"Who knows where he got his information. He's always been controversial. Our university contact is on Castrovel, and that matters because that's where Tam last operated. Different planets have different regulations for explorers. Zan wanted to explore a site on the restricted continent of Ukulam, but when the authorities denied him passage, he went anyway. I believe they confiscated most of his findings, and the whole incident spurred a decade of restrictions on offworld explorers."
"So he was an idiot. Gotcha."
The shirren taps a few keys. “There is a postdoctoral student named Whaloss who has worked with the Society in the past. I’ll ask him to greet you when you land in Qabarat.”
He clicks a bit more, "You know Dunklezahn, I think I can spare a bit for this mission. the more I think about it the more I think this is our best lead." He charges up a cred stick, "Here's a 1,000 credits for whatever expenses you incur."
Chiskisk adds , "I've sent you each a digital copy of “Pyramid People of Ukulam,” which is a tawdry travelogue that lauds the author’s bravery as much as it describes the culture that built the sites using ample nonacademic language such as “exotic,” “savages,” and “time immemorial.”
With Dunk's suggestion of getting to it he bids you Desna's luck.
"Before we leave, Chiskisk, I just want to tell you how much I appreciate you welcoming us into the Starfinder Society. In this crazy world out there, I find a comfort in the fact that you folks will support us no matter what happens. I do not always find that to be true with all of the organizations out there. However, as I find my new life as an adventurer, I'm starting to think that I've made the right decision in joining up with the Starfinders."
"What's this, homework?" Booker chuckles, only briefly before catching Chiskisk's withered and withering look. "Right, right, I'll give it a read. We'll be on-station for a few days anyway."
He picks up the credstick and heads to the door. There is much to do.
* * *
A few hours later, he returns to the ship with a few business transactions in place. A mineral processor in the near vicinity is en route to haul off the noqual ore, and the delivery has been scheduled for the voluminous artwork to be added to the collections of a large museum in the Eye. Hack-It joined him for his first excursion into the Spike's scrapyards, where they managed to off-load all the various junk salvaged from the Drift Rock. Chiskisk's credstick has gotten valuable.
He comes aboard and is immediately hit with the mouth-watering smell of spices coming from the galley, and he knows Dunklezahn found what he was looking for. Even R1G5 over in the HAC bay must be getting hungry.
He fires up a datapad and credits each of the others' accounts.
Tearing himself away from the smell of food for an hour or two, Booker hunts around for a reputable shipdock and finds one relatively nearby. He gets the manager to order a Red power core from Pulse Systems, trading in the old Pulse Green and some armor plating for scrap, and engages a weapons manufacturer for a weapons exchange. (Some of these older models have become 'hip.') He also picks up some more delicate sensor equipment, albeit ones that draw less power.
Four days later, he shakes the hand of the shipyard manager on the ramp of a newly fitted ship.
When Booker transfers the credits to him, Hack-It grins. "I haven't been this flush in a while. We should have a night out on the town. Really go crazy."
Before the pilot can answer, the Ysoki's mind drifts. He has a momentary flashback of all gunfire and weirdness they've seen, and says, "But first, I think I need some new threads. Back in a bit."
He hustles off the ship and when he returns is wearing a new Estex suit. He shows it off to anyone who listens. "Mark II model. It's bulkier than I'm used, but look at all these mod bays! This is a suit with potential."
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As the group leaves Chiskisk's office, Dunklezahn grabs what little gear he arrived with out of the temporary locker in the Lorespire where he'd stowed it. He walks out with the others back to the Sunrise Maiden.
Let's go make ourselves at home.
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Back at the Sunrise Maiden, Dunklezahn throws his duffle onto one of the unclaimed beds and heads straight for the galley. He spends the next hour taking stock of what's been left there and throwing out all of the old provisions. After talking with the Starfinder's Quartermaster about restocking the galley, Dunklezahn heads out on a hunt for proper chef's tools, herbs, and spices. He returns before too long, ams laden with several bags of supplies and fresh groceries.
He enters the galley, glad to see the Starfinders were true to their word about restocking, happy that they did so as quickly as they did, and aghast at their horrible organization of it all. He spends the next hour pulling everything out of cupboards and cabinets, then putting everything back, arranged to his particular satisfaction.
He then sets to creating a first meal worthy of their new ship and home.
Though he can still feel the aches and bruises from their time on the Drift Rock, Dunklezahn feels them all slip away as he chops, slices, sears, and boils all of the various ingredients for the meal for his crew. He takes secret pleasure in hearing the others moving and talking throughout the ship.
As he hears Booker leaving the ship again, he wipes his hands on his apron, pokes his head out of the galley and shouts out to him, Booker, wherever your going, you better be back for dinner! You don't want to eat this cold!
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Dunklezahn spends the next few days recovering from his wounds. He diligently attends to his duties aboard ship, making sure coffee and breakfast is ready each morning, sandwiches and various snacks are available for lunch and noshing for those that want them, and dinner is served for all.
He does go out to spend some of the credits Booker dispersed to make sure he didn't neglect his other duties as part of the crew, upgrading his armor and weapons to be ready for the opposition he knows they eventually face.
Returning to the Sunrise Maiden, he stows his old armor in his locker and mounts his battlestaff on the wall above his bunk.
The Sunrise Maiden, now fully stocked and upgraded in a few places, is ready to go. The crew decorates their bunks, and sets up shop. The galley has a good scent to it now.
With a few flicks and buttons, the drift engines engage!
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It takes days to reach Castrovel.
The short time is spent relaxing, reading, and building camaraderie. Gig in particular takes the time to pen a piece called "The Patience of Castrovel". The galley smells of fusion cooking, and the upgrades are humming.
there's just enough time to check out The Map of The Pact Worlds and a zoom in on Castrovel
Castrovel is a vibrant planet of sparkling blue oceans, continents blanketed in vividly green forests, and swirls of clouds. As the Sunrise Maiden enters the atmosphere near Qabarat, the city-state’s aviation authorities hail you, ask for identification, and direct you to one of the landing pads at the city’s spaceport, Ship’s End. As a matter of course, a guard and a customs official briefly interview you about your business in Qabarat, whether you have local contacts, the expected duration of your stay stay, and whether you are importing any foreign life-forms...
Hack-It always reads the owners manual, and treats Zan no different. He uses the time he has to skim through Pyramid People of Ukulam .
Booker chooses to occupy the bunk opposite Dunklezahn. He knows the young vesk will be neat, orderly, and clean, and there is little more a soldier can ask for in a bunkmate. Indeed, the room quickly comes to feel familiar and comforting to the old veteran -- a home.
After setting the ship's refit in motion, Booker saw to his own kit and visited a series of arms dealers. He returns with a renewed spring in his step after a two-hour surgery: synaptic adapters have restored some of the agility he had begun to lose in his middle age. He also has a new gun slung behind his shoulder, and he grins when asked about it. "Gonna try a vesk weapon! Reaction cannons, they're called. Pack a punch!"
Over the next few days, he alternates between scrolling through Pyramid People of Ukulam and repeatedly disassembling and re-assembling the reaction cannon, until he can do it blind-folding in less than a minute. And then twice more for good measure.
The book reads like a young adult adventure novel more than academia. It's clearly designed to sell, not to educate. You sincerely hope his ACTUAL notes are more helpful...
Booker finds the book to be more entertaining than he first thought. "Not bad, this," he comments, putting down the datapad and picking up the reaction cannon again...
* * *
Booker does the talking to customs official, as Janzi is busy trying to decide whether he put his left boot on his right foot or not. "Here to meet a kid at th' University, post-doc. Name's Whaloss. We'd be staying a month or two, I'd guess... No, nothing foreign. Well, does a deranged lashunta count? No? Then no, nothing foreign. Ain't been to Qabarat b'fore; can ye point me to th' University?"
"Ah, yes, someone by that name is waiting for you directly outside."
It's a short walk, and once you step outside, you get a much better appreciation for the local sights and beauty.
Before long a rather excited lashunta greets you, "Hello there! It's me Whaloss!" Even for a damaya, he is tall and thin, almost to the point of seeming gaunt. His clothing is a stylish blend of local silks, though the overall ensemble shows considerable wear, as though he has relied on this nicer outfit for formal meetings for many years. Nonetheless, he positively beams with antennae-twitching excitement. Whaloss hails a robo-taxi to carry the group into the heart of Qabarat and to the university. As the taxi wends its way deeper into the city, trees give way to elegant towers of carbon fiber, glass, and steel, each artistically sculpted to create a stunning forest of dazzling skyscrapers. The Qabarat University of Xenoarchaeology and Xenoanthropology is just north of the downtown commercial district and consists of about 10 buildings scattered over a campus of groomed lawns and gardens.
During the ride, it's hard to get a word in edgewise, "I don't have the background to decipher the you-know-what's writing and technology, but I can introduce you to Professor Muhali, the head of the linguistic anthropology department. Her office is in the Alsima-Karei Hall. Aaaaaand we're here now!"
Whaloss comes to an abrupt stop as you enter the lobby. There is a small pack of journalists insistently trying to convince a receptionist to let them upstairs. "Ummmmmmm I'm not sure what's going on here." It's obvious that the academic has no idea what to do.
On the other side of the pack is The receptionist, a male korasha lashunta, and clearly out of his element dealing with the media. It’s all he can do to keep them at bay on the ground floor while paging for support from the university’s publicist or deans...
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Dunklezahn snarls and straightens to his full height. He then draws his new doshko, ignites it, and slams the end into the floor, enough to draw everyone's attention.
He strides forward.
In his loudest voice, What is going on here?! I thought this was a place of learning and knowledge, not some circus sideshow full of monkeys throwing s$+& at each other. If you're not here with an appointment on official University business, I suggest you leave now.
Booker steps forward to back up Dunklezahn, and points calmly at Torin. "Our distinguished colleague over here'd'be happy to take any questions you might have."
Dunk CLEARLY has the crowds attention, as all eyes point towards Janzi to see what he tells them...
Stepping forward in a fedora, the lashunta smiles broadly. Doctor Jorin Tanzi, at your service, a common cunning linguist...and I see you've already met my bodyguard and associate Dunk, a master of many tongues! What can we do to satisfy your curiosity today?
The reporters immediately crowd around the mystic. The questions are... not fun "Do you condone genocide? Does might make right? Is this the university's official stance? Can you just build a wall and make the formian's pay for it?"
It's just the distraction the rest of the party needs. The man at the desk introduces himself as Ikimsi. "THANK YOU for that. Now, tell me what you need and I'll get it done."
Whaloss pipes up, "Well.... errrr.... we don't have an appointment. I was just hoping...."
Ikimsi cuts him off, "If your friend over there is going to suck up the stupid reporters, then that's totally fine by me. I'll tell you what, in return I'll make an official meeting for you. She'd never notice if I change her schedule."
As the head of the linguistic anthropology department, Professor Muhali has one of the nicer offices in Alsima-Karei Hall. Her door is unlocked, and she bids you enter when you knock.
This office is clean, roomy, and orderly. A large desk stands imposingly before a broad window that offers a charming view of a nearby park, and a small table in one corner has a quartet of chairs arranged evenly around it. Near the door is a wide examination table covered with broken fragments of stone, many of which bear incomplete words or letters written in a spiraling text. Several tiny fountains throughout the room burble soothingly and shimmer with soft light.
Behind the desk is the professor. She is dark-skinned for a lashunta, with pale green facial markings and purple hair cut in an asymmetrical style.
"What? I'm clearly very busy. Our department is busy pissing off, well, everyone. I don't suppose you're here to help."
"Could be," Booker offers, "depends on what you need. We happen t'be in need of a bit o' help ourselves. We found some 'nscriptions on an ol' rock that bear some likeness to..." Here Booker pauses before continuing, considering his next words carefully. "T'the findings of Halkueem Zan."
"I haven't seen crowds like this since Thull Magnar gave a concert at the Odeon and a metal eating ysoki chewed his way through the back door to his changine room! Let's just say that I'm glad to see Dunklezahn here to keep order."
------------------------
Professor Muhali, I just want to say what it is an honor to meet you. I appreciate you taking a few minutes to visit with us and consider these findings.
She rolls her eyes, “I’m not in any position to assist you or instruct my department to assist you—not until I can resolve the current debacle. I'll trade. Get my stupid colleague to apologize and I'll help."
The reporters immediately crowd around the mystic. The questions are... not fun "Do you condone genocide? Does might make right? Is this the university's official stance? Can you just build a wall and make the formians pay for it?"
Janzi addresses each question patiently and gregariously as he moves through the throng, giving first-rate sound bites as he walks slowly toward the receptionist's desk. Ma'am, I assure you, I could not condone violence less were I an unarmed Ghalalk-class yacht in the face of a band of ice pirates! Sir, I personally believe that might only makes right when there is no other way — yet, alas, sometimes there is no other way.
With a reassuring smile, he continues. I admit, I am only a guest lecturer here at Qabarat University of Xenoarchaeology and Xenoanthropology, and could not fathom a guess as to what the University's official stance on anything is. I do know they value this humble lashunta's ability as a teacher, he says with a bow. And for that, they have my gratitude. No further questions, folk! Thanks!
********************************
Janzi, shutting the door behind him on the gaggle of reporters, hears this last from the Professor. What's this, what's this? Someone has offended the sensibilities of the good Professor Muhali? He grabs Dunkelzahn and his doshko. Come, my friend! We have manners to teach! He is halfway out the door, the Vesk following in stunned silence, before he stops to ask, Er...who and about what, may I ask?
Janzi seems to have placated the reporters, but he knows that won't last....
She sighs, “One of my colleagues, Ailabiens 21:2, gave a rather incendiary public lecture last night in which he examined a war from nearly a millennium ago and used the cultural fallout from it to rationalize the genocide of the formian species. Even before the lashunta citystates and formian Colonies signed peace accords thirty years ago, such brutal conclusions would have been dismissed. Now he is fomenting hate crimes under the guise of ‘pure logic’ and anthropology. This is not what the university stands for, but it’s what the public now believes. I’ve placed him on academic leave and restricted his access to university resources until we can clean this up.”
She looks right at Dunklezahn, "What the university needs right now is to smooth this over quickly, and Ailabiens 21:2 is not listening to anything I say. He has not quite violated enough protocols to be dismissed; firing him would otherwise be good for optics. I think the media would settle for a public apology. If you can convince him to do that, I should be able to handle the rest.”
She points, indicating that the android's office is right down the hall.
The party marches down the hall. One of you snorts after thinking about how you've gone from fighting aliens from beyond to smoothing over an academic spat.
Dust, debris, and discarded papers litter the floor of this disorganized office. A single chair stands in the corner, and the desk and shelves are crowded with books, scrolls, statuettes, and loose computer hardware.
The academic behind the mess is not what you expected. Rather than an android, the name refers to a race known as the Contemplative this human sized creature looks like a twig with a massive brain on top. He immediately starts floating about the room.
That's it! You remember that Contemplatives take their adult names from passages of literature that fascinate them. In his case, the second article published by the radically anticonventionalist scholar Ailabiens in the year 21 AG, which contains the famous line, “When the past is unknown, we must make a tradition of challenging so-called tradition.”
A voice fills your head, "Can I help you?" The creature continues to move about.
You can! Janzi says enthusiastically. We are led to understand you've been placed on academic leave for your stance regarding the formian Colonies. Bit of bad luck there, I'd say. He pauses a heartbeat, then continues. To what do you owe this epiphany of ethnic cleansing?
“Offense indicates a narrow perspective in the listeners. I analyzed ancient lashunta armies’ strategies against their formian neighbors and concluded that the former’s conditioned sentimentality inhibited more effectively destructive actions against their long-time enemies. The audience found my conclusion upsetting.” Ailabiens 21:2 bobs thoughtfully before adding, “Other species are endlessly fascinating.”
"Unless reinstated, there is little I can do to help you."
"There's a way to get reinstated. Apologize." Booker does not mince words. "Publicly."
Booker finds the creature's appearance to be as off-putting as its theories, more so even than Ambassador Nor's smile or the maw of the garaggakal. He makes only a cursory effort at hiding his distaste.
"There's a peace treaty now, or didja forget? You don't go thumbin' a man right after ya shook his hand. You can't build today's strategy on yesterday's intel. That gets you dead right quick."
"I appreciate your tradition of challenging traditions. However, in this case, I think you would benefit greatly by giving a public apology. Think about all of the traditions you will be able to challenge in years to come if you still have your job. Maybe you should choose the battles you wish to fight and pick ones that won't get you fired from your job!"
Despite his frustrating insensitivity, the contemplative finds the prospect of making an apology less degrading than enduring his academic suspension. "I am willing to make this gesture in a convincing manner so long as you can convince Professor Muhali to make three concessions: cancel my academic suspension, restore my access to the university’s restricted collections, and pardon the whole incident in my tenure review file."
”I make no promises, but I will see what I can do. However, for your own best interest you may want to take some sensitivity training. Have you considered going to see Thrull Magnar in concert? That may give you an experience in ritualistic behavior patterns and excessive noise. It may help with sensitivity!”
To Gig, "I've never heard of him. Is he a lecturer?"
The party then heads back to Professor Muhali's office. "Well?"
Ailabiens 21:2 has agreed to apologize publicly, Janzi says, with a few very reasonable conditions. First, his academic suspension should be rescinded. Agreed?
Booker follows Janzi's proposal with an unhelpful grunt.
Janzi seems.... unconvincing on his own. Booker does next to nothing to help.