The Diaspora
Broken Rock, a settlement in the Disaspora
Eric's background is Space Pirate, so he probably knows the location of Broken Rock. He was asking Locke for an invitation so that they aren't attacked while gaining entry.
I'll taxi your space cruiser there - for a service fee. Locke sends after she braced herself.
Pirate Captain Isabella Locke: We will send one case of rum over to your ship upon arrival at Broken Rock. Eric replies
Eric will arrange for buyers for some of the items found in the Cultist's base.
"Real rum, or that shit produced from UPBs?" Isabella inquires. "Because nothing less will do." she dictates the conditions.
Somewhere hidden between a lot of rocks that float aroudn in the Diaspora, there is one Broken Rock. Which wouldn't be anything special if the space pirates hadn't built their main base there. The port is called Besmara, after the ancient pirate deity. And the number of parrots and eye patches makes one feel like being thrown back several hundred years.
| 2 people marked this as a favorite. |
Manteca looks around in wonder at the pirate port. What a wonderful cross-section of scum and villainy! he emotes to the others.
EH-RK continues to exceed his impressive reputation, in Maxim's estimation, as he guides Sunrise Maiden past the Broadsides. It seems almost by providence that the secret location of the legendary Free Captains base would be given up so casually.
"See," Maxim says to no one in particular, or perhaps to the food processor, if it's listening, "Things are combobulating nicely."
Manteca wanders about the place like a real tourist, looking in awe at the colorful characters.
Boreal notices a few faces from her previous occupation.
Faces that she didn't feel she could bring in but now is fairly certain would hardly put up a fight.
She hoists her doshko to her shoulders and hangs her arms from it as she walks nonchalantly behind the others.
As the crew of the Sunrise Maiden disembark Isabella waits already for EH-RK "Where is that android with my rum?!?" she inquires.
"I owe you a decent drink," Maxim says to Imagine.
In the depths of Besmara they stumble across the seediest pirate hangout they can find, The Salty Dog. It's actually the broken hull of a jump ship, gutted except for the electrical generator, food processor, and facilities. It smells of carbon scoring and stale beer, served room temperature.
The group almost fits in, and the dimly lit and densely patronized bar full of lubricated pirates scarecely notices the new arrivals.
"Hey mates, what'll it be?" asks the Kasathan bartender, who glances up from pouring three drinks while wiping the bar, all at the same time.
"Veskian whiskey," answers Maxim.
The bartender serves the three drinks and then leans his masked face over the gritty plane of the bar. "You want the swill or you want to spend some creds?" He looks back and forth and keeps his voice low.
"What are we talking about?"
"289."
"Wow," replies Maxim, "Pre-alliance. Yeah, serve it up!" He slides his cred chip over to the Kasathan, who charges 50 while discreetly showing the bottle and then pouring two fingers into a metal cup. The whiskey is appropriately harsh, with a lingering smell of fermented mossreed mash, a plant that only grows inside the caves on Vesk Prime. The burn explodes in Maxim's sinuses and punishes his throat. It hits his stomach like molten lead.
"Hoooooo! That is it!" Maxim says, his voice hoarse and his face a mix of sweat and tears. He motions for Imagine to order whatever she wants.
He passes the rest of the Veskian whiskey over to Boreal, if she wants it. "I'm good," Maxim croaks, wiping blood from his nose.
"You handled that better than most of your stature would." Boreal replies grinning at the human. Its the first time Maxim has has seen her smile, and the sheer number of teeth makes it difficult to tell if it is actually a smile.
"Who wrote those reports you read? I need to have a word with them."
|
Imagine really had no motive power as the ship went to the pirate place. With the Devourererer...er Cult thing phase now behind her (except for actually stopping them, but one thing at a time) she found that she needed to have a goal in her life.
It occurred to her that somewhere in these exploration, she might be able to find some kind of understanding of cosmic power to re-take her home planet.
I mean, that would take a LOT of power, but, if such a thing existed to destroy the entire universe, surely destruction on merely a planetary scale couldn't be too complicated.
Could it?
She chews on this as much as she can until someone says something about buying her a drink and that -is- something that she knows about.
'Yes you do,' she replies, taking Maxim's arm, her red lips never displacing their practiced smile.
After seeing the effects of the whiskey on the newcomer, the remnants of the glass never make it to Boreal as Imagine intercepts it en-route. She sniffs it, the smell hitting her like a neutron hammer, but she can NOT go one living having not experienced this.
She takes a like sip and she reels with pain and delight, the unfamiliar hammerblow burning excitedly.
"Oooof," is all she gets out before draining the glass. She goes silent, eyes closed, enjoying the red, burning ride.
"Who's--" Maxim stares at Boreal's many pointy teeth and struggles to cough out a bad one-liner. "Who's..." *cough* "Who's your..." *cough*,*cough* "Wh--" *wheez* "Who's your d--" *wretch*,*wheeze*,*cough* "Fugit!"
Boreal can't help but laugh heartily at the two of them and orders herself a whiskey as well. "Do you have cold stones?" she asks the bartender as she orders, not wanting to dilute it.
"You have the creds, we have the stones." the kasata behind the bar replies and adds two of the high tech temperature controllers, that look like fake ice cubes with a solid black sphere in the middle of the translucent cubes.
While pouring the whiskey with one hand he takes the cash with another and then hands the delicious poison over the bar.
Boreal hands over her credstick and waits for her drink.
Dwarfind the whiskey tumbler in her hands she drinks with measured mouthfuls. The granite stones clinking against the glass as she lifts it. "Mmm" she lets out a low grumble of appreciation.
"Hey!" Maxim yells into the room after he combobulates himself. "Anyone lose a Stellar Degenerator?"
Some heads turn, question marks in their eyes. Some call back "Shaddup, or I'll put yoe through one." But one gal gets up from her table, comes over and leans at the bar next to Maxim.
"Well I did. Have searched for days until I gave up. Tell me, where have you found it?"
Manteca takes a sniff of the vesk whiskey. His antennae stand fully on end for a moment, and he very very carefully sets the bottle back down without drinking any.
As Maxim begins yelling to the room, Manteca looks around nervously. Maxim, are you sure this is the sort of crowd that we need to be advertisting this to?? the shirren asks telepathically, his nervousness audible through the link.
Eric purchases a case of rum to send to the Rusty Rivet. The attached note reads
Dearest Isabella, please do enjoy these drinks as a "Thank You" from the Sunrise Maiden and her crew. Also, these undergarments are a personal thank you from EH-RK. and there's a small package of various sized and typed undergarments.
Eric will procure a weaponsmithing kit for 445 credits.
Eric will repair the broken Thunderstrike Pistol
Eric will repair the broken Red Star Plasma Rifle
Thanks for the rum. Isabella sends to EH-RK.
A few minutes later another message arrives. If you expect pics, you'll be disappointed.
"I haven't yet, but my search for heavenly bodies is over. Join me for a drink?"
Then, telepathically in response to Imani, Let's see if she knows anything.
"That isn't the worst pickup line I've heard. Your treat? Choose something for me." Isabella tells.
Maxim orders an Elindrae Moonrise for each of them, and escorts the swirling blue and green drinks back to Isabella's table, handing one to his new acquaintence.
Before he sits down, Maxim sends another message telepathically to Imani, You guys know more about this than I do. I'll see if I can get you a seat at the table.
"I am Maxim Petrovich, and I don't believe in coincidence or divine intervention. I do believe that the universe has a way of sorting itself out, meaning you and I were destined to meet, here, and now."
He flashes his steel-blue eyes at her. "I have to admit, I would love to take this private arrangement somewhere more comfortable, but you already know I came here with friends. Would you mind if they joined us for this conversation? Then later, if your inclined, I can help you get horizontal."
Isabella checks who these friends are, before answering. "They look interesting enough. I don't mind if they join."
"But you seem to be in an awful hurry to get laid. Are you fresh from cryostasis and can't get that boner to thaw?" she mocks Maxim, while checking for the truth of her assumption not only in his steel-blue eyes.
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
"You only know the half of it." Maxim replies with a wink.
"I'm sure you already know the famous crew of the Sunrise Maiden: Imagine, Boreal Typhon, Dr. Manteca Imani, and Eric."
"It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss--" He pauses for her to give her name.
"Maiden plus Stellar Degenerator probably tells you everything you need to know about us, but I would be happy to fill the gap for you later. What's your story, Miss Isabella? How do you know about the Stellar Degenerator?"
"Call me Isabella." Isabella replies. "And be assured, that I have no clue whom you're talking about. I guess you're not half as famous as you think you are."
"About the stellar degenerator... well, it's big and it deals with stars?"
It's not the first time Maxim's been had by a pretty girl who just wants a free drink.
Sorry team, he replies to Imani telepathically. The whiskey clouded my judgment. We can blow this joint anytime.
One last chauvinist innuendo for the road: "Yeah, it's big and deals with stars. Miss Isabella, it has been a pleasure."
"I would appreciate it if you introduced me by full name going forward." Boreal says to Maxim
|
|
Imagine finally peels herself off the bar, mustering enough wherewithal to follow the others out.
Not that she's ever too far gone to cast Message.
Or get in a parting shot.
'Hands of the merchandise, sister,' she sends to bar WHORE talking up the new guy. 'He's more than you can afford. And, yeah, it's bigger than you can take.'
She winks at her and giggles her way out.
Later, as Boreal starts in on the new guy, she brings her hand to her head. 'Please don't start in on the new guy,' she hopes.
"There seems to be someone who is equally starved for horizontal attention as you on your own crew. Or is she the harbinger of STDs?" Isabella turns Maxim's attention towards Imagine with a nod.
Maxim sighs and stands aside, clearing the way for Imagine.
"It's too bad, Isabella. Yours was such a pretty face."
As the mood turn sour in the bar, Isabella leaves to where she came from and the group leaves the bar to return to the ship.
As EH-RK finished all the business he was aiming for already the Sunrise Maiden takes off to pay a visit to a dead planet. The journey from the Diaspora to Eox takes four days. Eox is a dead world, with no seas or oceans, and what’s left of its thin atmosphere is toxic, radioactive, both, or worse. As the Maiden approaches the planet, they are contacted by Eoxian Space Defense officials on the ancient orbital defense platform called the Sentinel, who request identification and the destination of the crew.
Eoxian Defense Force: This is Designation EEY AYCH ARE KAY. This ship's designation is Sunrise Maiden. It is registered on Absolom Station under the Starfinders, AS Code 17789.3.
After more inquiries about the business of the crew on Eox and their destination the Sunrise Maiden gets sent on her way. Most interplanetary traffic to and from Eox goes through the domed spaceport called Pact Port, but the groups business lies in the necropolis-city of Orphys. Fortunately, Orphys has its own small spaceport, so the Maiden is directed there. The place looks dead. Not only is there only a limited number of people and ships travelling there, but most of the people the group meets are actually dead - or more precise - undead. Once the group passes through customs and immigration under the watchful eye sockets of undead officials, the group is free to enter the city. According to Maxim, Waneda Trux can be found at the Ministry of Eternal Vigilance in a sector of Orphys called the Splice.
The first thing you notice is that the whoole city is covered by a large mostly translucent dome, which keeps the breathable atmosphere in place. Also it is dark. The planet Eox rotates once every 720 hours, which means this night will go on for quite a while. But luckily artificial light is available, even though it is used scarcely only where large production areas need to be overlooked.
Orphys is one of Eox’s great necropolises, but the Splice is one of the city’s most unappealing districts. Largely industrial and utilitarian, the Splice is home to several necrograft factories, which lay the unpleasant reality of this technology’s fabrication bare. These factories are large, dirty, and unsightly. Most of the fusion of undead flesh and technology required to create necrografts takes place inside the factories, but other rather morbid processes also happen on these facilities’ open-air grounds. This includes the cultivation of massive amounts of vat-grown, genetically synthesized living flesh as well as the transportation of this unpleasant crop via flesh elevators up into the factories.
Beyond the necrograft factories, the Splice is also home to rows of slum-like abodes where some of Orphys’s poorest and politically disfavored citizens live, including those few living species who have agreed to work for the Eoxians—often in the nearby necrograft factories—in exchange for the gift of undeath once their mortal forms have weakened. Of course, where there’s a population, there are also businesses to serve the residents, and the Splice is no different. However, local law enforcement rarely turns its attention toward the hardscrabble district, so many of the Splice’s business proprietors are shady, even by Eoxian standards. Visitors are uncommon in the Splice, and amenities for the living are scarce enough to be nearly nonexistent.
A wide, two-story building of black and rust-dappled gray stands out from the other dilapidated structures on this densely packed block. A holographic banner above the sliding double entryway displays the words “Ministry of Eternal Vigilance” in Common and Eoxian. A smaller sign on the front doors declares that the office is open for at least 12 hours every Pact Standard day, even if the stench from the nearby necrograft factory and the building’s lack of windows and architectural accouterments are less than inviting.
The Ministry of Eternal Vigilance sits on Carpalspur Street, nestled between necrograft factories and shops. Compared with other government buildings elsewhere in Orphys, the ministry is remote, run down, and politically ignored for the most part. Inside, the office is rather dull and sterile. The ministry building has two floors
The ministry’s ground floor contains a large waiting room with rows of rusty and, in some cases, lopsided hover chairs. A tall, boxy machine in a corner dispenses numbered tokens. Beside the machine, projected in a hologram on the wall, are instructions for reporting Corpse Fleet activity to the ministry. A wide front desk with a teller-like window faces the lobby at one end, with a holographic numerical display. Behind the front desk, stairs lead to the second floor, though they are roped off with industrial-grade silver tape labeled “No Public Access.”
Currently there are only two people present: a shabby human man sitting in the lobby, and a female ghoul sitting behind the front desk, absently entering information from an enormous stack of papers into a computer terminal sitting on the desk.
According to the holographic instructions in the lobby, visitors should take a numbered token from the machine in the corner and have a seat. When their number is called, they should check in at the front desk, where a ministry official will assist them.
Before departing the Sunrise Maiden, Maxim activates his Iridescent Spindle. Imani casts a surprised and then disapproving scowl with his tentacles, to which Maxim shrugs.
As the group traverses the Splice, he says, "I mentioned this earlier but it bears repeating. Eoxians do not take kindly to outsiders who mess with Eoxians, and that includes the Corpse Fleet. They don't even like it when other Eoxians do it, and that makes Waneda's job extremely difficult. There may be eye sockets on us when we go in, and don't expect a friendly reception from anyone but Waneda.
Upon entering the lobby, Maxim resists the temptation to say, Hey Waneda and instead, obediently follows instructions and collects a token from the machine. Quietly, he sits. And waits.
"Well this is miserable..." Boreal says as the leans against a wall, the head of her dushko thumping against the the floor as she drops it limply from her shoulder.
"Hey you," Boreal calls loudly at the man in the lobby after a few minutes of nothing happening, "How long has the number been that?" she asks waving at the call number in harsh lighting above the counters.
The number drawn is 190. While drawn is the wrong tern. You have to crank a handle and the device then prints the number on old yellowish paper and spits it out. old school. Like no one cared to update the device issuing them for a few centuries.
The number currently announced in the holographics is 188. The human is staring on the number, waiting for it to announce his turn.
"It's been like that forever. And there is no one else here. I guess it's a game the undead play with the living. They have all the time in the world."
"I'm Shan." the man tells, holding out a hand. "And you? Who are you? You don't look like you're from here."
"Greetings Shan." Boreal says walking over dragging her weapon behind her in her off hand with a toothy smile. Once she crosses the distance she takes the man's hand in hers firmly "Boreal Typhon, Daughter of Zerukesh "Hornbreaker" Typhon, Daughter of Tarsonis "Jaeger" Typhon. And no, we are not from here."
Looking at the large weapon Boreal drags along after her and the answer, that leaves more questions Shan isn't sure what to make of that. As Boreal releases his hand again after a time that seemed like forever Shan's other hand comes forth halfway, shaking, holding his number in front of him. Like a bribe to buy his life. "Y..y..you want to g..go first? I have t..time."
Maxim can't sit any longer. It's been like, two minutes and this place is really boring.
He tears up his number and walks over to the desk. "Hi, Waneda. Maxim Petrovich. Nice to finally meet, face to, umm. I ran into the Omenbringer. Almost literally. Want to hear about it?"
Boreal chuckles heartily at Shan. "Thank you for your kindness, but that is not necessary. I would like to know what you are here to report though."
"Nice to meet you too. I would indeed like to hear of that. But would you mind to wait until it's your turn?" Waneda politely replies.
Shan gets some of his courage back and he starts telling about his job. "I works at the nearby Fleshworn Fabrications necrograft factory as a line inspector, examining cured pieces of vat-grown flesh to ensure that they fit the specific sizes and shapes needed for creating ocular necrografts."
"There is another line inspector. An half-elf. Horrible guy. And what I've seen of him, I know he is secretly an agent of the corpse fleet. I'm going to report him. Can't have that in the factory. Imagine what it would do to the companies reputation if that comes out!"
"Now that is an interesting story. Not quite as exciting a story as I would hope, but interesting all the same. Why do you think this half elf is an agent?"
"He is always acting like he is something better, he has secrets and Voxel, one of the flesh brewers at the factory also said he suspects that. It has to be that - there is no other explanation." Shan explains.
"By the way, if you ever need something from the factory, you can talk to Voxel. Tell him, I sent you."
Just then the number changes to 189 accompanied by a loud DING.
"Oh, it's my number. I have to hurry, or they'll simply call the next one. It was nice to meet you." Shan tells, but you can see he is relieved that he can move on.
Shan goes to the front desk, where Waneda listens to his story, jots down a few notes, and then dismisses him.
The number changes to 190 with another DING. As Maxim and the group approach, they see how Waneda stamps the report she wrote as 'Unfounded' and files it on one of the stacks.
"Hello Maxim. Nice to meet you in person. You look so... lively."
"Imagine," Kara Luthor
Corporal Jazzming Brokato
Gorn Steelbreaker
Jelloarm
Allison "Wraith" WhiteAngel
