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As soon as the storage room proves a safe-haven, Sona's chest plate opens and unfolds into a workbench. Her arms divide, tools eject from hidden compartments, and she becomes a blur of motion. Familiar devices are built or repaired from materials that are dropped into her internal forge core and rapidly printed out as usable components.
A diagram built from composited observations of Blast-o-Tron's modular drone appears which is exploded with a widening gesture into its component parts. When the flurry of modifications is over, the remaining design resembles a small spider on a tether. Piece by piece, the functional parts of her Structure Gel hose, Rope gun, and USB/Serial adapter and assembled into a single tethered machine.
"This one does not yet have the broadband multi-threading to create or operate a truly autonomous device, but a few useful applications of this multitool form-factor were generated during our last encounter." She doesn't seem to be talking to anyone directly, especially since she is so intently focused on the workbench. "[b]For now, miss Muffet will have to stay tethered.[b]"
Once the spider is finished, it retracts into the technician's shoulder. Sona then opens the cylindrical nubs that serve in place of ears and begins to make some minor modifications, creating a new module she hasn't used before.
After months of spinning uselessly, 2BR's firmware download clicks over from "99%, a seconds remaining" to "Complete! Enjoy your product, courtesy of Theta Security: Destroying the enemies of tomorrow, today."
Underneath 2BR's left forearm, a matte-black tube pops out and activates, sucking in light dust and grit from around the room as gravity warps and shifts. At any moment, it can reverse, spraying it out with considerable force.
Additionally, each metallic palm seems to vibrate imperceptibly. Any organics in the nearby area can feel their teeth buzzing in sympathy. If 2BR were to smack his hands together, the discharge would refer into their skulls, causing considerable pain.
2BR doesn't have a mouth, but if he did, he would be grinning. Considerably.
Jamee guides his RAB over to Sona for a closer look at her semi-autonomous spider unit. "Miss Muffet, eh? It's pretty cute, Sona. Let me know if you want any advice on programming nascent AI."
Blast-O-Tron's sensors detect the vibrating in the air coming from Toober's hands and he makes a mental note not to stand in the War Machine's way anytime soon.
The RAB looks around the dimly-lit storeroom, noting the layers of dust. "Unoccupied for at least a few years, judging by the level of accumulation," he observes. "This is probably a safe place to rest and recover from our journey through the sewers. I know I could use a break from wearing this VR helmet."
Before disengaging direct control, Jamee activates his Remote Avian Explorer unit. RAE alights on Blast-O-Tron's finger and chirps in a tinny voice. "I've been compiling a new seek-and-identify subroutine for your systems, girl," he says to it, affectionately. Ejecting a small SIM card from a slot in his own head, BOT inserts it into a similar slot that has been built into his bird robot. For a moment, RAE's eyes flash with multiple different colors, as the systems are updated to the newest version.
"Go see what's out there, girl," Jamee says to it through his RAB's vocalizer.
RAE is going to be scouting out the surrounding area for us, DM. Once that's begun, Jamee's going to set his RAB to sleep/autonomous operations mode, and take off his VR helmet. He takes a few steps over to his bed and collapses on it, and promptly begins to snore. As he sleeps, Blast-O-Tron engages passive repair systems all over its chassis.
Before you settle in to rest, you each take careful stock of your surroundings. This storeroom seems to have been completely forgotten, perhaps its former owner died. There is significant petty cash laying around, as well as a number of unusual items. You find:
Sona: 10d10 credits, plus what appears to be a small fusion core. Upon close inspection, you can see that the air immediately surrounding the core is shimmering, and flecks of dust wink into and out of existence.
Jamee: 10d10 credits, plus a simple looking gold ring. When you check to see if it will fit on BoT's finger, the ring enlarges until it would be a perfect fit.
Kray: 10d10 credits, plus an ancient arm band medical display. You recognize this model as highly unusual, because it appears to link directly into the wearer's circulatory system.
2BR: 10d10 credits, plus a pair of six sided dice. These die are black, and the pips are gold. The die are much heavier than a normal set.
You can each Spout Lore to attempt to determine what each item is, or simply try it out.
After about six hours, those of you who are resting are disturbed by a comlink call.
Ye bums! Harvus be waiting for ye! Looks like ye be under t' pizza place. What do ye be doing down thar?
Sona avoids the hard creds. It's not quite cosher for her to scoop up someone else's hard-earned floor money. Instead, shefinds a few dusty pocket drives with old security and transaction data. The info is copied, posted, and sold before the group is done resting.
Identifying the core is a simple matter of cross-referencing hardware catalogues. Sona is sure she could build this thing with three hands tied behind her back.
2BR scrabbles on the floor for Sona's ignored floor money. As per normal.
> Sona, requesting identification
2BR presents the object in question in front of Sonas scanners, far more advanced than his own. Also, as per normal.
Sona looks over the dice. She is sure there is more to them than just primitive gambling tools, but she can't find a serial number, so the results of a deep scan will have to suffice.
Jamee narrows his eyes in suspicion, mouthing the words to the inscription on the One Ring of Power, a popular fictional series of novels from his homeworld. "One ring to bring them all and in the darkness, bind them..." he mutters, in his room, with his mic silent. That ring, too, matched the finger widths of its new owners. Such things could be dangerous.
He gets in line behind Toober, and holds it out for Sona's expert inspection. I wouldn't want Sona leading us through the wilds, and I wouldn't want to try spouting off about some new tech without scanning it first using her more advanced array, he reasons to himself. Each of us has our own specialty... If it's benign, he will immediately put it on.
6 hours later...
"We just wanted an honest bite to eat, but it appears as if we attracted some unwanted attention, boss," he reports, using internal ship's comms that are keyed into everyone else's communicators as well. "We had to escape using unconventional means. We only just now emerged from a battle against a giant monster in the sewers. No significant injuries to report."
"Oh, that? That's just a ring of many sizes. Certainly nothing special. You should let this one carry it 60!!um! Err... sorry, there seems to have been a momentary malfunction of this one's vocal processors."
2BR's head snaps around 180 degrees to stare at Sona. Specifically, what Sona is holding.
> Want.
> Do want.
> Do want now give.
> This?
> No;
> See, this is made out of gold.
> Gold is highly malleable;
> You want something made of 0.8% carbon content tool steel.
> Something so delicate with such high conductivity-
> is meant for a machine with instruments of high precision.
$sudo LeAvE iT bE;
"It seems- 60!!!um- it seems for now it would be best left in the hands of the Petit Fils, for lack of a master artificer."
Sona: Upon closer inspection of what you first thought to be a fusion core, you realize that you have never seen technology like this before. The device appears to somehow modify the force of probabilities in the area surrounding whatever machine it is installed in.
Effect: Initial Charge = 1. When you spend 1 Charge you may change one of your results (or the result of an ally within hand range) from 6- to a 7-9, or a 7-9 to a 10+. When you willingly change one of your 10+ rolls into a 6-, set Charge to 1.
2BR: Sona reports that one of the die is inscribed with the symbol of Cauthon, the god of luck. The other die is inscribed with the symbol of McCormick, the god of misfortune.
Effect (new move): Up the Ante: When you up the ante prior to a combat roll , add the following to your result: On a 7+ inflict 1d6 additional damage. On a 7-9 also take 1d6 additional damage. On a 6-, take 1d6 additional damage ignoring armor.
Kray: You find a medical armband display that looks very much like this. You've seen the like before, incorporating a large database of medical knowledge for nearly every known species. However, this one is unique. You've never before seen a medical display that directly links into the wearer's circulatory system. Anyone you heal will recover an additional 2 HP. It has another effect that you do not yet understand.
Jamee: Sona, you can't tell much about the ring other than that you would like to keep it, even though you ordinarily have no interest in jewelry. However, the feeling is not so strong that you are forced to deny Jamee's request to return it. Sona also suspects that it will enhance the wearer's ability to move and act unseen.
I knew it! My instincts are always right when it comes to loot. *wisenod*
"I pass the test... I will diminish, and go into the West and remain [REDACTED]."
> My... precious?
2BR gives up on his dreams of owning the ring, for now at least, and tucks away the dice in convenient slot.
"We just wanted an honest bite to eat, but it appears as if we attracted some unwanted attention, boss," he reports, using internal ship's comms that are keyed into everyone else's communicators as well. "We had to escape using unconventional means. We only just now emerged from a battle against a giant monster in the sewers. No significant injuries to report."
Giant sewer monsters, eh? You always had de gift for tall tales, matey! Har har! Horvus be expectin' ye! Hasteful now, git rid o' the booty and let's ship out. Dis system gives me da creeps!
Your datapads are updated with a location thirty feet up and one block south of your current location. During your initial investigations of the storeroom, you noted a ladder on the east side heading up to a trap door locked from the outside.
What do you do?
Resisting the significant urge to DESTROY, 2BR is going to open it carefully and walk out like he is supposed to be here, and who are you to say otherwise?
2BR, the trap door resists your gentle attempts to push it open. Something is keeping it shut.
A fan of thin probes and picks sprouts from Sona's wrist and into her hand as she approaches the ladder. "Allow me to examine the lock. This one is equipped with the tools and codecies to neutralize fourteen thousand varieties of locks, both physical and digital... So long as we are breaking out."
When she gets a chance at the lock, she would like to examine it, and identify the locking system. If it's digital, just tell it to let us out with Command Machines, but if it's mechanical she will use the schematics and try to pick the lock by brute force using her Toolkit.
Examining the locking system, she searches her databanks for schematics...
Sona, your ministrations quickly pop open the mechanical lock. You cautiously make your way into the room above, and find yourself in the back room of a high end clothing shop. This room doesn't have a hint of the dust that covered everything down below. The lights are off, and the store appears to be closed. As you examine the lock from the outside, you can see that it is a combination lock. If you close the trap door it will remain unlocked.
You turn on the lights and take a look at the group. While you managed to clean the garbage off, and don't smell too bad, the droids are heavily scuffed and dented, your undercarriage is exposed and Kray looks singed and bloody. Rotgut is Rotgut, and looks much the same as when you left the ship. In short, you are going to stick out if you enter into the relatively high end little Italy area.
This store has all the amenities you would expect to find in a contemporary boutique. The pizza place is three doors to the east. It is 7pm local time. The Cap'n's transmission indicates your meeting is at 7:30.
What do you all do?
2BR starts flicking through racks of men's suits, looking for two XXXL sets. One for himself, one for Rotgut.
"Ooh, is it time to play dressup? I hope they have a Big and Tall section, eh?" Fortunately, Jamee's RAB is the same size as a tallish human, standing at 6'2". Though he's far heavier than a human would be, body-shape wise he should be able to don at least an overcoat.
While it would have been a great oversight for the boutique to leave out sizes suitable for both orc and halfling, halfling styles are frequently put in with the junior fashion in the rare case where there exists a distinction. The little girls' section of this boutique is about what one would expect.
While she is browsing the store, she keeps an eye out for anything which might need repairs, or computer systems she might have a polite conversation with. She is especially wary of security systems
What should I be on the lookout for?
Acknowledging that she doesn't have the time or money to be picky, she flips through the outfits in the closeout section. She finds a simple black dress and petticoat with a tall white collar and red neckerchief. The back has a simple design embroidered into it in red which Sona does not recognize. She also grabs a pair of white stockings, and some simple black shoes with tiny stiletto heels. She nods in private approval of such a common shoe which appears on so many galactic registries of lethal weaponry.
When everyone has selected their clothes, she goes through checking the tags, and running up the total. She intends to have these clothes paid for.
2BR looks at Sona, dumbfounded
> Sona, query. Requisition of clothing insignificant compared to liquid cash requisition?
Blast-O-Tron makes note of Sona paying the prices on the items. Bond modified: Sona displays integrity even when it doesn't matter all that much in the grand scheme of things. Whatever her secret plans and knowledge are regarding me, I trust that she is a good robot.
> Kvothan penal code, section eight, line sixty three: untended cash is not considered to be owned for the purposes of returning lost and found property.
> The cash you found was not secured or contained within markedly owned property as far as this one saw...
There's a meaningful pause indicating Sona wishes not to be corrected on this point. You might get the sense that she'd march you back into the storage room and make you put the cred-sticks back if you were to press her on the matter.
> We entered the storage room through a public access, however unused it may be.
> These clothes, on the other hand, are clearly marked for sale within a trade venue.
It seems like she is making excuses for the party to reduce social friction. You do note that despite her excuse, she did not take cash from the storage room. She's also not explaining the distinction between stealing cash credits and stealing information to sell for credits.
New bond: Sona seems determined to make life difficult for herself. Perhaps there is a better way, for one of them at least.
Sona, each set of fancy clothes costs 12 credits. It will cost 12 credits for yourself, or 60 credits for the group. How many credits do you leave behind?
Once you all finish dressing you make a dashing sight. The robots and Kray are all in fine suits (however you wish to describe them), while Sona looks striking in her new dress. Even Rotgut cuts a dignified, if huge, figure.
It is now 7:20pm. Your meeting is in ten minutes. What do you do?
Sona collects the pricetags, uses the device behind the counter to remove the security chips, and leaves it all in a neat pile along with 60 of her credits.
She does not look back when she goes to leave.
I put it on.
Everyone, when BoT put on the magic ring, your overwhelming desire to take it fades. Still, thoughts of the ring will arise unbidden on occasion.
Jamee, when BoT puts on the ring you feel an overwhelming desire to keep the ring on BoT. You feel this is the most fantastic modification you have ever made to your RAB. You can take it off, you just won't ever really want to.
Effects: +1 to all rolls involving stealth (going into stealth, moving while stealthed, attacking from stealth, etc.). Quirk: Strangers who see the ring must have it.
Totally worth! I just hope I don't turn into a robo-wraith later on.
The outfit BOT chooses closely resembles Kellogg's Outfit from Fallout 4.
You follow your digital maps to a high scale pizza place down the road. A sign states that this is Louis' Restaurant. As you enter, you notice that the crowd is exclusively humans, although no one seems to think you are out of place. The restaurant is not particularly packed and a host approaches you.
Gentlemen and ... robots. Welcome to Louis' Restaurant, the finest pizza in Shan City. Please be seated. He directs you to an empty table. Mr. Horvus will be with you shortly. He has asked me to give you anything that you need. May I take your order?
What do you order?
A few minutes after ordering, a short human man, balding, with thick glasses and an all too obvious comb-over joins your table. His gaze passes over the group, and then he takes a sip of water.
Welcome. A friend of Bucanero is a friend of mine. Horvus, local T.E.R.R.A. rep of this backwater dump. I take it your mission to IP19114 did not go exactly as planned?
What do you do?
If the server acknowledges her, Sona orders a digestivé of Drāno™ with a water chaser to be polite. Robot menus are sparse when they exist at all, but most bartenders, organic and otherwise, are comfortable serving a shot of cleaning fluid from under the sink to a paying automaton. Among wait staff, androids have a reputation for spending little, but tipping generously just for being acknowledged. She'd also help BunkR BusteR identify the most efficient combustion fuel from the drinks menu, if they don't have a robot menu or don't offer Jett™ fuel.
As much as she feels her job has become that of a babysitter, and/or cat wrangler, the technician does not assume a leadership role with the guest, and waits for either Kray or Jamee to take the lead.
> We killed some old friends of Kray, a mutant pizza and stole some stuff.
> Fuel? Affirmative. Double shot, high octane preferable. Does this place serve coolant?
2BR gives the brief rundown, then is distracted by incoming delicious. Priorities, you know?
Jamee was searching through his database of names when Horvus identified himself as a representative of T.E.R.R.A.
"Damn," he hissed to himself in his command chair in the ship, his mic off. "Best use a psuedonym. I don't want to get recognized and blow this whole op."
He flips the mic back on so that his voice, modulated, emerges from his RAB's vocoder. "Name's Julian. Julian Bashir. Unfortunately, some prior associates of one of our number decided to rough up the place, and we were forced to leave. However, we've since cleaned up the problem, and now we're prepared to deliver as promised. We just need the coordinates to deliver the booty, and we'll be on our way." So saying, the RAB retrieves the holoprojector that Bucanero had given him to prove that his claim was genuine, flashing a tiny image that isn't immediately obvious to the rest of the restaurant, but is enough to prove to Horvus that we have what we say we have.
Horvus eyes the holoprojector as it displays various the various flora and fauna that the group gathered from Rotgut's homeworld, IP19114. He nods. Excellent. 1,000 credits as promised. Also, I know how dangerous this mission was. I'll refuel your ship and throw in three crates of Zylonian Brandy, as well. My people will contact Captain Bucanero and coordinate the exchange of goods.
Horvus punches in a few keys on a datapad and hands it to Sona. Sona, when you put it near your datapad, your datapad chimes and indicates a transfer of 1,000 credits to the Lucky Sixes' account.
Commerce first, I always say. Do you have anything else you'd like to trade?
Screw these Terran bastards...but we could use some goodwill more than brandy, Jamee thinks to himself, stroking his chin. He queues the mic once more.
"Keep the brandy, with our compliments. As delicious as we are sure it is, we would much prefer that our friends in T.E.R.R.A. get to enjoy it!" Faction standing with T.E.R.R.A. now at +1.
Better just leave it there. If I keep talking, I'm liable to put my foot in my mouth, he thinks to himself.
Harvus smiles. Buddy, you just made a friend out of the whole T.E.R.R.A. office!
As the discussion turns to the Lodestar equipment, Horvus' smile falters a bit. Ah, no, no thank you. His voice falls to a whisper. T.E.R.R.A. can't be caught trading in Combinant equipment, you understand. We'll keep it between us though.
Once the mercantile business is out of the way Horvus coughs, and reluctantly pulls up another file on his datapad.
Bucanero mentioned you might be interested in more work. Since we're friends, I'll be straight. This is a dangerous one. Pays 2,000 credits, plus you can keep any salvage you come across. Interested?
> Are there things to kill? I need to kill things.
Blast-O-Tron's head nods slowly. "It's...er...important that we keep this war machine constantly angled at new legitimate targets, or else things tend to get kind of messy in ways we don't like. Dangerous is our specialty. Let's talk details."
Horvus glances at 2BR and then scoots his chair a bit further away from the engine of destruction.
Right. Well, unfortunately we don't have a lot of information. He laughs uncomfortably. That's where you come in. Several of our mining and trading outposts in the Kanata system went dark two days ago. No distress calls. It's as if they disappeared. We need a fast ship to investigate, search for survivors, and figure out what happened. Are you up for it?
At the mention of T.E.R.R.A. outposts in Kanata, Sona peers over her glass of water. "I don't think we have to worry about there being too few things to destroy out there, funding for that base almost fell through due to..."
Sona, you know that T.E.R.R.A. very nearly passed on the mining rights to the Kanata system due to concerns about the highly aggressive fauna on Kanata Prime. Ultimately, new shielding technology leased from Theta Securities raised the possibility of safely isolating the proposed trading hub from the native wildlife, and T.E.R.R.A. invested heavily in the system.
"We're in," the voice emits from the RAB's vocoder box. "Transmit the coordinates to the location you would have us start looking in, and we'll get on the task immediately."
Horvus seems greatly relieved. Excellent, excellent. Here are the details. He transmits additional data to Sona. I regret that I must attend to other business. Please enjoy your meal and stay as long as you like.
Horvus leaves and as the group finishes eating, a news report interrupts the local sporting event that had been showing on several flat vidscreens.
The news anchor reports that Cinnaran separatists have destroyed a local restaurant in the trade district, and killed a number of "law enforcement consultants." The scene switches to show a reporter interviewing a large goblin lying in a hospital bed. The goblin's head is heavily bandaged.
Reporter: I'm here with Delshick, one of the law enforcement consultants that responded to the attack. He has been grievously wounded, but has miraculously survived. Mr. Delshick, can you tell us what happened?
Delshick (in obvious pain): We received a report that a group of Cinnar terorists had attacked a local kebab restaurant. We attempted to bring them in peacefully, but the separatists opened fire without warning. The cowards fled into the sewers, but seven good officers will not be going home to their families. A single tear falls down his cheek. These separatists must know that they will not succeed. The Kvothan Protectorate will not negotiate with terrorists!
The camera pans back to the reporter. Law enforcement officials urge all citizens to immediately report any suspicious activities.
The report ends, and the sporting event continues. Curiously, the news report did not provide your physical descriptions.
What do you do after you finish eating?