“Don’t see any harm in telling you that. I know The Dust Runner, Diasporan Digs and The Forgotten Twins are all still in port in the Armada”, Delores said. “There may be others too, but they’re the ones I was talking to about jobs before the Acreon drifted in and they cancelled everything.”
The bars in Drifter’s End 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. Zeyram travels through a ton of these, looking for someone who might have relatives or served on the Acreon. But while the Acreon is the talk of these bars, he has trouble finding people associated with that quiet and insular crew.
It’s only when in the Wing Nut, an old fashioned looking Pilot Bar with bowls of Castrovel-grown nuts on every table and psuedo-wooden-looking booths that an old dwarven woman asks, “Why’re ye seeking information on the Acreon, lad? Ye don’t look like one of the slick suits from the Astral Extractions, and I don’t see cameras so I’m guessin’ yer not a reporter. What’s yer interest in her?”
She looks older than dirt and augmented with metal limbs and eyes. As she waits, she cracks a few pecan shells in her metallic hands, scatering bits of shell all over the floor. Zeyram notices that other patrons seem to do this, which is why the bar seems to have a couple of cleaning bots quietly zooming across the floor every few minutes. “Want a nut, lad? Don’t know how they salt them in the shell, but they’re good.”
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“I have two reasons. The first is that I’m interested in all starships and always have been. Doesn’t matter what type it is, I want to know more about it.”
Zeyram pauses to try one of the nuts. He ends up having to reach for one of the nut crackers in order to open his.
“The other reason is much more personal. It may have gotten a friend of mine killed — Duravor Kreel, or some just knew the dwarf as Steelhand.” Shaking his head in sadness, he continues “A Starfinder and a part of the Hardscrabble Collective. None of the talking heads on the news say anything about it — it doesn’t fit in a sound bite — but at least one of the gangs involved with the disruption in Bay 94 today knew him and told him to stay out.”
With a chuckle, he says “Telling a dwarf to mind his own business is like telling a Ysoki not to repurpose a part when you have to patch something.”
“There is something going on, and it is somehow tied up with that ship and the rock it dragged back. I don’t know a lot about rocks, but ships are something I understand.”
“So, can you tell me anything about the ship or crew? Or point me in the correct direction?”
“Ach, yer one o’ Steelhand’s projects are ye? He always liked trainin’ up young ones.” The dwarven woman looks sad. “I’ll miss him, I will. Don’t know much ‘bout the crew. Steelhand was my main contact with the Hardscrabble, but I ken the ship fine. The Acreon were mine you see. Me family woke up on her right after the Gap, so she was ours, always had been far as anyone could tell.”
“By the way, name’s Old Bess. Here, let me crack a few more nuts for you, lad.” She cracks a few more pecans for you. “Served for years on her. Good sturdy old ship. Did prospectin’ out in the Vast, but never got married. When my brothers and I wanted to retire, we chatted with old Steelhand. Negotiated the sale, he did. Been twenty years, and me brothers are gone now, but I’ve hung on, doing bits o’ mechanic work here and there, keepin’ me hand in.”
“Sweet on ships, are ye? Well, the Acreon was old, but solid. Drift-capable medium transport. Don’t know what the Clan did with her once they got her, but I can show you what she looked like back when she was mine.”
The old woman shoots you deck plans for the ship.
“She were a beauty, weren’t she?” There’s pride in Old Bess’s voice as she knocks back a dwarven ale. “By the way, lad, I know yer Kasatha, so I understand why ye must drink ale with a straw, but don’t slurp. It’s not respectful.”
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"I'm Zeyram. Pleased to meet you."
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"The ship has to fit the job. You wouldn't put racing stripes on a mining ship, nor would you want to tow anything with a racer."
Looking over the information she sent, he asks a few questions about how she had it kitted and what it was like to fly. The questions are just as much pilot small talk as they are about information.
At the mention of slurping, Zeyram puts the bottle down. "Sorry, didn't mean any disrespect. It is hard to get the last of it out with a straw."
Old Bess happily tells Zeyram about how the ship was kitted and what it was like to fly and has a grand old time exchanging stories about Steelhand.
“Well, it sounds like you’ve lots to busy yerself with lad,” she grins. “Don’t let me keep you.”
★ --- ★ --- ★ --- ★
It’s the next day, and everyone at the Moons of Sleep had a lovely night’s rest. Kaf was right, the place does have the best pillows.
It’s time to hit the streets and start visiting the places on your list! Absalom Station awaits!
Knowing that you will have to visit them eventually, the group heads off in search of the Level 21 Crew.
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.
The twenty-first level of the Spike is decidedly low-end, but not quite a slum. It’s clean, with not a bit of trash anywhere. Everywhere you see evidence of attempts to brighten the place, from little flower boxes on the windows and container gardens on the street to full-out graffiti murals.
There are ysoki repair shops, stitchery shops, upgrade clinics and pawn shops. There’s a human-run beauty shop, a tattoo parlor and assorted other businesses including a stand selling technoknits and comics. Finally, there’s a delightful smell of spiced potato coming from a local bodega with sign that reads MAMA FATS.
A mixed group of kids — ysoki, humans and halflings — are playing a complex game with a ball and their feet in the middle of the street. As you come down the street, the kids pause in their game, and one says, “Look! It’s Big Jim and Buster!”
“Naw, it can’t be.” A very bossy halfling girl of about six or seven puts her hands on her hips. “Are you REALLY Big Jim?’ She looks up at Big Jim’s knees, then stares at the rest of you. “What are you doing HERE?”
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"Howdy kids! It sure is! Jim and Buster!"
Cult
Perc
Big Jim is completely focused on this kids "A friend of mine Kreel was going to film a 'Jims Jams' special episode around here, but now he's...out of contact... and I'm trying to work out where we are supposed to film the episode, say, you don't know Kreel do you? He could have asked some of the responsible adults? It sure would be good to shoot a special episode, and by the looks of just how good you have kept this place I'm SURE this is the place he had in mind... look at that flower box, look art that art!" Jim lines up the art with his fingers as though framing a shot then hands out a few signed 6"x8" photos of him and Buster "Who should I make this out to?" he asks the Halfling kid, black texta poised...
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As the others raced around the station, discovering clues and talking to the inhabitants, Xyklik found himself preoccupied with weapon maintenance. His laser rifle was far from combat-ready, with a stuck trigger, a misaligned slide, and even the grip needed to be machined slightly, being too rough on his palm. Many times he thought of abandoning his work, but found it too relaxing, too familiar to give up.
I am no detective, after all, he thinks. Let those with the proficiency acquire the information. When life must be ended, we will be there...
After many hours, the rifle lay in a pile of parts on an oily towel across the mattress in his room. After many more hours, the rifle lay assembled again in a good, workable condition, just in time to head down to Level 21.
Xyklik eyes Zeyram, then the store. He looks at the vantage points around them. From any one of the alcoves, someone could toss a grenade into the crowd without them even knowing.
"We should go into the store," he says, mandibles clicking thoughtfully, "Better cover, less collateral damage."
“He was too Big Jim!” The ysoki kid jumps up and down, whiskers twitching. The delighted kids surround Big Jim, starting to pose with him and climb all over Buster.
The halfling girl blinks as she realizes that she’s going to be handed an autographed copy of Big Jim and Buster’s photograph. “Cecy Fats,” she pronounces. “My mama runs that store right there!” She points to the Mama Fats grocery store.
★ --- ★ --- ★ --- ★
It’s a corner grocery store like any other, though it does have a deli with sandwiches and wraps and steaming pasties and rolls. “Hello, boys,” the halfling woman at the counter greets you, a serious expression on her face. “Would you like coffee? Spicy potato rolls? Slip here told me we had visitors.” She nods to thee ysoki teen, who’s standing behind the counter, arms out of sight. “Well-armed ones, too.” She notes, as she looks you over. “We don’t often get well-armed visitors, so I have to ask... Are you boys looking for breakfast or trouble?”
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“The rolls smell wonderful.” Zeyram admits. “I will take one of those. Nothing to drink though.”
“We don’t want any trouble, just a few answers. I’m hoping we can keep it civilized.”
“We are looking to talk with a few of the locals that recently visited Bay 94, or their leader. Whomever might be able to explain why the special trip and some of the background leading up to it.”
Paying for the roll, he asks “Any idea what the best way to contact them might be?”
As he is talking, he scans the shop.
“Breakfast it is, then.” Mama Fats relaxes and takes your orders. “You don’t look like Station Security. What’s your interest in a bit of a trip?”
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Zeyram nods as he is eating the potato roll. After he finishes chewing and wipes with a napkin beneath his scarf, he adds "Yes, the shooting in Bay 94. We thought this area would be more friendly than a visit with the Downside Kings would be." From what I hear, just about anywhere is more friendly than their area.
“Ah. So you’re that group. Condolences about your friend, boy,” Mama Fats nods to Hawthorne, handing out potato rolls and coffee. “Sounds like you have serious business, then. If you’re seeking answers from us and not revenge, I can set up a breakfast meeting here tomorrow with Jabaxa. Simple stuff. Eggs, potatoes, fried mushrooms. About 0830. If you come offering no tricks, we’ll do the same.”
She looks out the window at Big Jim, offering the kids rides on Buster. “Is it true what they say? That he retired Azul?” She grins. “If that’s so, there’s more than the kids that will be wanting that one’s autograph.”
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"Yes, with a little aid from Cadence there." Zeyram says, gesturing in Cade's direction.
"We will be sure to have Big Jim stock up on autograph material." I'll have to mention the interest to him as well. We might have a shot off the camera showing him barreling down on Azul.
With a nod, he says "Breakfast, 0830 Station Time. We will be here!
Thank you!"
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Zeyram is ready to leave when the others are.
Once they are in the lift, Zeyram mentions the interest in autographs to Big Jim and suggests he look through the camera footage in case there is a shot there he thinks Jabaxa might want. "Gifts can often smooth negotiations and that would be something unique."
He also mentions what he saw of the security monitors and compares notes with the others.
"So, shall we try the suits at Astral Extractions?" he asks.
Simagus sat down and listened to the banter between Zeyram and the waitress as he ordered a drink. Frowning at the liquid he seemed to play with it and took a sip before nodding in approval. "I would be interested in that... breakfast tomorrow..." when everything was said and done he would get up and get ready to head out.
With your meeting with Jabaxa held off until tomorrow, you head off to Astral Extractions while pondering Cadence’s wisdom concerning whistles and flutes, cultural equivalents thereof, and whether you need both at the same time, and why....
Your team can easily find Astral Extraction’s corporate offices in Bluerise Tower in the Ring, one of the most expensive pieces of real estate in Absalom Station. Located in an elegant section of the Ring, Bluerise Tower soars high indeed, complete with its own guard force and state of the art offices.
An android in a shiny silver corporate suit says, “Welcome to Astral Extractions, Sentients! I’m Bill 278. Are you looking to invest in our state of the art mining facilities? How may I direct your inquiry?” Bill’s smile is frozen in place, showing lots of shiny metal teeth.
“Acreon,” Bill replies, smile firmly in place. Then his metallic hairpiece rings. “Oh, I appear to be getting a call. I’ll have to answer it. If you don’t mind?”
“Astral Extractions! Build from the Stars! Bill 278 speaking!” Then a pause. “Yes, of course. Yes. Yes, right away.”
Done with his call, Bill continues to smile broadly at you. “I’m sure your inquiry is terribly, terribly important. Would you like to take a number?” There is no one else in the office.
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"C-e-c-y F-a-t-s" Jim spells out the words as he finishes the personalised message and autograph, "Thanks for being a fan, my friends are moving on to the next location now so I gotta go. If your folks know anything about the location or heard anything about the episode, get them to give us a call" he hands over a business card too, a practice considered archaic by some people, but a tangible piece of marketing merchandise to others.
Jim gets back on Buster and give a few honks of the horn as they ride off.
***
"State of the art huh? I hear that a lot, just means you paid a lot of credits for something that does the same job as the old equipment, but with new bugs that haven't been ironed out yet because some bean counter in HQ got sold a line while boozed up on an out of town sales conference - what you need is tried and true Bamford Tools, they make 'em with their own special alloy 'Gorumite', anything else is just more trouble than a ysoki cheese-shop owner" Jim offers his unsolicited advice in his usual down-home manner. "Yeah we're here about the Acreon, I need to check it for a show"
“A show.” Bill says, smiling, if possibly, even more widely. “On the Acreon. So you are entertainment media or with the press? In either case, I have press information requests forms for you to fill out! This is terribly standard practice, you understand...” He pulls out a ream of paper and hands its to Jim. “By the way, which show?”
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"The original plan was some kind of multi-branded cross-promotion I gather, but the guy organising it all...he got distracted, some technical issues. I didn't come all this way for nothing though so I'd prefer to press on with production and sounds like the Acreon might well be the set, or maybe this floating space rock. It's an episode of 'Jims Jams', good family entertainment, quality show, always looking for a new adventure - say, you know how to hold a wrench? Looking for a little advertising opportunity? I can think of a good angle here for the both of us - a show proudly brought to you by Astral Projections" Jim starts filling out the paperwork.
"So, what do you know about the ship, and the rock?"
Bill holds the wrench, a bit surprised. “Actually sir... It’s Astral Extractions”, he corrects. “Is this my good side?” The android poses with the wrench.
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"Revenge has been had," Hawthorne reassures the matron. "Now we seek to understand."
"I've crossed at least one company within the Bluerise," he confesses to the others. "They sent assassins after someone I was escorting, but I don't think they got a good look at me, and I know it wasn't Astral Excavations."
Sophia gasps within Hawthorne's computerized cortex at Jim's blasphemous stance against 'state-of-the-art.' She sheds a tiny, digital tear in disillusionment.
"It's hard to meet your heroes," Hawthorne consoles her.
Oh. Be quiet, you. I'm looking for something to hack.
"They're going to need a better distraction. I don't think Bill is familiar with Jim's show."
Hawthorne raises his hand to cover his mouth in a not-entirely-mock yawn.
Over the communicator, he whispers to Zeyram, "Can get him away from the desk long enough for me to hack into his console?"
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Hearing Hawthorne as Bill is posing with the wrench, he says “For the best branding, shouldn’t we get the company logo in the background?” Well, I am supposed to try and have new experiences while Tempering. My training never prepared me for this, though.
Gesturing to the side, where there is a company inspirational poster, he says “What about that as a background? Unless there is something bigger?”
Zeyram continues to refine the pose so as to get Bill looking away from the desk.
Fascinated by the wrench, Bill steps away from the desk to pose by the logo with Big Jim and Buster.
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Hawthorne slips behind the desk while Bill is distracted and surveys what he has to work with and then jacks into the terminal.
Once access has been established, he tries to deactivate any alarms and scans whatever pertinent data might be available. Then he fabricates a meeting on an executive's calendar with them and the necessary paper trail and memos.
It was a secured machine. Hawthorne, as you attempt your hacks, you soon discover that not only are you locked out of their machine, but Sophia is in panic mode.
There’s a virus attacking me! It is insidiuous, wreaking havoc in her systems, but you make one last desperate attempt to track it down... and you eliminate it. There is also a light flashing on the terminal there that was not there before.
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The LED on Hawthorne's datajack flashes a dizzing array on colors and the man stands stunned for a long moment before he disconnects and retreats back to the other side of the desk, looking a bit pale. He shakes his head and tells those not busy distracting Bill, "That was slightly catastrophic."
He texts Zeyram and Jim, "SOS Blown."
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"SOS blown?" Jim looks about for a moment "Hey see that's exactly what I mean about state of the art, I've been here two minutes and already I can see some bug has gotten into your system and it looks like you have a dead bit of Silicon on Saphire" Jim adjusts his camera for a moment "I'm here with Bill at Astral Extractions and as we can see there appears to be a fault in the circuit board here, It could be in some of the Silicon On Saphire circuits, usually they'd be in sensor arrays so if could also be the aircon. Silicon on sapphire is a hetero-epitaxial process for integrated circuit manufacturing that consists of a thin layer of silicon grown on a sapphire wafer. SOS is part of the Silicon on Insulator family of CMOS technologies. Bill come on over here and we can fix this thing together, that's right Bill, Buster will give you the correct screwdriver and we can get that panel open and fix the broken light"
"Looks good Bill, smile more, and yeah get your logo in the background"
Jim texts back to Hawthorne Good spotting, glad we were here to fix their broken parts! What a piece of junk.
Jim starts looking at the panel and where he might start fixing the broken light.
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While Jim is tearing into the receptionist's desk, Zeyram checks his messages. He quickly glances at Hawthorne and sees his gesture. I don't think that is what he meant. That thought is confirmed when another text comes through. Someday I'm going to get a datajack so I can check these messages more discreetly.
Picking up the stack of papers for the press information request, he starts paging through them. "It all this really necessary? Your forms need to be updated by the way, they only have three options for gender -- not even an other box."
Putting them back in a stack, he then says "Big Jim, it might be better to come back after these papers are filled out. Are you done with your repairs?"
Bill’s hairpiece begins ringing. “Sorry, another important message coming through.” Then the smile drops from his face. ‘Yes, Miss Joss. Sorry, Miss Joss.”
STOMP. STOMP. STOMP.
Click, click, click.
Through every exit come a number of Bluerise Security troops and one fabulously gorgeous, if slightly pouty, lashunta woman in a skin-tight silver dress suit. She walks up to Bill in her high heels, and takes the wrench out of his hand. “Pathetic. I just reviewed the video, they were using you, you idiot. You, on TV? Really? You have all the charisma of a toothpaste dispenser.”
Bill 278 shrinks, returning to his seat, looking woefully down at the flashing light on his console. “Yes, ma’am. Won’t happen again, ma’am.”
“Of course it won’t.” Still holding the wrench, she turns around looking at you, with all the confidence of having a bunch of highly trained troops behind her. “You may address me as Miss Joss. Do you know that Bluerise Law allows us to shoot suspected perpretrators of corporate espionage on sight?” She nods back at the troops and then looks coolly at all of you, then takes a seat, crossing her very long legs. “So, I’m your new best friend. Tell me... Why shouldn’t we shoot you? What is this so-called visit really about?”
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"It's not a so-called visit at all. It's one of those visits where you want to talk to someone but they throw up ridiculous corporate walls so they can protect their vanity from mingling with normal folk."
He turns and points at Bill, "You're using him as one wall."
Then he points at the guards, "An' you're using these fellas as another wall."
"We're just practical people: too many walls and we go looking for a ladder."
He shrugs and pulls up a seat opposite her, then another for each of the gang.
One time, while getting a seat from near to Bill, he grins, "Ain't it grand to feel appreciated by your boss."
As he's getting chairs, Cade laughs to himself, "This is much more better than asking for an appointment."
Finally, sitting down, he addresses the Lashunta woman's question, "You are in a dispute regarding the Acreon. We also have an interest in that dispute. That's the fancy term for it, right, dispute?"
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Xyklik looks at Cadence, then to the others, then back at the many, many clumped targets in front of him. He thinks about the grenade in his pack. How long would it take him to retrieve it? He knows which pouch, which fold. His arm had done it several times before. He still remembers blood coating the walls...
Snapping from his reverie, he says, "The human has a mouth, but it's true we are interested in the Acreon. The Starfinder Society has tasked us with discovering why an associate of ours was killed, and the mystery behind this," his mandibles click in a gesture of disgust, "situation."
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So it is possible for that smile to disappear? I wasn’t sure...
Zeyram looks at the mound of papers, then the Lashunta. With a shrug, he puts the mound of papers back on the reception desk.
In a somewhat incredulous voice, he asks the woman “You have corporate materials worth stealing accessible from the reception desk?” I really doubt that.
“I don’t know what the situation is with the desk, but we really did come to speak with someone about the Acreon. I expect talking to us would be less expensive than the repair, medical, and cleaning expenses that would result from more hostile actions.”
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Jim looks over to Bill with a knowing look "See this kind of thing happens all the time buddy, just a bunch of suits from the ivory tower who got wind of the show and want to come down and play at some hardball negotiation or threaten legal action on trumped up reasons maybe even try blatantly steal the show to sell to another network, don't listen to her you were looking good with that wrench - I bet she's from legal, those guys always seem to have it in for the working Joe"
"Listen Miss Joss, I came here in good faith to talk about the Acreon and by extension some rock, I'm looking to find out why that ship was so important to a buddy of mine who had an accident, nice guy, really into charity for the down but not out strugglers and street kids and other less fortunate families - anyhow I want to see through his dream and that ship is involved. Apparently, your company is the one I need to talk to"
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"I must apologize for the disruption," Hawthorne begins. "Our goal was to speak with someone about the Acreon, but my impatience got the best of me. Rather than try to decypher and complete the paperwork, I tried to hack into Bill's desk and create an appointment. I greviously underestimated the security on your receptionist's desk."
The LED on his datajack turns red as Sophia locks onto Miss Joss.
"Calm down. If they wanted to fight, they'd be shooting already."
Maybe they just want information before they kill you all.
"Good point."
All my points are good.
Big Jim reveives a discreet text on his fansite contact form from ‘TinTeeth278’.
Yep, from legal. Are you ALWAYS this brave?
The fake smile is once again plastered on the android receptionist’s face, but he waggles his eyebrows briefly when Jim looks his way.
“What is this, amateur hour?” Miss Joss shakes her head. “Fortunately for all of you, the geeky Kasatha is correct that I would loathe the paperwork and cleaning expenses.” She taps her perfectly manufactured fingernails against the coffee table. “Regarding the Acreon... Astral Extractions has had business dealings with the Hardscrabble Collective in the past, but the company is currently awaiting arbitration over the disposition of the aforementioned ship. Any discussion of the Acreon, the Collective, or their wonderful gadfly Kreel is strictly out of the question.” She wiggles her fingers in a shooing motion. “You may take your leave. Gentlemen, escort these inquiring sentents out, please.”
She hands Big Jim back his wrench. “I trust I won’t be seeing ANY of you again anytime soon,” she says in a sugary tone. “Otherwise... We might be forced to fill out paperwork and redecorate these offices.”
The guards come forward, ready to march you out of the Bluerise Sector. Is there anything you do before you go?