Chapter 3 - The package

As Elan and Rena left to settle in, Taelor was left in a daze of confusion. Why had neither of them taken the bait? Wait... Had she imagined the chemistry between them? Was Elan just intimidated by Rena? Oh, God... it's Mattie Burns and Ricky Cooper from 7th grade all over again!

Taelor is thankful the others aren't there to see the penny drop. "Y'all get settled in, I'm going to do some pre-flight checks," she yells down the corridor, before slinking off to the bridge. The checks wouldn't be necessary for a day, or two, or however long Graham still needed, but she needed to hide and wallow in shame.

"No objections from me." Rena says with a smile after being gifted a cabin. "Much obliged."

As the topic shifts to her work, the good doctor's face lights up. "Well, I'm not one for giving away my secrets, but seeing as you gave up your room for me I suppose we can call it repaying a favour. You remember elate?" Elan would be intimately aware of the street name for Rena's signature product, a narcotic created from readily-available t4 "lift" bases but with massively increased catecholamine transmission, producing a stim that invoked feelings of euphoria in users with a very gradual comedown and only minimal physiological addiction. The drug was reverse-engineered by several less reputable pharmacologists and intentionally altered to be much more addictive, and so became one of many options on the street for those looking for a high, but Rena's constant tinkering with the source formula coupled with her reputation for clean merchandise kept people coming to her for supply.

"It turns out that a ionising the triacylglyceride a few degrees lower impacts the isaccharide bonds by a factor of almost 2.1; If I can somehow get it to 2.2, we're looking at a product with a null-value dysphoria." She beams at Elan, her face a picture of innocence and pure intention. "Zero comedown, man. The dream!"

Whether or not anyone else approves of Rena's ambition to create a mood-altering substance you can abuse 24/7, she takes her large backpack to her cabin and gets settled for the time ahead.

Graham relaxes in the bar, knowing he only has 24 hours to get his stuff together. There's really not that much to do -- find a nice woman, get married, have kids, then tell them he's going out to pick up some smokes before disappearing forever.

He mentally checks his calendar. "Hmm. That's going to be a squeeze."

He draws a sip of beer, savoring the fact that tis will be the last time he has to drink one of these for a while. Just for fun, Graham pulls out his compad, and starts a project file on his MicroSquish Project app. He names the project "Make Family, Leave Forever", and sketches out a rough timeline. The project runs into difficulties about 18 hours in. He makes a note: 'Project is behind schedule and over budget. May have to reconsider constraints.'

Graham looks at the tasks 'Find Suitable Wife', 'Make Babies', and 'Accidentally Miss All Piano Recitals', and cuts them from the project. That just leaves two tasks, 'Take Up Smoking', and 'Go Out For Smokes and Leave Forever'. "Ah, on schedule and under budget", he thinks to himself with an inward smile.

He pays up, and says goodbye to Bridgette, the bartender. He never got around to asking her out, seemed like something always came up. The last thing that came up was the arrival of the Tsunami.
"Leave Astyoc, or stick around with a cute bartender and make puppies?"
When he considers it like that, he congratulates himself on making the smart choice.

He makes the rounds, says a few goodbyes to the Cantina customers he knew from the community center, people the group may have saved from the Diogenes plot. It wouldn't hurt if the folks of Astyoc remember us this way, as having saved so many of them from zombification. Just for the hell of it, he buys the bar a round of drinks, and waves on his way out the door.

He gets home, maybe a little lonely, flops on his bed, and falls immediately asleep. In the morning, Graham packs up his few possessions -- including his ship transponder, his shiny new combat rifle, and his pillow. He messages his friends before heading out, drops his apartment key off with the apartment manager, and the town is treated to the odd sight of a grown man with a fabulous mustache walking down the street, wearing a backpack, with a combat rifle slung over one shoulder, carrying a pillow.

And this is how his friends see him as he arrives at the spaceport, apparently ready for travel, combat, and a nap.

Taelor is finishing an inspection of the hull repairs, making sure all the welding is up to code, when Graham shows up. She grins when she sees what he's carrying.

"Aw, you brought your own pillow," she says mockingly. Then she remembers the paper thin, cheap, mass-produced excuse for a pillow she has waiting for her in her quarters and makes a face. "Fair enough," she says, sounding resigned. "Did you get it on Astyoc or did you bring it with you when you came?" she asks, hoping for the former.

moarhair wrote:

"Did you get it on Astyoc or did you bring it with you when you came?" she asks, hoping for the former.

Graham passes in front of Taelor, searching for the most disturbing thing he can say about his pillow, but the best that pops into his head is "Family heirloom, my dad got it from your grandmother."  Graham has no idea how Taelor will take the quip, he just gives her a quick wink and walks by. "She was military, right? She's got to be immune to 'your mom' jokes, or the ancestral equivalents..." He hopes he's right, but knows he might have just blundered into something. With his proverbial fingers crossed, he goes looking for his bunk -- a safe place to put Taelor's grandmother's pillow.

He calls back over his shoulder, "How's Tsunami? No bombs, or anything? No terrorists hiding in the space toilet?"

Graham sits on his bunk, and starts doing a search on his compad. He's still intrigued by the reactor they'd found in the old city, and he starts referencing the pictures he took, looking for more information held in the sector's data. Then he gets up again, and goes system by system on the bridge, familiarizing himself with the various stations.

Captain_Hoyt wrote:

Graham passes in front of Taelor, searching for the most disturbing thing he can say about his pillow, but the best that pops into his head is "Family heirloom, my dad got it from your grandmother."  Graham has no idea how Taelor will take the quip, he just gives her a quick wink and walks by. "She was military, right? She's got to be immune to 'your mom' jokes, or the ancestral equivalents..." He hopes he's right, but knows he might have just blundered into something. With his proverbial fingers crossed, he goes looking for his bunk -- a safe place to put Taelor's grandmother's pillow.

"Well, that explains why she needed so many antibiotics..." Taelor quips back, punctuating it by sticking her tongue out Graham's retreating form.

Captain_Hoyt wrote:

He calls back over his shoulder, "How's Tsunami? No bombs, or anything? No terrorists hiding in the space toilet?"

"Not yet, let me know when you get there," she throws back at him, before going back to her final checks.

moarhair wrote:

"Well, that explains why she needed so many antibiotics..."

From the depths of the ship, Taelor hears Graham, "Antibiotics and mouthwash...lots and lots of mouthwash, by all accounts, if the scribblings on the bathroom walls can be believed..."

"Yep, she was military...", Graham confirms to himself. It comforts him that she's no shrinking wallflower. She can dish it out, and she can take it. He saw how she handled herself in the old city. If he had any doubts about her, they were evaporating.

A thought hits him, as he's taking stock of his doubts. Elan's friend. Graham had his doubts, at first, that the timing of her appearance was a little too convenient. It hits him hard enough, that he physically stops moving to consider the fact that she's going with them. If she were there for reasons of espionage, she would have stayed on Astyoc. The thought is satisfying, and he continues surveying the ship's systems before another thought stops him. "It rules out espionage. Doesn't really rule out murder, but hey, at least espionage is out", he thinks, then shrugs.

Captain_Hoyt wrote:

From the depths of the ship, Taelor hears Graham, "Antibiotics and mouthwash...lots and lots of mouthwash, by all accounts, if the scribblings on the bathroom walls can be believed..."

Taelor opens her mouth to fire back, but Graham has already disappeared into the bowels of the ship. "Ah, so your allergy to soap comes from your father's side," she says for her own satisfaction. Graham would have fit in nicely with her militia buddies, she muses.

She finishes her inspection and climbs aboard, closing up the hatch behind her and waiting for the seal sensors to turn red. She then goes around the ship to check on everyone. "Liftoff in 30. Make sure all your shit is secured."

She goes up to the bridge and plops herself down in the pilot's seat. She runs her hands affectionately on the controls, then begins her pre-flight checks.

"30 seconds or 30 minutes?" Elan asks, a bit unclear on how language and assumptions change once the environment changes.

He's in the galley, practicing with a deck of cards. He knows several sleight-of-hand illusions that he taught himself in the downtime between jobs while he was laying low. The Rising Card, The Floating Card, The Teleporting Card, The Magnetic Hand, and so on. His fingers are fast and he figures it's good training. For what, who can say. For distracting a mark? Maybe. Pickpocketing? Perhaps. Passing the time in the void of space? Certainly.

The galley bench has seatbelts, so he buckles himself up in case the answer is 30 seconds. Then he goes back to his tricks, wondering if the acceleration of takeoff can be used to help manipulate or transport the cards somehow. Can he gently toss one in the air and have it rocket across the lounge just as Taelor engages the engines? He decides to experiment.

The engine cries loudly as the ship slowly leaves the landing pad. Slowly, then faster and faster the ship shoots away from Mani Losa Plains, towards the dark emptiness of space. For a short moment the outside cameras show a panoramic view of the small settlement that is Mani Losa Plains in the mids of the vast field of ruins that once was the enormous city of Mani Losa. Maybe it will be again one day.
Slowly the violent rattling and the deafening noise fade away, as atmosphere stops trying to rip the speeding ship apart.

Now the ship gently drifts at a gentle quarter g towards the jump point towards Mentta. It will only be a short stop there, just to enter metaspace again on the final jump to Valiu. But until then they will spend a long time alone, an insignificant bubble of oxygen in the vast vacuum around them.

Graham hadn't been in metaspace for a long time and the weird sensation of hurdling through space at faster than the speed of light, or mote accurately not faster, just in a different direction, amazed him as if it was the first time. He remembered it to be much rougher though.
It had been 4h since they popped back into reality in the Valiu system, now flying towards the star in search of the large blue ball that is circling around it.

It felt so good to be behind the pilots control again. The long jump between Mentta and Valiu had been difficult. Not impossible, but not without risk either. And she had nailed it. With the feeling of pride spreading in herself Taelor checks the system flight plan.

Quote :

Sepcinc...  
Travel duration: 16h
Flip point: 7h
Average acceleration: 1/3g

Local space port: <private>
Local time (current): 05:47
Estimated Time of Arrival: 08:53
Local average daily temperature: 293K

Have a nice flight.

Alright, it is still quite a trip. First passing Ankaju Ratri and the asteroid belt. But there should not be any hiccups.

Elan turns out the be pretty decent company, even when trapped in a tight tin can for days at a time. He's a veritable font of personal entertainment, whether it's flashy legerdemain, amusing anecdotes, or improvised instruments. He can recite poetry, deliver a moving monologue, and his singing voice is wonderfully true.

"This is nothing," he says in response to his cramped quarters. "I once spent a week hiding in bolthouse made out of a shipping container. Corrugated metal floor with a chemical toilet. The batteries for the glowbug ran out after three days, so I spent four days in pitch darkness. I couldn't use my compad because I needed to keep the battery charged waiting for the 'all clear' signal. Four days and nights, no light, no sense of the passage of time. And let's not even talk about how much time I spent using the emergency hand crank on the vacc fresher, just to ensure that I had enough air to breathe."

He shakes his head at the memory.

"Ever since then, laying low is easy. The Tsunami is a veritable Eden, what with the hydrator and the overhead lights and the captive audience... Here, let me teach you a game I learned. You take the foil wrapper off the top of your ramen cup and fold it up tightly in a little triangle and then you flick it across the table trying to get it to dangle (but not fall) over the edge... I call it 'Elan Ball'. I always win but I swear on Taelor's grandmoter's grave that I don't cheat."

During the long trip to Valiu, Taelor does her best to keep for succumbing to cabin fever. Long trips tend to be pretty boring and keeping busy is key to staying sane. She makes sure to workout for at least an hour per day. She also checks on the engine and their course regularly.

She spends the rest of her time awake in the common area, either tinkering with the drone she took from Astyoc, reading articles about guns, tech, or celebrity gossip (even if she's never heard of them), chatting with whoever is willing to, or enjoying Elan's antics and performances.

If people ask, she readily volunteers information about herself. Taelor grew up on the mining colony of La Paz 1 in the Tecmeda system, a small, cramped, overpopulated, underground burrow which she describes as routine made manifest. She tells the others about her family: her miner dad, her cargo shuttle pilot mom, her three sisters, one brother, and innumerable cousins, aunts and uncles.

She tells them about her time in the Tecmeda militia. The arrogance of the fighter pilots, each financed by their rich parents, and how she got stuck flying troop and cargo transports. She talks about her friends. She tells them how boring militia life turned out to be and how she packed her bags and left as soon as her first tour was over, looking to explore the galaxy and finally find some excitement.

She seems happy to have left Astyoc behind, but also at having met the others and gotten her first taste of a real adventure. She seems hopeful about the future, and eager to see what comes next.

Rena spends almost half of the first day on board cooped up in her cabin after taking a vested interest in the Tsunami's paltry medbay. She emerges for food around 9 hours after launch with a satisfied look on her face and offers Elan a knowing wink; for the rest of the journey the good doctor seems even more amicable and relaxed than she was when you first encountered her.

During one chance encounter with Taelor, she listens intently to the pilot's childhood on La Paz and offers the tale of her own origin in return. She tells of her comparatively privileged upbringing in one of the more respected areas of Aldega, how she got her interest in chemistry from her mother, a doctor and lecturer at an esteemed university, and learned the "art of the deal" from her father, an accomplished financial broker for one of the large corporations that controlled the planet's economy. To compound the differences between her own childhood and Taelor's even further, Rena was an only child with no extended family.

She also talks of her inadvertent and fateful introduction to the criminal underworld, as she used her haggling skills and intuition to locate a seller of restricted medical supplies for her perennial pharmaceutical experimentation; Rena walked straight into a black market drug deal and out the other side before she realised what had happened. Once she had tasted the lucrative ease of the whole thing, she realised it was a world in which she could thrive.

On another day, Rena catches one of Elan's enthralling recitations and offers him a heartfelt round of applause as he finishes. She knew the man was talented, but it seemed he had even more hidden talents than she would have ever guessed. The pair spend some time talking about the past, but also of the future, and eventually the crew of the Tsunami made the doctor an offer; she was welcome to continue travelling with them, so long as she earned her keep. With nowhere else to go and no real desire to continue her vagabond lifestyle, Rena happily agrees to join them. Perhaps she has once again found a home.

Graham enjoys the stories, and wishes somebody had a bottle of liquor. Stories go better with liquor. With alcohol, the stories just get...bigger. The guys you fought got bigger. The girls you dated got prettier. The stunts as a youngster were more daring, more dangerous, and usually resulted in getting beaten up by the biggest dude in four systems while trying to steal his supermodel girlfriend. Alcohol was good for making the stories, and even better for telling them.

Sadly, the only alcohol Graham could have brought was Astyoc spice beer, and nobody wants that.
Except now.
Dammit, should have brought some beer.

Graham tells happy stories about his family, what it was like to be a big brother to two brothers and a little sister. He gives a wistful smile about the time he and his younger brother, Stewart, stole a gravcar. Well, not actually a gravcar. Technically, it was a gravtank, and it was sitting outside a war memorial. The police didn't seem to believe Graham when he told them it was just a spontaneous thing, and that they didn't mean any harm. Apparently, them having a B-cell battery looked 'suspicious', and being caught red-handed with three live howitzer rounds looked 'pre-meditated' for whatever reason. The smoke pouring from the barrel, the loud bang that just woke up the entire town, and the flaming ruins of Mr. Albertson's boat 6,500 meters downrange made them look 'guilty as fuck' or some such nonsense. Clearly, that cop had an over-active imagination.

Graham of course took the fall, and about a thousand public service hours later, he was a free man -- well-seasoned at just 16.

As the days go by, more and more of Graham's past comes up, giving the crew one unmistakable theme from Graham's young life. He was clearly a stupid little shit.

At some point during the journey, Rena puts a question to the others. "So this package, from Aldega; the mysterious prototype technology that's now being couriered covertly to Freyer's new home... It wouldn't have gone missing from Innovative Networks, would it? She asks with a smile, clearly only wanting to be on the same page as the rest of the crew.

Her father was a broker for IN, and she has made deals with some of their representatives in the past.

Taelor is sitting at the table in the common area. Her salvaged drone's control module rests on it, connected to a type A-cell and to her unfolded dataslab. A cold, half-full cup of coffee sits nearby, woefully neglected.

She looks up from her work at Rena's question, a puzzled expression on her face. Then, she remembers that Rena didn't know about the details of the accident. Or about the amnesia. The crew had gotten to know each other pretty well over the past few days, but the subject hadn't come up.

Taelor tucks a strand of hair behind her ear as she ponders where to begin. She takes a deep breath. "I'm... not sure. That's what I'm thinking. The accident that left us stranded on Astyoc also knocked us around quite a bit. When we woke up, Jasper, Senn and I couldn't remember much of the previous 2 weeks. A few flashes about getting the job and a pretty rowdy time leaving Aldega. That's about it."

She shrugs. "If that's where it's from, then I presume we were just couriers. None of us had the skills necessary for a heist. Hell, Senn doesn't even have thumbs."

Faanku wrote:

"So this package, from Aldega; the mysterious prototype technology that's now being couriered covertly to Freyer's new home... It wouldn't have gone missing from Innovative Networks, would it?

Graham's brow furrows, like he's trying to do math he can't quite figure out.
"Wait, what prototype?", he asks, clearly a little confused, his eyes darting from Rena to Taylor and back again.

He wonders what fresh crap the little group had stepped in. He hadn't known them long, but recognized their talent for finding themselves in the deep end of the pool.

"Ooooh, I see. You opened the box, didn't you..."
"So, you found a toy?"
Intrigued, Graham's hand moves instinctively to his mustache for a quick twist, a grin on his face.

"Not sure about that either. Elan tried it on and it only made him mellow." Taelor shrugs. "I guess it could be used for interrogations. Make someone so relaxed they don't care about revealing secrets? Otherwise, maybe the CEO of Freyer is just really stressed..."

The Freyer headquarters are an impressive feat of architecture and engineering. A complex the size of a small city gently floating on a vast ocean. Several round landing pads are positioned in a wide arc, connected by a several meter wide circular path.
Both ends of the path end on the enormous main platform housing several white multistory elipsoid buildings.
The Tsunami landed on the second platform and the crew leaves the ship together onto the clean white landing pad, just to be met by a preppie young lady dressed in a tight white dress that is provocatively short, armed with a dataslap and an aggressively cheery smile.
"Welcome to Freyer Industries. I hope you had a pleasant flight and convenient arrival. Would you be so kind to follow me, Mr. Cox will meet you in the main building. He also asked me to make sure you bring the package." she makes an inviting gesture towards a small cart with several seats and a driver, her smile unfaltering.

As the Tsunami goes in to land and the crew is gathered on the bridge, Rena puts forward a question. "So, who normally does the talking for you guys?

Faanku wrote:

As the Tsunami goes in to land and the crew is gathered on the bridge, Rena puts forward a question. "So, who normally does the talking for you guys?

"Depends on the situation, I guess. But in this case, technically, Taelor is the only one who was hired to do this job. It's her baby, as it were. Once that's completed, though, we're working as a group. Nobody's been the designated spokesman, but I found myself in that position -- maybe as much because I already lived on Astyoc as anything else."

He gives a slight shrug, and looks around at the group.

"Are we in the market for a spokesman?"

Faanku wrote:

As the Tsunami goes in to land and the crew is gathered on the bridge, Rena puts forward a question. "So, who normally does the talking for you guys?

Captain_Hoyt wrote:

"Depends on the situation, I guess. But in this case, technically, Taelor is the only one who was hired to do this job. It's her baby, as it were. Once that's completed, though, we're working as a group. Nobody's been the designated spokesman, but I found myself in that position -- maybe as much because I already lived on Astyoc as anything else."

He gives a slight shrug, and looks around at the group.

"Are we in the market for a spokesman?"

"Not really. Freyer's Director, VP, or Chief Executive something of whatever is expecting me, Jasper, and Senn, so it's probably best if I take the lead on this one. If things become some sort of commercial negotiation, then I'll be more than happy to let the two of you handle it."

Taelor was nervous. Astyoc had been all new. Specinc... she'd been here before and forgotten most of it. What if someone greeted her by name and she couldn't recall theirs? She lets out a long breath. "Alright, we've kept them waiting long enough. I'll get the case."

==============================

Cut back to the crew standing on the landing platform, speaking to the Freyer Industries' greeter.

Thelonius wrote:

"He also asked me to make sure you bring the package."

Taelor moves to the front of the group and lifts the case slightly to show the Freyer Industries employee. "I've got it right here," she says with a forced smile. "Please take us to see Mr. Cox."

The crew enters the cart. It is open from all sides, with three rows of white leather benches plus a small drivers cabin in the front. The young lady enters last and sits on the remaining free bench, her back perfectly straight, the smile impeccable. The cart rolls of with a barely audible buzz.
The young hostess automatically begins her well rehearsed introduction of the location. "The Freyer Industries headquarters are the first and only settlement on Sepcinc. Until 17 years ago the planet was deemed to be uninhabitable due to its strong seismic activity. But thanks to the vision and determination of our leaders this is no longer the case. With the help of Cornelius Tarré, architect of famous structures such as the Impossible Tower on Dios and the Floating Mansion on Keta Reranid. The headquarters were designed and erected in no more than 5 years. The entire structure is floating and therefore unaffected by quakes and volcanic eruptions.
Over there in the distance you can glimpse the shore of the main continent, the smoke is from Parum Amicus, the largest volcano in the area. "
A little later, the cart drives onto the main platform. In the center of the buildings are parcours, a little park and sports fields. Everything is busy with extremely well trained, short haired men and women working out and running. Everybody seems very concentrated and serious. With her twittering voice the lady continues "Then are the training grounds for our prime product. We pride ourselves on the reputation of the Silent Legion throughout the sector to be the most loyal, fastest and most efficient unit there is.
Over there is the main building, I'll show you to the conference room. " Through a large atrium flooded with daylight, decorated with a large tree in the center the young lady walks straight to several glass lifts on the opposite side and offers the crew to enter. Once everyone is inside, the doors of the lift close with a gentle hiss and the lift shoots up towards the top floors. Upon arrival the lift opens directly into a large conference room with an oval table in the middle surrounded by very comfortable looking chairs. The walls are entirely out of glass and offer a breathtaking view of the surround ocean. On the opposite side of the table stands a man in shirt, dress vest and tie, with short well trimmed dark hair and a smoothly shaved square jaw. He stands straight, with very obvious self confidence. A little to the side, beside him is a man in a white lab coat. He has short light hair and a thin mustache. Unlike the man in business dress he seems nervous and somehow worried.
"Welcome to our humble abode! May I offer you a drink?"

Elan leaves Betsy on board and follows along.

He wears his nice clothes - which, in truth, are just casual clothes that are clean and don't have an undue number of wrinkles - and even combs his hair.

He's unarmed and unarmored, which he finds helps people (a.k.a. marks) feel safer around him. Of course, it can make him a target for those who think that he's vulnerable, but he's usually able to disabuse them of that notion.

He stays alert, not really trusting a megacorp to play things straight. We're on their turf, he reminds himself. It makes him nervous. Dark alleys and dirty streets he knows how to deal with. Bright white antiseptic architecture makes him feel like a fish out of water, a metaphor which is particularly apt given the headquarters are gently floating on a vast ocean.

Conversely, Rena is right at home with Freyer's hospitality. Her childhood in the Spires and her father's position inside Innovative Networks mean she's no stranger to corporate luxury, and after the last few weeks of starship travel and spice-beer it makes a welcome change. Noticing Elan's wariness, she gives him a friendly poke in the ribs with her elbow and smiles when he turns to her, hoping her own confidence will put him more at ease. If they were going to play hardball, we'd have been greeted at gunpoint. Things aren't like they are in the trids. And this she know from first-hand experience.

Once they arrive at the conference room, Rena fully assumes her business demeanour and stands confidently behind Taelor, exuding an air of conviction to match the man in the tie.

Unlike Elan, Taelor is armed and wearing her armored undersuit, covered by her usual loose pants and jacket. Her laspistol is secured out of sight, but her knife is strapped to her thigh, in plain view.

She quickly zones out the corporate drone's rambling, but she gets taken in by the sights. As the group walks through the facility, she looks around rapturously, admiring the smooth architecture and advanced tech. After the crumbling, obsolete, post-apocalyptic ambiance of Astyoc, Sepcinc seems almost magical.

In the conference room, Taelor recognizes the man in the suit, presumably Mr. Cox, as the man from her vague memories of her first visit. The familiarity is reassuring. Finally something she can hang onto after the whirlwind of the past few days and the uncertainty she's been feeling since waking up on the Tsunami.

"Yes, thank you, sir. Coffee would be nice." Taelor answers. She moves forward and places the case on the conference table.

"Certainly." he makes a waving motion with his hand and the hostess in the corner starts busying herself on a drink dispenser next to the elevator.
"And to your friends? What happened to the other two? You took your jolly time, switched crews in between?" his face smiles, but his eyes don't. "And here you brought the product, very nice." he again flicks his hand, this time in the direction of the lab coat, who immediately starts towards the case, investigating its contents.

Thelonius wrote:

"Welcome to our humble abode! May I offer you a drink?"

With everything going on around him, all the new sights and sounds, these words are music to his ears.

"After a year of just the local Astyoc spice beer, a drink sounds...magnificent. Yes, please." He smiles at the group's new host, clearly eager for something proper to drink.

Graham looks at his friends, and the young lady who brought them here. "I hadn't realized until now how much I'd missed civilization."

He waits to be offered a seat at the table, and keeps mental tabs on the man in the lab coat. "Is he anxious about the package? Does he think something might happen to us? What possible reason could he have for nervousness? Whatever it is, stay gracious, keep smiling..."

Thelonius wrote:

"Certainly." he makes a waving motion with his hand and the hostess in the corner starts busying herself on a drink dispenser next to the elevator.
"And to your friends? What happened to the other two? You took your jolly time, switched crews in between?" his face smiles, but his eyes don't. "And here you brought the product, very nice." he again flicks his hand, this time in the direction of the lab coat, who immediately starts towards the case, investigating its contents.

"We had some... um... technical difficulties that slowed our progress," says Taelor, trying to sound more corporate. "Some... personnel changes were made necessary along the way."

"Oh, um, I assure you, my new colleagues are professional and very discreet."

She quickly glances at Graham and Rena, looking for their approval.

moarhair wrote:

"We had some... um... technical difficulties that slowed our progress," says Taelor, trying to sound more corporate.

Graham wants to mention the state of the Tsunami when his friends arrived on Astyoc, a clear indication of the necessity for their delay. It's not his place to come between the employer and employee, though, and nobody has asked for an opinion or clarification. He stays out of it, for now, continues to observe, and awaits some kind of tasty beverage. Taelor can choose whatever she wants to divulge, and he doesn't want to confuse the issue.

All he can do is subtly support Taelor with a faint nod. He prefers to keep his hands clasped low, and in front of him. It covers the holster at his side. He knows he's not intimidating anybody, and weapons have no part of this discussion.

Elan is curious why Taelor doesn't elaborate on the repairs that the Tsunami needed, unless - perhaps - the need for repairs somehow reflects poorly on her skills as a pilot. Every subculture has its own etiquette, he thinks to himself.

He presumes that Lab Coat is nervous about the condition of the helmet, especially as it was so delayed. But he keeps an eye on him anyway, tracking how his mood changes.

He thinks back to the Silent Legion and their training.

I wonder how they train them to be the most loyal? he wonders. Perhaps he already knows the answer but just doesn't realize it yet.

The hostess brings a steaming cup of coffee with perfect crema and gives it to Taelor, she then shuffles over to Graham and quietly asks "What can I get you, sir?"
In the meantime Mr. Cox says apologetically "Where are my manners, please, have seat."
In the background the man in the lab coat nervously fiddles with the helmet. The hostess continues to serve out drinks while Mr. Cox lounges into one of the chairs lifts his hand, snaps his fingers and tells the readily approaching hostess to bring him a Staconago Rum. "So, tell me about your technical difficulties, did the olfd bird give you problems?"

Rena takes a seat and listens intently, assured that Taelor can handle things though ready to assist should the need arise. Cox certainly seems the atypical megacorp director so far.

Elan is finding security somewhat lax.

We just waltzed in here open-carrying weapons, he thinks incredulously. Maybe they scanned us covertly but nobody disarmed us. Either Cox is a badass who can murder Taelor with his bare hands - or his mind - or they have some serious security in place.

Hmm, what would I do? Turrets in the ceiling? PRECOGS. Fragging megacorps and their precogs. That's how they get you.

Although, in this case, I suppose their precogs - or telepaths, I guess - can tell that we're here to make a delivery and not, say, stab their executives to death with a writing stylus.

Thelonius wrote:

The hostess brings a steaming cup of coffee with perfect crema and gives it to Taelor, she then shuffles over to Graham and quietly asks "What can I get you, sir?"
In the meantime Mr. Cox says apologetically "Where are my manners, please, have seat."
In the background the man in the lab coat nervously fiddles with the helmet. The hostess continues to serve out drinks while Mr. Cox lounges into one of the chairs lifts his hand, snaps his fingers and tells the readily approaching hostess to bring him a Staconago Rum.

"Our host has the right idea, a Staconago Rum for me as well, please."

Graham takes an approving glance at the hostess as she leaves the room and thinks, "I'm not really a corporate man, but maybe I could be, for a while..."

He sets those thoughts aside to focus on what's in front of him. He watches Mr. LabCoat fiddling with the helmet, wondering what it does, and how it's related to what he's seen so far. He interrupts his own thoughts to bring himself back to the here and now. He listens to the exchange between Taelor and Mr. Cox, listening more to the tone than the actual words.

Thelonius wrote:

"So, tell me about your technical difficulties, did the olfd bird give you problems?"

Taelor takes a seat. "Oh, no. She's a good ship. The problems were due to a... um... collision with a foreign object. It sent us off-course during our spike drill. Blew right through the hull and into the plasma regulator." Taelor starts to speak more confidently as she discusses something in her area of expertise. "The heat must have burned it up, 'cause I didn't find any trace of it. Had to do emergency patch job to keep us from losing atmo. Used an old spacer trick. You take something light, like a..." she trails off, realizing she's rambling.

"Um..." Taelor clears her throat. "I can give you a detailed report if you'd like," she says, shifting back into 'corporate mode'. "I just figured you might like to maintain a certain distance from it all."

"Sir," she adds belatedly.

The lab coat looks up at Mr. Cox, having trouble to force a smile. He nods, but he seems disappointed. Mr. Cox gets up, slaps both hands flat on the table and looks at everybody with a smile. "Well, this was fun, but business does not sleep. I'll leave you in the hands of my trusted assistant. Wendy, why don't you have Cheng show them the bay. Thank you once more for your services, of course the payment will be handled by accounting by tonight. " With that he grabs the package and walks into the lift and leaves without another remark.
The lab coat looks upset but he doesn't say anything. He walks over to Elan, who is closes to him, gives him a friendly tap with his left hand on Elans right shoulder and with his right hand, grabs Elans hand for a shake, looking him in the eyes with a pleading look. Then he turns around and hurries into the lift and disappears. Everything happens so fast the crew is completely taken aback. Especially Elan is confused about the lab coats greeting, but then realises a small paper in his right hand. The coat must have placed it during the shake. He secretly looks at it, it reads Don't resist until there and a few numbers and colons that don't mean anything to Elan.
"Will you be so kind to follow me, I will introduce you to Cheng, he will show you the bay, a magnificent sight one way must not miss when one visits Sepcinc." Wendy chirps with her usual wide smile, making an inviting gesture to the elevator.

Her head is spinning, she tries to open her eyes, but she only sees a bright blur that hurts her head, so she closes them again quickly. From somewhere she can hear voices. "This is already the third time according to her file. Somehow the cocktail seems to be problematic with her. I've seen that occasionally."
"So what's the worst that can happen, I mean so what if she gets pimples or a headache. This is not a spa, for fuck sake."
"Haha, yea, absolutely. I am more worried about the effectiveness of the stims. Just imagine she decides to make a decision by herself in the wrong moment. So far it only happened during drills, but during a mission, we don't want that to happen."
"True, that would be bad. What do you suggest we do?"
"Well, what options do we have. Decommissioning."
The voices fade away and Lola drifts out again. She wakes up with a skull splitting headache. She tries to rub her temples, but her hands are too heavy. Why are they heavy? She opens her eyes a tiny bit and sees her hands bound to a chair. What had happened. She remembers being due for her monthly medical. Everybody had to have a checkup monthly. That's where they also got their infusions. Oh fuck. She remembers the voices. But what did they mean? She tries to move, but her legs are also bound. Opening her eyes against her desire to shut out the painful light she finds herself in a small white room restrained to a chair, bolted to the floor. The room is gently swaying. She quickly closes her eyes again.

Thelonius wrote:

"Thank you once more for your services, of course the payment will be handled by accounting by tonight. " With that he grabs the package and walks into the lift and leaves without another remark.

Taelor rolls her eyes. Bureaucracy. Why couldn't these corporate drones just hand us a case full of cash and send us on our way?

Thelonius wrote:

"Will you be so kind to follow me, I will introduce you to Cheng, he will show you the bay, a magnificent sight one way must not miss when one visits Sepcinc." Wendy chirps with her usual wide smile, making an inviting gesture to the elevator.

Taelor stands with a sigh. She didn't like being given the runaround, though a day at the beach did sound nice...

Thelonius wrote:

The lab coat looks upset but he doesn't say anything. He walks over to Elan, who is closes to him, gives him a friendly tap with his left hand on Elans right shoulder and with his right hand, grabs Elans hand for a shake, looking him in the eyes with a pleading look. Then he turns around and hurries into the lift and disappears.

This strikes Graham as distinctly odd, knowing that there's no connection between Mr. LabCoat and Elan. Alarm bells go off in his head, which is bad enough. What's worse, though, is not even knowing what the alarm is about -- like someone yelling 'Fire!', without seeing smoke or flames.

He looks at Elan, but assumes that anything he might say will be heard by his 'host'. It looks like we'll have to go along with the program, for now, but he doesn't like the program at all. He stands, and heads straight to the elevator, wondering whether Wendy is human or robotic, and where he might need to shoot if it comes to that.

Elan blinks. He has a good poker face and retains a neutral expression even though the message is certainly disconcerting.

He does his best to memorize the numbers and colons. He wants to spread the message around both to warn people but also to put different minds on what the numbers and colons might mean.

Rena's big brain first, he thinks. He enters the elevator as instructed, then stands shoulder-to-shoulder next to Rena. Not looking at her, he bumps her first gently with his, then lightly to palms piece of paper to her. Even if she can't make sense of what the message means, her photographic memory will ensure that she remembers the sequence even if they lose the paper.

Elan's tempted to raise his telekinetic defenses, but for the moment he doesn't, following the instructions to not resist "until there".

Rena sneaks a peek at the paper and memorises the strange formula, then thinks back on the last few minutes. You didn't need to be a mindreader to tell that the labcoat was uncomfortable; he must have slipped Elan the note during that odd handshake. Why are transactions with megacorps rarely as simple as they seem?

As for the formula itself... she's seen this type of code before, during her brief foray into computing back in her early teens. A network address.

Rena hands the paper subtly to Taelor, disguising the motion by clearing her throat. Perhaps one of the others were better equipped to make use of it

Taelor frowns as Rena puts a piece of paper in her hand. "The fuck is this?" she asks. She sees Rena's eyes grow wide and realizes she's made a mistake.

Taelor closes her fist on the paper, hiding it from view as Wendy turns around. "The... song. Never heard anything quite like it," she says, motioning to the speakers from which a mellow, boring excuse for music corporate-types seem to want everywhere was playing.

Wendy nods and turns back around, hitting them with facts about the 'artist', when it was commissioned, blah blah blah... Taelor breathes a sigh of relief.

She unfolds the paper and takes a look, frowning at the hastily-written message. Don't resist? Well, that sounds fucking ominous. She reads the series of numbers. A network address? Taelor slips her dataslab out of her pocket and enters the numbers in it.

She then folds the paper and slips it into Graham's hand.

Graham wonders why Taelor is trying to hold his hand, before realizing she's passing a note like a schoolgirl. He palms it and folds his arms, tilting his hand slightly so he can see what's written. He remembers doing this in grade school, but usually the note would say "I like you. Do you like me? (check one) __Yes __No". No such luck, in this case, just "Don't resist until there" with what could be network octets.
"No, not octets, these are colons", he thinks to himself. "Time?" He checks the local time on his compad.

Trying to look bored and checking her feeds, Taelor types the numbers into her pad and waits. It is takes a longer time to load, but eventually a plain white page opens with one file on it: READ_DANGER

Taelor makes sure her antivirus is on, then taps the file to open it.

Taelor looks up to check on their host. Wendy is beaming and pointing through the glass walls of the elevator, talking about the tree in the foyer. "... three hundred years old. It is an indigenous type..." Not being too concerned about the local fauna of an uninhabitable planet, Taelor ignores Wendy's bright chatter and taps on the file. It opens and shows only a few lines of text.

Quote :

Go along on the ship
When you are out on the water you have a chance
Bay=termination
Come back here later for more info

Still processing the weight of the message, Taelor suddenly starts, when the light changes around her. She looks up to realises the elevator simply went past the foyer into the lower levels. After a short drive with the glass walls blocked by concrete, steel and ceramics, the elevator descends into a large hall that seems to serve as a private harbour. The whole middle of the enormous hall is sea water and one wall on the far end is half opened to the sea.
The elevator stops with a <ding> and the doors open onto a pier. "Welcome to the port. This is where I release you into the competent arms of Mr. Cheng. He will take you out to the bay. When you return, I will be right here waiting for you." She smiles her innocent smile and then points to a very large, well trained man in a leisure, beige suit. He has long black hair, very light skin and prominent cheekbones. Mr. Cheng is standing next to a medium sized boat swaying gently on the waves. It has a table and benches in the rear, a cabin the size of a small apartment and a small loungelike arrangement in the front. "May I welcome you on the Daft Darcy? Have a seat and make yourself at home. Mr. Ilic inside will happily serve you drinks or a snack if you please."

Taelor's mind fills with expletives as she reads the file. Her heart starts to beat faster and adrenaline floods her system.

Thelonius wrote:

When you are out on the water you have a chance

The line stands out in her mind. She takes a deep breath, trying to calm down. She has to let the others know. How can I let the others know? She looks around. The view is stunning. The sea, the smoky continent, the pure blue sky. Not a bad place to die. A sudden sense of peace fills her mind, and with it, inspiration.

A grin spreads across face. "Selfie time!" She grabs her friends and pulls them close, orienting them so that neither Mr. Cheng or Wendy is behind them. She holds up her dataslab, as if taking a picture. On the screen, the others can see the file.

"Smile!" Taelor says, with forced enthusiasm.

Graham, having not found the correlation with the local time that he hoped for, goes back to his first instinct, ie, network octet. He's just entered the octet and sees the file, but doesn't have a chance to open it when Taelor pulls her selfie ploy.

He smiles a faint smile for the selfie as he reads the message on Taelor's compad. The message means bad things, no matter the outcome. he chenges the mode on his compad for taking pictures.
"We either end up at the bottom of the bay, or we make a powerful enemy -- made angry that we're not at the bottom of the bay."

"Wendy, you won't be joining us? We'd better get a selfie now, then, just as a reminder of our time here on Sepcinc."

Without waiting, he leans in next to her, holds out his compad, and snaps a picture.
"If we make it out of here, it won't hurt to have pictures of their lackeys", , but getting out of here seems like a longshot.

Will we even have access to the ship?

He's not pleased, but he goes along, and steps up to meet Mr. Cheng. He does the same, a quick selfie with Mr. Cheng, as a memento of the guy the group had to kill(?) to escape this planet.

One half of Elan's brain is trying to figure a way out of this mess. The other half of his mind is trying to figure out how an indigenous tree could live to be 300 years given all the seismic and volcanic activity on the planet.

"Life, uh, finds a way," he says to Wendy, politely indicating that he's listening while simultaneously expressing resolve to his companions. That's what it does; otherwise it's not life.

He's trying to puzzle out the instructions. "Don't resist until there." But where is 'there'? There's a chance on the water... but the water is the Bay and the Bay=Termination.

And where's the 'here' to come back later for info? The conference room with the lab coat or the network address? Why would we come back rather than headed straight for the ship?

He sighs, wondering if they've lost control of the Tsunami again. A lamentable habit.

If they're going to kill us, why didn't they disarm us? he wonders. Then they offer drinks or a snack and their approach becomes obvious, although he wonders if Graham and Taelor have already been drugged in the conference room.

He ignores the offer. If pressed, he'll offer a 'no thank you, I just ate' or something equally non-commital. If they still press, then it's STOP... HAMMER TIME. You can't touch this.