Valorus stood in silence as he heard the news delivered by Herald. His words were fast and on point, to others this may seem cold, but Valorus preferred it when people would just say what was on their mind instead of beating around the bush.
"You have our condolences." Krevlor raises his upper left hand.
He waits a moment before continuing. "There is additional information of import. I have identified the two gangs involved however we do not know which fired the shot. They are the Level 21 Crew and the Downside Kings. He was caught in the crossfire but I will confide that the place he was hit is either extremely bad luck at best or... Deliberate foul play targetted at him. I am sorry to bring you bad news but these details would appear to be of immediate importance.."
Chiskisk listens intently to the account given by Herald and Krevlor regarding the incident in the docking bay. They take a sharp breath of air at the mention of Duravor's death, followed by a strangled keening noise before they manage to regain their composure.
{"I am sorry that I cannot welcome you to Absalom Station under better circumstances - I assure you that such attacks are not a daily occurrence, though I realise that this is likely of little comfort to you. I am pleased that none of you had come to serious harm, but I do grieve for Duravor's death. He is - was - a valued member and colleague of the Society, and was also a dear personal friend,"} Chiskisk says, bowing their head momentarily, and when they look up again, their red compound eyes glitter.
The shirren brings a hand up to their face, tapping a clawed finger against their mandibles at Krevlor's mention of the two gangs being involved. {"You say that it was two gangs involved? Gang wars are sadly not uncommon on the station, but they usually confine themselves to more lawless sectors where station security patrols are less likely. It is rare for two gangs to battle so openly in a publicly patrolled area like the docks."}
{"I believe you may be on to something, for I too am puzzled by the purpose for this attack. There must be a reason why those two gangs were at the docking bay at that time - coincidentally the time of your arrival. But was it a coincidence? Were you and Duravor just innocent bystanders caught in the crossfire, or might you and he have been targetted explicitly? And if this is the case, then why?"} Chiskisk reaches to their keyboard and begins to type commands into their terminal. {"You didn't by chance happen to get any information from Duravor before he died?"}
Herald shakes his head. "Barely made eye contact with him before things went down. But one of the goons that ran away is named Adine." He says, sighing.
Chiskisk's shoulders slouch at Herald's response, and they stand and walk over to the carafe of filtered water. Taking the carafe and a tumbler in hand, they pour their self a glass of water before turning to face the group once again. {"Well, Since you all are already connected to this attack by way of proximity, I would like to ask you all to investigate the incident on behalf of the Society. And as a favour to me as well,"} they broadcast into everyone's minds as they take a drink of water.
{"Find out the truth of what happened and why. If it is simply a case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time, then so be it - I do not doubt that station security will rule it as such. But if it is as we suspect and Duravor was killed for some purpose, then I would like to find justice for my friend. At the same time, as Duravor had indicated that you are all interested in becoming Starfinders, this will give you the opportunity to demonstrate your skills and abilities that you would bring to the Society."}
Their red compound eyes scan the faces of the group sat before them, waiting for their reactions.
Herald grins "As far as entrance tests go, I'm totally for enacting some sweet, sweet justice on the behalf of a lost friend." He exclaims, nodding enthusiastically. "I think it's terrible, either way, and hey, if we can knock some heads and tell the gangs here not to mess with the Starfinders in the process, I'm all for it."
The Ysoki nods, his expression uncommonly solemn. "Chiskisk. Thank you. We'll find out what we can about Kreel's untimely demise. I ask that the Society provide us the...leeway we may require, should things arrive at their violent logical conclusion. Will we be jailed, if it becomes a matter of defending ourselves? I've spent nights on the cold floors of those cells, and I wouldn't wish that upon my friends, here."
"Your proposal sounds fair. Perhaps a letter and contact details in case security wish to ask us some questions to corroborate that we are doing this investigation at your request."
{"Indeed, if this was sabotage, we might also be on the target list for interfering. It is best if we proceed, but proceed with caution,"} Valorus took another sip of his water.
Chiskisk's mandibles twitch in a shirren approximation of a smile. {"Excellent. I am grateful that you have agreed to undertake this investigation on behalf of the Society. If station security involves themselves further with this, I would advise discretion as they do not tend to look kindly on vigilantism. However,"} they say as they turn to the computer terminal on the desk. They type a series of commands into the computer and nod in affirmation before turning back to the five prospective Starfinders. {"As I suspected, the initial incident report is already up on the infosphere and they have indeed attributed to a gang turf dispute. I highly suspect that the case will be closed and filed unless further information reaches them via external sources.
{"As for defending yourselves, the Society will grant you the leeway to do so if you feel you must, although outright murder is still illegal on this station as it is throughout the Pact Worlds."} The shirren sits still, their antennae dancing as the pause in conversation draws out to an almost uncomfortable awkwardness before they continue. {"At this moment, remember that our suspicions regarding Duravor's death are just that - it will be up to you to find proof, should any exist. For now, however, allow me to transfer a sum of two-hundred credits to each of you as something of a signing bonus plus covering your expenses, and suggest you get yourself settled on the station before you begin your investigation. If you do not already have somewhere to stay, may I recommend the hotel called Moons of Sleep near the Eye - they are known to offer discounted lodging for Starfinders, and you may tell them that you are currently in our employ and to contact me for confirmation,"} they say as they slide a small business card on the desk, containing Chiskisk's name, Starfinder rank, and comm code.
"So we look into it, try to stay out of trouble, and if needed 'self-defense' the crap out of attackers." Herald replies, taking the card and credit transfer with a smile. "I can work with that!"
------
"I'm gonna go get myself some lodgings, any of you with me?" he asks the party after the meeting concludes.
Darshe sips his water slowly during the meeting, allowing the others to do most of the talking. Beyond their brief correspondence, he had barely known Duravor, but the dwarf's sudden death had hit him unexpectedly hard. But a more selfish part of him was worried that they had somehow blown their chance to be Starfinders. So naturally, Chiskisk's proposal was killing two birds with one stone.
"We won't let you down," he says abruptly, sounding entirely confident.
-----
In regards to lodging, Darshe shrugs. "Don't see why not. We'd might as well stick together."
Krevlor bows to the Shirren "My thanks for the opportunity to prove our worth."
----------------
"It would seem prudent, if someone notices and takes a disliking to our investigations then being together might be the safest and most sensible option."
Cree looks up at Krevlor and Darshe, sighing. "Well, I was going to suggest we stay at my place, but I doubt it would accommodate you great big ********s. So I suppose I'll spend some of my recently hard-earned cash and stay someplace ritzy. You know, in case we get murdered, or attempted-murdered, for that matter. But I'm claiming top bunk."
--==--
As an independent Pact World, Absalom Station is ruled by the Prime Executive, a term-limited position with theoretically absolute authority over the station’s legislation and management. Colloquially known as the “Primex,” the Prime Executive is elected and advised by the Syndicsguild, a council of neighbourhood representatives called syndics who do much of the real work of running the station. While bound by the Primex’s decrees, they also can remove their leader from power at any time and call for a new election. Partitioning the station’s different neighbourhoods into dozens of electoral districts over the years—many times in ways that favour one faction over others—means that, while most syndics are democratically elected, some corporate or criminal enclaves are dynasties in all but name.
In addition to its government, Absalom Station also hosts the Pact Worlds’ representative body, the Pact Council, meaning that the station is constantly flooded with delegates and ambassadors from other worlds. While this is good for business and gives Absalom Station residents easy access to the movers and shakers of the Pact Worlds, it also creates tension, as these foreign nationals operate with varying degrees of diplomatic immunity. The Stewards, the Pact Worlds’ primary peacekeeping force, also maintain a headquarters on Absalom Station, and local laws allow corporations to employ private security in their holdings, so citizens sometimes find Absalom Station’s legal system a jurisdictional nightmare, while savvy criminals often manage to slip through the cracks. Those in the know often warn that the station is never more than one misstep away from chaos, as security contractors and militant zealots wage shadow wars with street gangs and each other, alien ambassadors negotiate world-shaking trade deals, and explorers go to any lengths to beat rivals’ claims to new planets. Still, station security does the best it can, and most residents of Absalom Station live and work in relative safety—at least in the nicer neighbourhoods.
--==--
As Absalom Station lacks the natural resources of even the smallest planet or asteroid, its inhabitants have had to get creative in order to survive. Fortunately, what technology can’t solve, magic can.
The massive artefact-reactor of Absalom Station known as the Starstone provides for the station in two fundamental ways. By offering free energy on a massive scale, the artefact-powered central reactor allows the station to undertake many energy-intensive forms of agriculture and recycling in order to feed and reclaim nutrients from its citizens. Strangely, while this energy appears limitless for most industrial uses, attempts to store it in battery form and transport it beyond the station in industrial quantities inevitably fail, with the batteries mysteriously losing charge as they travel away from the station. Yet, the Starstone’s real value to the station is its function as a supercharged Drift beacon, making Absalom Station the first trading post for anyone—domestic or alien— jumping into the system, as well as the last stop before heading out. It’s this trade, plus the station’s concentration of corporate and governmental headquarters, that keeps enough money flowing in that minimal taxes and tariffs support the station and its people.
Absalom Station does have another valuable resource, however: information. As the home of the Starfinder Society, the station has the most data on newly discovered planets beyond the Pact Worlds, as well as the most complete known “histories” of the Gap, as scholars cross-reference and validate sources to make their best guesses on different subjects. Add to this the multitude of texts from pre-Gap Golarion included in the station’s libraries and private collections, not to mention leading magical and religious schools, and Absalom Station manages to remain at the forefront of the knowledge economy.
While all sectors of the station have both wealthy and poverty-stricken residents, money and power generally flow inward from the numerous bustling docks toward the station’s dome and towers, while the downtrodden drift lower into the machine-cramped access warrens of the Spike.
--==--
Seen from above, Absalom Station is shaped roughly like an asymmetrical, six-pointed star spreading out in a flat plane from the Eye, the enormous central dome that encloses a cluster of skyscrapers surrounded by shockingly green parks. More towers and neighbourhoods, collectively called the Ring, partially fill the gaps between the station’s arms, and a single tapering pillar called the Spike drops down from the station’s central disk. Altogether, Absalom Station is only 6 miles across, yet its three-dimensional structure means it can house upward of 3 million people and still be easy for the uninitiated to get lost in or find themselves alone in rarely visited corridors.
Artificial gravity is in effect throughout the station, with “down” always being perpendicular to the disk and arms, toward the complex technomagical gravity field generators in the Spike’s tip. Except where modifications have been made to the contrary, atmosphere and other environmental conditions seem tailored for human comfort. Station lights in many sectors are set to artificially enforce a 24-hour cycle of day and night, and independent regulators and air scrubbers are located throughout the station for maximum safety. While interior additions and renovations are frequent, in both the freestanding buildings and the three-dimensional warren of chambers and corridors, actually expanding the station is difficult due to the extreme hardness of the exterior hull metal—an inconvenience that nevertheless keeps whole neighbourhoods from getting decompressed by a single gunfight.
Chiskisk nods and holds a clawed hand out to shake. {"Good luck with your investigations, and please be careful also."}
Heading back into the brightly lit streets of Drifter's End, the group make their way back to the ringtrain station and wait for the mag-lev carriage to arrive. A quick check of the infosphere reveals that the Moons of Sleep is located near the Freemarkets neighbourhood of the Ring, close to the Eye's Kemanis district.
The Freemarket's district is closer in resemblance to a planet-based bazaar than it is a city district, with entrepreneurs selling their wares out of cooperative storefronts, temporary street stalls, and vehicles. While station security and the priest-soldiers of AbadarCorp attempt to police the area and make sure that business stays relatively legal, it is said that the Freemarkets of Absalom Station is the place to buy and sell nearly anything.
The Moons of Sleep hotel is tucked into an alley between two tall apartment complexes that sit above open-planned cooperative storefronts. It is a three-storey building clad in a pale purple metal with a neon sign of three moons with closed eyes above its door. The inside of the lobby is cosily furnished, with a long comfortable L-shaped couch in the corner. A reception clerk sits in a small cubby room overlooking the lobby, dressed in a navy blue coat and white shirt. She looks up as the group enters the lobby and smiles. "Well hi there! Welcome to the Moons of Sleep. Can I help you?"
Valorus's antennae moved upwards but now another important decision. Should he stay with this group or try to find his own accommodations? Well, the smart thing to do would be stay with this group, after all, it looks like they'd be working together. But he could also be independant from them and just do his own room instead. Eventually he settled on the former and followed the group.
"Hello there!" Herald says, giving her a wink and a grin. "I heard your company has a little, how they say, rate discount for Starfinders?" he asks, leaning on the counter conversationally. "I love your coat. That's a beautiful color for you." he compliments. "Blue's my favorite."
He jerks his thumb behind him at his group. "If you got em, we could use a room or two big enough for the group of us, or if not then at least individual rooms next to each other."
The receptionist blushes and reactively smoothes the front of her jacket. "Oh, um, thank you!" she says, her cheeks flushing crimson. After a moment, she nods. "Yes! We have a discounted rate for anyone with the Starfinders - normally an efficiency is three credits a night, and a two-bed suite is five credits per night per person. Starfinders who book for a week in advance can book an efficiency for sixteen credits or a two-bed suite for fifty credits all up - we can also put an extra portable bed into a suite for an additional twenty-five credits. You just need to show your subdermal graft to verify that you're a Starfinder, and I can apply the discount to your rooms."
She smiles cheerily and waits.
Herald nods. "Thank you muchly. Just give us a second to decide how we want to do the bill." he says, handing her Chiskisk's contact card. "We're recent recruits, so I guess we're supposed to ask you to verify our employment with our boss. There's their contact information and they should be able to confirm for us."
Letting the receptionist handle that issue, he turns to the group. "Okay, I got just over 30 credits of my own money, but we do have the funds Chiskisk gave us too. So should we spring for the two beds and just double-bunk or what?" he asks, his face serious about the bunk suggestion. Of course, a lot of spacers and rock-jocks are used to working with limited sleeping space and close proximity isn't usually an issue for them... if they keep up their hygiene, of course.
"I have no objection to doing so and the use of the funds towards securing a place where we can rest is a good idea. But each can decide for their own finances."
The receptionist smiles at Herald as she leans forward to take the card from him. ”Thanks! I’ll make that call while you decide,” she says as she begins to press the dial out keys on the comms unit on the desk. After quietly asking to speak with Chiskisk, the sound of pleasantly bland hold music begins to echo from the receiver.
While the group decides amongst themselves what rooms to take, the receptionist has a quiet conversation with someone over the hotel’s comms unit. She wraps it up quickly and puts the receiver down before handing the card back to Herald. ”Thank you again for that. Your boss’ assistant has confirmed your employment, so I can put that discount on for you all. So what will it be, gentlemen?”
Herald turns back to the receptionist. "Thanks for waiting, you've been patient with us." he says with a smile. "We'll get three of the efficiencies for the time being. Here are the credits."
The receptionist cheerily takes the credsticks from Herald with a quiet thanks and processes the payments into the terminal in front of her. She takes three sheets of paper and places them on the counter along with three keycards. ”Thank you for your patience. If you can all please sign these leasing T&C’s, I will direct you to your rooms.”
The terms and conditions in the papers are stock standard for a hotel, and even a cursory check of them reveals no hidden pitfalls within the contract.
The receptionist smiles and takes the signed leasing papers, handing over the three keycards in return. She points over to a narrow hallway at the back of the lobby. ”You have rooms 23, 25, and 28, which are on the second floor of the elevator through there. The cards also entitle you to a single breakfast per person each day, and the restaurant is open between six and ten. Enjoy your stay!
Once the group reaches their rooms, the keycards allow access to quaintly decorated multi-function rooms. There are no obvious beds in the room, but a quick examination reveals that two single beds fold out of the walls into the main living area. A small table sits in the corner of each room, with two dining chairs next to them. On the table is a restricted comms unit and a series of instructions on how to connect to the wi-fi.
Herald makes sure to exuberantly test out all the amenities of the housing, and in the process checks for the showers/toilets. "Dibs on the shower first." he says, stripping out of his armor. "I need to rinse off."
He does not have any problems with levels of nudity or decency. Of course, growing up in a small household with 9 siblings made privacy pretty much non-existant.
"We're probably gonna just end up getting shot at again, but I'd better patch up this hole," Darshe remarks, wiggling his little finger into the spot on his armor one of the ganger's lasers had nearly bore through. "After that... Well, I guess we need a plan of action."
Darshe does not exactly have to jump through any hoops to make himself comfortable. The hotel room was not exactly fancy, but it was cozier than his colonial bunk. Right away, he dumps out a load of supplies, stuff to polish up his armor with, and an impressive collection of inconspicuous mechanical parts.
Cree will bunk with Krevlor, and will begin the evening by setting to work, laying out a cloth on the floor and cleaning The Business, a nightly ritual he finds somewhat cathartic. He'll also reload the spent magazine from earlier in the day.
After, he'll flip open the panel on his forearm, and connect via the sluggish hotel network to the central Absalom Station infosphere, calling up anything that Krevlor might ask about.
After the day's cleanup and cooldown is completed by all members of the party, Herald will ask them to come with him TO level 21 and the slummy areas of the station so he can ask around about the gangs there.
to investigate the gang.
"Thank you for your assistance Cree, I prefer less technological forms of storytelling but I can appreciate the benefits of those with the, what did that Skittermander call it, ah yes the 'Infospherefu'."
Krevlor puts his hand on Cree's shoulder "First Duravor, then we should see what information can be gotten on the Downtown Kings and finally the Level 21 Crew. All of these topics make part of the greater story and together we will unravel it."
"Also I am glad I am bunked with you. You have a tail, the others do not an only four arms. Honestly I haven't spent much time around such species and it's frankly bizarre to watch them get by with so few appendages. Honestly they look a little silly trying to do basic tasks constantly putting down and picking up things... it's surreal."
{"Well, I mean I have four arms too, but these two are not very useful,"} Valorus corrected Krevlor. Only Cree hears the following, {"That being said, thank you for helping us with checking the Infosphere. This data should prove useful."}
"That is true and I have spent some time around sentient beings with only two arms and two legs but they used their legs for a lot of dextrous manipulation so it's quite different."
--=Information on Duravor Kreel=--
Information on the infosphere
Duravor Kreel was a mid-ranking member of the Starfinder Society. Most of his work focused on mineral prospecting, but he also took an interest in mentoring new and prospective members of the Society.
Kreel was a native of the Diaspora, the diffuse asteroid belt between Verces and Eox, and was known to have ties to dwarves and other mining groups in the region. An outspoken champion of miners’ rights, Kreel was active in challenging large corporate interests that exploited individual miners and labourers, including Astral Extractions.
Kreel had personally invested money in the Hardscrabble Collective. Also, one of his cousins was a member of the group, but she died in a mining accident—the result of safety violations perpetrated by her contract employer, Astral Extractions.
--==--
The 21st level of the Spike is a cramped and dingy neighbourhood with narrow walkways that more resemble alleyways than they do the streets of the Ring or even the concourse of the Arms. An ever-present electric hum fills the air and can be heard just under the murmur of conversation from both passers-by and the residents of the various tenements that line the alley-streets. A mixture of graffiti and artistic murals have been painted over the thin metal cladding of the buildings - most of them seem to have the number 21 included in their designs, but otherwise, they have no unifying features.
Herald begins his investigations with people within the neighbourhood, and finds that while the Level 21 Crew may be a criminal gang, they have also earned a reputation both here on level 21 and in neighbouring levels for promoting community empowerment. In fact, many of the neighborhood residents that Herald talks to either tolerate or tacitly endorse their activities.
One young man even goes so far as to say that the reason the Level 21 Crew are looked up to here is that the gang has also been known to hire itself out to defend marginalized and threatened groups or factions. He also says that a few members of a mining group called the Hardscrabble Collective had recently hired the Level 21 Crew for protection.
--==--
- Hardscrabble Collective - Culture (trained or untrained) or Profession (miner, trained only).
- Astral Extractions - Culture (trained or untrained), Profession (corporate professional, trained only), or Profession (miner, trained only)
- Downside Kings - Diplomacy or Bluff
Herald actually sympathizes with the level 21 crew. It's hard to rely on the police in such small quarters, where everything is personal. He was certain that he probably would have ended up being in a crew just like that back home if it wasn't for his parents' avid support of his pursuing becoming a pro pilot.
Scratching the smooth side of his head, he sighs. "Well I hope that they don't hold too strong a grudge after we put a few holes in them. I feel kinda bad about it now. It sounds like they were there to protect Kreel and failed."
Cree snickers at Krevlor's comments, and Valorus' correction. He replies to the Shirren's message to him out loud. "Val, I'm happy to do any sort of work that doesn't involve getting shot. Fiddling on the infosphere is hardly an effort, after saving all of your lives back on the landing pad." He has a wide grin on his face as he speaks, clearly joking.
Later, the Ysoki shakes his head at Herald. "No use killing yourself over what happened. We saw live fire, we stopped it. These Level 21 folks sound like a gang for hire, not some pillars of virtue. It's sad Kreel died, but if you're not gonna keep your ass out of trouble, you should be able to watch it, you know?"
"That's rather harsh, blaming the guy who went out of his way to sponsor us for his own death."He says, frowning at Cree. "I'm pretty sure most people don't expect there to be gang wars at the docks of the galaxy's most important space station. Seriously, have you seen how often the patrols in those areas are?" he sighs. "Either way, not all Starfinders are rough and tough adventuring types, you know?"
Cree shakes his head, shrugging. "Not blaming anything for anyone - ourselves included. Everything is chaos, friend. Sometimes good things happen to bad people, and sometimes good fellas like Kreel get murdered for no good reason. Just saying we shouldn't feel guilty for acting on the information we had."
"We defended ourselves, hopefully they will either not make the connection or will be understanding of it. Given Kreel's association with the Hardscrabble Collective and their contract it seems unlikely they deliberately targeted him but it could still be an accident, not necessarily due to the Downside Kings."
"It is possible Kreel had a falling out with the Hardscrabble collective however but we've uncovered nothing to suggest that. The Level 21 crew seem to try to cultivate an image of being defenders even if they are operating as guns for hire. Instigating a fight so far from their own territory would likely damage their image a little."
Cree ponders Krevlor's statement for a moment before shaking his head. "That shot was too clean for an accident. Something seems fishy here. I don't want to jump to any conclusions, but I've been in deep enough trouble with sketchy enough folks to be wary."
He gestures at his mechanical arm as he speaks, as if to imply it's somehow related to his experiences with these sorts of gangs.