Chapter 5 - Rock, Paper, Scissors

Taelor scans The Rock Hopper with her eyes. Elan was right, it was not an ideal place for information gathering, but sometimes unusual places could still yield results. "Maybe we should split up. Cover more ground. I don't mind giving this place a shot if you want to try another."

"Alright, yeah," Elan agrees with Taelor.

Splitting up is a curious thought. Elan is used to being a lone wolf, so splitting up comes naturally to him, but he's been working hard on overcoming his reticence of working with other people. In that regard, splitting up feels like breaking this habit that he's trying to form.

"How are we doing this? Lads and ladies? Or mix it up?" He's basically asking if Graham and Nazir will join him, or stay with Taelor while Lola joins Elan.

Once the group is set, Elan keeps walking. Shops might do just as well as bars. He keeps his eyes and ears open.

Tecumseh wrote:

"How are we doing this? Lads and ladies? Or mix it up?"

"I think Nazir and I will start the search on the administrative end of things. Seems unlikely that we'd find exactly what we want in Nan, but this is a good place to figure out the process so we can start in the right place when we get to Ohkotsk. Less heat here, and more room for mistakes while we fumble around. Once we get to Ohkotsk, we'll want to have a much better idea what we're dealing with. If we're lucky, we won't draw much attention here."

He takes a moment to look around, figuring administrative offices might be closer to the station's hub, and checks for signs that might point the way.

Taelor and Lola

The two women walk into the Rock Hopper and casually walk over to the bar. They each draft a drink and turn around to take a look at the crowd. The clientele seems to be mostly workers from the ships docked nearby. The few crowds seem to be quite involved in their respective discussions but at some point one of the men comes over to the dispenser to replenish his drink. He is of medium height, dark skinned and wears a dark grey coverall, that is used and stained. His hair is black and short and he either sports a badly trimmed beard, or hasn't shaved in a while. He is fairly muscular and has a scar on his forehead. He notices the two women standing a bit to the side of the dispenser and calls out "Hey, where'd you two come from? Haven't seen you around. The name is Dennis, I run with those idiots over there." He points over to his tables where his colleagues are still arguing about something else apparently very funny. He turns back to the ladies and smiles.

Elan

Elan walks down the ring. It is a metal tube with a grate on the floor, that curves once around the station. The inner wall of the tube is the window front of various establishments, only interrupted by tunnels into the station. There are several shops, bars and even some restaurants. Everything is geared towards serving the stream of people from docking ships, offering goods for the trips away from the station and drinks and food that are usually not to be had aboard the ships. The spectrum ranges from calm tea houses, via hip bars with light shows and entertainment until restaurant for fine dining. Some places seem to have hit the nerve of the people and are bursting full, others are very specialised and only host a few guests. After having walked once around the ring Elan still didn't find any place that strikes him as potentially helpful in their search.

Graham and Nazir

The administrative offices are not on the outer ring, but can easily be found inside the station. From the ring smaller tunnels lead into the station. They are also made of metal, with a grate floor and fluorescent lights on the ceiling. The offices are a short way into the station and are as tightly grouped as the public area on the ring.
Graham considers the labels on the doors and opts for the office gloriously called System Trade Commission.
The two men walk into a quiet room with two terminals to the left and a desk at the top of the room. Behind the desk sits a young woman typing on a terminal. She has short blond hair, a very fluffy orange sweatshirt and the little name tag on her desk identifies her as Julia Gray, Head of Trades and Business. When the two walk in she looks up and asks with a smile "Good day, what brings you to me?"

Elan is a bit relieved, although confused. He taps out a quick message to the others.

<<Just did a lap. This place doesn't have the look of a system whose export economy is in shambles.>>

Have they gotten it wrong? Are there no exports to Haliant not because there's nothing to export but... the exports are going somewhere else? Although he can't imagine the entitled rich of Haliant losing a bidding war against anyone.

There's no lockdown, no tightened security. Elan supposes that the target locks on the docking ships must play that role. He's still unsure how an infected ship would dock anyway. The spiders seem to spin people in webs, not puppeteer them into piloting their starships to new destinations.

Elan doesn't have much cred - just the fiver he palmed from Rena earlier when she wasn't fully there - but it's enough to buy some basic supplies. And, of course, there's always stealing, but he's trying to remind himself that there are more profitable ventures than petty crime.

He picks out a shop where he might buy a few creds of provisions for the ship, hoping that he can later fill out a requisition form to get reimbursed from the ship's general ledger, per Graham's newly-establish procedures. He goes looking for any local curiosities, hopefully something edible from Aganarp. While going about that, he eavesdrops on the conversations of the other shoppers.

Thelonius wrote:

"Good day, what brings you to me?"

"Well, Miss Gray, we've been on sort of a whirlwind tour of the sector to drum up business, and find some new opportunities. We don't look for what's new and hot, we look for areas where operations are less than optimal -- logistical chains have broken, environmental concerns have slowed operations, that kind of thing. So, we try to focus on system-wide 'pain points', as we call them, and see how we can provide services to alleviate those issues."

Graham feels no need to lie. Each piece of the cover story is essentially true, and outlines his goals for the fledgling STEGO corporation. Only now he's applying those goals to Gor, and in doing so, inserts Undertow and her crew into the heart of Nazir's problem. Hopefully, anyway. He has no idea whether the gambit will work

As a kid, Graham had only been through Gor on his dad's ship. His dad had bought him a toy in Gor (was it Gor? It was so long ago), a levitating trainset, the train held half an inch above the rails through quantum effects. He'd laid the rails all over his cabin, up the walls, over the ceiling, under the bunk. He'd wondered how tiny passengers in the train would have stayed in their seats as the train ran upside-down along the ceiling.

Graham finds himself long removed from those care-free times, and his thoughts come back to the work at hand -- the woman sitting across the desk from him, and the man sitting next to him, searching for his own dad.

"Oh, welcome to Gor. How can I help you with your endeavours?
Our system is in a pretty healthy situation in terms of trade and business. I can of course help connect you with local companies in order to help you develop partnerships.
Wait, what system are you based in? Ah, Xenthra, ok, you are fine.
Relationships with Mentta are currently... challenged. You know, after the events in the belt." she sees the confused look on Graham's face and the eager curiosity on Nazir's. "Oh, you haven't heard. Well, I don't know exactly what to tell you. It's all mostly rumors, but a few of the mining companies complained about irregularities in their operations. They don't like to disclose much, because they are afraid to lose exclusives claims, therefore there haven't been many official investigations. But, since Mentta always tried to get more exclusive deliveries, the working theory these days is, that agents from Mentta are behind the disruptions.
As I said, that's nothing official, but rumors and bar theories. But due to them relationships with Mentta are currently on a low point. "

Thelonius wrote:

"Hey, where'd you two come from? Haven't seen you around. The name is Dennis, I run with those idiots over there." He points over to his tables where his colleagues are still arguing about something else apparently very funny. He turns back to the ladies and smiles.

Being approached in a bar wasn't a new experience for Taelor. She was rather tomboyish and rarely the most attractive girl in any given establishment, but that had never deterred people. She appreciated Dennis's simple introduction and the fact he hadn't used a lame pickup line. Maybe he was just being friendly to a stranger.

Taelor smiles, sticks out her hand and shakes Dennis's. "Hi Dennis, pleasure to meet you. I'm Taelor, and this is my friend Lola. We just docked, so I'd be worried if you had seen us around." She laughs at her own stupid 'joke'.

She looks over at his colleagues. "Y'all dockers or local spacers?"

Thelonius wrote:

"Wait, what system are you based in? Ah, Xenthra, ok, you are fine.
Relationships with Mentta are currently... challenged. You know, after the events in the belt." she sees the confused look on Graham's face and the eager curiosity on Nazir's. "Oh, you haven't heard. Well, I don't know exactly what to tell you. It's all mostly rumors, but a few of the mining companies complained about irregularities in their operations. They don't like to disclose much, because they are afraid to lose exclusives claims, therefore there haven't been many official investigations. But, since Mentta always tried to get more exclusive deliveries, the working theory these days is, that agents from Mentta are behind the disruptions.
As I said, that's nothing official, but rumors and bar theories. But due to them relationships with Mentta are currently on a low point. "

Graham shakes his head. "Mentta, am I right? Always screwing with things..." He really has no idea whether Mentta is always screwing with things, but agreeing is better than disagreeing at this point. His mind drifts to the stealth ship he'd destroyed with Undertow, and wondered what kind of mischief an organization could cause with just a few of those ships.

"Are agents getting past Gor's patrols? The way they locked onto us when we entered the system, they were like ugly on an ape. All over us, and thorough enough that Patrol 3 might owe us flowers and a fancy dinner." Graham laughs his easy laugh, twists his mustache a little, and continues. "A little aggressive for governmental system control. Private security, maybe? Will we need to work with them? It seems we'd need to register with them so they don't accidentally perforate our hull and crew during routine business, yeah?" He chuckles again, curious what else she might divulge.

"Hi Taelor and friend Lola. So first timers to Nan then. You'll see it's no star hotel, but it gets the job done."

moarhair wrote:

She looks over at his colleagues. "Y'all dockers or local spacers?"

"A colorful mix. Most of us work the rocks though. Mercenaries of the mines. We just came back from a tour into the belt and are now on the look out for the next job. If you guys know anyone in need of a miner crew." he winks at the women. "No, but in seriousness. If you know anyone, keep us in mind. Lately there are less tours available. Since those expeditions disappeared, corps and companies are reluctant to send in ships. 'Too risky for the assets.'
Assets my ass, they are worried 'bout their ships.
Anyway, I'm sure it'll blow over soon and we're back in business.

Wanna join us over there? ", he nods to their table.

Mrs. Gray blushes at Graham's ape jape, "Oh yes, system security is much more strict these days. But I don't know who is in charge, or whether you need to register. But I know the system has a small fleet of ships, mostly to deal with piracy.
Is there anything else I can help you with?"
Nazir looks quickly at Graham and then steps forward. "Yes, please. AstroOre. We need to know where they are mining these days. Can you help us out? My father was... is a prospector for them and I need to find him."
"Oh, hmm. I should not be really be disclosing information about companies, but... since your friend rolled a 13, I'll make an exception. Let me take a look." She turns to her computer and types a bit. Then she turns back to Graham and Nazir. "These are the coordinates of their active claim. But don't tell anyone I gave you these. I don't see any recent reports or anything on it however. Maybe it is best if you check with their office on Okhotsk."

Thelonius wrote:

"Oh yes, system security is much more strict these days. But I don't know who is in charge, or whether you need to register. But I know the system has a small fleet of ships, mostly to deal with piracy.
Is there anything else I can help you with?"

His eyebrows raise at the suggestion of piracy. "That throws a bit of a wrench in things, we're not built for fending off pirates. We've been in neighboring systems recently, and people mention reduced traffic from Gor, but nobody seems to know why. That seemed like a good opportunity for a new mining outfit, but we're not really outfitted for fighting pirates. Has piracy really stepped up that much, or have other factors affected exports? Can we expect more risk closer to Okhotsk compared to the relative safety of Nan?"

Graham floats these phrases, hoping to catch glimpses of insight on the administrator's face. 'Nobody seems to know why'. 'More risk closer to Okhotsk'. 'Relative safety of Nan'. He marks her response to Nazir as important, but doesn't fixate on the topic. Let it be a sidenote in Mrs. Gray's mind... Whether Nazir knows it or not, he's played his part perfectly.

"Ah, no. Piracy is as old as the system. The rich belt attracts not only adventurous miners. But system control never got it under control. It would require a far too large fleet to reliably cover the whole belt. But if you stick with other ships, paying an escorting ship is not much. Most of the time such a caravan scares off any pirates anyway. And of course the situation is not so bad that even if you went alone, that you'd be attacked for sure. It's possible, but you'd have to be unlucky.
Exports to Mentta are restricted until the incidents have been investigated.
Anyway, I should be getting back to work. These documents won't file themselves. "

Thelonius wrote:

"A colorful mix. Most of us work the rocks though. Mercenaries of the mines. We just came back from a tour into the belt and are now on the look out for the next job. If you guys know anyone in need of a miner crew." He winks at the women. "No, but in seriousness. If you know anyone, keep us in mind. Lately there are less tours available. Since those expeditions disappeared, corps and companies are reluctant to send in ships. 'Too risky for the assets.'
Assets my ass, they are worried 'bout their ships.
Anyway, I'm sure it'll blow over soon and we're back in business.

Wanna join us over there?", he nods to their table.

"Sure, thanks!" Taelor follows Dennis to his table, talking as she walks. "I guess corpers are the same everywhere. My folks are rock miners too. Diggers, though, not hoppers like you folks. The Company never cared much for the workers there either, but watch your ass if you so much as scratch the paint on one of their fucking shuttles."

Taelor greets everyone at the table and takes a seat next to Dennis. "You said expeditions disappeared? What happened? Pirates? Debris? When I was kid, there was a big collision that threw sand and pebbles all over the place. Two ships went down. We had to hunker down for 6 months without resupply while the corpers took their sweet ass time clearing the particulates. It got pretty rough towards the end..." She pauses for a moment, then looks up at Dennis and grins sheepishly. "Sorry, didn't mean to ramble. So, what's going on 'round these parts?"

Thelonius wrote:

"I can of course help connect you with local companies in order to help you develop partnerships.

Relationships with Mentta are currently... challenged. You know, after the events in the belt........
As I said, that's nothing official, but rumors and bar theories."

"If there any local companies we could partner with, that would be most helpful, thanks for the offer." Graham takes the opportunity before they are summarily dismissed to remind her of her previous offer. And while she summons data from her computer, he throws out another thought, hoping she'll ramble a moment while collecting company information.

"Well, from what you describe, it doesn't sound like pirates are the problem. Makes me wonder what wild rumors have spawned out of this. Goblins? Deep-space creatures? Miners are a superstitious lot, and they'll say just about anything to scare off competitors from a claim. What's the absolute worst thing they've claimed so far? Come on, you can tell me, I'm not afraid of any ghost stories." He grins widely, a twinkle in his eye, and he gives his mustache a little twist for good luck.

Elan enters a few shops to get the few things he intends to bring aboard. The other shoppers chatter about many things, but nothing of particular interest: New tools, old tools, newest machinery, interpersonal events aboard their respective ships or the newest pulseball gossip.
Satisfied with his shoppings but a bit underwhelmed by his recon results, Elan steps back into the main corridor to head back to the ship. It seems a new ship docked or an event in one of the establishments started or ended, but it is fairly busy. A bit annoyed and most of all concentrated to keep his fingers to himself, which tend develop a life of their own in dense crowds, he fights his way upstream toward the ship. Just when he is about to enter the berth he jerks his head around. The guy who just passed him, headed for the inner corridors, didn't he have a wolf logo on his coveralls? It was hard to see, since the guy is wearing a black jacket over his coveralls, but Elan is sure. When the guy passed, the jacket flapped open for a short moment and revealed the wolfs head.

Elan's sharp eyes are rewarded. They were good before, but he feels like his cybernetic enhancements have taken him to the next level.

Almost instinctually, he falls in behind the man in the coveralls with the wolf's head logo. Tailing someone is almost second-nature to Elan, although if he were forced to say why he's following the man he would have difficulty articulating the logic.

Curiosity, he thinks to himself. Elan, after all, is just a big cat. Prone to slinking, stealing, sloth - punctuated by periodic bouts of prowling - and seeing in the dark.

Why does Elan care? He's not even convinced these folks are the bad guys. Sure they showed up and went straight for the weapon's lock without even a comm to say "hello" - that wasn't very nice - but weren't they the ones burning up the space spiders? So are they the heroes cleaning up someone else's mess, or the villain's trying to cover up their own? If they were the villains, wouldn't they have just wasted the Undertow? (And the Vagabond for that matter.) Right now the way to find out is to follow this man...

Mrs. Gray starts typing on the computer. "Sorry, you understand I cannot comment or confirm rumors.

Here, I sent you a list local companies that are in the business. Feel free to contact the attached contacts.
I hope I could help. Good luck with your endeavours."

Elan follows the man into the station. Using the crowd to his advantage, Elan manages to keep his target unaware of his presence. Even when the man walks deeper into the station, where almost no people are, Elan uses shadows, crevices and corners to stay out of sight. The chase continues into the station and down to lower levels. The offices down here are obviously cheaper. Everything is even smaller and a lot less shiny.
Eventually the man walks into a windowless office and closes the door behind himself. Elan continues and casually walks by the office, as if headed for someplace down the corridor. The sign next to the door says

Quote :

Brothers Smithes Maintenance
"No stress with your mess"

Elan internally curses for a moment that his new eyes can't see through doors and walls.

He's tempted to walk right in and sneak around, but that's riskier when he knows that someone is inside. Better to return at a later time. Perhaps at night, there were any circadian rhythms on this station that were associated with 'night'.

Instead, he types out a message to the team:

<<Got a lead. Spotted the wolf's head flash on a pair of coveralls and followed the owner down to the cheap suites into an office labeled 'Brothers Smithes Maintenance'. Here's the location.>>

The inexpensive office location was in stark contrast to the stealth tech available on the ship that had come to 'clean' the Vagabond. It meant that they wanted to keep a low profile. It also means that the security tech on the inside might be serious business, a tough nut even for Elan.

The jury is still out on whether these guys are the heroes or the villains... or the cleaner crew hired to clean up the villain's mess, Elan reminds himself.

<<Graham, can you work your desk jockey magic to find out what you can?>>

<<Taelor, Lola, making any friends? Maybe you can ask around. If they clean up messes, then business might be booming. Maybe there's an opening there.>>

<<Taelor, you're pretty crafty. I'm pretty sure we could mock up a decent pair of coveralls if we wanted a disguise that would buy us a few moments while we snoop around.>>

Or, you know, bop someone on the head and take his, Elan thinks to himself, although this is risky in an enclosed environment like a space station.

Thelonius wrote:

"Ah, shit, that must have been rough. Six months? Damn!

These ships here? Honestly, noone really knows what went down. Just didn't show up anymore, the crew I mean. When you ask around where they are you get nothing. Sent a message to a friend of mine, but so far no answer. Maybe something will still come. Who knows, maybe they went to another system. But she said they'd come back to Okhotsk.
Maybe she didn't like my ass or something and ghosted me.

But it's an awkward atmosphere. Everybody says something is happening, but nobody knows nothing and rumors go bananas.
I heard that the ships we're all taken by pirates, others talk a out mutinies even others about some corporate war with stealth robots and shit. "

Taelor frowns. "Wow. That's fucked up. So no one has come back? What about the local authorities? Are they doing anything? We docked here with guns pointed at us. It must be corper shit if they're not just sending those fancy gunships to root the pirates out."

Taelor's dataslab vibrates. She pulls it out of her pocket and takes a look.

Tecumseh wrote:

<<Got a lead. Spotted the wolf's head flash on a pair of coveralls and followed the owner down to the cheap suites into an office labeled 'Brothers Smithes Maintenance'. Here's the location.>>

<<Taelor, Lola, making any friends? Maybe you can ask around. If they clean up messes, then business might be booming. Maybe there's an opening there.>>

<<Taelor, you're pretty crafty. I'm pretty sure we could mock up a decent pair of coveralls if we wanted a disguise that would buy us a few moments while we snoop around.>>

//Making friends now. Will ask. It's Taelor not Tailor, but I can give the coveralls a shot.// Taelor hits sends, then puts her slab back in her pocket.

She looks back up at her new friends. "Say, we've been travelling for some time and might need a bit of maintenance on our ship. A friend in Mentta recommended Brothers Smithes. Are they any good?"

Thanking Mrs. Gray profusely, Graham excuses himself and Nazir from the busy administrator's office. As they leave, the chime comes alerts him to Elan's incoming message.

Tecumseh wrote:

<<Got a lead. Spotted the wolf's head flash on a pair of coveralls and followed the owner down to the cheap suites into an office labeled 'Brothers Smithes Maintenance'. Here's the location.>>

Tecumseh wrote:

<<Graham, can you work your desk jockey magic to find out what you can?>>

//Good info, thanks, I'm on it. Also, got a lead on the whereabouts of AstroOre's active claim. Let's not tip our hand on the wolves yet. You know where they are, we know a name they operate under, let's do our research. First order of business is still Nazir's father. Of course, if a big opportunity presents itself... //

He looks away from his compad for a few seconds, contemplating next moves. "Well, we have a location", he comments to Nazir, "the next trick is not dying in the process of finding your father. I think we'll want an escort or two. Not the fun kind, the armed kind", he adds as an aside.

He and Nazir walk slowly down the hallway, as Graham taps out his searches on the local nets: ship maintenance companies, ship repairs, etc, to see how broad the local market is, or even if they come up under ship repairs at all.

It was with some reluctance that Lola left her rifle behind in the ship when she came aboard. It was one aspect of 'civilian' life that she hadn't expected to grate on her as much. All of her life pre 19 had been spent without a gun and she'd looked after herself well enough. In the unit too, they'd all been taught unarmed combat techniques ensuring that once disarmed, they weren't useless. Without her weapon though, it became so much easier to question what was she actually good for. With her rifle she was an excellent sniper, and could also lead an assault or protect the rear. Without it? She liked to think she had at least average intelligence, but she wasn't solving any mysteries so far and her knowledge base was pretty specialist. She caught sight of herself in a small mirror at the top of her locker, just large enough to see her brown eyes stare back. If anyone else could hear her thoughts, they'd assume she was feeling sorry for herself but she wouldn't have said this was true. More just a case of evaluating and considering. It was like a sniper's hole. Sometimes it was better to stay still and wait, other times what had formally been effective had lost its use and needed to be abandoned. She tightened her armour, slid her knife into its scabbard by her waist and then pulled over her loose leather jacket over the former. Though portable, she probably needed to purchase a larger bladed weapon.


In the bar, she'd let Taelor take the lead, taking a seat on the other side of Dennis. She'd nodded her head in agreement when the other woman made her point about corpers.
"I'd agree with that. Some say no news is good news, but to me its just evidence that they are trying to cover something up. Pirates tend to leave evidence. Though to be fair so do mutineers. There been any talk along those lines? As much as I'd like that, those donkey sucklers would be up your ass so hard if there was any whisper of that here."

She took a drain of her drink and then looked over the group again and cocked a grin.
"Not to seem like we're data padding you, but being that we're new and all. Would there be anyone or anywhere you'd warn us to stay away from? You can never underestimate the power of on the street knowledge."

Dennis looks at Taelor, "Brothers Smithe? No, never heard of them. They must be either small, or mediocre." he winks at her as if to announce a joke, "Or they are a front for a shady corp branch." he breaks into a loud laugh over his own joke. "Just joking, no, no idea about them. They're supposed to be here on Nan?
Our guys are pretty good. Nakamura Mentenansu, their office is right off the main corridor, can't miss 'em."

After Lola chimes in, Dennis replies "She speaks! I'm just kidding. Yea, I've been wondering about these investigations as well. But so far nothing was released. 'No comments on ongoing investigations' kind of crap. If you ask me, all of those 'investigators' has a corper so far up their ass, we only hear what the corper is saying. But, hey, that's just me. Sometimes I wish I could see their files, see what's really going on.
Everything they actually say is only propaganda or obvious.
Donkey sucklers, you have it right. ". He spits over his shoulder into the corner of the room, only to realise what he just did and pulls in his head slightly, partially in shame, partially expecting a reaction from some unseen entity. When nothing happens, he relaxes again, but continues calmer. "Hmm, whom to avoid? I usually stay away from the crews supplying the research stations. Odd people, think they're better than everybody. But they're not here often lately. Especially the Bamberg crew I haven't seen in a while. Guess they're suppling from Okhotsk these days. ", he shrugs. "Anyway, how long are you girls in 'town' for? We just docked, only shipping out in a week.
What's your crew doing anyway? Traders? "

Taelor shrugs. "We do a bit of everything. We were coming here to drop off a passenger and hopefully take on some cargo. We heard in Mentta that shipments of ore had slowed to a trickle, so we figured there could be some good money if we can load up and ship it. Say, you guys are miners, right? Know where we could get our hands on a few tons of processed ore? Otherwise, maybe we can make a buck bringing supplies to that science station. You think it's possible that crew got tangled in whatever's happening in the rocks?"

"Not sure how long we'll be around. Depends on what leads we come across, I guess." Taelor grins and points at Dennis in mock accusation. "You better not sabotage our efforts just to keep us around," she says jokingly. "We may look like nice girls, but Lola and I can fuck you up." She laughs.

When he used her slang, Lola gave Dennis a wink, jerking her head to the side as she did it.
"Do they investigators stay about here or do they keep to themselves all safe aboard their ships? I know back on my home world, we'd hear reports of these 'investigations' through our factory. All a children's story from start to finish. We never saw these ches'n off worlders, not once and then we'd sit and be told all this nonsense they'd discovered, whatever the owners happened to think that day."

She took another swig and then smiled, dispelling the frown she'd had prior.
"Actually reading their files? That's the dream isn't it? To actually know what's going on instead of the bullshit they tell you? Thanks for the advice though, we'll keep those ones in mind."

When Taelor laughed, Lola grinned and on the spur of the moment decided to drop a line out to see if it got any reaction.
"You'll find my comrade and I are no grazing cows. If we see a spider we stamp on it."

"Yes, we should leave momentarily. I am sure we will find him. We must. Do you think the company with wolfs head is involved?"

Graham's searches return the usual amount of companies involved in ship maintenance and repair. Way down the list Brothers Smithe appear, but Graham can not find anybody talking about having hired them or how they were.
Digging deeper into the registers and web of companies Graham finally finds the connection. Brother Smithe is owned, via various other companies, by the Striker Group. It hasn't really seen much turnover little less profit. Their only office is on Nan.

"Ha, you know it. Investigators are all some of them pixel pushers. Only get their butt of their office chairs, if they push a stick up there. Never saw one myself. It's all closed investigations and then they go back to their offices up on level two and eventually they spit out a few lines of nondescript nonsense and that's the report.

The Bamberg crew never went to no rocks, 'far 's I know. If they bailed, the station would be in dire need, that's for sure. But they'd said something, I s'pose.

Ore is not hard to get by. But getting it to Mentta is another story. Trade that direction is restricted I hear. So, I'm sure you'd make a pretty credit,... if you make it.

Listen, we were gonna go over to this club. You gals should come. "

//Brothers Smithes identity confirmed. They might be fixers, but they're no mechanics.//

Thelonius wrote:

"Yes, we should leave momentarily. I am sure we will find him. We must. Do you think the company with wolfs head is involved?"

Graham gives Nazir a contemplative look, and a nod. The nod in response to Nazir, the contemplative look for reasons he's not prepared to discuss. "Nazir, can your father handle himself? I mean, was he ever in the military or intelligence services?" He gives him a long look as he starts to make his way back from the administrative offices.

"Getting hungry, how about you?"

Nitafrong wrote:

"You'll find my comrade and I are no grazing cows. If we see a spider we stamp on it."

Taelor's eyebrows shoot up in surprise. She grabs her drink and hides her face behind it. Lola had always seemed rather guileless to her, and the skillfully introduced subtle hint at their recent ordeal had blindsided her. Taelor wonders how much had gone over her head before this shocking revelation. She looks from Lola to Dennis and his crew, but none of them seem to react to the spider mention. They don't know.

Thelonius wrote:

"The Bamberg crew never went to no rocks, 'far 's I know. If they bailed, the station would be in dire need, that's for sure. But they'd said something, I s'pose.

Ore is not hard to get by. But getting it to Mentta is another story. Trade that direction is restricted I hear. So, I'm sure you'd make a pretty credit,... if you make it.

Listen, we were gonna go over to this club. You gals should come."

Taelor makes a face. "We should probably check in with our crew first. We told them we were just coming in for a drink, and maybe a chat if we met some friendly locals." She grins at Dennis. "Let us know where that club is and maybe we can meet you there? Here," she says as she takes her dataslab back out, "let's trade contact info."

Taelor exchanges numbers with Dennis, then downs her drink and gets up to leave. "See y'all later, yeah? Let us know if your plans change."

As she and Lola leave, Taelor messages the others. //Our new friends say the Vagabond was Bamberg's only supply ship and no one's heard a peep from the station. My guess is it's overrun... The local authorities might know and be covering it up.//

She looks up from her slab at Lola. "The fuckers in power are alike everywhere, aren't they? Man, I thought travelling around I would see new shit..."

As they got up to leave, Lola nodded her head over at the others.
"Hunts luck to you. Maybe see you later on at this club."

There had been no reaction to her dropping the word which left her a little disappointed. Their lack of reaction could only mean that either they had seen through her, or they knew nothing about the spiders. As they walked out of the bar, she bit down on her lip momentarily. Deception wasn't new to her of course. Growing up in the factories and surviving in the army meant lots of lies. These though were generally just blank denials. She hadn't really tried using it to try and learn information though.

Suddenly realising that she was chewing on her lip she stopped immediately. This was a relatively unfamiliar feeling for her, having a lack of confidence in herself. Was only to be expected with a new skill but still.

She nodded her head in agreement.
"You'd think with all the power they have they'd try something different. But no, its the always the same desires."

Stepping outside she glanced around to make sure no one was close and then asked in a lower voice.
"What do you think our next step should be? I'd like to check out this station myself. I'm curious."

AstroOre.....AstroOre.... Graham bumbles around with his commpad while waiting for lunch to arrive. Could they be part of Striker Group? He searches Gor-Web(tm) for answers.

"Nazir, we have to consider the possibility that AstroOre is tangled up in this web....if you'll pardon the reference...of companies under this corporation. They're a relatively new company, and that means they could be a shell and part of this mess, or they just didn't know what they were getting into."

He looks around at the people eating, wondering what they have heard, what they know, who they know, and how they've come to know anything at all. He's not about to start asking them, drawing attention to himself and his crew. He toys with the commpad a little more "If AstroOre had any 'accidents' in this system, maybe that's been in the news."

Nitafrong wrote:

"What do you think our next step should be? I'd like to check out this station myself. I'm curious."

"This station or the science station? Might be hard to get to the latter if the authorities are keeping a lid on things, but yeah, I'd like to know what the fuck is going on there too. We might be able to get more info if we follow Elan's lead. I think we should regroup and compare notes, maybe plan a heist!" Taelor says, a little too excitedly. Her eyes widen as she realizes she's raised her voice for the last bit. She looks around guiltily. "Erm... you know... in that videogame we play," she adds unconvincingly.

TAelor pulls out her dataslab. //Regroup and plan next move?//

<<Agreed>> Elan agrees. <<Have you found a quiet spot or is the ship best for privacy?>>

If it's back at the ship, he hopes that someone gets some takeout for dinner.

Elan starts walking back up to the main concourse to rejoin the others. When he does, he lays out his thinking once they're somewhere private.

"We don't know who the good guys are and who the bad guys are. We don't know if this is a cover-up or if Brothers Smithe are the cleaners tidying up someone else's mess.

"I'm happy to give their office a scratch-and-sniff just for the fun of it but we might end up tweaking the wrong nose."

Elan might also be hoping that any organization with serious tech like sleek black spaceship might also have some serious tech laying around in their office, but that's a secondary consideration. Of course, the flip side is that serious tech usually comes with serious security. Elan is under no illusions that this will be an easy nut to crack.

"And if it is a big cover up, what are we going to do about it? I'm all for the freedom of information and people having a right to know, but what sort of panic does that incite? Is the remedy worse than the malady? What's our endgame here?"

Graham scratches at his mustache, "Is this thing itching more, lately?", and wonders out loud, "Does digging around Smithe Brothers get us to Nazir's dad faster, or does it just satisfy some curiosity? If there's a reason to think that it gets us to AstroOre faster, or gets us to the site of his disappearance faster, or gives us some critical information we'll need to find him, I'm all for it. Otherwise, can it wait until after? Do we want to tip our hand before finding Nazir's father?"

Graham knows he wants to find out about Smithe Brothers, Striker Group, space spiders, and the people who tried to burn out their legal salvage. At the same time, he's unsure about poking the hornets' nest. For now, anyway.

The flight to the claim coordinates was estimated with a few hours. Enough to work off the food coma after the take-out feast back on Nan. All but Taelor had the opportunity to relax and enjoy some leisure time.

The pilot is sitting in her chair for several hours straight by now. Navigating the asteroid belt requires constant concentration and although the ship mostly navigates by itself, attention needs to be paid to smaller rocks in the way, to avoid collisions. But the flight passes without such incidents and the claim, a medium sized rock of about 10.000 square kilometers, lies straight ahead.
There are no ships on the scanner.
The rock is plain, dusty and empty. Craters and cracks form small ranges and valleys and make the surface generally tricky to maneuver.
A quick flyover reveals the location of the miners camp, but from the ships distance no activity is visible.

Flying through the asteroid field had been a blast! It reminded Taelor of home. She used to sit in her mother's lap, hands on the controls, flying around the tumbling rocks... She had come a long way from her bumpkin origins.

"We're here," Taelor says over the ship-wide comms as they reach the claims' coordinates. She flies the Undertow over the miners' camp a couple of times, then starts looking for a landing spot.

Graham can pilot well enough, but Taelor makes it look so easy, like she's in a video game she's played since she was little. The tumbling rocks on the screen are so close, he instinctively ducks as they pass overhead. He laughs at his own stupidity, and enjoys the show.

He finds himself gauging, always gauging what the crew can do. Any chance to observe them in their element is time well spent. And Taelor always seems to surprise him.

"That's better than watching holo-vids", he says with a smile and a twist of the mustache. "Did you scare your parents during your first pilot lessons?"

"Before we set down, let's see if we can take our data from the stealth ship and run it through the sensors -- see if there are any similar signatures out there."

He messages across the ship's comms, //Setting down shortly, folks. Let's prep for zero-g with vacc suits, and equipment to secure us to the surface of the asteroid. If you have any thoughts to add, now's the time.//

Taelor laughs as she gently pulls on the controls to narrowly avoid an incoming rock without jostling the crew. "I definitely am to blame for some of my mom's white hairs."

"I'll hold off on landing while you take care of that scan."

Elan studies Taelor's piloting. He's learned the basics over the last few weeks; enough to where he can take off and land. Slaloming through asteroids is something he would not do on his own yet.

Elan is a student of risk versus consequence. Elan, given his profession, has a lot of tolerance for risk, but he does his best to minimize consequences. The risk of Taelor plowing into an asteroid is quite low, but the consequences are quite high. But everyone finds their fun in their own way; he lets Taelor have her own.

"I'll take point," Elan says as he dons a pressure suit. "My gecko anchors should allow me to operate normally, and my panspectral optics should give me a clue what we're walking into."

He slaps a fresh power cell into Betsy, which serves as an exclamation point.

Graham types the necessary commands and then studies the results of the scanner as they come in. The yield is disheartening. According to the, granted limited precision, results, there are no groups of life forms on the surface. The scan does however show a faint energy reading somewhere in the compound. Something is still turned on in there, albeit no transmission is sent from the base.

A landing spot is easily found, as the landing platform of the ore hauler is empty, except for some debris.

"They could have evacuated," Elan says, trying to put a positive spin on it. "Or they could be underground where the sensors can't see them. That might explain the energy signature."

He's privately hopeful that if there aren't any lifeforms then there aren't any spiders either, but there's only one way to find out.

Taelor lands the ship on the platform and engages the magnetic locks. She pulls herself out of her seat, groaning a bit as she stretches to get the blood flowing again. She hits the head, then joins the others at the airlock.

The bulky vacc suit forces Taelor to leave behind a lot of the gear she'd wanted to bring. She finds she has no room for her toolkit (she reasons her metatool should be able to handle most jobs anyway) and has to be rather selective about which weapons she can bring. In the end, she selects her void carbine, her customized thermal pistol, and her trusty knife. Her newly refurbished drone, not suited to zero-G or the vacuum of space, has to stay behind as well.

As she packs her things, Taelor tries to reassure Nazir. "Elan's right, you know. There are tons of minerals that can affect sensors, and the Undertow doesn't exactly have top-of-the-line stuff. No point in putting fancy survey sensors on a cargo ship."

Graham rummages through the new equipment, grabbing a few things that might be useful, and putting them in his backpack. If there's a chance Nazir's father could be here, he grabs the bioscanner and an extra Lazarus patch.

"It's a mining operation in zero-g. There may not be things we take for granted, like....stairs. There might be a makeshift elevator or a conveyor. Lighting may be poor." He grabs his low light goggles and a survival kit. Rations and water. He has never been involved with a rescue operation, save for getting his little brother out of a tree once. He'd seen old vids where it seemed some kid named Timmy fell down another god-damn well. Timmy was always falling down the well. If there was a well within a thousand miles, Tiimmy would find it, and fucking fall in it. Fucking Timmy.

Graham looks at all the equipment in front of him, and questions of logistics crowd his mind. The group has no idea what they will find, and various scenarios play out, each requiring a different plan. He keeps those plans to himself, and packs the things he can reasonably carry in his backpack. He grabs his new mag pistol, and Old Faithful -- in case there's a ficus plant that requires his deadly attention.

The crew gathers their equipment and suits up. It does not seem necessary to leave someone as guard, the decision mostly fueled by the fact that noone wants to remain aboard alone.

The crew stands in the airlock, waiting for the cycle to complete and the door to open. After a few minutes of waiting the moment is there and the door gives way to the triste scenery outside. The rocky surface of the asteroid looks grey in grey against the dark backdrop of the universe. Slightly larger than the infinite amount of other stars, Gor shines just enough light for the rocks to throw long shadows. The entrance to the mining facilities lies ahead in the wall of the crater. Its large double wing airlock seems to be slightly open.

In large weightless strides, the crew approaches the colossal door. The airlock seems to serve both as personnel entrance as well as cargo door.
The first impression of the state of the door proves to be correct, the lock is open and the dark tunnel behind lacks the dearly beloved gas mix enjoyed frequently on all habitable planets alike.

This was a bad sign. Even if the place had been evacuated, leaving it open like that risked damage to the equipment inside from debris. It was possible that the miners had been forced to take refuge in another sealable section of the facility, but things were looking grim.

"Cover me. I'll see if I can repressurize this dump," Taelor says, trying to keep her usual cheerfulness in her voice for Nazir's sake. She makes her way to the airlock's controls and examines them, checking to see if they're still functional. If they're not, she opens the panel with her metatool and takes a look inside to see if she can turn them back on.

Elan had just been thinking the same thing and had opened his mouth to suggest it, but Taelor beat him to it before he said anything.

"On it," he comms back.

He has Betsy, his trusty laser rifle, raised and at the ready as he pushes forward into the dark tunnel. He uses his panspectral optics to gaze into the darkness. He hopes that the darkness does not gaze back.

The dark tunnel leads about 20m into the rock opening to a cave. The middle of the cave houses a metal contraption that looks like a strange pulley over a hole in the ground. Behind that a mixture of natural and man made walls with doors and small stairs suggest the continuation of the station.
It is completely dark and silent, nothing moves.

Taelor works the airlock control and manages to override the error state. The lock can be closed again, but when she tries to run a regular cycle, including repressuring the cabin the system flashes an error Missing atmosphere, repressuring not possible. Contact the administrator.

"Ugh. Well, this ain't happening. Not enough air left in the pipes. Sorry, y'all, the suits stay on," Taelor says, disappointed. She would feel a lot better about it if she'd managed to secure an armored vacc suit like Lola's. She had no interest in dealing with a tear like she had when they'd faced the goo spiders.

She turns and stares down the dark hallway, also regretting not getting eye implants like Elan. She shudders involuntarily at the thought of getting her eyes scooped out. Well, she didn't regret it that much.

Taelor taps Lola's armored suit's arm, then gestures towards the hallway. "After you, my lady."