Welcome Traveller, to the Pirates of Drinax mega-campaign!
In the days, weeks and months ahead, you will be taking part in a campaign that offers a breath-taking amount of freedom, allowing you to forge your own way through the universe with no worries about boundaries or goals other than those you set for yourself. You will also be able, nay, be encouraged to engage in that one activity you always wanted to take part in during Traveller games but always found your referee dissuading you from.
You get to be a pirate!
Each of you, Steph, Ray, Jerry, Daneel and Bryon, each receive a visit from a liveried royal courier, who hands you a royal command written in silver ink on real vellum.
To My Beloved Subject
I, Oleb, Lord of Drinax and Star Dragon Emperor of Sindal in Exile, Sixteenth of My name, command you to appear at Noon tomorrow at the Royal Palace.
A smaller note is appended to the larger, this one written in a fine hand:
I remind you of the gravity and honor of this invitation. Come alone or with other invitees only. Be early, be unarmed, be silent until spoken to and of course, dress accordingly. - Mardan, Royal Steward.
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So tell me! What were you doing (and with whom!) when the invitation arrived?
What is your reaction to receiving this unwarranted command?
How will you prepare for the most important meeting of your life?
Describe how you look and dress for the meeting.
Ray strode out of the treatment centre sore and grumpy. Blasted pirates had nearly killed her. Treatment took forever, not to mention WAY more credits than she'd spent on a thing in her life. Could've fed the folks back home for a month on that.
She sighs.
Whatever. Not like she was going home to visit anyway. It's not like her parents would still be alive. Her siblings probably had hordes of children. Hell, maybe even some of their children had children by now. Life moved quick for Vespexers.
Ray stalked the halls in her tattered, laser burnt clothes. She made it halfway to the docks when the liveried servant found her.
Ray read the invitation and raised an eyebrow.
"What the heck is this?" she asked the servant. "Is this a joke?"
But by then the servant was already gone.
Strange
The last time she had been in the King's presence she was a young up and comer. She's delivered that message to Thao Poloc. Had her half parsec of fame. She'd still worked for Thao for a long time after that, but those days were behind her. He'd found other messengers, and Ray? Well, she'd just limped back from the far reaches of space a failure. No ship. No crew. No intel. And three years late. She was a disgrace.
So what the hell was going on?
She sighed loudly. "Dress for the occasion, huh?" she chuckled. She hadn't worn anything nicer than a clean flight suit in her life. "Well, I was on my way to buy clothes anyway..."
Ray finishes her trip down to the docks to buy some clean, practical clothes. Cargo pants, sturdy surveyor's boots, tank top, t-shirt, waterproof hoodie, leather jacket -- always dress in layers -- fingerless gloves. Then she wandered over to gander at the surveying gear and vacc suits. She had intended to pick up some supplies and see what work she could get on another exploratory ship. It was what she was best at. ...IF she could get someone to hire her. But, with this summons from the king...
Nah, best to wait on it. He might give her work -- or arrest her for piracy. Either way. Best not to waste the credits.
Ray paid the trader to let her use a room to change, tossed her ruined clothes and headed back out into the Floating Palace properly dressed and clean. It wouldn't do for a fancy meeting, but she didn't really care. She wouldn't waste money on fancy clothes that she'd try to sell to some other schmuck ten minutes after the meeting. Too much work, not enough return.
Ray strode down the halls and eventually found herself outside the Royal Palace. She shifted uncomfortably in her simple clothes, only momentarily entertaining self-doubt. She'd survived life as a Vespexer, unexplored planets, alien life, strange weather, and even space pirates. How bad could a meeting with a king be?
Ray ran a callused hand through her short, half-shaved hair, giving it a careless ruffle. A smirk spread across her scarred face. She handed over her weapons to the guards, and strode right into the Royal Palace.
Yes. You’re all aboard the Floating Palace for your own reasons.
Jerry looks up as the old family retainer taps politely at the entrance to the room where is staying, again, now that he has left the Scholar's Tower. He is only here temporarily, of course, until he finds something else. Only a matter of time.
"What do you have, Rast?," asks Jerry. "Who is that with you"
Rast mumbles something unintelligible, as he always has, and simply holds the door while the courier enters. Jerry puts the portable computer aside, ensuring that he marks his place in the archaeological report that he has been reading, before standing to receive the notes.
"Thank you, Rast will show you out," says Jerry. He then looks uncomfortable when the courier coughs politely. "Uhhh, Rast? Can you look after him?"
Jerry carefully opens the Royal Summons, already ignoring Rast and the courier as they leave. He automatically wonders whether Scholar Marta has finally got someone to listen to her complaints, but dismisses that thought when he reads the smaller note. And he can't think of how this might be connected to anything else, either. In fact, this might just be the kind of opportunity Jerry has been awaiting.
Jerry spends the afternoon and evening agonizing about how to dress and present himself on the following day. Finally, he settles on dressing as what he is ... a member of the minor nobility. He can no longer call himself a Scholar, or anything else. So he selects the best clothing that he has kept with hime - faded, but not threadbare or disreputable. He suspects that he won't run into any family member during this visit.
With that settled, Jerry returns to the scholarly field report that he was reading previously. Fortunately, the report does not require his full attention since he somehow cannot focus. Eventually, after a late meal, he gives it up and turns in for the evening.
Years had passed since the last time Daneel found himself on the Floating Palace. He'd been here many times, but never before had it been like this. From the moment he had disembarked, he could feel the minds of the people on the station - so many minds in such a small volume. No individual thoughts - just the pressure of hundreds of them pushing against his awareness. He focused on the mental exercises that Leonidas had drilled into him and strengthened his mental shields until the pressure was little more than the tickle of a feather.
A few hours later finds Daneel sitting at a bar, eating a bowl of noodles, and pondering his next move. He needs to find a way to get access to the Scholar's Tower. He normally isn't much for books, but he needs information about the abilities that Leonidas had unlocked in him, and - unfortunately - expressing interest in that type of information could be dangerous. Many people considered psions to be some sort of monsters.
Daneel puts down the now empty bowl and is about to pay his bill when voice interrupts from behind.
"Mr. Baley?"
He turns to see a very well-dressed messenger. Slightly confused, he answers, "Yes, that's me." She hands him a fancy note, bows and then withdraws. Daneel stares after her for a moment, perplexed, before looking at the message. He feels a moment of panic - he can't have been discovered already? Focusing, he sees that his shield remains strong, and he'd been careful not to make contact with anybody's mind in the time he's been on station. He takes a couple of deep breaths and calms himself.
OK, it has to be something else. What, Daneel can't guess, but if a King summons you, you attend. He looks at his well worn clothes, and knows they won't do. Hopefully appropriate clothes won't make too big a dent in his funds, or look too ridiculous. Resigned, he makes his way to the bazaar.
When morning comes, Jerry has second thoughts. He wants to make as good an impression as possible, so he retrieves the remaining set of formal wear from his time in the Diplomatic Service. It still fits, surprisingly, and the suit is still fit for a formal ball or similar diplomatic reception.
Jerry leaves his small set of rooms to make his way to the Royal Palace, taking his time on the journey. When he gets to the antechamber, he recognizes two of the people so he nods and prepars to make small talk. Jerry wonders if Byron and Daneel are here for the same purposes but the note from Mardan gave the impression that he should not speak about his reason for being here.
Steph is sitting in the spaceport reading a missive from her husband on Asim.
"My Dear Stephanie,
I look forward to seeing you soon. It's been a while, and I do miss you. Your parents are well, and want you to return as soon as possible. They have a job lined up for you on one of the grain farms running a thresher. I know this isn't what you wanted, but it's time for you to come home.
Your love,
Phil"
She sighs and looks at the departure times of the ships. Twelve hours. Just twelve more hours of freedom.
She looks up as someone calls her name. She takes the invitation with a slight frown. Does anyone even know I'm here?
Reading it she smiles, and she reads it again and laughs. What a perfectly good reason not to go home. The King requests my presence.
Moving to the ticket booth. "I'll need a refund on my ticket. I'm not headed to Akim this evening after all." Then she heads out to the sops to find something suitable.
She heads into the first shop she sees that carries fancy looking clothing. Showing the note she ask the lady behind the counter. "I need an appropriate outfit."
She tries on several, and finds one that is not overly fancy. Not that it can be worn again in her daily life, but an invite from the King might mean something. If nothing else than she doesn't have to go back to Akim yet.
She rents a room, and cleans up. Her appearance is neat but simple. A simple pair of black pants and a grey button down shirt with a black long coat over it. She gets her usual knee high boots polished to a high shine.
Recognizing Jerry, Ray saunters over and grins. "Hey, Jer. You look.... stable. How's life since not being devoured?"
"Ahem." Ray turns to see Lord Mardan with his emerald staff of office looking at her...looking up at her... in open distaste.
"Madame," says the Royal Steward, "You were instructed to dress appropriately for a royal audience. Not a... tractor pull. If you will accompany me, we shall attempt to find you something suitable in time."
"Naw, I'm good," Ray replies dismissively. "If the King wanted someone to show up in fancy clothes he probably shouldn't have invited an unemployed drifter. Of course, I'm sure he knew that. He's a smart guy, after all..." she grins. "And since he's a smart guy I'm sure he knew I'd show up just as is. See? All good."
Lord Mardan's face clouds with anger that some uncouth barbarian would think to speak back to him. Still, he is too well-bred to cause a scene and tries again.
"His Majesty is indeed a 'smart guy'. But he also the king of Drinax, an old and famous kingdom whose history and decorum he very much insists upon. There are men...yes, and women... in the gravity dungeons for less. I recommend you permit me to help you wear something appropriate to the occasion."
Ray rolls her eyes and crosses her arms, shifting her weight to her right leg. "Fine. But I'm keeping it. And no dresses."
Steph arrives just in time to hear Ray's response to Lord Mardan. She does her best to not laugh at the Lord's discomfort at dealing with Ray.
Mardan's look of triumph collapses at Ray's injunction against dresses. That frilly lace number his cousin's maid had worn would have to wait for another day.
Forty minutes later, Ray emerges scowling and dressed in a....well, why don't you tell us, Ray?
There's a great deal of yelling and arguing coming from the room that Ray and Mardan disappearing into. Although most of Ray's exclamations cannot be repeated in polite company, the most acceptable include:
"I'm NOT wearing THAT!"
"Pfft! What am I? A harlot?"
"GAH! Fine! That one!"
"NO! I will NOT remove THAT! OR THAT!"
There's also a great deal of grunting, groaning, and exclamations of anger and frustration from both participants in the 'Great Attire Battle.' In the end both Ray and Mardan emerge looking very disgruntled. Ray is dressed in a grey, frilly, extraordinarily puffy mini dress that's both sleeveless, low cut, and much too short. Apparently she refused to removed her gloves, tank top, and stretchy shorts we was wearing underneath her practical clothing -- always dress in layers! -- as all three are clearly visible peeking out from her absurd dress. In a fit of anger she grabs her leather jacket and puts it on overtop -- though she relents and leaves it unzipped. She attempts a few shaky, wobbly steps in the strappy high heels she's been forced into, holding her arms out in an effort to retain her balance. She makes it barely three meters before she kicks them off.
"Yeah, not doing that." She walks back to the changing room barefoot, and puts her leather boots back on.
Grumpy, with arms crossed in anger she looks at Mardan. "I hate you." Then she strides off to go to this stupid meeting.
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Thirty minutes later, a now-recovered Lord Mardan announces ”You will now be admitted to His Majesty’s presence. Approach to ten paces and stop. Gentlemen bow and ladies curtsy. Remain in that attitude until His Majesty speaks. If invited to address the king, you must first refer to him as ‘Your Majesty’ and thereafter may address him as ‘sire.’ If invited to sit, remember than when the king stands, everyone must stand with him.”
With these admonitions, Lord Mardan opens the door to the Throne Room. Your skin prickles as invisible scanners monitor you for weapons or poisons. The Throne Room is a large space, richly appointed with hundreds of priceless works of art from across the Trojan Reach as well as a throne of laser-etched haava wood from the Florian League and silk carpets all the way from Terra. Those who grew up on the Floating Palace know that this is not the Grand Throne Room nor the actual Dragon Throne - that vast space was needed to house families after the fall of Drinax. This used to be a conference room.
Seated on the throne is the “imposing figure” of your sovereign, King Oleb XVI. Big, fat, shrewd, a champion boxer and swordsman as well as a legendary womanizer and carouser, he is a figure out of another age.
”The Right Honorable Lord Jeremiah Xavier Jaramillo-Smith, accompanied by Mister Byron Hasperson, Mrs. Stephanie Allison, Miss Aubrey Vogel and Mister Daneel Baley of Asim.” Lord Mardan announces your arrival in a clear stentorian voice.
Lord Mardan motions you forward towards the semicircle of diamond tiles set in the floor marking out the place where you should stop and make your bows. Once that is done, a few seconds pass before the king speaks. ”Rise. Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for coming. Lord Mardan, I would like to be alone with my guests. Admit no one until further notice.”
When Lord Mardan withdraws, King Oleb touches a control on the arm of his throne. ”There. Now we can speak in private.”
”I have been monitoring your careers,” continues the king. ”Yours and many others. You five are each extraordinary in some way and represent the best of Drinax, worthy of the kingdom that kept the spaceways safe during the Long Night and for a thousand years after that. I have a vision, and I want you to join me in that vision.”
”My ancestor and namesake made a terrible error and the people of Drinax paid for it, both the world and the kingdom. Where once we had peace and prosperity now we all lie helpless before the winds of fate and the might of the Hierate and the Imperium. I am going to correct that mistake, to rekindle the spirit that was once Drinax and bring back a prosperous and stable realm. To accomplish this I need people of accomplishments and daring. I think you are those people. Will you join me in that quest?”
Ray looks around the room with mild awe for a moment, immediately calculating which would fetch the highest price on the open market -- fancy treasures always got her fingers twitchy. She'll blame the pirates for that. Declan, Kate, Grubs, Resler...
Yeah.
Definitely all their fault.
When she's gestured forward Ray strides into the room and gives the most slack, unpolished curtsy imaginable to the king.
As Mardan leaves Ray crosses her arms and glares at his back until he's gone. Only then does she resume looking at the king and uncross her arms.
Ray listens to the King with mild interest... only to realize she's being complimented. Well, that was certainly one way to get her attention. But flattery doesn't pay the bills. Even if it did come from a king.
Then she pauses. A wide grin spreads across her face.
He was offering her work. WORK.
She wouldn't have to go back to life as a drifter. She wouldn't need to crawl back to her siblings and beg them for help on that toxic wasteland.
Real work. That was... suspicious. But, how bad could it be? Odds are she's done worse...
With a twinkle in her eye, Ray asks, "I'm interested. What's the job?"
Oleb seems to consider. "Not a job, Miss Vogel. I'm offering you so much more than a job. I'm offering you a career, a calling. A place in history. A job is minding someone else's concern for pay. If you do this, you will do it for love of country. And perhaps for the adventure."
"The wealth of the Trojan Reach is vast. More money passes through the great mains of this sector than almost any in known space. And in that wealth lies our chance to restart the Kingdom of Drinax and create a future for all our peoples. This requires four things: a base, a ship, a plan and the right people. I now have all four."
He presses another button and a holographic image appears above the dais. It is a sleek starship with elegant, predatory lines.
"Behold, a Harrier-class commerce raider. The last of her kind. Once, she was among the highest-tech ships in all the Trojan Reach. Now, she may be the highest-tech ship anywhere outside of the Darrien Confederation. Built two hundred years ago to enforce the will of some of my more despotic ancestors, she was damaged in the defense of Drinax and drifted into the outer system. Recently she was found by prospectors in the oort cloud."
"She is faster than any ship in the Reach and equipped with powerful stealth technologies. I will give her to you. What’s more I will issue a letter of marque and reprisal. I am not merely the King of Drinax. I am the rightful Emperor of Sindal. This document gives you the right to prey on merchant and military shipping within the borders of the old Empire of Sindal that does not carry the proper documentation.”
The King grins at you. Of course, no-one’s carried those papers in bloody centuries. Every ship in space is your legal prey – but I don’t want cutthroats and murderers. I want thieves!”
He gestures at a map of the Trojan Reach. On one side, there’s the great red expanse of the Third Imperium. On the other, the golden glow of the Aslan Hierate. Between the two are dozens of points of light, each marking a different independent star system. Threads of commerce and trade run between the two empires like arteries.
“Once, every world along that trade route shared in the bounty. The traders paid taxes to use our space and our starports. Then, because my ancestors were greedy bastards, everything fell apart. The Kingdom collapsed, and that meant those cold-blooded Vilani snakes picked the Trojan Reach apart. It’s every world for themselves out there right now, and solitary worlds can’t bloody hold out against a gods-cursed empire!”
He throws himself heavily into the armored bulk of the throne.
“So, here’s what we’re going to do. You take the Harrier and you cut a bloody swathe across the stars. Attack shipping, raid starports, hit fuel depots. Take what prizes you can. Don’t kill anyone you don’t have to, though – we want to bleed the merchants until they go crying to the Imperium, not start a bloody war. Pirating is part one of the plan.”
“Part two is all those worlds out there. We make them our allies. Sell stolen goods there, defend ‘em from raiders, recruit crew, give them a taste of wealth, and bring them back under the banner of Drinax. When the time comes, we offer the Imperium a deal – the pirate attacks stop if they recognize the Kingdom of Drinax and give me my rightful due.”
He slams his meaty fist into the arm of the throne.
“We do this right, and we’ll show there’s life in this old empire yet.”
“Now, the terms. We keep this a secret from the Imperium for as long as possible – and that means you keep that letter of marque hidden until we sign a peace. The ship’s being loaned to you – you’re responsible for repairs and maintenance, but she’s coming home at the end.”
“Ten percent of any money you make comes to me. Spend as much as you can spare on the colony worlds and curry favor with them. We’ll need them on our side if this isn’t going blow up in our faces.”
He leans back in the throne. “If this works... then you’ll be made dukes of my court. And...”
The king stops and glances at a side door. “Get in here, daughter. This whole scheme was your idea.”
The Crown Princess of Drinax slips into the room.
“Do I have to explain the whole ‘clandestine’ part of this scheme to you again, Sire?”
She smiles at you, and you can’t tell if she’s amused or furious. The King rises from his throne and takes his daughter’s hand in his huge fist. “If we are going to save this kingdom, daughter, we shall have to trust these Travellers. After all, if they succeed, you’re marrying one of them.”
Byron stays to the back as they are shown in. He listens to what the king has to say and then says, "It sounds like an interesting plan. It will be a tight balance between making some waves, and ensuring that the Imperium does not get worked up."
Jeremiah looks around at the others summoned to the presence of the King and wonders why such an eclectic group has been gathered.
He easily manages the royal protocol, it not being too much different than what was required on Paal. He effortlessly holds the bow until King Oleb acknowledges the group.
The King's subtle tell makes Jerry wonder who else might be listening to this private conversation.
The King's words hearten Jerry and he listens intently to the proposal. He is about to respond when the tall woman called Ray jumps in.
All in all, the plan and proposal - particulary the potential marriage alliance with the royal family - is quite interesting.
"Your Majesty. Your Highness. I am in, too. I will do this for our Kingdom."
Daneel nervously approaches the King with the others, somewhat overwhelmed by the both the displayed riches and imposing presence of King Oleb. At the indicated spot he bows. Is that enough, maybe deeper? He decides bowing a little deeper would be more respectful, just as the King speaks, and then he awkwardly jerks himself upright. Great..smooth.
Fighting not to fidget, Daneel focuses all of his attention on Oleb and what he is saying. So much so that when Ray speaks, he jumps at her voice. He glances worriedly to King Oleb, then realizes with some chagrin that answering a king's question is actually quite appropriate.
He considers his own answer. Do I want to help this King? Why is he asking me? But when Oleb calls up the holo of the of the ship, Daneel's uncertainty disappears. He admires its sleek lines and surfaces as the King outlines his plan in broad strokes. A calmness comes over him, wiping away his nervousness, so that even Oleb's offhand mention of marriage to the Princess barely startles him.
Daneel clears his throat, "Your Majesty, I'm guessing that you called me here because that lovely ship needs an engineer to take care of her. If so, then you can count me in, too, Sire."
Steph is in awe as she enters the throne room. The king the actual king of the plant is talking to her. Talking to her? Wait a minute did he just say stand?[/b] She jerks upright.
As she listens to the proposal her grin gets wider, and wider. She doesn't have to go home and be a farmer. Not even her mother could say no to something the king himself asked her to do. Then it sinks in she can't tell them. They are going to think she's lost her mind going out with this crew. Several of whom she recognizes. [i]Interesting that he would bring this group together
"Your Majesty. It will be my honor to serve the crown. And make some credits as well. [b]"It's a very interesting and daring proposal. If I may ask, sire. What makes you think we can pull this off?"
She looks relieved that she's already married to Phil, and out of the running for matrimony.
King Oleb nods appreciatively as Byron, Jerry, Daneel and Steph agree to take up his quest.
"I don't know that you can, Mrs. Allison. But I am gambler at heart and I have only this one last hand to play. I am willing to gamble the finest ship in the Reach for the chance to make things what they once were. I trust you will do your utmost to make the plan succeed. After all, if you fail, you become mere pirates and that letter of marque will do nothing to save you from being spaced. Succeed, and it all becomes legal retroactively."
She looks relieved that she's already married to Phil, and out of the running for matrimony.
Ray grins. "Well, that is bold." She nods at the ship. "What's her name? When do we leave?"
King Oleb smiles. Two things he has always admired are boldness and active women. "Her name was V'Hurg, but you can name her anything you choose. In addition to her stealth, she has a fully holographic hull, so she can appear to be any ship of that general shape you choose. You may wish to give her more than one name."
"Lord Wrax awaits you on the Royal Docks, as does the ship. I'm afraid that Wrax does not share our vision and would prefer the harrier to become the flagship of our fleet. That is to say -his- flagship. Be kind to Lord Wrax. You will need his good graces sooner or later."
"If there are no further questions? You are dismissed. Go take command of your new vessel and may the gods ride with you."
"Handy." Ray replies. When the King's done speaking she gives him a nod, "Yes, sir." Ray then promptly turns and strides off. She couldn't wait to get back in her proper clothes, and onto her ship.
Alright, maybe the meeting had been worth having to deal with Mardan and the clothes.
Steph bows and turns to leave. She gives another long look at the glory royal hall as she’s on the way out.
That was not whaat I expected at all. I wonder what she looks like the ship that will change our fortunes?”
She starts to makes lists in her head of what she might need to do and buy before we leave on their first mission.
Write to Phil and let him know I’m not going home any time soon. Get better armor, and buy a sword. Talk to my new team and see where their skills lie. Meet Lord Waxx and be nice. At that thought she looks to Ray.
”Ray good to see you again. What brings you to this direction of space? I haven’t seen you since we were picking up our messages at the same time. That was quite a few years ago. That wasn’t a good trip for me. I got fired because I lost my ship.”
"Seriously? Brutal!" Ray replies. "Yeah, I fell on hard times, too. I went into surveying for a while, and found work on some exploratory ships. I really liked it. I was gettin' somewhere, ya' know? But, then s@$! hit the fan -- like it always does. We were shot down by pirates and I was the only survivor. I convinced them to let me live by the skin of my teeth! The last few years I've just been trying to make sure they didn't change their minds." She chuckles. "Anyway, I finally had a chance to escape so I took it, but I didn't get out unscathed. I've been laid up for weeks. Damned doctors aren't cheap here!"
As they walk she moves to stick her hands in her jacket pockets only to realize the goofy dress doesn't have any. She sighs. "I was just about to head out and find work on another surveying ship, so the timing's, like, perfect. What do they call it...? KISMET! Yeah, that's it. It's frickin' fate 'n junk."
As they reach the changing room Ray opens the door, kicks off her shoes and starts to pull the offending grey dress over her head while still in the doorway. Luckily, she's wearing a tank top and stretchy shorts underneath so she's not too indecent.
"So what about you?" she asks, apparently intent on continuing the conversation while she dresses. "You still a messenger? I heard you got married or something?"
Ray tosses the dress onto the floor and pulls on her cargo pants, then boots, while chatting.
"Oh yes I'm married. To a farmer named Phil. He's nice enough, but you know how family can be. The want me to go back and run a harvester. No thanks." she shudders slightly at the thought.
Steph pulls the door shut behind them as quickly as she can as Ray starts redressing. I ended up in the Merchant corp as a free trader. That wasn't so bad. Then things went bad and I got fired again. I was waiting for transport to head back to Asim when I got the note. It saved me. I'm happy to do what the King asks just to stay off my home planet for a while."
Ray groans aloud as she starts pulling on one of her shirts. "Ugh! A harvester? I'd rather go back to being a drifter! Of course, heading back to family to farm's better than scrounging for scraps on Drinax. The only thing I've got waiting for me back there is a bunch of dead family and a slow death from toxic poisoning." She shudders and starts zipping on a hoody. "I do NOT miss living my life in a vacc suit, that I promise you!"
As she finally pulls on her leather jacket, and pulls her hood out on top she asks, "So this PHIL. What's he like? Just nice? You guys got kids, or what? Or is it, like, long-distance sh**?"
Byron listens into the conversation to find out about his companions. When he ends up next to Daneel during the walk he nods and says, "It looks like we have found ourselves in another one of the Princess' ideas. This one could be a doozey though."
Daneel considers Byron's words, and the scene that just played out in the throne room. "Well, you'd know more about the Princess and her ideas than me. But you're right, even though the King was definitely enthusiastic, it did feel a bit like she might be pulling the strings."
He squirms and shrugs in his unfamiliar and awkward clothes. "I can't blame them for wanting to change out of this court nonsense, but I want to get a look at the ship before someone changes their mind about this plan. Should we wait for them?"
"We did spend a few years on a ship. That was nice. No children yet. That's another reason my mother wants me planetside. Hard to have kids when you aren't in the same place much." She hands a boot to Ray.
She looks up at Daneel's question. "Good to see you again Daneel. We'll be just another second then we can all go."
Daneel, Phil, and I were on the same Merchant ship for a few years."
"You seem awfully familiar with the Princess," states Jerry. "I did not know that you knew the Princess, Byron."
With years of training and experience, Jerry does not display any discomfort caused by the formal wear.
"We should wait. The King and Princess, while at times they are informal, may not look kindly on any presumption. And, more importantly, there are many others here in the Palace who are keenly aware of their place. What the King and Princess have proposed stands to shatter that rigid structure of privilege and rank. There is no point charging about and challenging the order of things before we have the actual influence to support it."
"I would advise waiting."
Ray finishes slipping on her boots, and grabs her backpack. Finally emerging fully dressed, Ray takes in her new shipmates. She points at Daneel. "Oh, hey. I know you. We met in Thao Poloc's offices or something once or twice. Right?"
She turns to Byron. "I don't know you." She sticks out her hand for a handshake. "I'm Ray. So you know the Princess? You banging her, or what?"
Then she turns to Jerry. "Waiting? Waiting on what, Jer?"
As Ray and Steph emerge from the changing room, words tumble from Daneel's mouth. "Hi Ray! Hi Steph! OK, no more waiting. Let's go!"
With that he heads out, leading the way to the Royal Docks.
"Alrighty then," Ray remarks, striding off after Daneel.
Byron blinks at the question Ray threw at him and says, "No, just on her flight detail when she traveled at times. Its good to hear that several of you have traveled space. Does anyone else have military experience to help with these raids?"
Jerry puts his palm to his forehead, shaking it slightly after Ray's words.
"Waiting for all of us to be ready, that is what, Ray. Think of it like a ... a ... ohhh ... nevermind what. It's just that we want to present a unified front to Lord Wrax.," states the former diplomat.
When he sees his companions leaving after Daneel's urging, Jerry hurries to catch up with them.
"And, if I might suggest, perhaps I could do the talking?"
You proceed across the huge space of the Floating Palace. Despite being called a palace it is in fact a medium-sized city, housing more than 40,000 people. Breathtaking works of art line long avenues filled with children playing ball while crowded plazas filled with bazaars are dwarfed by cyclopean statues of long-dead Sindalian nobility.
Looming ahead is the gleaming complex of the royal docks. Guards in starched white uniforms with gleaming gold braid protect one of the finest and best-provisioned ports in the sector. You're waved through at the checkpoint by a competent-looking woman in a lieutenant's uniform who directs you to a smallish hangar at one end of the docks.
There you pass through another checkpoint, this one guarded by the Hawk Guards, Drinaxi special forces armed to the teeth with laser carbines and portable scanners. Each of you is subjected to a DNA verification scan before being permitted to enter the hangar.
There, crouched inside like a sleek bird of prey is the last warship left to the Kingdom of Drinax. As much a work of art as anything on the Floating Palace, the harrier is made with incredible attention to aesthetic details and classic Sindalian design. She is, in short, beautiful.
Standing with his arms folded across his chest, in the full winged regalia of the Hawk Guards is Lord Wrax, a stern and powerfully-built man with the piercing eyes of the bird in whose image his uniform is made. He regards you with cold appraisal.
"You? The king has chosen a band of ragtag thieves and ne'er-do-wells to command the finest ship in the Reach? Perhaps we have indeed come to the end."
As they travel to the ship Steph answers Byron's question. "Me in the military?" she gives a short laugh. "Not me. I was going to be a doctor, but things didn't go that way. I ended up being a scout, and then a free trader. I can pilot a couple of different sizes of ship, and I have some skills that will help us talk our way into or out of situations."
She comes to a complete stop when she sees the ship for the first time. Letting out a low whistle she says under her breath "Hello beautiful. You're our chance at fame and fortune. You look up to the task."
Her spine stiffens when she hears Lord Wrax's comment. She gives the man in formal dress a quick glance. He did ask to do the talking after all. It's clear he has just a few seconds before she starts to educate the angry Hawk Guard about what thieves and ne'er-do-wells do to uppity Lords with no reason to stop them from getting on their ship.
"You're telling me," Ray mutters in response to Steph's whistle at the sight of the ship. A moment later she spots the strapping guard and lets out a whistle of her own. "Id' let either one take me for a ride."
A they approach, Ray determines the guard was attractive until the moment he opened his mouth. No matter. She could always gag him.
"He has, indeed!" she replies with a saucy grin. "You wouldn't be insulting the decision of the King, would you? Cause I think he made a fine choice." Ray continues to smile at Lord Wrax and gives him an appreciative gander.
Jeremiah keeps up with the group as they walk through the ... to him ... familiar avenues of the Floating Palace. He hadn't spent much time in the docks area and, certainly, no time in the naval sections. The sight of the ship offered to he and his companions stirs complex emotions in Jerry. He is not, has never been, fascinated with starships - they were simply a means of getting from one place to another. But this is clearly an example of the past glories of the Sindal Empire.
Lord Wrax's attitude is exactly as the King had warned.
"The end of the decline, is what it is. The King's plan, which We understand that the King has shared with you, is to set Drinax and the Sindal Empire back on the path to glory."
"King Oleb has chosen versimilitude to accomplish this plan. My companions do not have to play the roles required by the King for his plan. And I, admittedly, have been a disappointment to my family. This type of venture maybe what restores my status and the wealth of my family."
"We understand the value of this ship. And my companions do not want to linger. Do you, Ray and Stephanie?"
Want to give me a hard Persuade+SOC check, Jerry?