Dead Suns AP by GM Cellion (Inactive)

Game Master GM Cellion

Chiskisk's antennae rise in a surprised expression as Sid expresses a lack of familiarity with the Drift Rock. "We must have been keeping you busy if you haven't seen the news. A week ago, a ship called the Acreon came out of the Drift towing behind it a large asteroid, which is being referred to as the 'Drift Rock'. The ship was not broadcasting and had no life signs though scans revealed no damage. The hatches had been opened to space. Station Security immediately placed the vessel under quarantine. Two factions are now in a legal disagreement over ownership of the vessel and rights to the Rock. One is Astral Extractions, which chartered the Acreon to explore for exploitable minerals. The other is the Hardscrabble Collective, a co-op of miners and others, of which the Acreon's captain was a member. Duravor was sympathetic to the Hardscrabble Collective and we believe got caught in the middle of an extra-legal escalation of the fight over the Drift Rock. It's been mostly handed over to Station Security. The others found evidence of a gang's involvement in Duravor's death and linked the gang to Astral Extractions, but we are not law enforcement, so we handed the evidence over to Station Security."

Grix's faceted eyes gleam as he reads the messages coming in to his comms "Oho, as soon as we speakh to the Ambassador, Astral Ekhstrakhtions wants to talkh to us! They sure didn't when we were just roughing up street thugs." He rubs his claws together "Its all about makhing the right khontakhts. Just likhe you were talkhing about Spectre! How about we makhe them stew for a bit and go talkh to Chiskisk first?"

Assuming no one is too against it, Grix'll lead the way back to Chiskisk's office.

Arcalinte rolls his eyes a bit.

"While I can't really argue, I'm starting to wonder about how well your criminal ventures will go, Spectre. You ARE making contacts, but I suspect they aren't the kind of contacts that will be helpful for the purposes you're working towards. I know you most likely won't care, but you may find yourself getting frustrated at your primary function going unfulfilled the longer you hang out with us."

He nods at Grix's words.

"I agree that we should check with Chiskisk. We may want to let him know about the development with the Ambassador too."

A tall elegant young female humanoid, in flowing multi-coloured robes that look like second hand and rough noble clothes, coughs delicately. The small antennae on her head twitch, rather quickly. Words form in the minds of those close by, though it is obvious that it is Chiskisk the words are intended for. The words seem to tumble into your mind quickly, almost randomly, "I, Solaria, have listened to your words of the Pathfinder Society. I promise you Chiskisk I will follow the Society's lead do what is best following the investigations you have already concluded. What more needs to be done, or do we travel to discover what these corperations were fighting over. Discover the secrets behind the Drift Rock." The words in your mind are light as rain, as naive as a babes first experience of crawling, but there is a fire of excitement burning behind each syllable.

Her face, green eyes wide with excitement, young and fresh smiles at the female who introduced herself as Sidney, "I wish we too can be friends, we can explore the drift and beyond together. This drift rock might have such interesting lessons to learn. Maybe we will find creatures not known to the Society and we can discover more mysteries of the universe." her voice is soft, yet has a melody to it that calls for you to listen, relax and rest in the company of Solaria. There is something about her that makes you want to become her best friend. Although as she ends her words, her attention seems taken by the stars as she glances towards the heavens and space.

She recovers herself, and nods respectfully to tough looking soldier, words enter his mind, "Izu, I may use words rather than lasers, but both are needed to keep the universe safe, when used correctly." Her head bows slightly.

"So we wait and get our instructions?"

Alrighty, feel free to drop us in to Chiskisk's office whenever you're ready Snow.

She recovers herself, and nods respectfully to tough looking soldier, words enter his mind, "Izu, I may use words rather than lasers, but both are needed to keep the universe safe, when used correctly." Her head bows slightly.

"This one respects the values of words, lovely one. Unfortunately, the last one like yourself that this one was set to guard did not survive an rather brutal ambush. That is a disgrace that this one bears. This one pledges to make sure you do not fall to a similar fate."

Chiskisk looks at Solaria and says (still telepathically), ”For now, I don’t really have instructions for you, but I did ask that they return to the Lorespire as quickly as possible. I...” Just then their terminal chimes and they look down. ”Ah, well, Desna smiles...” They press a button and look to the door expectantly.

Grix, Arcalinte, Spectre and Ted are shown in by one of the Society’s drones escorts them in to the office. Chiskisk stands up and extends his telepathic speech to all, ”Ah, here they are.” They make a quick round on introductions and explains that they would like the two groups to work together in the interest of the Society, that you are all relatively new to the Society but believes your experiences and skills will mesh well together. With that, they ask if there are any new developments that the Society should be aware of.

As Chiskisk talks, Arc, Grix, Spectre and Ted get another message on their comma. This one from the Hardscrabble Collective, asking to meet with them.

Arcalinte makes a polite bow as he's introduced to the others.

"Glad to meet you all."

When Chiskisk asks for new developments, Arcalinte smiles.

"We got two, actually. It seems the Drift Rock's still casting a shadow over our career with the Society. We've been hired by Gevarlarsk Nor, the ambassador from Eox, to investigate the Acreon and figure out just what happened, in ordered to help the ambassador mediate between the Hardscrabble Collective and Astral Extractions. And speaking of the Hardscrabble Collective, we just got a message from them to meet."

"This one appreciates manual dexterity. That is some impressive pen-twirling, human."

One corner of Sid’s mouth lifts up, ”Hey, thanks guy. Whudya want me to call you? You got a nickname?”

"I wish we too can be friends, we can explore the drift and beyond together. This drift rock might have such interesting lessons to learn. Maybe we will find creatures not known to the Society and we can discover more mysteries of the universe." her voice is soft, yet has a melody to it that calls for you to listen, relax and rest in the company of Solaria. There is something about her that makes you want to become her best friend. Although as she ends her words, her attention seems taken by the stars as she glances towards the heavens and space.

Sid drops the pen she’d been spinning as Solaria’s words enter her mind. ”Yeah. Okay,” she replies stupidly, taken off-guard by Solaria's racial charms. Sid bends down to pick up the pen and tucks it behind her ear. The action gives her something else to focus on and break from the lashunta’s natural charm. ”Friends are great.”

Grix, Arcalinte, Spectre and Ted are shown in by one of the Society’s drones escorts them in to the office. Chiskisk stands up and extends his telepathic speech to all, ”Ah, here they are.” They make a quick round on introductions.

Hands in her jacket pockets, Sid looks over Grix, Arcalinte, Spectre and Ted as they’re introduced. Sid gives an upwards nod when Chiskisk introduces her: ”Hey. Call me Sid.”

She turns to Arcalinte: ”So, we’re going to Hardscrabble’s pad?”

Ted smiles at the new comers, "Glad to meet y'all. Be careful around this lot," he points to his comrades, "they aren't as trustworthy as they appear." He guffaws.

"Greetings, everyone. This one's name is Isu Greelax Zyte of Clam Tarma, House Hadula, Scion of Isuma the Missing."

"Feel free to reference this one as Isu Greelax Zyte of Clam Tarma, House Hadula, Scion of Isuma the Missing, in any and all conversations."

"This one has experience in martial warfare. This one is not a skill specialist, or a wise talker, but every group needs a bodyguard. This one hopes to fulfill that role admirably for you. Though this one has failed shamefully at this role in the past, this one is sure that it will not happen again."

Isu tries to smile his most friendly smile.

charisma check: 1d20 + 0 ⇒ (18) + 0 = 18

Spectre considers the newcomers.

"Greetings, Sid and Isu Greelax Zyte of Clam Tarma, House Hadula, Scion of Isuma the Missing. If you are to be part of the team, introductions are in order. I am Spectre. I am proficient in more than six million forms of money laundering."

His head swivels to Arcalinte.

"That was an attempt at humor for your benefit."

Turning back to the newcomers, he says "I am skilled with computers, engineering, piloting, and all manner of weaponry. Further, I am proficient in earning credits through all available means."

too funny... Isu messed up his own introduction. That should have been "Clan Tarma"... whelp, too late now. I guess he is from a place called Clam Tarma. It's canon.

LOLOLOL. "I did not know Kasatha were born from clams." All of Starfinder canon is rewritten.

Chiskisk sighs slightly at Spectre's "money laundering" joke then looks at Arcalinte. "The Ambassador and the Acreon? Interesting. I'm not sure what you'll find, but if you find anything relevant to the Society's work, do try to make an independent record of it and let us know." He pauses, then adds, "And you should bring Isu, Sid and Solaria. As for meeting with the Collective, I'll leave that up to you. It could be useful or just add misdirection and confusion."

Solaria opens her mouth, using words and her lilting voice to introduce herself. "It is a pleasure to meet you, please call me Solaria. Whilst I cannot use a weapon as Isu Greelax Zyte of Clam Tarma, House Hadula, Scion of Isuma the Missing, nor have the skills to pilot great spcefaring ships, I have such enthusiasm for travelling to the stars, that I hope my words will pay for my passage. Like they did to get here from Castrovel." she giggles playfully. She hunches her shoulders in anticipation and smiles in excitement. She cannot stop her thoughts from entering those gathered in the room, "Real Pathfinders!!, I shall be working alongside real pathfinders!!" these words transmit telepathically to those gathered.

Her tall slim body shivers with the notion of dreams to be fulfilled and her antennae twitch. "But first the Hardscrabble’s pad, but why do they want to meet with us?"

A spindly shirren with a mottled grey and black carapace steps carefully into Chiskisk's office. He fiddles with one of the tiny silvery badges sewn onto his vest and peers around the room. Those close to him hear him counting anxiously under his breath. "seven... eight. Good.". He seems to sigh and relax.

Grix clasps his claws together in front of him and puts on his best imitation of a human smile by twisting his mandibles. Its very hard to tell what he's going for. "Oh new mea- I mean, new friends and allies! Chiskisk, you shouldn't have!"

"It is nice to meet you all." his voice rasps out in audible common rather than entering your minds telepathically in the typical fashion of his race. "I'm just Grix. That's it. Easy to remember, yes?"

"Ted is just jokhing. We are very trustworthy. Especially with our allies. A khrew needs to stikh together to sukhceed!" He nudges Solaria, whispering "I would be khareful of Ted though, he likhes to blow things up a little too much."

"Isu Greelax Zyte, Clam Tarma. Oh, one of my old khrewmates was from Khlam Tarma. He said it was a dreadful place and the only way he'd go bakh was khikhing and skhreaming. Something about being tortured every day... I'd always assumed it was filled with those little devils with the whips and the pokhey forkhs." He puts a claw on Isu's shoulder "You're safe from such things here with us Isu!" He tries to be reassuring.

He turns his faceted eyes between Solaria and Syd "Aha." He coughs out an imitation of a human laugh. "I see Arc is going to have some khompetition! Very glad to have you Sid!"

"And we khan absolutely use your skhills Solaria! And your enthusiasm! It is khlearly infekhtious! Though... I hate to dampen your ekhcitement, I'm sorry to say you won't be workhing with real pathfinders." He droops his antennae down apologetically. "We're all starfinders here instead. The pre-gap pathfinder society is long gone... I'm very sorry if no one told you yet."

"Pardon me, Shirren. This one thinks you have confused this one's home with Hell. Rest assured, living conditions in Clam Tarma are much better than Hell. That is to say, this one thinks so. This one has never been to Hell..."

Isu stops, confused. He really doesn't know what to make of the strange insect.

Sid squints at Isu. In her mind, Isu's face and form replace Aphrodite in "The Birth of Venus" (The other humaniod figures are also turned into Kasatha.) So that's how it happens. I guess I'd better avoid eating shellfish around him.

"I see Arc is going to have some khompetition! Very glad to have you Sid!"

Sid crosses her arms over her chest and leans back. She gives "Arc" a lengthy look-over, sizing up who she assumes to be a skilled pilot. "Oh, yeah? You got a nice ride?" Sid gives an upward nod at Arcalinte as she addresses him.

Grix is really cute lol

"Pardon me, Shirren. This one thinks you have confused this one's home with Hell. Rest assured, living conditions in Clam Tarma are much better than Hell. That is to say, this one thinks so. This one has never been to Hell..."

Grix rasps out a laugh "I was khidding about the imps! My old khrewmate may have had some bad things to say about the place, but it'd have to be a lot worse to khompete against Hell."

He turns his eager gaze back to all three of the newcomers "We need to get you three up to speed, and khuikhly! We have a lot to akkhomplish today, and khredits to earn! Chiskisk, we'll kheep you informed." He waves at the other shirren.

"Oh Grix, I was reading those novels again before I came here, the ones with the legends of missing Golarian from the pre-gap era. Sometimes I get so engrossed, of course I mean Starfinders." Solaria laughs and giggles some more. "I didn't travel to Absalom Station just to stay here you know, and it wasn't to travel to hell either." Her face muscles tense, as she takes on a more serious face and turns to you all, "I will do my best for the Starfinder's Society and my comrades and crew, that I give my word." Her hands pat down the robes she wears over her very simple protective space suit.

Spectre analyzes the newcomers.

"I hope you will prove proficient group members," he drones.

"Which task shall we prioritize? Meeting with Hardscrabble?"

Arcalinte blinks in surprise at Spectre's joke, though more at the content of the joke than its actual nature.

"If you seriously know that many ways to launder money, then perhaps I was wrong about you getting frustrated about your primary function. Someone with skills like that could make a criminal empire out of selling Star Scout Cookies!"

Then he pauses as her realizes what he's just said, and he facepalms.

"And I just gave you an idea, didn't I?"

As Sydney looks him over, Arcalinte rubs the back of his neck and lets out an embarrassed laugh.

"We don't really...have...a ride of any sort. I've lived here on the Station for about the past ten years or so, at the Cosmonastery of the Empty Orbit. That's where I learned most of my skills. I think Grix was referring to my...charisma, for lack of a better term. So far I've somehow managed to charm a few barflies and a psychotic gang leader. It's probably the mote. Solarians like me have a kind of "glow" that most sentients find attractive, you know?"

He folds his arms across his chest and bows when greeting Isu, a traditional kasatha greeting, even if he lacked the other pair of arms to complete it.

"I am honored, Isu Greelax Zyte of Clan Tarma, House Hadula, Scion of Isuma the Missing. I'm certain that working with us will allow you to reclaim your honor as a warrior. Each day is a chance to renew ourselves, and the failures of the past may be learned from to create a brighter tomorrow."

He starts a bit at Solaria's telepathic excitement, only really used to Grix's voice in his head by now, but smiles.

"Your enthusiasm will serve you well in the Society, Solaria. And I imagine you'll take some of the eyes off me. I can't have all the attention to myself after all."

As they leave, he nods at Spectre's suggestion.

"I agree, like I said back at the hotel, if we're gonna be pawns in this game, we're gonna need to know everything we can about its players so we can navigate the board."

"Hardskhrabble first then. If we play our khards right, we khan play both sides and double or triple our khredits for this job." A raspy laugh escapes him, though as his antennae survey his three new allies, he coughs out "Khidding of khourse. Or, ah, maybe not! We'll see what they have to say to us. If the opportunity is there... I won't say no."

He rubs his claws together.

Isu Greelax Zyte is taken aback by Arcalinte's introdcution. "Clearly, you are a person of honor. I look forward to fighting by your side in battle, solarian."

Arcalinte smiles.

"I like to think of myself as such, thank you."

Solaria calms down, the mission is starting, they are going to meet these Hardscrabble crew. She takes out her datapad, "So let's see if this can give me a clue on this crew."

"Don't worry, we already attempted looking them up when we were investigating Duravor's murder. They're a very decentralized group and there's very little information in the Sphere about them. Real "don't call us, we'll call you" types. Nothing really malicious, though, they're basically a salvager's union," Arcalinte replies.

Arcalinte smiles.

"I like to think of myself as such, thank you."

Isu's smile fades a bit after getting such a response from Arcalinte. He nods and takes a step back.

In this one's experience, those who claim to have honor are those that have the least. Honor is bestowed upon a person, not claimed and proclaimed. This one will watch that solarian. He may not be trustworthy.

After you finish up in Chiskisk's office, you make your way to a meeting with the Hardscrabble Collective. This means making introductions and asking around for a shuttle to part of the "Armada", the flotilla of ships that have informally made a permanent orbit around Absalom Station. In particular, one cluster of ships has been welded and fused together into a mini-station of its own called the "Dust Runner". On your final approach, you see through the view port the name has been appropriated from one of the component vessels.

The master of the station, Otal Serissi, is a red-skinned Akitonian human who greets you warmly, welcomes you to his rather humble "conference room" with bits of furniture that have clearly been cobbled together from various vessels, and offers you pours of bourbon before getting to business. (He doesn't offer Spectre anything.)

"Thank you for coming. I appreciate it. And I hear you came to us before Astral Extractions. I doubly appreciate that. I hope it's a sign of your inclination. Yes, yes, I know you've been retained as a fact-finder by the mediator. But, please, will you hear me out? Let me explain the Collective's interest in all of this? Make your own judgment, I expect nothing less, but hear our side of it, yes?"

As they approach the Dust Runner, Arcalinte gives a small smile.

"This looks much more inviting than the Eoxian embassy. It reminds me of home, after a fashion. At least, where I grew up. For the past decade or so, the Station itself has been my home, but I have a lot of respect for the "hard-working, cobbled-together" style of architecture. Practical."

Once they actually arrive and meet their host, Arcalinte gives a respectful bow.

"It's an honor and a pleasure, Mr. Serissi. I always enjoy meeting a fellow Akitonian off-world."

He looks among the seats, and elects to take one of the less comfortable ones so the others may have them instead.

"We'd be poor fact-finders if we DIDN'T hear you out, Otal, though considering one of your party was basically assassinated over this affair, your interests do seem more sympathetic, at least from the outset. I'm so sorry we couldn't save Duravor at Docking Bay 94."

"Call me Sid," Sydney leans away from the NPC with her hands in her jacket pockets. When refreshments are offered, Sid seems to relax. Sid accepts the bourbon and throws it back in one long drink. She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. In Akitonian, Sid says: "Thanks. I was thirsty. I like your pad, man. So, is the Dust Runner made strictly of ships from Akiton?" Sid enjoys the burning sensation lingering in her throat and warming her chest.

The young operative takes a seat in the chair that can recline the most and props her feet up, crossing one heavy boot over the other. She holds the empty bourbon glass (unless it's kindly refilled) in one hand and rests her other arm behind her head like a pillow. Sid observes Arc the entire time he talks. Huh. He's a regular Good Guy Greg. Sid pulls out the pen from behind her ear and begins to twirl it again. Again in Akitonian: "Go ahead. Tell us, Otal."

Slight of Hand (pen twirl): 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (12) + 10 = 22

Isu does not sit. Sitting is for the weak and unprepared. He stands behind the others with his hands on the hilts of his weapons. I shall not fail again.

Solaria, a little self-consciously, takes a drink, swirls it round in the glass taking a long sniff at the aroma, before delicately wetting her lips with liquid. She smiles her appreciation as her antennae quiver slightly. She watches with interest this Otal Serissi, her companions had it all under control. She can be like her old self, the little waitress and hotel worker, able to go unnoticed and watch and listen, to see where truths and half-truths lie in the conversation. She quietly sits in the corner of the conference.

Solaria uses her Sense Motive expertise as she listens to Mr Serissi's words and movements. Sense Motive for the interaction 1d20 + 6 + 1d6 ⇒ (11) + 6 + (3) = 20

With Arc leading the charm offensive, Grix cradles his bourbon in one claw and looks around the conference room with interest. He knows well enough that any good negotiation needs to start out all honey and platitudes first before all the good stuff starts happening.

And Arc sure is good at buttering people up.

He listens carefully to Serissi's explanations, hoping to determine from his tone if he's hiding his true interests in the Acreon and Drift Rock. Especially if those true interests can be used as leverage in the future.

Sense Motive: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (8) + 9 = 17

Spectre lets the others do the talking.

There are many interested parties. This looks like a lucrative endeavor. Master would be pleased.

Serissi smiles at Sid and shakes his head, "No, but you've a good eye. She's built from old Collective vessels that are still airtight -- mostly -- but no longer have fully functional systems suitable for travel. It's not much but we make due with the resources available to us."

He takes a seat in one of the more worn chairs, leans forward with his hands steepled in front of him, and looks at all of you in turn as he speaks, square in the eye, though he seems to ignore Spectre. "First, I want to be clear. I'm not a leader of the Collective. We don't really have leaders. It's probably best to think of me as a spokesman for our interests. That said, we do communicate and share information and knowledge, including business leads and contacts."

"Now, let me tell you a little about the Collective and our interest in the Acreon and the Drift Rock. We're not rich. Our members scratch out whatever meager livings they can from the rocks of the Diaspora. So, when a contract from a corporate interest like Astral Extractions comes along, our members don't really have the luxury of refusing. We're simple rock haulers. Not lawyers or CEOs.

"And we watch out for one another. When you're in the Collective, you're part of a clan. (Or a clam.) Once you join, you're family. And your family is our family. It's the only way we survive."

He pauses, letting that sink in a moment as he swipes on a wrist-mounted computer and sends some files to your devices. "These are the contract and addenda for the Acreon's job with Astral Extractions. You can look at them yourself. The Acreon was hired to search for exploitable deposits in the Diaspora. To survey them, mark them, and report back to Astral. There is nothing in there about hauling anything back as property for Astral. Nothing.

"What I hope you can do, without interfering with your obligations to the Mediator, is find out what happened to the Acreon's crew so we can tell their families. And, anything else you can find out about the circumstances of the Rock's discovery and why they towed it back here could be very helpful in resolving our dispute."

Arcalinte listens and nods.

"Sounds a lot like why I went to the Cosmonastery instead of going corporate back on Akiton. I can respect that. We've a lot in common, I think."

He opens the files Serissi has sent and begins looking them over.

"And it should be easy to find the information you're looking for, as we're also looking for that information on behalf of the Ambassador. One thing I'm curious about, though, based on the stipulation you describe in the contract: you were hired to survey and bring nothing back, are you suggesting then that the Acreon brought the Drift Rock back by accident somehow? Just looking for some clarification, you understand."

Diplomacy: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (13) + 7 = 20

"Yet, we also value our independence. We do this work precisely because we don't want to be yoked to Corporate interests."

Otal Seriss's modest background and reasoning really resonate with Sydney. She removes her feet from the table and sits up straight, nodding in rapt interest. This guy gets it.

When Otal finishes speaking, Sydney claps and rubs her hands together. "Well," she lifts her hand into the air, "I'm sold."

Isu releases his warhammer handle and pulls out a pair of reading glasses, and squints as he studies the documents on his personal comm device.

He talks fast, this one thinks. Do his documents back up his story?

Culture check to see if the documents he send us do indeed say nothing about hauling materials back as belonging to astral extractions. I'm not expecting Isu to actually figure this out, but he tries.

culture: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (7) + 2 = 9

Ted nods along in agreement, but things too good to be true are seldom so. "So you and the dead guys are both fine with us poking around on that rock as long as you both get what you want. The dead guys want a box and you want information about the crew. Not much of a disparity in motives there."

Arcalinte frowns.

"Uh, Ted? I'm not sure the Ambassador would want us talking about that. The way he talked about it made it sound like it was...you know..."

"Right you are, Arc, but I still have the shivers from Ambassador Baldy, so I wouldn't mind seeing how his motives pit against those of the Collective."

"You and me both, Ted. I suppose it'd be helpful to understand just what Eox is involved in this for anyway. Otal, if you don't mind our asking, the mediator asked us to recover some sort of package that apparently is still on the Acreon. Do you know anything about that?"

Spectre looks back and forth between Arc and Ted, but settles on asking a question to Serissi as a distraction.

"I am in favor of multi-tasking," the droid blurts.

Turning back to Serissi, Spectre says "In the event that my companions do not care to ask, is the information we are to provide regarding the families to be repaid with credits, or a future favor?"

Ted, you need to level up!

Let me preface this by saying I'm not looking to start inter-party conflict here, and I think Spectre's roleplaying is top-notch.

"We'd not care to ask because we don't wanna be jerks about it, Spectre! Yeesh, for all your knowledge of criminal enterprise you're surprisingly lacking in understanding psychology and empathy," Arcalinte replies. "Not all interactions need to be transactional in nature."

Specter's head swivels to consider Arcalinte.

"It is true that I do not understand human psychology or empathy completely, though I do have algorithms to attempt to decipher your ways. What they told me is that none of you wished to make the inquiry; thus, I felt it appropriate to have the droid he is ignoring ask the question."

After a few moments of awkward silence, he adds "You can thank me when we are done here."

No worries on any conflict! I love the interaction between the outlaw droid and the straight-laced Solarian!

Grix, who had been silent through most of these exchanges, steps on over to Serissi and puts his free claw on the man's shoulder. "Your khlan has khlearly been dealt a blow between all these members of your family going missing and Duravor getting offed by those skhoundrels. I know how terrible it is to lose your khomrades without being able to fight for them. You have my sympathy."

"Ted's right that we khan find out ekhsakhtly what happened to the khrew without impakhting our work for the Mediator. So don't worry, I'll let you know what I find. And if there are any personal effekhts of theirs, I'll get them bakh to you. Mementos are... important."

He clears his throat "As for the khlaim over the rokh and ship, that's up to the Mediator. Not really our business."

He lifts his claw off the fellows shoulder and steps back, raspy voice becoming conspiratorial. "Of khourse, what we find there khan paint a pikhture that may be good or bad for your khlaim. The eye of the Mediator will be following us, but if there are places on the ship we should avoid for the purposes of your khase..."

Grix doesn't continue with his offer, first trying to gauge if this guy is interested in "cheating" in this way.

Sense Motive: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (13) + 9 = 22

Sid stands, hands in her jacket pockets. She turns her back to the group, displaying red peeling letters that spell 'RELENTLESS' in a curved arch over the shoulder blades (of her jacket.) Sid focuses her attention to the welding of the ship, uninterested in party squabbles. She's just met her fellow companions and hasn't had time to build any sort of legitimate bond.

Oooooh, Grix, interesting question. Hmm....

Isu scans the documents and is baffled by the legalese. The party of the first part, when in service to the party of the third part who was retained by the party of the second part, while within the Diaspora but beyond jurisdiction of...

...are you suggesting then that the Acreon brought the Drift Rock back by accident somehow?

Serissi's eyes widen slightly, seemingly in surprise. "I.. oh! Um, I hadn't even considered that a possibility, to be honest. If that is the case, the situation is even stranger than I would think. No, I imagine the crew found something they thought significant on the Rock and decided to bring it back under their own flag, as it were. You'll notice the contract says nothing about prohibiting other endeavors while contracted to Astral Extractions."

The dead guys want a box and you want information about the crew. Not much of a disparity in motives there.

The man chuckles slightly, "No, they probably wouldn't appreciate you referring to them as the dead guys and baldy, but... The presence of the undead unsettles most of living of sane mind."

In the event that my companions do not care to ask, is the information we are to provide regarding the families to be repaid with credits, or a future favor?

Otal considers Spectre in a new light as the droid presents a coherent question, laced with personality. "Huh. That's an interesting little thing, you've got there." He looks back at Arcalinte and the others, "Not an unfair question. But I think this would fall into the category of a future favor. I wouldn't want there to be an appearance of us bribing you for a particular finding or outcome."

but if there are places on the ship we should avoid for the purposes of your khase...

Otal eyes Grix as two merchants across a table but there is respect there. He takes a moment to consider his response, filling the quiet with a sip of his bourbon. He swishes it in his mouth for a moment, then says, "I don't think it's likely you'll find anything physical that would be cause for concern. That said, anytime we dig into the histories and thoughts of one another, we find thoughts and records of incidents that might not cast us in the most favorable of lights. Moments of indiscretion, decisions made rashly in the heat of a moment, things we do to survive when we don't have the luxury of time or options." He shrugs slightly, "I'm not saying I know that to the be the case for the Acreon, I'm just observing something I've learned in life. If you find records of such... and they're not pertinent to the Mediator's investigation... I'd appreciate it if you kept them, uh, out of the official record as it were. If the worst has happened and the crew is dead, what's the point in ruining their reputations over things they can't defend themselves over?"

Otal, if you don't mind our asking, the mediator asked us to recover some sort of package that apparently is still on the Acreon.

He raises a finger as he remembers something and looks back at Arcalinte, "Which reminds me... you mentioned a package of the Ambassador's. No, I don't know anything. As I said, nothing in the contract with Astral prohibited other ventures, and we do run cargo shipments from time to time." He pauses a moment, weighing how much to tell you, then adds, "Though, it's a little curious, isn't it. They were hired to scan the Diaspora for exploitable resources. There's not much out there to pick up cargo from, aside from other freighters and a few outposts." He shakes his head and shrugs, "No, sorry. Don't know anything about it."

Sense Motive: No deception. He seems genuinely puzzled.

Grix nods, trying to look thoughtful. "To find rekhords likhe those, but makhe sure the Mediator's eye doesn't see them... that khould be khuite diffikhult. We wouldn't have much warning. So we'd need to distrakht it any time we ekhsamined a khomputer terminal." He nods more energetically, as if considering the risks. "That would add a riskh for us. If the Mediator suspekhts something, khuestions will be askhed."

"For something likhe this, we'd hope for 'riskh pay', a little ekhstra in the way of khredits to makhe up for the chance of ruining our good relationship with the Mediator. Are you still interested?"

"Even if you aren't, you khan rest assured that we will pass on the information and personal effekhts of the khrew to you."