mirth in the neighborhood. It was definitely unwise to go out after dark. But on a scale of, say, 1 to 15, Elan's Wisdom was only an 8, so he went out anyway.

Personally, Elan appreciates the grit and the grime. He likes the graffiti, especially compared to the antiseptic, cookie-cutter nature of corporate neighborhoods. The florescent lights bring a wry smile to his face.

"Curious that it's in the ground floor of a high-rise," he says to Lola. "IN said they want to build a new production facility for medicines. Why would they choose a location of a high-rise? Tall buildings are a pain to knock down and apartments can't really be converted into factory floors. Doesn't really scan, unless they're lying and it's the building they want and not the location. Maybe the boulder is valuable after all. Vibranium or adamantium or unobtanium or whatever."

After a moment he shrugs. "Who knows what corpers are thinking. Power and prestige, probably."

His compad buzzes with a message from Graham. He momentarily considers a witty response but in the end decides for a straightforward <<OK>> along with a photo of the doorway with the sign above.

Then, the instinct for wittiness overwhelms him and he adds <<If we don't come back, avenge our death>>

For once he decides not to flit about in the shadows but to take the direct approach. He puts his compad away and pushes through the door underneath the "The Last Kin" to see what he can find.

Captain_Hoyt wrote:

"True, true, it probably would... but if it comes to that, I formally request that you drag me back to the ship by my feet. I'll sleep it off with the cat, and hope my face is still attached in the morning." He laughs, and raises his glass for a toast: "Here's to a tall ship, and a billion stars to steer her by."

Taelor raises her glass. "Ganbei!" she says before taking a sip. The wine is sweet and flavorful. She nods in appreciation. "Not bad. Not bad at all."

She orders the Lirian-style Portobello mushroom burger. Meat had been rare back home and she'd never really developed a taste for it, but mushrooms had been easy to grow in the abandoned mine shafts. They'd had a multitude of breeds and she was curious to know what Aldega had to offer in that regard. She was surprised that she could barely taste the Portobello. Lirian-style apparently meant lots of sauce, grilled onions, and a sharp cheese, but she still enjoyed it immensely. Clearly the chef knew what they were doing and Graham knew how to pick a restaurant.

Captain_Hoyt wrote:

"Well, whaddya think? Check in with Elan, make sure he's not dead or dying, then do some shopping? I wouldn't mind getting something a little less primitive. Maybe something with a little more zap and a little less ricochet." He taps at his holster.

Taelor is leaning back in her chair, having overindulged a bit and cleaning up her plate, sides and all. She nods at Graham's suggestion. "Sure. Can't say when we'll next be in such a nice place. We might as well take advantage of it. I'm pretty happy with my gear, but the ship's pretty barebones. We might want to pick up some stuff to spruce it up a bit. Make it more homey."

moarhair wrote:

Taelor is leaning back in her chair, having overindulged a bit and cleaning up her plate, sides and all. She nods at Graham's suggestion. "Sure. Can't say when we'll next be in such a nice place. We might as well take advantage of it. I'm pretty happy with my gear, but the ship's pretty barebones. We might want to pick up some stuff to spruce it up a bit. Make it more homey."

"Have at it! My only request is a cross-stitched 'Live, Laugh, Love' sign posted by Elan's bunk", Graham says with a laugh as he lifts his drink.  "The whole ship could be totally bare except for that one thing, and I'd be happy. Then we can take 'before-and-after' pictures. "Before decoration *click*......After decoration *click*"" His smile lingers at the thought, and he twists the end of his mustache like the tip of a paintbrush.

"Shall we?", he says, as he pushes away from the table. Graham thanks the waitress and turns to leave, then turns back to ask her for directions to a shopping area. She points down the street in the direction they were originally going, then bends her hand leftward. Graham and Taelor head down the street, hang a left, and find themselves on Trader's Boulevard. Drones with hologram projectors buzz around, hawking wares, and enticing shoppers with friendly voices. "Follow me for the best in home drones, garden auto-planters, and fix-it 'bots!" "Come see us at Tricky Rick's Stuff and More Stuff for state-of-the-art autonomous cooking utensils!" "Come check us out at Elric's Vintage Importers! Whether it's 10, 50, or 350 years old, there's definitely a chance we might have it!" The projector of Elric's drone cycles through a series of holograms, and pauses on what appears to be a sphere hanging from a ceiling, covered in a surface of tiny mirrors. Colored lights appear to reflect from the surface in all directions as the globe spins. The sight stops Graham in his tracks, jaw slightly agape.

Inside the light is dim, it's warm and smells like some herbs have been burnt recently. After the eyes adjust to the darkness a room opens up in front of Elan and Lola, with benches in a circle around a stone statue of a sitting female figure. She is not fat, but also not far from it and stares into the distance. In the back an old man comes from somewhere and with a friendly smile starts "Welcome to our humble temple. You're not from here, what brings you to us?"

Elan again suppresses a smart response and decides to play it straight. Well, straight-ish.

"To Aldega? Business. To your humble temple? Curiosity.

"May we ask what 'The Last Kin' is? What makes this place special?"

The priest makes an inviting gesture towards the benches and sits himself onto one. "A curious soul? " he smiles, "We as The Last Kin believe in the natural roots of Aldega. The Mother" , he gestures to the statue, "watches over us and fills us with life. Not much is left of her workings, here on Aldega. Everything has been remade by men. But sometimes we find remnants of her might and here beauty. That's where we worship her, to honor her gifts." a young boy walks in with a tray with three steaming cups, with a golden liquid inside and places it in front of everybody. Then he walks away silently again. The old man smiles, nods to the boy and starts sipping from his cup. "From where did the Mother guide you to us, if I may ask?"

Elan accepts the steaming cup of golden liquid, which looks good to him. Plus it's unlikely to be alcoholic and Elan just doesn't have the stature or constitution to be much of a drinker. He thanks their hosts for their hospitality and sips.

"I'm a migrant myself. I've been to Aldega before and here I am again, but with stops on Astyoc and Sepinc along the way. Rover, wanderer, nomad, vagabond, call me what you will. Anywhere I roam, where I lay my head is home."

He sips his golden drink, which seems to be making him contemplative.

"I adapt to the unknown. Under wandering stars I've grown, by myself but not alone." He indicates Lola as a traveling companion.

He smiles wryly. "The less I have, the more I gain. Or, at least, that's how it's been up until now. But perhaps now I'm seeking other things.

"If you're willing to share, I'd like to hear more about the Mother. What remnants of her might and her beauty have you found?"

The liquid seems to be some herbal tea. It's spicy and sweet. "Right below us is a part of her body. Dark as the night, smooth as water on a lake on a calm day and unbreakable. The legend says 'The mother shall protect us until the last boulder is ground to dust'. So as long as we protect her, she will watch over us. " he smiles his Zen smile and sips his tea.

"Remarkable!" Elan says, leaning backward at the revelation.

"How did she get there?" he asks with curiosity. "Her body, I mean. Has she always been there or was she placed there? Was this building already here or was it built around and over her?"

"That only the Mother knows. We found the part of her when extending the basements another level. Since then this place is of holy importance. We feel very blessed that she revealed herself to us and are honoured to protect her. "

Elan nods along, indicating that he is listening closely. But his mind is also racing about possibilities.

They were already here, extending the basement when they 'found' her? That's awfully convenient, he thinks to himself.

It's not that Elan has an issue with organized religion. In a universe where Statton can teleport, a biopsion can cure the masses, and Elan can punch someone's brains out the back of their head with a wayward thought, the powers of religion were well (well) within the realm of possibility.

It's just that Elan - not being exactly trustworthy himself - doesn't naturally trust others. The Zen bliss that he finds in the monk's eyes is not terribly different than the one Rena gets when she's living better through chemistry.

It could be real or it could be real good marketing, he thinks to himself.

"Is it possible to visit the Mother ourselves?" Elan asks, gesturing to himself and Lola. "To pay our respects, and honor her gifts.

"Forgive me if I trespass, but I do not often find myself on hallowed ground. I am eager to experience the blessing and... contentment that you find in this place. To see what you see, and feel what you feel."

Lola had spent ten seconds examining the outside of the building, before slowly assessing the streets and buildings around it. If an ambush was coming, it could come from many places, and in a way that worked to their advantage. They would have needed a lot more time to try and access this building stealtily, which meant their moves had to be in the open. And in that case it was better to be fast. Everything being open aided that. Until they got inside anyways.

Glancing over at Elan, she shrugged as he asked about the building.
"Its either the stone, or something underneath it. They wouldn't be wanting this building or anything around it."

Inside the church she'd been impressed by the act Elan had been able to put on. She'd been raised in traditions, rather than religion and further reading had led her to dislike churches almost as worse as the corporations. In a lot of cases they were sisters of the litter, grasping for the same tit. However in the present circumstances she was conflicted. This was clearly a community group, and had they been celebrating any other local value she would have steadfastly support them. The fact they believed in nonsense shouldn't affect how she thought of them. Despite this, if able she'd aid them, even if that was more of a strike back against IN.

"I'm just over the way there, grew up in Marple and was then dragged off to the blinkers. Part back as a pilgrimage. I'm always behind local beliefs and customs. There's a special bond between the soil and the one who grew on it."

Her expression was still and serious as she said this.

To Lola the priest nods and answers "Yes, exactly. We need to be thankful for where we come from and that life was given to us." , turning to Elan, he continues "Of course you can visit our sanctum, what good would it be, if it were restricted to the few. If you would follow me." he rises, puts his cup aside and walks towards the back where a curtain closes an opening. Pulling it aside stairs towards down are revealed. "It's three stories down, unfortunately we do not have an elevator."

The stairway is a bleak concrete structure, well lit by neon lights, as often found in larger buildings.
The first and second landing have doors that lead to similarly bleak hallways. The last landing ends on soil. A gentle slope enters a large cave, bathed in a dim light. It's very silent, the air is damp and smells like soil. There are no lamps, the light seems to come directly from the walls. However, it's just enough to illuminate the cave sufficiently that everything can be seen, details are hard to make out. In the middle of the cave is an enormous black boulder. It is several meters in every dimension, smooth, at least it seems so from the current perspective, irregularly shaped and so black, it seems to swallow the light around itself.
It is an awe inspiring sight.
The priest stops and nods towards the boulder, with a smile that could be pride or happiness. "This is what the Mother gifted us in her infinite generosity."

Lola nodded back at the priest.
"I'd've been more surprised if you had one. The long way down is fine.

When they started down the stairway, she took up a position directly behind the priest. Their position had entirely reversed. Where once their options for escape had anywhere you'd care to look, they were now in a prime position for ambush, restricted to this one path, deep underground. Normally she'd have been at the back, keeping a keen eye at their rear, and ready to either cover or snipe. Elan though for all his undoubted skills was still a civilian, and so she took the lead. If something happened quickly, she was better to either take the blow or deal with it. He also had those psyonics.

Reaching the bottom, her eyes widened as she stared at the stone. She didn't normally spend a lot of time appreciating natural beauty, appreciating its importance but putting a lot more value into people rather than things. There was something about this rock though, something about its smoothness, and that darker than dark black that just trapped your eyes. Finally managing to drag her eyes away and blinking in surprise, Lola looked back over at the priest.

"It really is remarkable. I don't think I've ever seen anything like it before. Have there been any others who have shown interest in this gift of the Mother? I can imagine there would be some who'd wish to take it from you."

Elan is inclined to go first, as it's just about impossible to surprise him, but Lola takes the lead behind the priest. Elan refrains from saying "Ladies first" as he turns his attention to guarding the rear.

When he encounters the stone, his initial and honest reaction is, "Neat." But he figures it would polite to say something more effusive. "Isn't that remarkable," he murmurs under his breath.

His next thought it to wish Rena were here so that she could make some sense of it, but odds are good that she's currently blitzed out of her mind on some local delicacy.

He has Lola with him instead. She asking intelligent questions, phrased with more diplomacy than he would have given her credit for.

"How do you worship?" he asks the monk. "Are you allowed to touch the Mother?"

He begins mentally composing a message to the team, unsure of when he'll have a moment to send it.

<<Team, there's something here. There's a real boulder and it's real neat-o. It seems to be absorbing almost all visible light.>>

<<There are some curious coincidences in their story that I'd like to track down. It's not out of the question that they opportunistically covered a big rock in vertically-aligned nanotube arrays to simulate the effect. But it's also possible - and rather more likely - that IN is a liar liar pants on fire about their true intentions for this specific location.>>

<<If this is naturally occurring, I can think of a dozen applications for this, and I'm sure big-brain types like Rena and the IN scientists could think up a hundred more.>> Elan's mind, that of a thief, immediately goes to multi-spectral camouflage and the powers of concealment.

<<Graham, can you chase down the legal owner of this property? Does IN have any rights to it or are they making a play on this property outside of legal avenues?>>

<<Rena, can you get down here and check this this out? Bring a survey scanner with you if you can drum one up.>>

"Noone ever asked to take this. The ones that know about this sanctum, appreciate it as such. Only lately one of the corporations insists on trying to acquire this block, including our humble temple. But I know not why.

We don't ritualise worship. Spirituality is a profoundly personal thing and therefore we allow everyone to worship in his or her way. Some sing, some dance, some talk. Some just stand or sit in silence. I've seen people cry as part of their personal ritual.
We offer room upstairs for people to gather and I try to offer solace or support to those that seek it.
Otherwise, who am I to tell people how to thank for the gifts they received or the challenges that are put before them.
If you would like to touch the piece of the Mother, by all means, you would not be the first. "

"Touch your mother", "get a piece of your mother", the jokes practically write themselves but Elan heroically suppresses them all.

Instead he respectfully approaches and circles the boulder to look at it from all sides. He begins to whisper under his breath, seemingly in prayer but in reality using the speech-to-text functionality on his compad to transcribe his message to the team. He schedules it to be sent as soon as there is sufficient signal.

Once he's on the opposite side of the boulder, perhaps to ensure a tiny bit of privacy, he kneels next to it. He extends his hand forward to gently touch the rock. He's well aware that since he can't see the surface it might be spiky or sharp just as easily as it could be smooth. Seeing the light on his hand but with a pitch-black background makes him feel like he's reaching out into the void. Hopefully it isn't a highly localized black hole that will spaghettify him once he touches it.

"Here it goes," he says to himself, his hand getting close. Will it be warm or cool? Smooth or sharp? He intends to scratch lightly at the surface to make sure it's not some super-black paint that was applied to dupe the locals.

The boulder is cold, a bit colder than Elan would have expected compared to the caves temperature, but not freezing. It's black surface is slightly rough, but has no sharp edges or corners. Scratching it does not reveal anything hidden, nor does any dust come off.

Taelor follows along as Graham leads them through the shopping district. They mostly window shop, picking up a few things to make the ship more homey and some weapons for Graham. After some time, her dataslab vibrates. She puts one of her shoping bags down and pulls it out to see a bunch of texts from Elan.

"Duty calls, Graham. Elan wants to know some bureaucratic shit. I can take this stuff back if you want to get right to it."

Lola stood back staying close to the priest, letting Elan discover what he could from the stone itself. It didn't look like anything she'd seen before, and she doubted getting any closer would reveal anything new to her. Instead she kept a casual look out around them just in case an ambush of some kind was coming. This wouldn't be the first gang who'd pretended to be something else on the surface, and considering the disadvantages they were facing so far underground, she couldn't hand them any further.

Despite her natural wariness though, she was inclined to take this situation as it was. Her body and training made her want to find traps in everything. Her mind recognised that Corpers were much more likely to lie if they could see profit. The fact that no one had asked about this was a bit weird but it had to be too much of a coincidence that they wanted this block. Especially as they'd tagged this church as a gang.

Feeling the vibration on her hip, she checked her data pad, and then replaced it. More information would be useful. She wondered just how much money would convince the church that the stone was in fact a gift sent to enrich the community.

Elan has disappeared behind the boulder for some time now and Lola does not like it. How can she protect someone she cannot see. Suddenly her pants vibrate again. Well, compad. Maybe status from Elan? She pulls it out and glances down, just to return her eyes back to scanning the exits quickly. //Before you and Speechless skip planet, I might have a passenger, if you are interested. Let me know. S. //


While Graham plows the network once again in order to find out who owns the property, his eyes get caught on a post.

Quote :

Wanted alive!
Carac Sarandanis
for fraud, embezzlement and delayed insolvency.
Reward 50.000 c upon delivery to the authorities of the Aldega High Court (or representatives)

moarhair wrote:

"Duty calls, Graham. Elan wants to know some bureaucratic shit. I can take this stuff back if you want to get right to it."

Graham nods thoughtfully. "Bureaucratic shit? That's literally my favorite kind of shit." He rolls his eyes in sarcastic humor, preparing himself to do some shit of the bureaucratic variety.

To Taelor, "Instead of going through land management, maybe I can dig something up through the taxing authority."

He knocks around on the compad for a few minutes before digging up the contact information for Aldega's Department of Taxation.

"Hi, this is Graham Middleton, I just wanted to check the status of taxes paid on a certain property..." After a little back-and-forth, Taelor can hear Graham mumbling the details. "...West Wind Outfit...formerly owned by Carac Sarandanis...recently bought by 'P.M', registered under 'Security'..." He pauses, then blurts out, "P.M....hey, that didn't happen to be Paulie Mastos, was it? I'm sure there's a document with the full name, who's paying the taxes over at Security now?" He laughs a little, hoping to urge the clerk into a few more taps at the keyboard. His eyebrows flutter up and down like the film star Goroucho Maroux as he looks at Taelor, like he's pulling a fast one.

The person on the other side of the phone talks for a bit. Graham nods a few times, a few words are exchanged here and there while there person on the other side seems to search for something. Then eventually a smile spreads on Graham's face. Martinez, P. Martinez
He thanks politely and hangs up.

Having what he wanted, Graham sends a message to the group.

//Land is owned by P. Martinez. Maybe not coincidentally, the guy he recently bought it from is wanted for a 50k reward, a guy named Carac Sarandanis. Might be worth finding out about both these guys.//

He hits send, and turns to Taelor. "Do you think this Sarandanis donkey smoker is in cahoots with the Last Boulder Kin? Maybe playing keep-away with IN?"

He starts to search for news stories on Carac Sarandanis and P. Martinez. A 50k reward isn't the kind of thing that escapes news sources. Not for long, anyway.

Taelor shrugs. "Hell if I know. Maybe we should find him and ask. If it's unrelated... then he's worth 50k."

She was itching to get back into the pilot's seat, but that kind of money would go a long way towards keeping them flying.

Rena arrives back on the ship after a few days anonymity, bringing with her several items of an alchemical nature. "Apologies for the radio silence, but I had to keep a low profile." She says no more on the matter, but it seems her usually cheery demeanour has returned fully after the events on Astyoc. She even brings a few souvenirs for new ship, to make it feel 'more like a home.'

On the topic of tracking down a white-collar bounty, the apothecary seems eager. "It would certainly be nice to take a job that utilises brains over brawn."

It doesn't take Graham long to find something on the situation of Sarandanis.

Quote :

Head of Terra Prime no show for insolvency hearing

The head of the declining corporation Terra Prime, Carac Sarandanis, was a repeated no show for the insolvency hearing at Aldega Economic Court in the Central District today. As Sarandanis has thus far missed all hearings set to solve the insolvency of his crumbling empire, a reward was set for his apprehension so affairs and debts can be cleared.
Officials refused to comment on further details.

Lola eyed the boulder again waiting for another few seconds for Elan to appear and seeing nothing. Could be nothing. Elan didn't seem the type who would be ambushed so quietly but she'd seen it happen before. She would have to check, even if it was only a slight chance. She wasn't really worried, but environments like this made her wary. She preferred space and lines of sight.

Glancing back at her pad, with one eye, her face still upturned and looking, she typed out a quick reply to Serge.
<Could be. What's the story on this one? Anyone looking for them?>
She then messaged the group.
<Might have a passenger. Let you know more when I do.>

Slipping it back into its pocket, she gave the rock one long look again, before slowly moving around the side to try and get a view of Elan, attempting to stay as far from the rock, with her back covered, as possible.

//The contrary. Noone looking for him, he is looking for his old man. He is one of us, was shipped on a mining expedition to Gor, but they lost contact. That's month ago now. //

Elan emerges from behind the rock, maybe throwing a subtle thumbs-up at Lola. What does the thumbs-up mean? "The rock is, indeed, a rock"? "I didn't die"? Who knows.

He rejoins Lola, who seems to be staying as far from the rock, with her back covered, as possible. Is she concerned that the rock will absorb her vital essence? That Brother Martinez will murderize her with his bare hands? It seems a bit silly to Elan but he acknowledges that training is training and can be just about impossible to turn off. He momentarily debates tapping her on the back with his psychokinetic powers just to watch her jump, but thinks better of it.

"Brother, thank you for your time," he says to Brother Martinez. "If it's okay, I'd like to bring in some friends to visit the Mother. I think they'll find her as remarkable as you and I do. I'm hoping they'll be here within the hour."

He heads upstairs and then outside to debrief with Lola.

"Rock seems legit," he says, "but I'm no academic. I want Rena's take on things."

Lola felt the buzz on her hip at the same time as she noticed Elan emerge. It seemed he'd just been getting up close and personal with the rock. She gave a little shrug with her shoulders. Maybe this whole place really was as the bird flew. She nodded over at Elan, and then retrieved the data pad to check the message. It too seemed to express nothing but normality as well. It was going to take a while to adjust back to civvie life.
Messaging the group again, she reported
<Parently little to worry about. Guy wondering if he can go out to try and find his dad in Gor. Are we heading out that way?>

Following behind Elan, she kept most of her attention behind her as they climbed up the stairs. Once back outside she relaxed a little, leaning back against the wall, and after giving the streets outside a scan again, looked over at Elan, her brows furrowing a little.
"Legit? As in you think its valuable or you think its really a gift from 'Ma'?"

Looking again over the streets, she continued.
"It seems all pretty safe here so there should be no issue waiting. If it is really valuable it could be what the donkey sucklers are after, though I can't figure why they havn't tried to get it directly. Unless they were afraid of alerting others who might get in on their scheme?"

Eying Elan again, she asked, curiosity showing on her face
"Say it is valuable, what would you want to do?"

"I don't know where the rock came from," Elan admits. "But there are weirder things than religion. I have brain disease with magic side effects so I'm hardly one to talk.

"But I think it's legit in the sense of being an element of value and not just a big rock spray painted black to fool the local yokels. But that's why I asked Rena to come down, to confirm that impression."

He nods with Lola's speculation about why didn't IN just come in and take it.

"They're tied up in courts with Freyer. Maybe they don't want the bad publicity. Maybe if they're accusing Freyer of corporate espionage and theft, they don't want to look like hypocrites by stealing the land. Judges and lawyers have their own race, their own system of scoring points against each other as they jockey for position. They all want to appear reasonable; it seems to help in the legal game. And publicity too. If they're going to have the neighborhood up in arms about their presence, it will cost them a fortune in security."

He thinks for a while about the question about what he would want to do if it's valuable. Steal it is the reflexive answer, but is that really true? He does have a 'rob from the rich, give to the poor' ethos, largely because he's always been 'the poor' in that equation. But does that still hold?

"I'd want to go have a chat with Mrs. Bhilwada," he says finally. "An off-the-record chat. We could some things straight between us, come to an understanding."

The corner of his mouth twists up in a wicked smirk.