"Why don't we do both? A couple of us can ask around in the bar while the rest look in the apartment?"
The reception office of the motel is a dimly lit wood-panelled room with a desk at the rear of the room with a computer terminal screen acting as the predominant source of light. A bedraggled human man with long hair sits behind the desk with his head laid in his folded arms, though he does not seem to be sleeping. It takes him a few minutes to realize that anyone is actually in the room, and he stares at the group in bewilderment before coming to his senses. "Oh, uh, hi. Lookin' for a room or, uh, three?" he asks, as he counts the number of people who have entered the small reception space. His red eyes and sallow features make him seem like he is nursing the mother of all hangovers.
"No."
Xera stares at the man for a moment.
"Or rather, we are looking for a room that is rented by a dwarf named Duravor. Duravor was recently killed and we are investigating his death on behalf of his employers."
"Has anyone else been here recently inquiring about him?"
"We would like you to admit us to his room please."
"Hi there, we're representatives of the Starfinder Society. One of your tenants, Duravor Kreel, recently passed this morning. We've been sent to sort out his belongings so that we can see to it his affairs have been settled. Could you tell us his room number and can you unlock it for us? We would be appreciative of any kindness you can show for him. Did you know him well?" Valius speaks up, his voice calm and sorrowful as he speaks to the manager.
Mysterra opens her mouth to respond to the strange receptionist, when Xera and Valius beat her to it. She closes her mouth and bobs her head up and down in a jerky nod instead.
The man at the reception desk squeezes his eyes closed in discomfort and waves one of his hands up and down. "Please only one of you speak at a time. And quiet-like. Now, what're you saying? Duravor's dead? Dwarf, bushy beard, serious type? Well, at least he paid the month up front. But I can't let you into his room - the rules are the rules, even if he is dead. Nice as you folk are, that ain't worth losing my job over."
"Look, we've got a job to do. So the question you need to ask yourself is this: Is not letting us in worth eating an android fist over?" Eye asks with the same inflection he would order coffee with.
Mysterra taps on the custom rig installed on her arm as the others talk.
When she's done she holds up her custom rig to show him the 'document' quickly. "Open his rooms."
Orlam speaks up as well, in a quiet, yet serious tone. "Be assured we have the blessings of the Starfinder organization in this. There may be others who are looking for Duravor as well, and I would suggest you don't admit do knowing him. For your own safety."
The man turns his gaze towards the detective, clearly unimpressed by the implied threat. "Listen, pal, I ain't losing my job because I let some rando's off the street go searching through peoples rooms. Not to mention how many paying customers will walk when they find out we let that happen."
He is just about to reach over for the communicator when Mysterra attempts to show him the 'documentation' from station security to authorise the search of Duravor Kreel's residence.
The day manager indicates for Mysterra to get closer to the desk so he can read the document properly. After taking a look at it, he nods. "Why didn't y'all just show the search warrant in the damn first place, rather than having the 'droid here offer to feed me his hand for lunch," he sighs, pointing to a printer set on a rickety filing cabinet in the corner. "Print it out there, and I'll get you the spare key."
"Test." she replies.
Mysterra plugs her custom rig into the printer and stands completely still as it whirs away, then she passes the document over to the receptionist.
She accepts the key and asks seriously. "Room number?"
The hungover day manager snatches the document out of Mysterra's hands and gives it one final look over before unlocking a drawer at the desk. He turns the monitor of the computer terminal to face him, and while squinting in pain, he types a couple of commands into it. "Kreel, D. Room 17." He fishes around in the now unlocked drawer for a moment, before retrieving a swipe card and pressing it into Mysterra's hand.
He stands and straightens the unpressed striped shirt he wears as best he can, readying himself to accompany the group to the room.
Mysterra follows the receptionist to Room 17, making sure the others come along.
"...Huh. Wish you would have told me about the warrant before I angered him," Valius whispers to Mysterra as they follow the receptionist. "You should let me know about things that I might need to know. If I'd known we had police permission...well, at least we're working on the right side of justice." He nods, wondering if they will find anything useful in the former Starfinder's apartment.
Xera follows along quietly, surveying the hallway as they go.
Orlam nods, satisfied that their ruse has worked. At least for the moment. He follows along, listening for sounds of ransacking coming from the room or looking for anyone who doesn't belong - a possible lookout if the gangers have beaten them to the dwarf's motel room.
While on the way to the room Eye pulls his comm unit and a stylus out of his pocket for note taking. He begins to write down a very detailed description of everything he can.
The day manager takes the keycard back off of Mysterra and slides it into the card reader next to the door of room 17, punching a series of five buttons into the keypad adjoining it. The reader trills pleasantly and the door unlocks and opens ajar. The manager then manages a thinly-lipped smile and waves toward the now unlocked door with a tired flourish.
The inside of the efficiency is neatly kept, with the bed still folded out from the wall. Textbooks and other paperwork sit piled on a small fold-out table next to the kitchenette, as well as a few used dishes that hadn't made their way to the sink. A printer sits on one of the two dining chairs, with paper still in the tray ready for collecting. A tele-vid screen on the wall opposite the bed is switched on, but the news channel it had last been tuned to appears to be muted.
Mysterra looks around, taking in the room in silence.
She wanders over to the printer and picks up the papers in its tray, examining them carefully.
Orlam takes a look around as well, glancing through the textbooks and other paperwork piled on the small fold-out table. If something stands out to him, he'll take note of it and mention his find to the others. Otherwise he sets them back down and wanders around the rest of the room.
As the others examine the papers, Xera looks around for signs that anything might have been disturbed by another search before they arrived. She also looks to see if there is a com-console and if so if there are any electronic messages.
Out of a need to help tidy up the place, Valius does some work putting the chaotic bits back together, such as folding in the bed back into the wall and turning off the video screen, but not before examining each for anything out of place.
Orlam flicks through the books and paperwork on the table - most of the papers are mineral reports from various site surveys, sent by members of the Hardscrabble Collective. The textbooks are academic tomes on different minerals located within the known galaxy.
The printouts collected by Mysterra appear to be invoices and contracts between the Hardscrabble Collective and other mining operations. The bulk of the printouts seeming to relate to the business dealings between Astral Extractions and the Collective involving the contracting of a ship named The Acreon.
Xera and Valius both look around the room, and Xera manages to find a handheld communicator tucked away in the pocket of a satchel bag. The muted tele-vid screen appears to be showing a financial news report, an image of a ship floating in space with a giant asteroid tethered behind it. The words "A bitter corporate dispute between Astral Ex..." flow on the scrolling text banner at the bottom of the report as Valius turns the screen off.
From outside the room, the day manager of the motel peers into the room. "So, uh, what are y'all looking for exactly? That dwarf wasn't bringing any sketchy business here, uh, was he?"
Orlam takes the papers and tucks them away, leaving the textbooks behind. The kasathas turns toward the day manager and speaks. "No. But we feel as though he might have uncovered something that might be of interest to others, who ARE into 'sketchy business', as you say. It would be best for you to remain ignorant of everything, tell them all you knew about him was that he payed his rent on time. If you feel it safe to do so, contact us and let us know that someone was snooping around." He glances at the others to see if they are ready to head out. If anyone leaves papers behind, Orlam will collect them himself so they may examine them later, but he figures the rest of the team knows enough to gather any such materials, whether they look important or not.
After looking through the printouts, Mysterra takes them with her. Seeing everyone seems to have covered everything she can think of, and that Pi is taking thorough notes, Mysterra nods her head up and down jerkily.
"Ready." she 'asks' the others, though it comes out more of a pronouncement than anything.
She turns to the manager and nods along jerkily with what Orlam says. "Yes." she finishes. "Thank you."
Xera and Valius both look around the room, and Xera manages to find a handheld communicator tucked away in the pocket of a satchel bag. The muted tele-vid screen appears to be showing a financial news report, an image of a ship floating in space with a giant asteroid tethered behind it. The words "A bitter corporate dispute between Astral Ex..." flow on the scrolling text banner at the bottom of the report as Valius turns the screen off.
"Hey! What was that about? Put that back on!" Xera turns the tele-vid screen back on.
As the screen warms back up she looks at the communicator to see if there are any messages, and then pockets it.
"Huh? What, it's just a business news channel. They're pretty boring to be honest. Always droning on about 'unemployment' this and 'economic growth' that. DO the Pact Worlds really need constant updates like that? Stretching out something like some company president embezzling from his employee's retirement fund and having every anchor and personality give their opinion on the same facts without adding any new information." Valius shrugs, but steps aside to let Xera watch, before glancing at the desk clerk.
"I don't suppose you know if Duravor wad a frequent patron of the bar next door, do you?"
Xera turns the screen back on, and as it warms up slowly, the words at the bottom read "will honour that contract to its letter and end this dispute. The Hardscrabble Collective has not released a statement nor have they responded to requests for comment at this time." The camera then cuts to another angle of the presenter and begins to talk about stock price movement amongst the station's various large companies.
The communications unit in Xera's hand is still thankfully opened to its e-comm application, and the most recent conversation thread appears to be between Duravor and someone named Otal.
--==--
O: Got approached by those thugs again, wanting us to sign away our ship to those creeps. Going to lay low 'til the lawyers can sort this mess out, telling the whole crew to do the same. You should, as well.
DK: Can't do that - got Society work to do. I'll be fine.
O: Well, if you can't hide, I'll hire some friends to run a shield and distract. You stay safe.
DK: Fine. Don't need protection, but if throwing your creds down the toilet will make you happy, then do it. Tell the clan I'll stop by soon.
--==--
The day manager looks at Orlam, realisation dawning that this is a far more dangerous situation than he'd anticipated. With his skin going as white as the cheap laminate furniture in the efficiency, he nods wordlessly at the kasatha's warning. He turns to Valius and shrugs. "I, I'm not sure. Probably? He is a dwarf, after all - don't most of them like a few brews after work, and before work for that matter?"
Orlam glances at the vid-screen at Xera's exclamation, but doesn't really seen anything interesting. "Thank you for your cooperation." He tells the manager, then he steps outside, waiting for the others. Once they are all out of earshot of the of the manager, he turns to the them. "The papers might have some clues, but I didn't notice anything obvious. Did any of you have any luck?"
When he learns of the communication, his lower pair of arms cross as his top pair press their fingertips together, a strange-looking display of contemplation. "This Otal sounds like a fellow dwarf, maybe a relative, in fact. Perhaps a relation to the one that was killed? It sounds as though his contact was correct in being cautious. It might be that this Otal is with the Hardscrabble Collective as well, but we might find it difficult to speak with him if he is in hiding. Still, it seems like our best lead."
"As do many other cultures, as you might relate," Valius informs him with a cheerful smile. Seeing no reason to stick around the apartment anymore, he figures it would be a good time to check out the bar and see if he couldn't pry out a few details about Duravor from the regulars.
"Best to go buy a round for some barflys and see what we can learn," He suggests to the others, ready to head down there.
Orlam shrugs. "We can do that as well. I could use some food and drink, it has been some time since my last meal." The kasathas lets Valius do the talking though, as the soldier isn't particularly adept at gathering information in such an environment.
Mysterra eyes Durovar's comm unit curiously, staring at it intently while Xera reads from it. She doesn't request it or look over Xera's shoulder, though. Instead she follows along with the others to the bar, nodding once awkwardly at the landlord in farewell.
"Yes... may as well see what the locals have to say," Xera says distractedly as she pulls out her comm unit. She opens a connection to the infosphere and enters a search:
QUERY: news "Astral Extractions" "Hardscrabble Collective" dispute
She thinks for a moment and then adds:
starship
She looks back up at the others.
"After that we should go someplace quiet and go over what we know."
Private Eye writes down Astral Extractions and Hardscrabble Collective and bolds them on his notepad.
"Schmoozing with a bunch of boozehounds is not my area of expertise but if you need a bad cop to your good cop give me a signal."
He turns to Xera, "Excellent idea. Knowledge is a detective's most important weapon."
Mysterra stares at Private Eye for a long time before saying, "Agreed." After a moment she adds, "I am not well suited to conversing with inebriated citizens. I would like to find someplace quiet to go through our information."
When the others head into the bar, Mysterra follows along awkwardly.
Leaving the motel's day manager to lock the room the group make their way towards the Last Good Run. Despite being the middle of the day, the well-patronised bar is busy with the clamour of conversation and the sounds of people enjoying their food and drink. A large notice board is on the wall near to the entrance, filled with fliers and advertisements for various goods, services, and job opportunities.
After about fifteen minutes of waiting, a table large enough to accommodate the group becomes available. In the centre of the table sits an ornamental display statue with a printed paper menu outlining the specials of the week and a pack of folded paper napkins tucked into it.
Mysterra eyes the patrons of the Last good Run while standing awkwardly in its doorway. Eventually, she follows her comrades to a table where she sits, still and stiff, seemingly staring at nothing. She opens her mouth to speak to a passing patron, but closes it again.
In the end she decides to look at what Xera has found. "May I see?" she asks, though it comes out sounding more like a statement than a question.
If Xera allows it, Mysterra reads over the article Xera's found.
Valius had been expecting the place to be more of the kind of dive bar he'd expect, not a bustling restaurant that had a waiting period to be seated. Still, with plenty of people around it might just be a good thing in order to acquire some vital bits of information. He notes that Mysterra seems to be interested in speaking to other patrons, but was probably just shy despite her years. He wondered how she could have gone so many years without picking up a few tricks of socialization.
"Give me a few minutes, I'm going to ask around and see what I can pick up. Mysty, do you want to help me out? I think having a pretty face next to my equally pretty face tends to smooth things out. Oh, and the first round is on me, what is everyone drinking?"
Orlam thanks Valius for the offer and orders a non-alcoholic fruit drink. For food he will take whatever is recommended or looks good. The kasathas also takes a look at the article Xera discovered when he gets a chance, and considers all the facts they've gleaned silently for a time. Since Orlam is ill-at-ease with both computers and social interaction in order to glean information, he idly peruses the papers they found in Duravor's room while he eats and drinks at the table.
(regarding Astral Extractions)
(regarding Hardscrabble Collective)
Mysty? Who is this Mysty? OH! That is my term of endearment!"
Mysterra sits awkwardly for a long time after Valius' invitation. Eventually she stands stiffly, and follows Valius to the bar.
She eyes the bartender for an uncomfortably long time before telling him, "I will have the special."
I wonder what the special is? Oh, this is so exciting!
---
When Valius is ready to ask around, Mysterra follows behind him like and awkward, stoic shadow.
"Tell me about Durovar Kreel."
"You are capable of speaking. Speak of Astral Excavations."
"I seek information. Tell me all you know of the Downside Kings."
"You do not appear to be branded by a 21. What do you know of the 21 Crew?"
Yes! A fine bout of socializing! I believe I am making progress!
"What are you reading there?" Eye asks Xera when he notices her looking at the screen. He then pulls it up himself on the way.
Once in the bar he decides that he'll try to fish for information after all. He approaches some people telling them he's a reporter doing a story on the Hardacrabble/Astral Excavations feud and wants to get opinions from people on the street. He tells others that he's looking for some protection and has heard that the Level 21 Crew and Downside Kings might be able to help with his purchases.
Valius and Mysterra make their way to the bar, which is almost shoulder to shoulder with patrons. Eventually squeezing their way to the counter next to a surly looking half-orc and an androgynous lashunta couple, the bartender looks bemused as Mysterra orders 'the special'. He grabs a pair of bottles from the back of the bar - one filled with a vibrant red and the other a bright, shimmering blue - and pours them down the sides of the glass. He lays a slice of fruit on the edge of the glass and tosses a pinch of spices over the fruit and the top of the liquid, before sliding the glass across the bar toward the android.
Valius makes his order for the table, and suitably armed with the group's requested drinks and a standee with the number '12' on it, he and Mysterra wander back to the table, and a little over fifteen minutes later a hover-drone arrives with a basket hanging underneath it. The drone hovers over the standee and waits until the tapas plate of flatbreads, dips, and a full sharing bowl of creamy yellow Akitonian curried meat are retrieved.
--=Private Eye=--
The android doesn't get a lot of traction pretending to be looking for protection in regards to the two gangs, but he does receive confirmation from an old drunk in the corner nursing a whiskey that the Level 21 crew can be found unsurprisingly enough on Level 21 of the Spike. The drunken man also lets Private Eye know that he'd better hold onto his credits there as there are thieves and pickpockets on every corner, and gambling dens and more are found in every building.
Eye's line of putting together a story from the street on a hot-topic is, on the other hand, a winner amongst the patrons of the bar. A ysoki with a tricorne hat and eye-patch over his left eye says while he doesn't know much about the Hardscrabble Collective, Astral Extractions is a powerful mining conglomerate that has mostly concentrated its operations in the Diaspora but has recently been sending scouting vessels further and further into the Vast in search of new claims. The ysoki motions for the android to come closer, and whispers that while the company appears reputable and ethical on the outside, he believes they use hire muscle - corporate mercenaries, strikebreakers, and even criminal elements - as proxies to threaten anyone who stands in their way.
--=Valius and Mysterra=--
It seems that Mysterra's strange approach and mechanical tone of voice are enough to shock some patrons into telling more than they otherwise would. The androgynous lashunta couple, in particular, seem to be more amused than baffled or concerned about her lack of social graces and tell what they know of the dispute between the two companies involved with the Acreon. One of the pair says that the Hardscrabble Collective are a clan of asteroid miners based predominantly in the Diaspora, and that Duravor was one of their primary investors. The other lashunta interrupts and says that Duravor said that the group is more a cooperative business enterprise or a coalition of dozens of ship crews who had banded together for mutual benefit and safety. Most were employees on the various ships involved in the cooperative, but some members are related, and all of the vessels are similar to many families and fiercely look out for one another's welfare.
Irritated by the interruption, the first lashunta returns to their story, stating that the Collective doesn't have any offices or base of operations, but clan members view the Armada as a central gathering place, and ship crews hire themselves out to a wide variety of business concerns, including Astral Extractions, who hides one of the Collective's ships for an exploratory mission into the Vast.
Valius and Mysterra move on to talking with the surly half-orc about the gangs. He keeps his voice low, and motions for the two to follow him to a small booth. As a resident of the Spike, he knows of the rivalry between the Level 21 Crew and the Downside Kings. He has heard that Jabaxa, the leader of the Level 21 Crew, has made sure that the gang has a reputation in Level 21 and the neighbouring levels for promoting community empowerment, and so many residents in the neighbourhood tolerate or outright endorse the gang's activities. The Level 21 crew has also been known to hire themselves out as protection for marginalised or threatened groups or factions and had recently overheard a couple of gang members talking about how they'd been hired to protect some of the Hardscrabble's investors on the station.
The Downside Kings, on the other hand, were a nasty and violent gang whose leadership turnover is high, and the current leader is a woman by the name of Ferani Nadaz. Ferani is known to make use of a nightclub called the Fusion Queen as a front for their illegal activities. He had heard that powerful corporations like Astral Extractions hired the Kings as muscle to threaten the Hardscrabble Collective and pressure them into releasing their claim on the Acreon and the Drift Rock without dispute.
--=Orlam=--
As Orlam reads through the papers collected from Duravor's room and quietly sips at his tall glass of fruit juice, he finds a series of printed e-comms that had been forwarded from Otal to Duravor. The messages stated that the Hardscrabble Collective had hired protection from the Level 21 Crew for its members and other interests on the station as Otal feared private reprisals from Astral Extractions corporate thugs, and that three gang members would be assigned to shadow Duravor until the dispute was over.
Orlam's appetite fades as he continues to read the documents, and when he finishes he shoves the plate of his half-eaten meal away from him. "Damn." He mutters to himself, then joins the others once they get a chance to speak with each other in relative privacy. "I am afraid we made a grave error in the firefight, not that we could possibly have known the facts at that time. The Level 21 gang were hired by the Collective and Otal in particular to protect Duravor - probably without his knowledge, in fact."
When he hears what the others have learned, the kasathas nods grimly. "Likely the Downside Kings were hired by Astral Extractions to kill Duravor - though we still don't know exactly why. That ship in quarantine might fit into this somehow, maybe it's the one that they have hidden for the mission into the Vast?" He glances at Mystera, who had uncovered that little tidbit.
Private Eye nods along with Orlam's assessment, stuffing his face with the efficiency of one who is used to eating in a hurry the whole while. "I think it's a safe assumption that Duravor was kiled in hopes that Hardscrabble would let Astral Excavations have that asteroid. And I'm quite sure the Acreon is involved in this one way or another." His visible eye narrows as he continues, "We are going to have to be careful from here on out. Dealing with gangs is bad enough but if we go afoul of a corporation willing to kill for their business... now that's scary."
As he's gathering intel with Mysterra, Valius seems to be rather amused with how the gynoid goes about with her kind of diplomacy. It was somewhat endearing, like watching a child with no concept of manners try to be polite at a dinner table. After they finished with the bar patrons, Valius gratefully tapped his credit chit to buy the half-orc and the androgynous lashunta couple their next round for their help. As they walk back to the table, he takes a moment to bring Mysterra to the side for a brief chat.
----
At the table, Valius nurses his Sunrise beverage while listening to Orlam and Eye, before putting in his own two credits into the conversation, letting people know everything that he and Mysterra had gleaned from asking around the bar. "So, the way that I see it is that there's a few paths in front of us. We can try breaching the airlock and go enact justice on Ferani and beat some information out of her Downside Kings, or we can go and try to make nice with the 21s and see if they have any information. Or, and this might be the best one to do first, we can contact the Hardscrabble Collective directly and see what they're doing. Maybe they can help give us a direction, or at least an in with the 21s so they don't think we'll be coming for them weapons drawn."
Mysterra sips at her cup with apparent disinterest.
Mmm! This drink is delicious! I wonder what the alcohol content is like?
---
Mysterra mingles through the bar with her completely tactless conversations, face calm and impassive.
What lovely people at this bar! They're all so friendly and helpful! This is wonderful! And I'm doing such a good job!
---
"Was that not acceptable topics of conversation?"
"Yes. Perhaps we can aid each other."
---
Back at the table Mysterra listens intently to the information gleaned and the theories of her comrades. She eats the tapas and drinks from her drink. It's hard to tell if she likes either, but she keeps consuming them, so it's at least palatable to her. As the conversation slows, Mysterra finally weighs in with her opinion.
"I find approaching the Hardscrabble Collective the most logical next step."
"There's more. Apparently a starship called Acreon arrived ten days ago towing an asteroid. It made the news. The Acreon belongs to Hardscrabble, but was hired by Astral Extractions to do some mineral surveying. Likely the asteroid represents some kind of mineral strike, and now Hardscrabble and Astral Extractions disagree on how to split the rights."
"I'd like to find out anything we can about this Acreon. Let's see if anyone knows anything about that."
"So I guess that we all agree we should look for more info on the Acreon . That seems to be at least the probable reason that Duravor got killed. So we should talk to a Hardscrabble bloke and see what they know."
He turns to Xera, noting Duravor's Comm device. "Don't suppose that you can call one of his buddies with that and set up a meeting?"