It's not long before a wire framed, lanky 20ish your old kid arrives at the Turing. Carrying with him is a touch-pad wrapped in his arms, held closely to his chest.
He seems to be wearing some kind of formal wear. A blazer jacket with inlay along the arms, likely for power coupling. Black with silver accents. Suit pants to match and neatly shined shoes.
His hair is seemingly out of sorts, roughed and uneven.
"H-hello? Captain?" He says as he approaches slowly.
"I have the information on the duel, location, betting pools...so on." He says, looking around as if expecting some kind of violence or harm.
Seeing the look the young man's face, Brooke sighs and tells him, "Relax son, none of us is gonna bite. So how bad's the odds?"
Skiddish, this man is. When brooke begins to speak, he yelps and jumps before regaining his composure.
"I'm n-not at liberty to d-discuss The Admiral's chosen champion wit you. I'm here to tell you about the f-fighting ground and to collect any of your 'betting' pools."
He looked over his datapad then back to brook.
"The fighting ground is being refit as we speak. One of the cargo units is being 'c-cleared' for this fight. Most of our men have placed large sums, b-between one and t-two thousand on the Admiral's champion."
Looking to his bad, he swips a few pages then turns it to brooke, The tank in view.
"As I understand it, the duel is being fought over the conditions of trade vs acquisition? Is that right?"
"I wish none of us had to fight, but if I had to vote for one of us, I'd vote for Jack. Whatever happens, I'm available to patch things up."
"Madame Docteur, we could use the time to think-tank a way into blocking psi-scans, no?", he suggests.
Rix starts to think about Jean's suggestion, happy for a distraction.
"I'm here to tell you about the f-fighting ground and to collect any of your 'betting' pools."
"Are we expected to match the bets already posted?" Rix asks.
Relevant skills, with a roll for each:
Mathematics/TL 10 (applied) 10:
Biology/TL 10 (Earthlike) 13:
Chemistry/TL 10 14:
Electronics Operation/TL 15 (Medical) 12:
Physiology/TL 10 (human) 14:
Knowledge Psionics: Not sure what this would default to:
Looks like Rix made all the rolls, assuming no penalties, except the one that might matter most, Electronics Operations.
Rix has a pretty good idea of what a psi-scan would look for, which gives her a starting place for some way to spoof the things we were giving off. If the scan were being made by a human with psi ability, she feels like she can offer something that might hide what he or she would notice. If it is done with technology, she's not sure what would work against that.
Jean appears, having put on one of his finer suits, yet wearing it more casually. "Hm, betting? I would place, say, three thousand on our champion, does that sound acceptable?", he says, reaching for his credit chip. "What appear to be the odds? Or is it pool versus pool?" He takes a look at the rather jittery young man, and placed a calming hand on his shoulder. "Oh, nice suit, by the way. Love the tie knot, is that... Eldredge?", asks Jean curiously. "Truthfully, the palette in here is wonderful. Could I pick up one of those ties somewhere? Or any clothes, really, I couldn't the last time I was port-side.", he starts a casual conversation. "Though, maybe at least you can tell about the last fight the champion was in? And the condition in which his opponent left the arena?", he says calmly with a smile.
"Hm. Our expertise matches d'une forme parfaite.", replies Jean to Rix, scratching his chin. "Perhaps... if you have anything that detects or aids psionic detection, we might be able to turn it into a scrambler of sorts... Or, if you know of such a device and its fonctionnalité, I might be able to... similate a similar device?", he suggest, lighting up another cigarette.
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"I would... LIKE to PLACE a bet," APRIL responds, the voice now coming from her hovering quadcopter. "One SHIny new GAUSS pistol," which dangles conspicuously from her firing arm, "Against HATS. ALL of the PIRATE HATS worn by every SINgle other PERson who BETS against OUR man."
"Well I guess I am our sides champion, so please tell me what I need to know for this fight."
Jack listens intently to the man as he outlines the rules of combat. Once done, he will make his own bet.
"I have a number of gems in my possession that I would like to add to our betting pool. Say $10,000."
The following day…
9:00 arrives, following the standard set by terra centuries ago. Mars being the only planet to be set by sols rather than a day.
The ship is hailed by a meek fellow the crew has seen before.
”Pardon the early call, but the arena is set…W-we are ready to receive you and our escort is on the way.”
The interior of the Ceres base is unchanged, as if time is only relevant for the sake of sleep cycles. Regardless, everyone is well rested.
Over the night, Blackjack and Jack…along with Nedora had chosen to take the three crew men from the terran military on a round through the asteroid belt to learn more. They were taken with a captain and are expected to be out for weeks. They affectively resigned their remaining assets to the ship and gave you all a fond farewell.
The two men waiting outside the ship are larger, thug type fellows. Each wearing a vest but no shirt and a pair of tattered worker’s pants and boots. One has a large slag thrower (a large single shot pseudo rail gun) the other has a violently edged set saber-esk weapons hanging off his hips. Both men are roughly 6’ 2” and likely 250+ lbs. Their skin is bronzed though not by light, likely by some chemical reaction further in the industrial regions of the base.
When the crew and their respective champion show up, the one with the slag thrower pipes up…
”Oh-ho! And which one of you is going to be in the pit?” he looks over the crew, excited to know.
A small, slender, 14-year-old looking girl steps forward and says "I guess I am..."
Rix watches anxiously, checking and rechecking her medical supplies, waiting to see what happens. she feels helpless at this point, only able to watch and pray for the best. She's been praying a lot lately.
"Err...You're a child...aren't you?"
The courier asks, looking over his palm-screen then to the rest of the crew.
"A little girl is your champion? I feel this is cruel."
Non-the-less, he begins typing away at his pad before turning away.
"Follow me then... w-we'll get this underway...
---assuming we move on---
You are once again lead through a series of halls, each giving viewable access to different parts of the hidden headquarters. Including but not limiting to, Industrial, processing, salvage, crew quarters and the grand mess hall.
All this slips away as you eventually come to an elevator that takes you down seemingly 2 floors. or the equivalent of.
Once there, the metal and 'refined' structure gives way to make shift supports, and stone walls. Lights lead on cables light the way to what seems a small geo-front. its almost perfectly spherical, its sides lined with 15 foot walls that house are topped with bleachers. Several people are already about and more seem to be funneling in.
"R-right. Terra... you'll be coming with me. The rest of you, please, head up this set of stairs and join the audience. Fret not, she will be fine."
The stairwell up leads to a kiosk that allows the purchase of snacks and other oddities along with bet placements. there after it feeds into the bleachers.
Earlier in the day...
You are greeted by The Admiral who knocks on your quarters then removes his hat upon stepping in. He's balding with some dignity it seems or he hadn't realized. Non-the-less, he has a smirk on his face.
"Boy. It seems we have an opportunity for you to work off some...or if you're particularly filled to the brim with shit invoking, risky behavior...all...of your debt."
The captain takes a seat from one of the wall chairs. "Listen here...a few drifters found their way here...I wont guess it was coincidence but I doubt it was entirely intentional. Non-the-less, they have accepted 'the old politics' and we are in need of a disposable champion. That be you."
His white grin revealed form his heavy beard.
"Melee only...gentleman's code and all that. beat who ever you're facing...place a bet. If you win, that bet goes right into my pockets. Err...into your debt relief."
He slaps his knee and takes back to his feet. "I'm told that their options are slim..."
caught up...
Aster is sitting patiently in the waiting hall, just beneath the bleachers. There he is able to suit up in non-tech armor if he has it. The Admiral leaning against the wall near by.
A beep hums off his wrist. He moves the over-sized sleeve up to show the wrist pad. He chuckles shaking his head.
"It would seem you're fighting a little girl... Brave, it seems. But I expect you to win with no effort... I'll see if we cant find some means to make the betting more valuable."[b] He lets out a mildly disappointed sigh. He then holds of the picture of Aster's combatant. A familiar face of a former crew mate. Terra.
You are lead to a chamber beneath the bleacher. There is an armor 'aid' station for the heavier types and a bathroom readily available. the man that followed you simply snapped a picture of you then gave a bow.
[b]"You are a brave girl. But please...do understand...people have died here."
He then turns, shutting a large bulky door behind him on his retreat. Terra is left alone in a poorly lit chamber. The way tot he arena, a small hall with an iron gate blocking the way into sandy circle.
Humorously, they have yet to you who you will be fighting. Either negligence or simple air-headedness. regardless, the time to do or do not is at hand.
A few minutes after being told to make your way up to the bleachers and make merry, a four faced set of screens descends above the center of the arena. Each screen splits and shows a pic of both combatants.
On the left, titled: “Their only hope.” Terra. A bit squinty as the the shot was taken suddenly and by surprise. On the right, “The Debt Man” Showing a picture of a stoic Aster.
Jean shrugs. "Well, monsieur, a champion is a champion, no?", he says, starting to walk up the stairs. "If it was for taking a beating, I'd have volunteered, but in here, we want to win." He smiles, pulling out a cigarette from his pocket.
He takes a stop at the food kiosks, picking up the most exotic thing he can see. "Hm, and what is this, exactly?", he asks the vendor, as he glares surprised at the... food. "No matter.", he waves it off.
Reaching the bleachers, he takes a look at the screens, his mouth wide open. "The Debt Man?", he comments after a moment. "Oh, bother... And we left him for dead...", he mutters, sitting down.
[i]Aster rubbed the back of his head as he rolled over, he couldn't feel through the suit, but he figured he had a pretty decent goose egg, possibly a mild concussion as well. After a couple of minutes of groggily pulling and pushing, he managed to work his way out from under the rock overhang and stand up. Definitely a concussion as he leaned heabily on the rock and looked around the park that was blinking with the flash of emergency lights. Guys?
He gently tapped the side of his head, comms must be out. On shaky feet Aster started for the docks, he expected he could meet up with the others there and he'd really like to get the doc to look him over. He'd just tell her he hurt in a few different places...
Through the fog of his perception, Aster heard the repeating emergency message to evacuate. He recalled running to the ship, then leaving. Oh yeah, to save everyone. Dumb. His mother taught him better than that.
It was starting to come back, he suggested sniping someone and then he moved off to circle around, last thing he recalled was his foot slipping out from under him, then the darkness.
Aster stood, somewhat dumbfounded, the docking birth was empty. The Turing had already left. Without him.
At the next dock over, several people were having a heated conversation while one of them was standing in front of the gangway of a small sleek yacht. Aster stood there and stared at his empty docking bay as his mind slowly cleared enough for him to realize he still needed a ride off the station. A shot ringing out turned his attention to the group next to him where it looked like one of the men had shot another with a derringer. Pulling his own needler, Aster acted, without thinking, Hey! What's going on?! Three of the men, including the one with the derringer startled at Aster's shout, looked at him, and took off running down the concourse.
Aster hurried over to the gut-shot gentleman slumped against the door of his ship, his hand scrambling at the locking pad. Here, let me help you with that. Aster holstered his needler with a last look at the retreating backs of the others. Grabbing the gentleman under an arm, who was dressed more like a banker than ship's crew, Aster held him up so he could unlock the airlock.
The bridge, we need to clear port.
Aster shook his head, but your wounds. You have a medbay?
The gentleman turned a pain-stressed but sharp eye to Aster, look kid, if we don't get going now, we won't ever. Now help me to the bridge. His tone came across as one that often spoke with the authority that comes from years of instant compliance. But Aster stood for a moment, considering, fine. Your funeral
We all die sometime. You can call me Mr. Smythe.
Aster frowned, really? Aster, Aster Diagef.
If Aster hadn't been holding him, he wouldn't have felt the momentary stressing of Smythe's muscles at hearing Aster's surname. Something to think about.
Once on the bridge, Aster looked in awe at the clean, high-end equipment and stations of the ship, much nicer than the Turing, it looked new in fact. After helping Smythe to the command chair, Aster settled into one of the other two chairs and buckled in.
Smythe ignored most of the protocols and lifted with port authority shouting abuses through the speaker. Smythe's laugh turned into a gurgling cough as he sprayed the console with blood as the ship ascended off the Lunar surface. can I get you to the automed now?
Smythe looked at Aster, sure kid, just let me get the course locked in. It's going to be a high G burn. The ship shot off on its fusion torch, passing several other ships, one of which looked like it might be the Turing, but they passed it so quickly that Aster wasn't sure.
Smythe's wracking cough started up again as he pulled a tablet from the arm of the control seat and entered a series of commands into it. Put your thumb here. You'll need to be able to control the damn ship when I black out.
Aster looked at the tablet but as soon as he started reading all the legal jargon his eyes crossed and he spaced. Like anyone ever read those things anyway, Aster thought as he pressed his thumb to the tablet. Smythe punched a few more commands in and slide the tablet home.
As Smythe started to slide back into his chair, well Aster, she's yours now, debts and all. He grinned up at Aster, a trickle of blood leaking from the corner of his mouth, you tell your mom, she got more than she asked for.
Startled, Aster took a moment to process the whole "the ship is yours" before he got to the comment about his mom. He turned to Smythe only to see that Smythe was gone.
You are lead into a small waiting chamber entered into by a large bulky door made of welded steel and bolted locks. It boasts a circular window that can be shut on the outside.
The interior of the room is pretty ramshackle. Not intended to be used for long waiting. The floor is stone cut and the walls are chiseled...poorly. Some people took the time to make it a little more friendly by etching art in the walls...but over all, it looked like a three year old doodled with a chisel.
A wooden bench and a fire pit at the center is the only amenities. Toward the arena, a long hall way blocked by a heavy iron gate.
"Mada- Err...Terra... I'm afraid that the armor available to you is not fitted to your size... and I must also report that the weapons here are also...perhaps..to heavy for your small frame?"
The tour escort said looking down the hall before shutting the door.
"Will you be alright with your measly protection and lack of a feasible weapon?"
When Rix saw Aster's picture, a hand came to her mouth and she murmured, "शक्ति हमें मदद" (shakti hamen madad)
To Jean (and April, if she has a presence with Rix and Jean), Rix says, "I've seen her use her ... ability to move equipment around, but I sure hope she can control it well enough to do well in a fight. I hope Aster doesn't hold a grudge. It would be nice if we could explain why we had to flee without him. Glad he's okay, though." She continues to talk nervously, stroking Trixy and keeping a grip on her.
Trying to maintain a semblance of calmness, and failing slightly, Terra says "Yes, I'll be just fine, thank you."
There is the hum of a loud speaker that chimes into audio...
"Tonight's entertainment comes at the cost of a gamble... The old way as it were..." An accented man speaks (Pirate like).
The gates begin to lifts slowly, the sound of the grinding gears vibrate through the stony walls.
"The challengers...a Teenage girl who could barely work on board our ships as a cook...the other...the forlorn drifter... Your bet's set...the Die cast... Let's hope death doesn't find the little one to early...so much potential in those legs, eh mate!?" He laughs hearty before the mic chimes off.
The gates now lifted enough to allow exit, both Aster and Terra enter the arena opposite each other.
The crowed mumbles and cries out shouts of joy and overly sexualized comments.
Her ears already red from the sexual comments ("Really?" she thinks to herself, "against a *child*?!?") Terra stops in shock to see her old crewmate, but recovers quickly and shouts (to the crowd as much as to Aster) "Let's get this started, then!" and launches a telekinetic attack :
which does
HP
"Just REmember," APRIL whispers into the earpiece, "SINCE you seem TO be FRUSTRAted, it is NOT too LATE to reNEGE on our WORD and criPPLE THEM all with LAsers SET to NERVE damage AND PAIN gas."
Aster holds his empty hands out, I didn't ask for this fight, nor do I believe this provides any benefit. I am unarmed and refuse to participate in this farce.
Aster walks to the center of the ring and sits down, crossing his legs. He places his hands on his knees, and stares ahead. He winces as the unseen blow slams into his thigh.
Jean pops another snack in his mouth, and his eyes go wide open as Aster appears to be hit by an invisible force. "Wow. I did NOT know she could do that... It is legal, no?", he asks an onlooker, offering a greasy bag with a smile. "Now what happened to that bet?" He chuckles, dusting food crumbs off his suit.
The bells chime. Late, as the ref wasn't aware they had begun fighting.
'..Err...yeah! We're off!"
The crowd shouts in a confused rabble.
-----
The gent next to Jean looks to the dapper man.
"Oh...The cap'n Didn't mention? The betting was done already...but I'll take an offer. I've got 500 on the boy... Because obviously, the girl has nothing..."
Rix stares at the fighters, both afraid to watch and afraid to look away. When Aster gestures to end the fight, she sighs in relief, then gasps as he collapses from the unseen blow. She puts her hands to her face and leans her head forward. "Tell me when it's over."
Stunned again for a moment by Aster's actions, Terra briefly considers quitting too, but doesn't know what the ramifications of that would be for her and her crewmates. So she whispers to herself "Sorry, Aster..." and attacks again :
Rix continues to hide her face in her hands. "Is it over?"
As Aster slumps over prone to the ground, Terra looks around the arena and shouts "I claim victory for the crew of the Turing!".
Then she starts looking *at* the crowd until she spots Dr. Rix, and yells to her "Dr. Rix, Aster needs medical attention, now!".
Then she runs over to Aster, sits down beside him, puts his head in her lap and says "Oh, Aster, I'm *so* very sorry I had to hurt you, but we were fighting for our lives. I'm sure Dr. Rix will get you patched up real quick".
There is a silence in the entire arena that makes space seem noisy. For a brief moment, one could suggest that even the electric hum paused due to the surprise.
As Terra begins summon Rix and rushing to Aster's aid...The Admiral barks down to the Arena. His massive body striding over bleachers as people parted.
"What is this?!" He asked with a tone that suggested he wasn't used to yelling.
He approached the wall of the arena and hopped down. The dust of the floor parting upon impact.
"Aster...We had a deal!"
Rix hears Terra call her name and looks up. She whispers a prayer to Shakti and grabs her bag of medical gear and starts to make her way to the arena entrance. "Better get down there too. We should be together when if the drek hits the fan,"she says to Jean, April, and any others from the crew who are with them.
When she gets to the entrance, she points to her medical emblem on her white lab jacket and says, "I'm Dr. Rix. I need to attend to the wounds of the fallen." She tries to say it in an authoritative way that voices more confidence than she feels inside.
"We have an EXcellent MEDiCAL bay," the medical bay reminds the other party members over their speakers.
Keep his distance from the doctor at work, The Admiral seethes.
He paces back and forth, looking to aster with a subtle hatred and Terra with disbelief.
"I wont pretend to know what's going on...but yielding a fight does not count!
Reaching to his belt, the Admiral retrieves a seemingly severed longsword. It was mostly a hilt with a couple inches of blade that seemed diagnoly removed.
"I will take matters into my own hands if my own champion refuses his duty... He will be dealt with properly. But first...Girl!"
He levels the blade in her direction.
Putting her hands up, shoulder-high, palms forward (whether to indicate "surrender" or "stop" is unclear), Terra says "Hey there, Admiral sir, waitaminute - whether or not Aster chose not to fight, *I* made him incapable of fighting - just ask the doc over there! I hurt his leg so badly that he wasn't even able to *stand up*! That's a takedown in my book, any day, fair and square...
...and wait a minute, you just mentioned 'yielding a fight', which just reminded me - isn't one of the rules of the Gentleman's Code 'Yielding in combat is defeat'? So technically, when Aster refused to fight for whatever reason, I won automatically. I wish I had realized that during the fight, I could have saved him a lot of pain she thinks ruefully to herself. "You wouldn't want to get a reputation as a leader who breaks his own rules, now would you? Your fight is with Aster, sir, not with me!"
If the Admiral takes even a step in her direction, she will back up her full Move and mentally blast *his* leg.
Assuming Dr. Rix is allowed in to attend Aster, she moves quickly and keeps focused on medical procedures, partly to keep herself from going into combat paralysis. She tries to ignore the admiral and Terra.
She first gives him a diagnosis scan with her med-scanner to check for internal injuries and determine the type of damage to the leg.
Success by 7.
"Doesn't look like any complications. Let me see what I can do to reduce the pain." She sets to work applying first aid. She makes minimal use of the high tech patches and drugs, just enough tech to make the healing as efficient as possible.
Success by 5
She is able to eliminate some of the damage from bruising and blunt force trauma.
Finally, she attends to the leg injury. She resorts to psychic healing for this. "I think the leg is broken, but I have a special gift that might be able to undo what Terra's gift has done. Just let me keep my hands in contact with the leg for a few seconds. I've never attempted this before outside of a hospital."
Heal Limb psychic skill
Default: Cure-6; cannot exceed Cure.
You can fix a crippled limb if you heal the HP that caused the injury (one try only). This psi technique does not cost 2 FP to use, and no additional penalties are incurred for critically failing.
Psychic Cure = 15 so default is 9.
Failure
Rix sighs and says, "I'm afraid that will have to heal as nature intended."
"Do YOU need an ASsist?" asks the Autodoc from the corner of the lab.
The Admiral, blade still in hand, listens to Terra's words (and Rix's confirmation of Aster's disability), and suddenly a stupified look comes over his face. He then scowls, and then...laughs! "Ho ho ho - little lady, you make a very good point! My problem *is* with Aster!"
He thumps over to where Aster is lying on a table, scowls at him fiercely for a few moments as if deciding what to say, and finally bellows "Aster, your ship is forfeit! And I'm considering throwing you in jail, but I'll give you a day or two to heal up first!"
Then he turns to the rest of the Turing's crew, and says dourly "Well, that's that - you can keep your ATV." At which point Terra's face registers surprise and shock, and she facepalms herself. "Enjoy your stay here. Some of my men will show you to your quarters, unless you'd rather stay on the Turing." And he stomps out.
A couple of pirates stay behind, asking what you want done with Aster (they say they have a medical bay of modest technology), and whether you want to be shown to your rooms right away, or wander around the pirate base for a while, enjoying its modest entertainments.
What do you do?
Dr. Rix has Aster taken to the better of the offered facilities, either the pirate's medical suite or the one on the Turing. The first thing she does is a more thorough exam to see if the bone was broken or if any damage was done to the knee or hip joint.
She uses the task to focus her mind and spirit on treatment options and to block out the uncertainty over her future. She gives Aster something for the pain and tries to provide him with good bedside manner, suppressing the urge to pepper him with questions about how he ended up in this situation.
"I'm going to take a good look at that leg and see how badly damaged it is. It might be we can fix you up and have you back in action before you can say 'Master Blaster's Disaster Forecaster.'"
I would say that between Dr. Rix and April, the Turing has the better medical facilities.
A couple of pirates accompany you, first carrying Aster, then standing guard over him (discreetly).
Well, that wasn't in the spirit of competition..., Jean thinks to himself, as he leaves the watching bay. His eyes glare onto a blue-skinned lady strutting around, as he stares with interest. "Mademoiselle!", he says with a charming smile. "I'm quite lost on this space station you have, and I am looking for a guide to show me the... wonders of this place. Is it too forward to ask for a tour?", he asks with a hopeful smile.
She stops, looks you up and down, smiles, and says "Sure, why not? Where was your last port-of-call, honey?" and it sounds like she actually cares...
Anyone else going shopping or...whatever? :)