Vetch puts away his gun, quickly stowing it in his mouth, next to the grenade (swift action). He keeps calm on the ground, keeping his hands up.
As he was already prone, he lays calmly until instructed otherwise.
Abe does the same - he calmly puts his weapon away and lies on the ground, hands outstretched. Further, he lands Messalina next to him and has her keep still.
He waits to see what the security is like around here. Might be spending my first day on Absalom Station filling out forms and answering questions.
Having never drawn a weapon, the android tourist tries to pass himself off as innocent.
"About time you guys got here." He says, hopping out of the baggage cart and wiping his hands. "F@&$ing gangs decided today was open season in hangar bay 94."
Kcectic puts his weapons down and lies prone as he's told.
Wwhen he senses the guards near by he broadcasts his telepathy to everyone in range, projecting a sense of calm and comfort along with his words.
We were caught in the middle of a conflict, the individuals here were just acting in self defense. There is a dwarf that may need medical attention, he is a Starfinder that I have come here to meet. We request that we are not treated as criminals, those aggressors that did not fall in battle have fled.
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Emergency medical services follow a few minutes later to assist the injured as several surround Kreel and a couple of the more seriously burned gang members.
The survivors are all rounded up into a holding detention area as the docking bay is quarantined for several hours to conduct a proper investigation. For several hours the security personnel question witness, including yourselves as they punch statements into their personal computers.
Leaving you locked in guarded sector the sergeant finally returns wiping his brow.
"Damned place gives me a headache sometimes." He looks to each of you and sighs. "I can't keep you hear. Most of the witnesses seem to corroborate your story and that you didn't start this. Not that it means much around here but legally I can't hold you. You are free to go as you wish. This looks to have been between the Downside Kings and the Level 21 Crew. You folks just happened to get caught up in the middle."
As you stand to leave he holds his arm across the doorway and looks to Kcectic. "One more thing. Sorry, but your friend didn't make it. Took a fraking laser blast right to his neck. Nothing anyone could have done I'm afraid." The Sergeant digs around in a sealed bag. "This was all he had on him. Normally it would be kept as evidence but there truthfully wasn't much on it." He hands Kreel's personal computer over to Kcectic.
"Would you like to make arrangements for the body?" The sergeant asks as Kcectic stares down at the computer.
Vetch looks at the Shirren then at the sergeant, then back at the Shirren.
"You knew Kreel as well? How did you know him? What were you meeting him for?" Vetch asks Kcectic. "I was supposed to meet him for work. He was going to introduce me to the Starfinders."
Vetch roils the items in his mouth pouch as he prepares to leave.
"We should...uhm...take the body to the Pharasmans? There should be a temple here on Absalom?"
He grabs his club and is ready to take the body away, but is also interested in what information is on the personal computer.
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"Thank you sergeant. I, uh, we, appreciate your thoroughness."
He looks to Vetch, He was here to meet him too huh. Interesting.
He turns back to the sergeant. "We'll take care of the body. Can you tell us where the Starfinders are located? They may wish him back, and if not we can find the Pharasmans as, uh, he, uh, suggests."
He squares off with Kcectic, "I know something of those things if you'd like me to take a look. Might be able to login and see if he left any notes or other information for us or the Starfinders."
When they get back on the streets, he'll make sure to reload the drone before again releasing it into the air to follow along behind and above him.
Kcectic sends a feeling of thanks and warm regards to the officers when they hand him Kreels computer. When the Ysoki questions him, the Shirren turns his impassive eyes toward Vetch and responds openly, letting everyone nearby hear the conversation.
I was also to be introduced to the Starfinders, Kreel offered to help me get a position flying their ships throughout the Pact World's and beyond, but I did not know him. Perhaps we should inform the Starfinder Society, they may know how he wishes his body handled.
He clicks in thought before handing the computer to Abe.
[b]If it doesn't fly or speak, I am not very good with it. You may use this.
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As the Sergeant leaves he waves his hand as if common knowledge. "Those Starfinders usually hang out in the Lorespire Complex. You should be able to find it on one of the public terminals." He waves his hand to a series of terminals against the wall, just outside of the dock.
Abe flips the computer over and pushes the power button. the computer flares to life with a folder already open. In fact it is the only folder on the tablet.
Each page contains a profile with a picture and description of each of you:
Name: Aerav Brack Elijea
Species: Human (Black beard, bald; travels with several pieces of tech and drone)
Name: Dash Arcbright
Species: Android (Pale with red hair, easily identifiable by foul mouth)
Name: Vetch No-Toes
Species: Ysoki (Gray-furred; walks with a limp)
Name: Soryn Varuca
Species: Lashunta (Obvious spacefarer wearing leather coat)
Name: Kcectic
Species: Shirren (Brown shade of flesh, chirps when speaks telepathically)
The last page just seems to contain one additional name with a lone address.
Chiskisk; 2245 Varisia street, Rings sector, Absalom Station
Know (culture)
"Chiskisk?" Vetch chitters, thinking. "I believe I researched him before I came. He is a high ranking Starfinder here. Might be that he lives in the Longspire Complex with the rest of the Starfinders. Let us bring the body there."
Vetch seems anxious and ready to travel now the Longspire Complex, wanting to see more of Absalom Station. He looks over his companions.
"Aerav? Dash? Soryn? Kcectic? As I'm sure you've surmised, I am Vetch. I had hoped to gain entry to the Starfinders and worry that Kreel's death might have put that in jeopardy," Vetch shakes his head. "I hope Chiskisk might be able to fill in for Kreel."
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"Yep, sounds like that's the place to go. By the way, I am Soryn, and according to this, obviously a spacefarer. Well, that part is true. Looks like we were all meant to meet, so let's work together to find this place and deliver Mr. Kreel here. What do you say?"
Soryn repeats the message telepathically to Kcectic.
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At first the android does his best to convince Security that "He doesn't even know these a$$holes." When the seargant passes back Kreel's computer, he leans in to take a look. Noting his own name, he cusses.
"...easily identifiable by his foul... sonofab!tch. A colorful vocabulary is a sign of creativity and intelligence."
Looking at the other names he quickly realizes that he is one of these a$$holes. Resigning himself to his fate, he mentally sizes them up. He can understand Abe and his tech, but Kcectic and Soryn make him uncomfortable - telepaths cant be trusted. Vetch is a mystery, and he wonders what the Starfinders would want with a geriatric rat.
Huh. Mystery solved. Age breeds wisdom.
Dash agrees with Vetch. "Yeah. Kreel mentioned Chiskisk before, and he should be at the Complex. I'm sure someone in humanoid resources can direct us to him."
As the group readies to cart Kreel's body off to the Complex, he remarks offhand, "Good news is, there's at least one job opening available."
It would seem that the Lorespire Complex is where we need to go then. Maybe Chiskisk will know what to do about Kreel. The Shirren broadcasts to everyone with a sense of finality and a bit of irritation.
Remembering that most humanoids use body language as a social cue, Kcectic turns his head toward the officers, Can we leave Kreels body with you. If the Starfinders want it, they are likely to send those that are in charge of such things. If they do not, I will return and assist in moving his body somewhere more appropriate. I have not been to Absalom Station since my parents carried me in a cradle-jar, can you point us in the right direction?
Abe nods as he reads out the computers information. "Not much on this thing really. Oh, and I usually go by Abe - it's a little easier on the tongue than Aerav Black Elijea. Pleasure to meet you all."
"It seems, for now anyway, we have a joint purpose. Let us see what we can do for the deceased, and our futures."
When Kcectic suggests leaving the body behind for now, he agrees. "Yes, it might be better to break the news to the Starfinders without the grisly reminder of the dead in our arms. And we have no proper conveyance for the body. Throwing him over one of our shoulders just seems rude."
And with all my gear, I'd be a poor carrier anyway - dragging the poor man through the passages.
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Deciding it was not a good idea to drag a dead body through the streets the group leaves it with the Absalom Security Forces for the Starfinders to collect.
The sergeant points you in the direction of the Lorespire Complex and it seems pretty straight forward as it is located in Absalom Station’s Ring sector. It is a campus with multiple buildings and rooms, though its eponymous spire is what people most associate with the Starfinder Society’s headquarters.
Upon your arrival you are greeted by a receptionist. A young human woman with bright purple hair sits behind a desk. "Welcome to the Starfinder Society. What business might I assist you with?" She asks in a calm and pleasing voice.
On the way to the Starfinder Society, Vetch will remove (and presumably dry) the azimuth pistol from his mouth pouch and put it within easy reach of his belt. He wasn't sure who killed the goon, but the prize was his now.
* * *
Vetch smiles at the woman.
"Yes. My friends and I are here to see Chiskisk. And we bring some bad news about Kreel, I'm afraid."
Vetch smiles, his left cheek showing a small bulge where a grenade may or may not lay within.
Abe stands tall and easy next to the short Vetch and nods in agreement with his statement. He wonders if the woman will take them to Chiskisk, or if there's to be some bureaucracy first.
So far his trip hasn't exactly gone as planned, but all things considered it's moving along well enough. He hopes he can get some time to rest and work the kinks out of his shoulder - still smarting from the combat.
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The receptionist points you towards a small waiting room and politely asks you to wait as she returns to her desk and calls upstairs.
The wait takes several minutes but their are racks of magazines that contain all manner of history of Absalom Station and pamphlets.
Absalom Station is the metaphorical center of the Pact Worlds—the hub around which all things revolve. It was here that the Pact Worlds as a formal entity were created, via the eponymous Absalom Pact, and it remains the system’s heart governmentally, culturally, and economically. All sentient species, from the familiar to the most alien, are welcome in its streets, with the mysterious artifact at its heart acting as a singularly powerful hyperspace beacon, Absalom Station finds its significance only growing as the races of the Pact Worlds spread out across the galaxy.
Due to the Gap, no one knows who built Absalom Station or why—whether it was created as a run-of-the-mill space platform, a lifeboat during some frantic exodus from doomed Golarion, or something else entirely. Its thoroughly mechanical nature and walls of ceramic, metal, and plastic lead most scholars to assume it was built by ordinary mortals, while its population of historically Golarionbased species, as well as its position in the precise orbit vacated by Golarion, suggests that Golarion natives were responsible for the vast undertaking. What’s more, records show that when the Gap ended and station residents found themselves unsure about their pasts, the station seemed lived in and worn, implying that they’d already been there for quite some time. Even today, the mysteries surrounding the station’s origin and its ties to Golarion’s disappearance make it a natural draw for Gap researchers, who constantly strive to infer bits of objective truth from the shifting morass of the station’s past.
After the Gap, Absalom Station’s inhabitants found themselves even more adrift than most cultures, with no home world and no trustworthy records of their social ties and governance. Anarchy reigned; gangs based on racial or religious identities looted and fought in the streets, and systems broke down as people abandoned their posts. Only when a runaway malfunction nearly resulted in the venting of the entire station’s atmosphere did people recognize their precarious position and begin to pull together, with the heads of the various gangs forming the first Syndicsguild and electing the first Prime Executive, Loqua Tem.
With the advent of Drift travel, the residents of Absalom
Station were surprised to find it transformed from a backwater
raft of “homeless” races—most notably humanity—to the most
prosperous and powerful port in the Pact Worlds. Early
post-Gap engineers attempting to understand the station’s
workings had known for several years that the station’s
power core was no mere reactor but rather a powerful magical
artifact called the Starstone, believed to be the same object
that had lain at the heart of the station’s namesake city on
Golarion and through whose magic Iomedae and other deities
had risen to godhood. Locked away behind unbreachable
defenses, it had always provided enough free energy to power
the entire station, yet it came to reveal a new function: no
matter where in the galaxy a ship started from, the Starstone
made Drift travel to the space around Absalom Station as
quick and safe as hopping between planets in a single system.
Now, no matter how far explorers may roam, Absalom Station
is always right next door.
The next decades were marked by harsh growing pains as
Absalom Station struggled to retain its independence. Various
other governments attempted to claim the station, most
notably the Bone Sages of Eox, who launched the Magefire
Assault in 7 ag only to be rebuffed by the station’s formidable
defensive batteries. Since then, having dedicated itself to
neutrality and equitable trade, Absalom Station became
the natural headquarters for newly formed interplanetary
organizations and eventually the seat of government for the
Pact Worlds, forever giving all other planets in the system a
stake in defending its independence.
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 neighborhood representatives called syndics who
do much of the real work of running the station and who,
while bound by the Primex’s decrees, also have the ability to
remove their leader from power at any time and call for a new
election. Partitioning the station’s different neighborhoods
into dozens of electoral districts over the years—many times
in ways that favor one faction over others—means that, while
most syndics are democratically elected, some corporate or
criminal enclaves are dynasties in all but name.
The current Prime Executive, Kumara Melacruz (LG female
human envoy), is only halfway through her first term, but
she’s already garnered controversy for her crackdown on
white-collar crime and her progressive stance on non-human
immigration to the station. She’s survived one assassination
attempt so far, and allegations are still flying as to
whether the culprits were corporations fearing her
policies, the Six Tip Gang angry over the arrest of its
leader, or the nativist Strong Absalom movement.
In addition to its own 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 denizens of
Absalom Station live and work in relative safety—at least in
the nicer neighborhoods.
Absalomians take deep pride in their political
independence, but it comes at the price of fear. While some
see the expansion of Pact Council power as the primary
threat and others worry about corporate or military
takeovers by other worlds, all realize how valuable their
station is—and what a precarious situation that puts them
in. Fortunately, whoever built the station seems to have
had defense in mind. In times of conflict, a tremendous
blast shield closes over the station’s central dome, and huge
superlaser and mass driver batteries open all across the
station’s surface, filling the void with a web of death while
the station’s immense repositioning thrusters nudge it out of
the way of danger. Though the station itself has relatively
few military vessels—just enough for security to deal with problems in the Armada—this is a deliberate choice, as both
the Steward fleet and the Armada are required to defend the
station in times of trouble.
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 Starstone provides for the station in two key ways. By
offering free energy on a massive scale, the artifact-powered central reactor allows the station to undertake many energyintensive
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
hardscrabble 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.
as the hereditary home of all Golarion’s races, particularly of
humanity, today its corridors are choked with natives of other
planets, and its status as the primary waypoint in and out of
the Pact Worlds means even the rarest spacefaring species
can sometimes be found in its docks.
For all the station’s multiculturalism, however, humans
are by far the most numerous. In the wake of the Gap,
while elves retreated to Castrovel and dwarves constructed
their massive Star Citadels, humanity clung to the station
as a key piece of its cultural identity, finding comfort in its
tangible—if mysterious—sense of history and continuity. Even
today, many humans look to the station’s extensive records
of pre-Gap Golarion, seeking a source of pride and a sense
of significance, adopting the names of bygone ethnic groups
whose DNA they don’t necessarily share, practicing ancient
religions, or attempting to revive archaic organizations from
scraps of information. Such traditionalists are often at odds
with those called Second Age philosophers, who believe the
Gap gave human culture a chance to start afresh and build
a utopia. Of course, the majority of humans are far more
concerned with their own families and livelihoods than
metaphysical questions about culture. Still, humans being
what they are, most of those on Absalom Station view the
station as inherently theirs, with vague exceptions made for
other races once native to Golarion,and treat all others as
encroaching immigrants or foreign nationals. This naturally
raises some hackles with the other common species on
the station, many of which have been residents for just as
long (as far as anyone can tell). Of late, one of the biggest
conflicts on the station has been the rise of the Strong
Absalom movement, a group that believes the Starstone
belongs only to the refugee races of Golarion and that aliens should be either forbidden from using it as a waypoint or
else taxed exorbitantly. This is further complicated by the
group’s tendency toward humanocentrism. While the political
arm of the Strong Absalom movement officially decries the
xenophobic terrorism of its fringe elements, its growing
strength poses a grave threat to a government built on
interplanetary cooperation.
Even more than race, economic class divides Absalom
Station’s citizens. Taxes on trade keep even the poorest on
the station fed—if only with unappetizing nutrient paste and
protein bricks—yet the people living in the posh corporate
towers of the Eye have little in common with the impoverished
wretches of the Spike. Money both democratizes and oppresses
station residents: those who manage to build a fortune, legally
or otherwise, tend to find the upper classes welcoming them
with open arms, yet true wealth tends to remain concentrated
in the hands of the elites who make the rules. Fortunately,
the generally egalitarian government, organizations such as
the Starfinder Society and Stewards, and the constant flow of
merchants and mercenaries through the station offer even the
lowliest Botscrap street rat a chance at social advancement.
On the other hand, religion helps unify the station’s
disparate peoples and hold its political apparatus together.
Several major churches—most notably those of Abadar and
Iomedae—have their headquarters here, but shrines and
temples of countless gods can be found throughout the
station, and most congregations are decidedly diverse. Nearly
as influential are the various powerful gangs and families
who look out for their members, from the rough-and-tumble
Threepiece Girls of Sparks, with their infamous custom
drones, to the Fleurasik family of Kemanis, which knows
every politician’s secrets.
asymmetrical, six-pointed star spreading out in a flat plane
from the Eye, the huge central dome that encloses a cluster
of skyscrapers surrounded by shockingly green parks. More
towers and neighborhoods, 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 5
miles across, yet its three-dimensional structure means it can
house upward of 2 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 common, 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 neighborhoods from getting
decompressed by a single gunfight.
The following sections present an overview of the station’s
four main regions, or sectors, plus the orbiting Armada outside
the station, as well as details of some key neighborhoods
and notable sites. Note that these descriptions are far from
comprehensive; each sector of the station contains a multitude
of neighborhoods, each with its own unique character, and it’s
easy for a traveler to stumble from one district into another—
one with entirely different inhabitants and social codes—just
by crossing a street.
Visitors to Absalom Station disembark along one of the
station’s protruding Arms, which house dozens of different
docks and bays ranging from force-walled, atmosphere-filled
hangars you can fly your ship into to more conventional
airless bays or, if your ship is larger, docking tubes and
mooring clamps. Docks are assigned by Absalom Traffic
Control, yet this is more than just a question of space, as
different docks all have different characteristics. A ship full
of gilled kalo, for instance, would likely prefer to dock near
the flooded chambers of the Puddles, while most well-off
merchant captains would rather fly into the sun than pay
Little Akiton’s unofficial “docking fees” or watch their cargo
walk away on its notoriously crime-ridden docks.
The Arms consist of more than just docks, however. Like
those in spaceports anywhere, the corridors leading to the
station’s center are lined with everything a spacer coming
stationside might need, from lodging and entertainment to
bustling markets and shops. Many traders coming to the
station never bother to leave the Arms, and the residential
areas that have sprung up to support these services are also
the most likely to contain facilities or whole neighborhoods
for creatures that find the station’s humanocentric living
conditions unpleasant. Government-run quarantine centers
left over from the Stardust Plague still operate here, now used
by customs agents to screen travelers of unfamiliar species.
NEIGHBORHOODS
Fogtown: This neighborhood takes its name from its thick,
multicolored atmosphere tailored to natives of the gas giant
worlds Bretheda and Liavara. Nevertheless, other species visit
frequently, making use of communal breathing masks in the
airlocks in order to interact with representatives from the
various Brethedan biotech companies or negotiate for gasmining
or research rights on Liavara.
Puddles: Catering to water-breathing creatures, this
neighborhood is a mazelike system of tanks and flooded
hallways, with glass-walled tubes running throughout to
accommodate air-breathing guests. Despite the inconvenience,
many “huffers” (as Puddles residents sometimes derogatorily
refer to air breathers) find that Puddles restaurants provide
an exotic but delicious dining experience. Local company
Qualdeep Ltd. makes some of the best environmental suits
around, as well as weapons augmented for aquatic use.
Vesk Quarter: While most ethnic enclaves on Absalom
Station are simply the result of like attracting like, this one
was deliberately established in the first days following the
end of the war with the Veskarium in an attempt to reduce
violence and tension on both sides. Today, vesk can be found
throughout Absalom Station, living and working like any
other race, yet they still retain their highest concentration in
the drab, barracks-like buildings of the Vesk Quarter.
Absalom Station’s massive transparent central dome, filled
with air and bathed in the light of the sun, is at the same
time a civic center and the station’s most exclusive sector. The
lush trees and fields of Jatembe Park are open to all citizens
and constantly full of young lovers and artists enjoying their
splendor under the watchful eyes of the druidic caretakers.
At the same time, government buildings rub shoulders with
the most expensive residences and corporate offices in the
city—the sorts of places where heavily armed guards in formal
armor check identification constantly and the lines between
public and private security blur.
NEIGHBORHOODS
Kemanis: Stretching from Kemanis University—the station’s
largest institute of higher education—to the Arcanamirium,
Kemanis combines the enthusiastic energy of students with
the money of the city’s elite to create the station’s most
prominent entertainment district. High-end theaters, VR
parlors, nightclubs, and hotels light the night with neon and
even more elaborate magical advertisements. While station
security keeps a tight rein on the district, a secretive group
of individuals wearing white masks with a spiderweb pattern
over one eye have been spotted skulking around lately,
turning up in places they shouldn’t have access to. The goals
of this so-called Shattereye Circle remain unknown, but whether it’s performance art or something more sinister, no
one has managed to determine.
Nyori Palisades: Only the richest Absalomians, from virtual
reality stars and celebrity inventors to colony financiers and
starship magnates, reside in Nyori Palisades. The neighborhood
takes its name from the stark, windowless facades of its
massive bunker-like residences. Inside, each of these mansions
is a unique marvel of artistry, with self-contained ecosystems,
scrying windows offering real-time feeds of whatever
landscapes the residents desire, and teleportation doors
opening onto secret locations across the station or on other
worlds. While some tenants decorate the outsides of their
palisades to advertise themselves, most prefer anonymity,
and property ownership is highly classified. Of late, law
enforcement has begun to suspect Palisader involvement in
a series of gruesome murders, but they have been unable to
officially continue the investigation due to bureaucracy.
Parkside: As the name suggests, this neighborhood
runs along the edge of Jatembe Park. In addition to the
Plenara, home to the Pact Council, Parkside contains other
government buildings such as the headquarters of the
Surveying and Colonization Bureau, where explorers can
make property claims on newly discovered worlds (as well
as take jobs scouting and verifying proposed claims); public
amenities like the Cornucopia Building, where the station’s
poor can receive free food and medical attention; and some
of the priciest commercial real estate in the city.
Made up of corridors and spires
between the protruding docks of
the Arms and the cosmopolitan Eye, the Ring is the most residential, middle-class section of
Absalom Station, yet it also contains campuses for corporations
and other organizations that don’t need the traffic of the Arms
or the prestige of the Eye.
NEIGHBORHOODS
Congregation: While churches and shrines to various gods
can be found throughout the station, this vertical, wedgeshaped
district is an easy go-to for faithful fresh off the docks,
containing temples to most of the Pact Worlds’ major deities
and many of its smaller ones. Smaller shrines are funded in
part by the district’s linchpin: the Gathering of Vessels, a
legendary academy and research center for mystics of all
sorts, where both the pious and the agnostic can
work together to master the strange forces
they channel.
Drifter’s End: Surrounding the Lorespire
Complex, this district earns its name
by catering to alien ambassadors from
newly discovered worlds, explorers,
long-haul cargo crews, and spacefaring
vagabonds of all sorts. Housing is cheap and
temporary, bars are noisy and full of stories,
and patrons looking to hire experienced
scouts and first-contact specialists clog
notorious “Drifter” hangouts such as
the Hard Burn, Kristoff’s, and the Last
Good Run.
Freemarkets: AbadarCorp has
a responsibility to make money for
its shareholders, yet it also has a holy
duty to foster competition and create robust
markets. One of the ways it squares this
circle on Absalom Station is by sponsoring
the Freemarkets, a riotous bazaar of
entrepreneurs selling wares out of
cooperative storefronts, temporary stalls,
and vehicles. While station security and
AbadarCorp’s priests attempt to police
the area and make sure business stays
relatively legal, the Freemarkets are a great
place to buy and sell nearly anything, from
used adventuring gear and alien artifacts
to custom code, magic items, and
refurbished robots.
Olensa: Though this small
neighborhood has always had a
high concentration of humans, in
recent years, disgruntled human
supremacists have succeeded
in forcing out nearly all nonhuman
residents and merchants
through a calculated campaign
of social and economic pressure. In addition to creating a racial enclave, this
concentrated population grants Strong Absalom an official
voice in station government through its election of the group’s
public face, a young firebrand named Silek Odegard (NE male
human envoy), as the neighborhood syndic.
The hundreds of levels extending below Absalom Station’s
radial plane—often collectively referred to as “Downside”—are
simultaneously its most crucial and least appreciated. Here,
sandwiched between other heavy industry in the station’s
gritty underbelly, the vast machines in charge of the station’s
life support and defenses chug away, some only partially
understood by the engineers who maintain them. The poorest
classes of Absalom Station’s citizenry live here, gradually
trickling down and away from the light and wealth of the upper
levels to build slums in former access corridors or venture into
the half-explored Ghost Levels, discovered abandoned at the end
of the Gap. Monsters of all sorts hunt in the depths of the Spike,
from simple criminals to bizarre creatures with no apparent
reason to be on the station at all, creating whole ecosystems
in the gloom. Politicians occasionally champion purging and
resettling everything below the lowest official neighborhoods,
but they are inevitably dissuaded by scholars and experts in
both science and magic who posit that the Ghost Levels and
their bizarre ecosystems may contain keys to the station’s
function or destiny—not to mention mysterious treasures that
expeditions into the unmapped levels occasionally bring back.
NEIGHBORHOODS
Botscrap: Nothing is wasted on a space station, even one
as big as Absalom Station. While recyclers and biovats take
care of breaking simple waste down into its components,
more complex items and robotics often end up in the private
junkyards of Botscrap, hauled there by the ysoki-dominated
Salvage Union. Just about any spare part—including some
suspiciously functional and restricted military “scrap”—can
be found in the Botscrap yards, but the area is constantly
plagued by gangs of goblin squatters inhabiting cramped
warrens dug into Botscrap’s mountains of accumulated trash.
Conduit (Pipetown): Few locals use Conduit’s official name,
instead preferring the vernacular name of Pipetown, and
many proudly bear the kinked-pipe tattoos that proclaim
them natives of this district. Even engineers armed with
the best schematics struggle to find their way through the
dense, seemingly endless forest of pipes that sometimes
create a three-dimensional labyrinth with settlements in their
clearings. As such, locals often act as guides, hunting not just
for breakages that spill precious water and other resources
but also for creatures such as power-sucking garmels,
ferocious water tigers, and sewage-drinking colemars that
feed on the pipes—and on the local inhabitants.
Downlow: Offering affordable housing and retail space,
Downlow is the largest and safest of the Spike districts, as well
as one of the most cosmopolitan. Complex maraquoi family
units live above shirren-run option bars along the crowded
corridors, while kasathan youth and ryphorian battleflowers
dare each other to visit dangerous Kuthite sensation houses.
Like poor but trendy neighborhoods everywhere, Downlow
is disparaged by wealthy residents of the Eye even as they
succumb to its allure. While law enforcement can be scarce
except during raids, the powerful Lowrigger gang keeps the
neighborhood relatively safe.
Sparks: The engineering bays of Sparks range from
cramped, one-person custom-tech shops to titanic dry docks
for starship manufacturing and repair. Despite the massive
wealth passing through the corridors of Sparks, most
residents remain poor laborers and middle-class specialists,
with the majority of profits flowing “upstairs” to the corporate
towers. Primary corridors are kept safe by both public and
private security, while access corridors and workshops off the
beaten path are often plagued by vexgits and other gremlins,
mephits and lightning elementals attracted to (or summoned
by) large electrical discharges, and disgruntled street gangs
who prey upon wealthy visitors.
After numerous minutes, and dozens of pamphlets later, of waiting a functionary arrives to lead you to a cluttered but clean office deep in the complex. Waiting in the room is Chiskisk (Link), a Shirren, a member of the Starfinder Society’s elected leadership council, the Forum. Chiskisk is neither male nor female, but host, the third shirren sex, and as such is referred to with the pronouns “they,” “them,” and “themself.” Seated behind a polished and unadorned plastic desk, Chiskisk wears understated business clothes and is nervously flexing their antennae from side to side—a shirren expression of perplexity.
Speaking to you all telepathically Chiskisk's voice echoes among your minds. "Welcome. Would you care fore some refreshments. Filtered water and process protein wafers perhaps?" Their antennae twitch out of curiosity. "I thought I sent Kreel to escort you to the Lorespire. Did he fail in this?"
Vetch backs up Soryn's words.
"He died before he knew what hit him. An errant laser blast to the neck. I ran to him. I was hit myself...but I could not reach him in time. We were caught between two gangs...I'm...I'm sorry, Chiskisk. He didn't stand a chance."
Vetch wrings his hands and looks at the ground, unhappy to have to deliver such news.
Kcectic projects a sense of sorrow and understanding toward Chiskisk and moves his antennae in a comforting motion while his main hands still clutch a few pamphlets from the waiting room.
"But, in his last mission, he has succeeded. We are here at the Lorespire, both to inquire about our own futures and to discuss what must be done with his remains."
Dash lounges on a side couch, flipping through a pamphlet on The Eye and tapping his foot softly as the others break the bad news to Chiskisk. It may appear to some like the nervous things uncomfortable people do at a wake, but in his head Dash is keeping the beat and passing the time while the others go through the grieving process. His participation would only lengthen the ordeal, and he had learned long ago that his pats on the back and "there, there's" just made sh!t worse.
It wasn't that Dash was unaffected by death and loss. Friends, lovers, goldfish. He'd lost more then he could easily count. And he could count pretty easily. It's just that, when you've lived as long as he has, you get used to it.
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Chiskisk's antennas droop low at hearing of the news of Kreel's death. “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 realize that is likely small comfort to you. I am pleased that none of you were seriously hurt, but I grieve for Duravor’s death. He was a valued member of the Society, and a friend. May the Lady of Graves be kind in her judgment of his soul.” The shirren bows their head momentarily, then looks up, their compound eyes glittering.
“What puzzles me is the reason behind the attack.” Chiskisk taps a few commands into their computer. “According to the incident report just released by station security, two gangs were involved in the attack: the Downside Kings and the Level 21 Crew. Gang wars are not uncommon on the station, but they usually confine themselves to the more lawless sectors like the Puddles. It is rare for street gangs to battle openly in public areas like the docks. I cannot help but wonder whether all is as it seems. There must be a reason why those two gangs were at Docking Bay 94 at that time—the time of your arrival, coincidentally. But was it coincidence? Were you and Duravor just innocent bystanders caught in the crossfire, or might you and he have been specifically targeted? And if so, why?
“My understanding is that you are interested in becoming Starfinders, and since you were witnesses to the attack, I would like to ask you to investigate the incident on behalf of the Society. Find out exactly what happened and why. It may simply be a matter of being in the wrong place at the wrong time—I have no doubt station security will rule it so—but if Duravor was murdered, I would like to find justice for my friend. At the same time, this will give you the opportunity to demonstrate your own skills and abilities and show the Society that you are worthy of the title ‘Starfinder.’ Good luck.”
Abe shrugs somewhat unhappily, but he keeps his face stoic. So not bureaucracy, but rather research into gangs. Not what I signed up for, but I suppose I'm to go where they send me...
"I'll help as well, though like Soryn here, I'm somewhat lost as to where to start."
He thinks a moment, "I suppose we can go back to the law, and see what we can obtain from them. They might not believe it's an intentional slaying, but their investigation may have a few leads for us."
He thinks about what resources he may bring to bear, and remembers. "Oh, here. This was the deceased's computer. Would you see it is returned to his kin?" he hands over the tablet.
Vetch nods along, his grey whiskers tremoring with excitement. And he has questions as well. He places hands and cane on the desk to draw Chiskisk's attention. He would stand on his tippy-toes...but no, that's not something he can do well.
"I am new to the station, but I *have* just read a bunch of pamphlets about Absalom Station...and was wondering where you think we might start? Should we examine Kreel's quarters to see if there anything there that hints that this was something other than a random attack? Or where might we find contacts that might have information about the Downsized Kings or Level 2-to-1 crews?" Vetch asks, trying to take in all this information all at once.
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Not going to use my resolve point yet, since I am only 2 stamina down (right?)
Chiskisk takes the computer from Abe as he hears the voice in his head once more. "I will see it returned to his family." Reaching out it's hand Chiskisk asks for each of your credsticks. "I will send you over each 200 credits as a sign on bonus" They say as they insert the credsticks one at a time into the port and transfer the credits over to your accounts. "You should get settled into the station before starting the investigation. a small hotel called the Moons of Sleep. Located just a short walk from the parks and towers of the Eye, the hotel is centrally located, and has both efficiencies and suites available. Furthermore, the Moons offers discounted lodging to Starfinders who book rooms for at least a week’s stay: 16 credits per week for an efficiency, or 50 credits per week for a small, two-bed suite."
Returning each of your Credsticks Chiskisk has little more to offer.
"Absalom Station’s street gangs are not my specialty, and their suspicion regarding Kreel’s death is just that. It is up to you to find any proof. Your hotel should have a public terminal to research what you need on Absalom's Infosphere. That is where I would start."
"Thank you Chiskisk." Kcectic bows his head toward them, anntenae displaying gratitude, as they hand him his credstick back.
He begins chittering excitedly as he considers which accommodations he'll choose to rent for the while. Though he calms himself a little until they leave Chiskisk's office.
"Should we rent our rooms first? Or look into the motives the gang members acted on? Or talk to the officers that recovered the bodies of the dead gang members maybe they have some clues?"
His anntenae seem to take a life of their own as he considers all their options and his hands rub themselves excitedly.
Vetch cleans his cheeks as he ponders a response to Kcectic's mental outburst.
"I almost think we should return to the unloading bay and see if there is anything there that might have been of value. What where they fighting over? It's a very random place for an attack...and I didn't have a good look round before the fighting started and after the guards arrived," Vetch offers, but is happy to get the rooms first.
He will begin limping towards the hotel as they discuss plans as Chiskisk doesn't seem to have other information to offer.
Resolve: 3/4 Stamina: 7/7 HP: 10/10
Weapon Equipped = None
Conditions = None
Psychokinetic Hand = 2/3
Ranged: Attack: BAB +0, Dex +2 Damage: +0 Battery: 17/20
Melee/Thrown: Attack: BAB +0, Str +0 Damage: +0
Messalina (5’ up)
EAC: 14 KAC: 14 CM: 22
HP: 10/10
Weapon Equipped = semi-automatic pistol
Conditions = None
Ranged: Attack: BAB +1, Dex +3, Weapon Focus +1 Damage: +0 Rounds: 9/9
Melee/Thrown: Attack: BAB +1, Str -2 Damage: +0
”Yes, thank you for the advance and your trust. We’ll find out what we can and report back to you.” He takes the wealth and considers what to spend it on. For now he decides to hang onto it.
When the group gets back out into the streets he suggests, ”To save money, I’d gladly bunk with one or more of you. I don’t know how many we can fit into an efficiency or a two room suite, but I’d rather spend my money on things other than lodging and I don’t take up much space.” he glances at his drone, Messalina, ”Well, not too much space anyway.” he smiles.
”When we have that sorted out I agree with Vetch here. The Infosphere will still have its information in a few hours, but there might be something valuable still in the loading bay. Some inkling as to what’s going on. Could be they’ve finished their work there and there’s nothing to find, but it won’t hurt to stretch our legs a little I think.”
”Then we’ll search the ‘sphere for the names of the two gangs, Kreel, the police report, anything we can lay our hands on. Maybe that’ll lead to some clues.”
Vetch is happy to share a room...and he doesn't take up much space.
* * *
"Good, Aerav...I mean, 'Abe', let us go directly to the unloading bay, then to the hotel," Vetch confirms that his idea is the best one. He begins to limp his way back to where the fight happened.
When he gets there, he will begin a slow, thorough search of the area.
"Thank you." Dash says, taking back his credit chip from Chiskisk.
A signing bonus buys a smile that seems almost genuine, but 200 credits isn't enough for a permanent upgrade. He doesn't want to share a room, but if the Starfinders starting pay is low he may have to.
"A room and a shower sounds f@&$ing awesome, but hey, everyone else smells like a shuttle cockpit around here, so sure, let's go native." Dash thumbs his nose, deliberately not looking at walking cockroach or limping rat.
Back in the hangar bay, he looks around for anything out of the ordinary, scanning for magical auras and scoping out any vidcams that may have caught and recorded the action.
During the examination he calls out to the others about something he is curious about. "That laser blast that got Kreel. Anyone notice which side shot it? Because I doubt these gangs would coordinate on a hit, which means we may only need to focus on the one who killed him."
Kcetic spends an inordinate amount of time deciding wether or not to have his own room, and then on which room it'll be. Eventually, as he's sure his companions are about to leave him to catch up, he stops his excited chittering and makes a decision, his antennae quiver with excitement as he does and he projects a feeling of happiness and satisfaction as he makes his request.
"I will have an efficiency! It seems a small thing, perhaps, to everyone else, but his clawed hands still shake with the buzz of decision making as he follows the rest back to the gunfight location.
Unsure what to look for, Kcectic takes his time searching, looking at every angle he can consider. He stops to think about what he knows of the gangs involved, to see if perhaps he can find a dropbox or calling card that may lead them in the right direction.
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Before leaving Chiskisk passes over a small not. "This is my personal comm code should you find something of interest."
******************************************************************
The group decides to investigate the docks again before heading to the Moons of Sleep to find a room. Nonetheless Kcectic grows incredibly excited at the endless possibilities of choice.
Along the way the group passes past Drifters End which surrounds the LoreSpire Complex, a that caters to several alien ambassadors from new and distant discovered worlds. The bars are extremely loud as you pass past. Flashes from the bars entertainment catches your eye as several holographic images are playing within. A multitude of alien sports are playing on numerous images within. One by one they begin to cut out to Breaking news as it scrolls below each screen as a local newscaster reports near the port window.A weathered and drifting ship outside of Absalom Station floats quietly in the distance as it tows an asteroid behind it.
"A few weeks ago, the prospecting ship Acreon, owned by
a scrappy clan of asteroid miners called the Hardscrabble Collective, discovered an asteroid floating in the Drift, but when the Acreon arrived at Absalom Station, its crew had disappeared, leaving the ship deserted. Station security immediately quarantined the ship and the mysterious asteroid at a safe distance from the station, pending further inquiry."
"Two groups have stated a vested interest in the Acreon and the asteroid. One is the Hardscrabble Collective, which owns the ship and claims mineral rights to the asteroid. The other is Astral Extractions, a large mining company that hired the Hardscrabble Collective and the Acreon to explore potential sites for future exploitation. Both groups claim the sole right to investigate the disappearance of the Acreon’s crew and determine the fate of both the ship and the asteroid. We will continue to update with the mysterious occurrence at 1000 hours."
The news report shifts back to the game as humans play a centuries old game known only as Baseball.
Several people on the street have a few conjectures and wild theories as the group continues on back to the docks. A Vesk grunts. "I bet that Acreon crew saw something they weren't supposed to see and were killed to keep it secret." A man scoffs. "Pfft. I bet they just got space madness and walked out the fracking airlocks. Seen it happen. What I have." A dwarf points a finger at the pair. "You're both out of your minds. That rock has got to be a piece of Old Golarion. It has precious metals and ancient tech held within it. Heard it from me first."
The group continues past the bars and onward to Dock 94 where they find the investigation still taking place. the area is completely secured off with guards at each entrance while a squad mills about cleaning the area up as they finish. The secured area unfortunately doesn't immediately allow any outsiders to enter the area. Attempting to peer over Kcectic and Vetch notice that most has been cleaned up or collected already. Kreel's body has been removed as well as the bodies of of the several dead gangmembers. One of the security personnel picks up the last few pieces of brass from the antique weapon that was fired.
******************************************************************
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fleet of ships that orbit Absalom Station—as a central gathering place. Collective crews hire their ships out to a wide variety of business concerns, including Astral Extractions, which recently employed the Collective ship Acreon to scout for new mining prospects in the Vast.
*****************************************************************
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Abe, frustrated that they cannot get in to do their own hunting, flips on his comm and connects to the Infosphere. "Let me see what I can find." he suggests.
"Huh. Lots of information on Kreel in here. He was apparently more notorious than I thought. He was a midranking 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 laborers, including Astral Extractions."
"Kreel had personally invested money in the Hardscrabble Collective. In addition, 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."
"Seems to me these events may be connected. Anyone know anything about Astral Extractions?" he asks.
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"I had done a little research into Kreel and Absalom Station after I started contacting the Starfinder Society. I know a number of things that may be helpful." Kcectic broadcasts.
"Kreel was a native of the Diaspora, the diffuse asteroid belt between Verces and Eox, and had ties to dwarves and other mining groups in the region. He was a champion of miners’ rights, Kreel was active in challenging large corporate interests that exploited individual miners and laborers, including Astral Extractions.
He also had personally invested money in the Hardscrabble Collective. 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."
Kcectic says as his anntenae twitch, remembering things he'd heard about Kreel when investigating him previously.
"Astral Extractions is a powerful mining conglomerate with business ties throughout the Pact Worlds. Most of the company’s operations are in the Diaspora and the rocky moons of outer planets, but it has begun sending scout vessels into the Vast. The company recently hired one of the Hardscrabble Collective’s ships, the Acreon, for one of these exploratory missions.
The public face of Astral Extractions is presented as an ethical and respectable corporation, but some say the company uses hired muscle—corporate mercenaries, strikebreakers, and other criminals—as proxies to intimidate and threaten those who stand in its way."
"I am, however, unsure about the Hardscrabble Collective, I have only heard of it in relation to Kreel."
"The Downside Kings are a brutal street gang that controls several decks of Absalom Station’s lower levels, or “Downside,” through forecful means. They are known to engage in a wide variety of illegal activities, from extortion, fraud, robbery, smuggling, and theft, to drug and arms trafficking, kidnapping, murder-for hire, and trafficking in sentient species."
"The Level 21 Crew are a street gang that claims Level 21 of Absalom Station’s lower decks as its territory. Their known criminal endeavors include theft, fencing stolen goods, gambling, prostitution, racketeering, and smuggling.
The Level 21 Crew has a reputation in their territory (and neighboring levels) for promoting community empowerment, and many neighborhood residents tolerate their activities. The gang has also been known to hire itself out to defend marginalized and threatened groups or factions. A grizzled ysoki called Jabaxa currently leads the Level 21 Crew."
His antennae twitch as he considers the information with the new information regarding Kreels death.
It may be possible that these gangs are representatives of Astral Extractions and the Hardscrabble Collective. I find it unlikely that the Level 21 Crew would side with Astral Projections, given their history of community empowerment. If we believe that Kreel was killed on purpose, I believe the culprit was more than likely a member of the Downside Kings."
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"Let's divide and conquer, and think tank this b!tch. I'll take the Hardscrabble Collective."
"The Hardscrabble Collective are a bunch of dumba$$ miners that work mostly out in the Diaspora. Some call them a clan, but they are more of a cooperative made up of dozens of ships’ crews that have banded together for mutual benefit. While some of them are related, most are individuals from a dozen different races. Still, they are about as tightly knit as a mob family, and members fiercely look after one another.
They have no offices in the station, choosing instead to stay out among the Armada—that's the big f$&#%ing fleet of ships that orbit the Station. The Collective hires out their ships to a wide variety of business a$$holes, and like the news reported, they contracted with Astral Extractions to take the Acreon on a mining survey in the Vast.
And listen to this sh!t!
When Astral Extractions laid claim on the Acreon and the Drift Rock, the Collective made a deal with an Absalom Station street gang to protect its members and interests. I'll give you two guesses on which gang that was...
Level 21.
So I did a little cross checking and Boom! Someone give the shirren a prize, because it seems Astral Extractions hired the Downside Kings to coerce the Collective into abandoning its claims on the Acreon and the Drift Rock."
Vetch doesn't have much to add (yet), but is impressed by the depth and resources of his class of recruits. He chitters to himself excitedly.
"Thar is an excellent hypothesis, Vetch concurs. "Mayhaps we should pick up upon that on the morrow? This station is programmed with 24 hour nocturnal cycles and I believe it is quite late. Let us rest and do more tomorrow."
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Soryn concentrates on listen to the others relate their findings. But while they are all pouring over data files, he starts asking around the perimeter of the investigation to see what he can find about the gangs.
"Well, we definitely have two gangs here with different motivations, it seems. These Downside Kings are thugs, and apparently thugs for hire. It appears that Astral Extractions has been employing them to apply pressure on the Hardscrabble Collective miners to hand over the Acreon and the Drift Rock to the company without dispute. The gang leader is currently a barbarous human woman named Ferani Nadaz, but that position seems to turn over often.
"Level 21 seems to be a little more reasonable, and may have been here specifically to protect the innocent."
"That Drift rock must be worth something for all this complexity and effort by multiple parties. They wouldn't do this for just a hunk of dirt."
"So, if we're to continue tomorrow, where do we want to start? These seem like organized groups, much larger than this little band. I mean we've found some connections, but tracking them down could be extremely dangerous. We could start with Level 21. As Soryn suggests, they may be more reasonable."
He begins walking back toward the Moons of Sleep. He falls into step with Vetch, "So, roommates?" he suggests calmly in the face of grenade grinding.
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Not able to do much but poke around on the public infosphere and speak with a few of the locals and security forces the group walks away with far more information than they had before. Though it took several hours while Dash and Abe poked around on the public computers, searching several different pages. The occasional Amazon distraction didn't help much as the corporate monolith's ad kept cropping up onto the search engines alongside exotic alien sites.
Soryn and Kcectic decide to wander around the docks and speak with the guards and people traveling through the hub to reach their ships for departures as Docking Bay 94 is soon reopened, though there is little to nothing left after the cleanup process.
Overall though heading to the dock was not a total loss as the group pieced together several links in the chain. The hour grows late as the group makes way to head back to the hotel, The Moons of Sleep to get some rest for the evening before starting out again.
The Moons of Sleep isn't too difficult to find as the hotel complex rests just where Chiskisk said it was. A quarter moon, with a face with sleeping eyes, sign hangs from the building with a warm, soft glow coming from the lighting. Inside an efficient android helps set up the clearly excited Kcectic up with the more expensive two bedroom suite while Abe and Vetch split the costs of a smaller efficiency room containing a pair of twin beds for the week.
The night goes by quite restful as the building's sound suppression is superb, eliminating the sounds from the noisy street, shops and bars set up below.
"So, roommates?"
Vetch limps along, his club clanking with his gait. "Yes, that would be good. I sold my gun and most of my possessions to make this trek, to make this journey here, and to join the Starfinders. With so much uncertainty about my ability to find work should this fail, it would be prudent to conserve my limited credits. Yes, yes, that would be good."
He limps on as he thinks about what might be the next best course of action.
"I fail to remember how many of each gang we killed...and from which gang they were from. Does anyone recall?"
"But yes, sounds like starting with Level 21 would be best. They might be more likely to help us, especially if they know we are going after the Downsized Kings. One wonders why they happened to be there as well, however. And why would they open fire at us? Seems odd."
Vetch will check in, clean his new gun, and probably make a nest from himself under the bed to sleep. In the morning he will crawl out from under and be ready to go to Lvl 21 to start asking questions.
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"When we are ready to approach the Downside Kings, I hear they work out of a nightclub called Fusion Queen. They use it as a front for their illegal activities."
Heading back to the hotel, Soryn decides he might be better off, for now, to bunk alone. So he pays for an efficiency, but tries to get one right next to at least one of the others.
Resolve: 4/4 Stamina: 7/7 HP: 10/10
Weapon Equipped = None
Conditions = None
Psychokinetic Hand = 2/3
Ranged: Attack: BAB +0, Dex +2 Damage: +0 Battery: 17/20
Melee/Thrown: Attack: BAB +0, Str +0 Damage: +0
Messalina (5’ up)
EAC: 14 KAC: 14 CM: 22
HP: 10/10
Weapon Equipped = semi-automatic pistol
Conditions = None
Ranged: Attack: BAB +1, Dex +3, Weapon Focus +1 Damage: +0 Rounds: 9/9
Melee/Thrown: Attack: BAB +1, Str -2 Damage: +0
Abe wakes late, which is unusual for him, but moves quickly to make up for it. He regathers his gear, leaving behind his ration packs in the room for now, as he bundles up his electronics and readies Messalina. Tossing her into the air as he leaves the room he checks his rig one last time before heading out to meet with the others.
”So, does anyone know how to reach out to the gang? Do we just head down to level 21 and ask around?”
He'll poke around the Infosphere a little while waiting for the others, to see if he can find a purported headquarters.
Dash considers suggesting to Soryn that they share a room - he'd heard that Solarions were disciplined, meditative, quiet, and some of them were chaste, which would lower the chances of extra roommates, or indecent proposals in the dark. But when Soryn gets his own room without discussion Dash takes it as a sign and does the same.
The next morning...
"Let's avoid the Downside Kings for now." Dash says, sipping a cup of cafe-Absolomo. "Back in the hanger one got serious heat stroke and another j-walked in front of a speeding baggage car. Totally their own stupid faults, but they might hold that against us." Dash smiles. "As for Level 21, we could offer them a job like the Collective did. Dangle a big fat credit carrot in front of them to get a face to face. Or we could wander down to their turf and hope the f@&$ers don't blast us."
Dash takes a sip from his cup, then adds another thought. "Or we could skip the middle-men and go straight to the Collective. I mean, You said Kreel was involved with them, right Kceptic?"
"I think the ones that we helped kill were the Downsized Kings. That is a relief...I was hoping we hadn't kilt the ones we might need help from," Vetch offers as he begins to limp to Level 21.