"This one is Tiniel, Theta Model Three, back from TMS 8-1.016 for debriefing." the name was from an old coworker she hoped was not yet reported to be decommissioned. She also hoped Tiniel was still trapped on the asteroid Sona left them on.
Knowing that his name got him past the customs agents, Blast-O-Tron scans the crowd for potential sympathizers who would recognize his family name. Seeing none immediately apparent, he merely waves at the customs officer. "Hi, officer. We're just here for a pizza!"
> Designation: BunkR BustR
> Purpose: Mur-
> Purpose: Dest-> ...
> Purpose: Controlled demolition
> None
Controlled ... After a pause he speaks up. Who is the owner of this unit?
Bone'ead rubs his head for a moment before responding...
Am Bone'ead. Here for Pizza! Last place was..uh....Bone'ead not remember. Can get pizza now?
He grumbles the last as he pats his expansive belly.
LeBork looks you up and down, eyes widening somewhat in surprise. He mumbles something that sounds a bit like I don't get paid enough to deal with this. He then speaks up. On your way sir.
Bone'ead frowns and speaks up
Is ok little humie! Tooo Brrr with me! No troubles!
He nods excitedly
Getting hungry. Pizza time!
"This one is Tiniel, Theta Model Three, back from TMS 8-1.016 for debriefing." the name was from an old coworker she hoped was not yet reported to be decommissioned. She also hoped Tiniel was still trapped on the asteroid Sona left them on.
Lebork glances over at 2BR, who he has already directed to the side, and looks back to Sona. And who owns this unit?
Knowing that his name got him past the customs agents, Blast-O-Tron scans the crowd for potential sympathizers who would recognize his family name. Seeing none immediately apparent, he merely waves at the customs officer. "Hi, officer. We're just here for a pizza!"
As BoT approaches, the customs officer finally realizes that he is facing a situation he is wholly unprepared for.
Bone'ead grumbles as he looks back and watches his metallic friends be pulled aside. This is keeping him from his food! He is hungry! He pokes a large stubby finger at the man..
Bone'ead say they with me. No worries. We go now, get pizza!
He says the last somewhat emphatically, but there is a growing edge of annoyance in his voice..
Omega stands behind Bonehead and B2R trying to pass unnoticed.
Omega finds himself directed to a different customs agent, separating from the others. An elderly gnome asks you the standard questions without even looking up. When he does, he starts, and puts on his glasses.
By Urdlen's tail! What are you?
Sona accesses the personal call archives of her local contact, filtered for unanswered, unreturned calls, and hopes that the first name and adress that the local net returns as a resident was one of the millions of death threats, and not the man's mother.
"The end user of this one is Lady ReTeagan Glovecroft. The lady sends this one to audit her investments afield. Should she be contacted for a voiceprint?"
"Hold up!" Bastian called out, striding towards the group. As he neared them, he gulped down the last bits of the rather large coffee he was carrying, tossing the cup in a nearby trash deposit.
Pushing his way past the assorted metal and muscle arranged before the customs officer, he combed his hair back with his hand and fiddled momentarily with the collar of his shirt in a failed attempt to look presentable.
"These units are with me, Bastian Kray." He pulled out his ID. "Big and huggable here is also with me. Im responsible for him, but theres no real reason to worry, he looks meaner than he is." He put away his ID, busying his hands with showing his shirt into his pants. "Purpose of the visit is supplies, repairs and unit calibration. He put a hand on Sonas shoulder, lightly patting it. "This one in particular needs some work, been spitting out old data in response to inquiry. Not sure what shes been telling you but its likely wrong." He smiled a charming smile, one of the things he did well. It had gotten him through similar situations before. Somehow people generally found the aging man likeable. Standard stuff...Oh and pizza."
2BR stands nearish to Kray, trying to look as innocent as possible.
"What he said!" BoT exclaims, pointing enthusiastically at Bastian. As the most normal-looking member of the group, Jamee finds himself relying on the human quite often to put out tense situations like this one.
"Oh, and I have ID as well." BoT presses a button on his chest, and a holographic display appears a few inches in the air above his chassis. It depicts the young elven boy Jamee's face, looking sullenly at the camera, along with basic information about his species, eye and hair color, and planet of origin.
"Jamee, I know youre a shut in but I thought I could trust you to handle this while I got my coffee." Bastian scolded at BoT. His face turned away from the customs officer, he spared a wink at the robot, not that he thought Jamee wouldnt realize he was lying through his teeth. Turning back to the officer, he gave an apologetic look. "He was supposed to handle things in my absence, but seems he allowed the robots and bonehead here to run their collective mouths and voice boxes." He leaned in close, whispering. "Kids got some serious confidence issues, thought id give him a chance."
Straightening back up, he put on a serious expression. "So officer, everything in order?"
Jamee makes his robot rub the back of his own head, affecting an exaggerated sheepish gesture in order to play along.
"I am বহিরাগত. Once proud Vern'Owhen, now lost to light and order." Omega answers truthfully.
The gnome seems flummoxed by the voice echoing in his head. His fingers dance over his chest and he whispers. Praise be!
He Omega through.
Singh Lebork smiles in apparent relief as Kray approaches, and his eyes light up with recognition when he views the ID card. Mr. Lestrade! I served with your father in the war. Please pass him my regards. Name is Singh Lebork. He'll remember. He leaves his post and comes closer to BoT. I've never seen an RAB like this before. Impressive!
He turns to Kray. Quite the crew you have here. Please enjoy the many pleasures of Shan city. He waves you through.
Once through security you regroup and find yourselves in a bustling marketplace, with all manner of items for sale, and as many varieties of creatures selling them. There is a spicy bite to the air, no doubt coming from the food carts nearby. Overhead, all manner of small passenger vehicles flitter to and fro. Each is marked with the Company name, Unionized Bionic Express Rides.
Encircling the large market area you see a variety of corporate high rises and residential towers.
What do you do?
Bone'ead lumbers along with the group, drooling as the scent of food causing his stomach to growl
Where pizza place?
Offering a pleasant smile, Kray motioned for the others to go first, then shook Singhs hand and patted him on the shoulder. "Really? The war? Well ill be sure to tell him, he probably has a few stories to tell about you then." He grinned, then followed the others, a wave and "I will, take care." His parting gesture to the officer.
He had barely turned to follow the others before his pleasant mask dropped from his face, replaced by a concerned scowl. Walking fast to catch up, he grabbed Sonas arm, pulling her close to have a word as they continued to walk. "Who the hell is Lestrade and why did he think im his son?"
He looked up at Rotgut as he inquired about pizza, replying with a hint of annoyance in his voice. "Theres bound to be plenty around here, just have to look. Use that nose of yours, its as powerful as a Drasslith Plain Hounds isnt it?"
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Sona follows the group, trying to position herself centrally so that there are fewer angles to catch a sight of her.
Seeing the numerous market stalls occupied by mortal vendors gives Sona cause to sigh. If she wanted to deal with human error, she would visit a bar. Commerce at this level was no place for mortals. Let them guess at the inscrutable whim of demand in their high-backed office chairs like flatulent pudding cups, and leave precision crafts to more capable hands.
The few automated vendors the technician passes, she gives the formal greeting of her trade, asking if they had been seen by a professional technician in the past month:
System.query("SELECT * FROM components WHERE daysSinceService>=30");
Most of the vending machines on this main road are well-maintained, and Sona is heartened to receive many happy null sets. If she encounters a machine that needs repairs, she will "negotiate terms".
In a plush corner office on the penthouse level of a corporate high rise, Shan City:
An elderly goblin sits behind an ornate desk. He unconsciously rubs the stump of his left arm over his balding head as he pours over various data pads. The screens flick by quickly, showing mostly news articles and financial sheets.
The quiet is shattered by a loud knock on the sturdy wooden doors that serve as a barrier to this inner sanctum. The elderly goblin sighs, using his good arm to take off his glasses. He reaches out to an intercom button. I'm not to be disturbed.
A meek voice responds, Apologies, Mr. Grellick, but I believe you will want to see this.
Grellick rolls his eyes. This better be good, Delshick. Come in.
A huge goblin enters the room, covered in scars. He salutes sharply. Sir! One of our old alert programs was just triggered at the star port. Bastian Kray is in Shan City.
Grellick takes his glasses off and stares at the stump of his arm for a long moment. Impossible. Even Kray isn't so foolish to return to my city after ... He seems lost in memory. Delshick stands nervously, waiting. Finally, the old Goblin speaks, Show me.
One of the data pads flickers to life, showing a recording of a multitude of creatures lining up to go through security. Bastian Kray is highlighted in red, and various personal information scrolls by. Grellick watches in silence as the group makes its way through security and into the market.
Take acquisition teams 4 and 7. Bring Kray to me. Kill the rest.
Delshick salutes and turns to leave. Wait! Bring that giant too.
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Quite some time ago, 2BR learned of 'intuition', and decided it would be quite a useful piece of functionality to install. The RNG hooked up to a database of fortune cookie messages spins for a moment, and spits out: 'Accept your independence and use it wisely'
Close enough...
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Strolling through the market with the others, Kray was slowly growing tired. The coffee boost had started to wear off, replaced by a sobering hangover. That wasnt the bad part though, he knew how to deal with hangovers. No, the problem was the withdrawal which was slowly setting in, and he had forgotten his flask in his hurry to catch up to the others. "How the hell do I steer us into a bar?" He wondered, holding a shaking hand to his sweaty temple. "Ach, why do markets have to be so loud!?" He added as his head throbbed.
"Welcome to Shan City, where everything that can be sought, can be bought." A sensual womans voice said, following a soft announcement ping. Kray looked up to see the giant hologram of a scantily clad woman, the sound was emanating from. The hologram kept talking, rattling off points of interest and great deals in this district of the city. But Kray wasnt hearing any of it. "Shan City...Shan City???...Shan City!?!?!" He thought, suddenly looking around him with a mad paranoid stare. His eyes flicked from one random passerby to the next, seeing suspicious behavior and impending ambushes where there were none.
Ofcourse they had to land here the one time he hadnt paid attention to their destination. And he had used his regular ID!
"Follow me!" He announced to the others, striding to the front of the group and almost immediately turning into the first restaurant he saw, a Talaskan kebab place of sorts.
"Grellick you lousy midget!" He thought as he recalled their encounter some 15 years prior. Had it really been that long?
...
Fresh out of the military with nothing but his gun, military grade leg prosthetics and a destructive cocktail of alcoholism and PTSD to his name, he had failed to find any purpose to his continued existence. Having been dropped off in Shan City, he had remained there, spending the next several months squandering what money he had on alcohol, gambling and other unsavory vices. Even back then Grellicks criminal empire had been on the rise, the greedy goblin having his fingers in everything outside the law. It wasnt long after Krays last credit was spent before he had managed to accrue a sizable debt in several of Grellicks businesses. Back then, the goblin still handled his business in person when someone crossed him, and with what Kray owed, he had the unpleasant honor of a private audience.
Having everyone running scared at the mere mention of his name, Grellick had grown far more confident that was good for him, and he cornered Kray in one of his casinos with his goons. Noone was dumb enough to try anything, he owned this district and had plans for the whole city. But even with several months in the city, Kray hadnt managed to learn anything about who he was dealing with. Intoxicated as usual, with the inflated ego and bravado that came with it, Kray escalated things to a deadly standoff in moments, drawing his shotgun and threatening to blow Grellick away if his goons didnt drop their weapons. Grellick had complied, his men disarming themselves. But Grellick wasnt about to let him get away with this, who did he think he was!? Continuing his talk with Kray, he lulled Kray into a false sense of security as he slowly reached for his hidden pistol.
Grellick was fast on the pull, it was what had gotten him his start in the underbelly of Shan city, before he had men to do his work for him. But he had underestimated just how on edge Kray was, underestimated just how focused he was despite his intoxicated state. The shot intended for Krays head had hit his shoulder instead, Grellicks aim ruined by his arm exploding at the elbow as a high caliber shell tore through it. Those who reached for their discarded weapons had suffered similar fates as Kray made his escape in a mad hail of lead.
Grellick had put a bounty on Kray, but noone had ever come to collect.
...
Shaking the memories from his head, Kray looked at the others. "So, what say we just eat here, handle our affairs and get moving eh?" He said with a shaky smile. "We wanna be out there getting paid as soon as possible, right?"
Looking around, Sona attempts to identify the cultural conventions of such an odd purveyor of food.
She is able to locate the language file based on the depictions of the language that are displayed around the shop, but without social cues she can't narrow down the social conventions specific to the culture of this "Kebab"
The ship's engineer reaches the counter first and addresses the vendor. "hum alladhin 'atbae tus'al ean alttaeam. hal ladayk eamal muhandis? wa'ana ealaa aistiedad limuqayada." She sure hoped the stall would accept barter, since she doubted severely that the others had any money. Maybe whatever machine they had would give her an idea for a weapon while she repaired it.
Bone'ead rubs his head for a bit..
Thought we have go Pizza place for pizza...this place have pizza?
He waves an arm to get the attention of one of the servers
Time for food now! Hiiiiii!!
The proprietor, a truly rotund human, smacks his lips as the new customers walk in the door. He seems disappointed at the sight of the inorganics, but brightens noticeably as Rotgut enters. He watches Sona approach the counter, and he shakes his head when she begins speaking. He gestures to an ancient Theta unit. It is decrepit, but was once a top of the line service model. When Sona stops speaking, you hear a loud whirring, as the unit appears to freeze for at least 15 seconds. Finally it smiles broadly and points to a menu with a variety of dishes, each clearly numbered. Language file corrupted. Please indicate desired dish from the menu above. The voice is gratingly friendly.
Rotgut, you look at the odd images of food that are at eye level to you. Unfortunately, there are no pictures of pizza.
Sona bows slightly as she adreses her companions and the vendor. "I will only be a moment, most of the damage appears to be superficial- wear and tear."
A compartment in her wrist pops open and ejects a multitool into her hand.
Like something between a hairdresser and a master sculpter, Sona uses her tool and the shortwave nanobots in the gell to remove rust, repair joints, and push her most recent firmware update to the loyal model one.
If Rotgut can't find what he wants here, she will help herself to datastores. At the very least, someone would pay for the dates, times, and names in the cache registry. She didn't like patting down small businesses for packet change, but anything to make endlines meet.
The proprietor makes to stop Sona before she can damage his Theta, but pauses at a grunt from Rotgut. Sona works quickly, and soon the Theta turns to the proprietor.
Mr. Wells, this Theta unit has restored my functionality to 98.77%.
Mr. Wells turns to Kray. Well I'll be damned. Factory said ol' T-One here was a lost cause. He offers Kray a hand, noticeably speckled with some sort of sauce. Much appreciated. Anything you want, on the house.
Sona processes the data she acquired from T-One before Mr. Wells can finish saying "damned." It appears that Mr. Wells is far more than a kebab restaurateur. His main business is information, and he sells to the highest bidder. In fact, the restaurant itself hasn't made a profit since opening night, fourteen years ago.
What do you do?
Bone'ead blinks as he looks at the various images of food scrolling in front of him He grins and says
Am want two big Kebabs Very big. Actually, more then two. Uh...
He struggles for a moment to count on his fingers, his face growing serious as he slowly counts 1....2....3?...4!
FOUR! Am want four. Yes.
He smiles happily and nods.
2BR wasn't listening.
> ...
> Same for me.
BoT projects a holographic image of a smiley face from his facial cameras/holoprojectors in response to Singh Lebork when the man identifies himself. "I surely will pass along your regards," the bot's deep voice emerges from his voice box politely.
In the pizza place, Blast-O-Tron's primary focus is on potential dangers, but as Sona ingratiates herself with the proprietor he relaxes in his command chair. Plugging two olfactory duplicators into his nostrils, he allows the sensory input from his RAB to project smell data, trying to see if the kebabs might be any good. Jamee had the good sense to install a temporal stasis unit on his RAB, large enough only to bring back meals fresh to him. Being agoraphobic, Jamee used his RAB for food delivery duty regularly.
"I'll have a kebab too. For me," Jamee says through BoT, causing BoT's finger to reveal the Jamee ID card on his chest by way of explanation.
After placing his order, he looks around. His scanners carefully pick over every last detail of the restaurant, seeking to miss no detail and focusing especially on detecting surveillance equipment.
What should I be on the lookout for?
Sona returns her multi-tool to her cuff compartment with a slight bow of the head. "This one will be satisfied with the company of T-one" She finds a seat with her companions, sitting with machine-perfect posture, staring into the middle distance with her eyes dimmed.
Scanning through the unexpected wealth of information, Sona applies her basic correlation matrix. Any data that matches data from the crew's dossier, and any data that matches high-profile locals is flagged and sorted by relevance. She works with Ol'ton-e to avoid impinging on the value of the proprietor's primary cache flow.
What here is useful or valuable to me?
Jamee, as your food comes your scanners detect that the restaurant is equipped with two distinct sets of security cameras. One set is obvious. The second set is so subtle as to be almost undetectable. You also notice a trio of minotaurs enter the restaurant, with no apparent interest in the menu.
Sona, you now have access to a veritable wealth of information about Shan Coty's inhabitants, government, companies, and customs. Take +1 ongoing to Spout Lore rolls relating to Shan City. Additionally, any such 6- rolls still earn you XP, but will function as a 7-9.
You also note that Bucanero's dossier includes numerous counts of larceny, fraud, identity theft, murder, piracy, and one count of impersonating an officer.
I'm curious, what do each of your dossiers say about you?
The majority of mine is just a very large list of ships that have mysteriously disappeared with no explanation over the years. Each one has a probably percentage next to it.
Apart from that, several xeno-conservation initiatives want me brought to justice for the eradication of several species during my exile. Vicious buggers, they were. The xeno-conservationists, not the creatures.
Wanted by T.E.R.R.A. for two counts of grand theft of classified level items, ten counts of assault with a deadly RAB, fifteen counts of criminal mischief, vandalism, and defacement of a space station, thirty counts of unauthorized access of computerized material, one count of murder.
Bewildered at the strange little humanoid who let him through. Omega followed his group silently as they entered a food establishment and engaged with the proprietor. He had no idea what a kabob was but the smell was overwhelming.
Omega possessed senses far beyond what most organics could fathom. He saw in multiple spectrums of light, infra read. He could convert sonic data in sight, feel radiation and temperature, and right now, "kebab" was attempting to get in through his skin.
He shuddered, unable to vomit, due to lack of mouth.
His black skin-tight armor, lined with red electro veins, hummed and pulsed with red energy for a moment. Omega braced himself for something bad to happen, but nothing did.
Then three large creatures entered the establishment.
Not given access to weapons, when he emerged from stasis, he had planned on buying a rifle here in the city, Omega projected. "I need a weapon."
--Historic Account---
Awarded the Astral Diamond by the Xuán Wū Mandarinate for services above and beyond call and programming.
Entitled the Adamant Hand by the Exiled Mandarin Cao Cao.
High Treason - Xuán Wū Remnant
Awarded three Gilded Brands by the Caliphate Cosmic, each for the protection of a high-ranking officer.
Raised to the rank of Chief Engineer of the KatarAllah.
Salvaged from the remains of Paradicia 9.
Decommissioned for Refurbishment.
Awarded the Amber Eye by the Association of Silence for substantive discovery.
Manslaughter - First Officer Darthus Jeckt of the Hanged Man.
Handle Change record - from: Kushiel to: Sona
---Summary of Misdemeanors---
3 counts of [REDACTED] in the Elysium System
1 Count of permanent records manipulation
4 Counts Libel on Kvothan
8 Counts of information piracy
---Lodestar Science Vessel Recovery Log---
Classified for Unknown Council Eyes only.
Name: [Classified]
Species/Genus:[Classified]
Age: Unknown
Height : 6'1
Weight : 115 LBS
In possession at time recovered: [Classified]
Location found: [Classified]
Destination: LS Research Vessel bearing [Classified]
___WARNING___
Asset Containment Breach
Locate and Reaquire
Current whereabouts unknown.
Not given access to weapons, when he emerged from stasis, he had planned on buying a rifle here in the city, Omega projected. "I need a weapon."
No sooner do you finish eating then you hear a loud commotion in the street. From outside, a deep voice can be heard over the din. Bastian Kray! By order of the Shan City Police, you and your accomplices are to come out with your hands up. Leave all weapons inside!
Anyone paying attention to Mr. Wells will see him disappear into a back room with the unmistakable clang of a blast door closing. The minotaur trio jolts with apparent alarm at the announcement from outside, moving quickly to the back of the room where the door has just closed.
What do you do?
Any windows leading out to the street?
There are numerous large windows facing the front of the store. Looking outside you see a large Goblin in a police uniform, as well as an assortment of other officers of various species, seven in total. The large goblin is holding a loudspeaker.
Jamee orders his RAB to follow the Minotaurs where they fled to the room's back door. If the minotaurs are still there, he shoulders them aside and checks the door. If they've already gone through, BoT will throw the door open again and beckon everyone through!
The largest minotaur turns to face you as you approach, holding out a hand, palm forward and shaking his head. He snorts derisively. The other minotaurs move to either side of the door, and put their hands on the dual energy axes each wears on its hips.
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Back in his command chair, Jamee grins and adjusts his headset mic. Time to troll. As a shut-in computer hacker with no social skills to speak of, trolling was one of his favorite activities on the web.
Blast-O-Tron lifts both arms out to either side, holding them out at shoulder level in a cocky, come-at-me-bro kind of gesture. As he makes his robot look like it has swagger, Jamee tries to subtly bring his positioning back closer to the front door. Before he speaks, he flips the switch for the "aggressive cockney prick" voice accent modulator.
"Oi mates! Are you cows planning on stopping us? You fink you could take us on when yer nan couldn't even handle my horn? Moan and ride it like I was the one getting paid, she did! 'Oooh, oooh, oooh, ooohh!!!! Oooh give me that robot horn, you big git!' Hahaha, but she was a noisy one, eh boys? But you poncy lot knew that already, innit?" the RAB thrusts its hips mockingly and moans in an exaggerated voice as Jamee mocks the biggest minotaur's mother.
Using his wild hip gyrations as cover, he tries to move subtly backward so his back is up against the front door.