The ysoki's shot goes wide. The human gives the creature only a grazing zap.
The featherstalker, finding the drone to be rather unpalatable, makes its way toward the other Starfinders and easily climbs over the vehicle. Approaching the gnome and the human, it peers down upon them, flailing just inches away from the two and menacing them from atop the vehicle's canopy!
Combat Initiative Round 8 Begins
Tchisk
Elina
Deloran
Zap -11 HP
Zip -11 SP
Hach
Featherstalker -29 HP
The technomancer's shot misses. The envoy lays down harrying fire. The operative hesitates for a moment, while the mechanic swings and misses.
The featherstalker waves its plumed appendages in rage and prepares to beat upon the Starfinders below it. When, from the catwalk, the soldiers fires one of his last shots. The shot strikes true and though the creature is able to absorb some of the energy burning into it, it cannot absorb it all.
The creature explodes in a burst of blu-ish gore and feathers!
Once the sounds of fighting have died down, station security moves into the warehouse to start removing cargo and freeing up the space for the Exo-Guardians.
As this occurs, Zigvigix emerges from behind the cordon line in a congratulatory posture. They present you with a set of basic iridishell armor, a pair of incendiary grenades I, and 400 credits. {{Please, rest up. You may need it to complete my other task.}} the shirren suggests. {{I apologize for the lack of credits, but that is all that I can offer.}}
The shirren pauses for a moment, then waves good-bye, sending {{Have fun with the grenades, but don’t blow yourselves up—I like you!}}
Arriving at the line for the album, you see quickly that the raucous line extends out for quite a distance.
I don’t suppose I can just send in Zap to buy me a copy? As he’s immune to most fort saves? I can pilot him remotely and he has hands (manipulator arms). No? Okay.
|
Deloran standing in the long line starts to wear on him.
"Man my legs are killing me. Can this line start moving? What are we waiting for, their next album to be made!"
Taking a deep breath Deloran calms down.
"Elina do you know any of the songs that might be on the album that we could all have a sing-a-long?"
After hours in line, the party manages to obtain a number of copies of the album.
However, the ordeal has taken its toll on the Starfinders...
... and it gets worse as an exuberant crowd mobs the Starfinders in their own efforts to obtain a copy of the album.
The party is then free to deliver copies of the album to the faction leaders.
The shirren squeals in delight. {{Oh, thank you! Please take this as token of my appreciation.}} they say as they hand you all a single charge cloak.
The android gives you a long, unreadable stare. After a several moments, she calmly states, "I will enter it into the archives."
The party still has yet to see two of the faction leaders.
|
For a giant Walrus, Elina is rather light on her flippers. Or maybe it's that the crowd is a little less willing to shove the tusked behemoth?
Now now darlings, no need to rush, one at a time, let's not overwhelm the poor clerk... ah, thank you, and let me chip in for a copy for dear zig, they deserve one... and a copy for me, thank you...
With albums in hand, you once again head back to the majestic halls and busy corridors of the vast Lorespire Complex. The Lorespire Complex serves as the home and heart of the Starfinder Society. It is a striking campus dedicated to knowledge. Communal labs and historical departments study the Archives’ massive collection of artifacts and texts, gathered by generations of agents from across the galaxy. A quick search of the directory indicates Historia-7 frequents the Archives’ Cortex, a computerized matrix containing digital records of the Starfinder Society’s most prominent discoveries.
Upon arriving outside of her office, you are ushered inside. The android faction leader reclines on a raised chair and is plugged into the local infosphere when the doors open. The neural cables detach themselves from her neck as she swivels in her seat to address the new arrivals.
“Greetings, Starfinders,” she says calmly. “I am Historia-7. If you are seeking a mission from me, please be aware that my request requires both discretion and speed. Do not accept it if you feel incapable of working within these parameters."
She pauses briefly, but does not seem to make any effort to ascertain your feelings.
“I discovered someone recently hacked into Bluerise Tower’s computer systems and stole a large amount of sensitive data from the resident corporations." she continues. "I wish to be privy to this information. I managed to trace the hacker’s location through many proxies and erased the trail so that station and corporate security should be delayed in their pursuit. This deception will not fool them for long, so you must move quickly to retrieve the data before they can recover it. I will leave you to decide what to do with the hacker afterward, but should it be feasible, I believe that person would be an asset to the Society.”
"Do you have any inquiries?" she asks.
|
"Gee, I dunno" Zip says, rubbing his chin.
"Yeah, helping a hacker is kinda, not what we signed up for." the drone finishes.
"Do we have eh-uh . . . do we have any reason to suspect these corporations of wrongdoing? Why are we doing this? I mean, I know that the law can be a burden some of-well, a lot of the time really, but honestly, just stealing some peoples' stuff seems . . . kinda like, y'know, a jerk move." Zip finishes.
"Yes do you have the name, race, age or even gender of the hacker? Just something useful so we know who or what we are looking for."
"A location is all I can provide for the hacker." Historia-7 responds.
"Stealing stolen data. I see." Hach didn't have a question.
Historia-7 doesn't have a qualm.
"Bluerise Tower? That's some talent, though perhaps reckless. You sure you want us to recruit this hacker?"
"A talent? Yes. Am I certain? Yes." Historia-7 responds.
"Do we have eh-uh . . . do we have any reason to suspect these corporations of wrongdoing? Why are we doing this? I mean, I know that the law can be a burden some of-well, a lot of the time really, but honestly, just stealing some peoples' stuff seems . . . kinda like, y'know, a jerk move." Zip finishes.
"Quick, sharp, sudden movements have little to do with this request." Historia-7 responds.
"Bluerise Tower, a private office structure maintained by multiple corporations and legally protected to the point that even the station’s Stewards have difficulty entering." the android explains. "Why these corporations need such absolute sovereignty over their own affairs is a question of great interest to many people, including myself. I believe the companies know more than they let on, and that the Society needs to stay informed in its vulnerable state. To do, recruiting this hack seems a most logical manner of doing so."
"What happens if the hacker does not want to give up the data? Do we 'Force' the issue?
"Obtaining the information is the primary objective." is all Historia-7 says in response.
Do you know of anyone else that might be after the hacker? And how do we know that we have the right data?"
"Bluerise Towers and its resident corporations will almost certainly be after the hacker. They undoubtedly have a number of rivals and enemies that would also be interested in the information." the android notes. "As I was able to trace the hacker’s location, whatever data you uncover there will, almost certainly, be the data retrieved. Bring whatever you find to me."
"Likely, the data I seek contains digital markers identifying its point of origin." Historia-7 acknowledges. "However, you may leave verification of the data's source and content to me. You need only bring it to me."
Historia-7 provides you with an address to a flat in Drifter’s End, a district in the station’s Ring known for providing cheap housing to vagabonds of all sorts.
Upon arrival at the coordinates given by Historia-7, you find an point apartment that resembles a cement cube, with several tomato plants in plastic barrels sitting on an otherwise barren porch. Boxes of nutrient broth, gardening tools, and various cultural knickknacks clutter the floor of the flat, leaving barely any room for visitors to sit down.
Outside of the apartment, a young human man appears to be tending the tomato plants, which are being hand-pollinated.
|
|
Zip and Zap approach the man cordially.
”Heya mister. My name’s Zip. Whatcha got there?” Zip asks.
”Lookit that, guy seems to be hand-pollinating his own tomatos. My name’s Zap by the by.” the drone adds.
”Wow, don’t see that too often these days do ya? It’s good to see people with such attention to detail and passion for their work.” Zip adds.
The young man looks around as if trying to determine to whom the gnome and drone are speaking. When he realizes that the two are talking to him, he awkwardly answers, "Oh, um, hello."
He puts down a container of people absentmindedly wiping his yellowed hands on his pants. "I'm Jubair. Nice to meet you, I guess."
He pauses to look at the drone, then the gnome, then the drone. Turning once again to the gnome, he says, "You guys sound kind of familiar. Have we met before?"
|
|
The two smile at each other.
”Well whaddya know, we ran into two of our listeners today.” Zip says.
”Yeah, both of our listeners!” the drone chides him and the two start laughing.
After a moment they calm down.
”Maybe you heard us from the time someone called in about putting compost in their hover-transport.” Zip manages. ”Rusted through their trunk into their hover-transmission. Reversed the polarity of the ion flow. Whole thing had to be rebuilt.”
”The transmission had to be rebuilt?” the drone asks, setting up the punchline.
”No, each individual neutron!” Zip quips back sarcastically. The two double over laughing for a good 15 seconds before they compose themselves.
”Oh, sorry about that Jubair, it’s good to meet you. I’m Zip and he’s Zap, we’re the Zappit brothers. Host the radio show ‘Ship Talk’ on New Pact-worlds radio.”. Both he and the drone extend hands to shake.
"I could tell you both had a face for radio!" Jubair replies. "So, I know you guys are good with getting hover-car to turn overs. But, I was wondering if you have any advice for getting tomatoes to ripen. Do you think it has to do with the wattage of my sunlamp?"
The young man heads to show off the model number of his lamp, when he pauses as asks, "So, what brings you here anyways?"
|
|
Elina waves herself with a fan as big as her flipper.
Why darling, we're on a recruiting mission! We have it on good authority that a master hacker lives here, and we wanted to hire them! They of course decided to send Mua to handle negotiations... who else but the great Elina Matzenauer could handle such an important deal.
Your not... 100% sure if she believes what's she's saying, but she's selling it.
"Whoah! Hold the comm!" the young looks up rather surprised at the large mammalian creature's seemingly sudden appearance. "I don't know anything about any hacker here. You must've got some bad info because there's no here but me and my Nuna. And we sure ain't no crims!"
"Buy you sure seem like nice folks," he continues, "if I can help you in some way, I'll try."
|
|
"Boy, gee. It's been a while since my old computer science days, but it's possible someone spoofed your signal or hacked your space wi-fi to make it look like it was coming from here." Zip says, ignoring the quip about his face as he rubs his chin, thinking. "Maybe we can take a look at our infoshpere link? I mean, Historia-7, that's our boss, she was pretty sure the hack came from this address, so someone may be using your SpaceIP address without you knowing it."
"Look, viz!" the man says, raising his voice, "I don't know nothing about spoofing or links. Just me and my Nuna live here and we..."
"Jubair?" cries a weak voice from behind the door. "Jubair, my boy. Who are you talkin' to?""
Suddenly, at the door appear as an old woman, dressed in a blue-and-white abaya. When she spots members of the party on her porch, she looks surprised.
"Its some guys from the radio, Nuna. And their friends. They've come looking for some hacker or spoofer, Nuna." the young man replies.
"Hacker? Spoofer?" the old woman responds. "Well, I don't see why they'd be coming 'round to bother us with the matter," she says. "But visitors are visitors." she scolds mildly. "They deserve to be treated with dignity and respect."
The elderly woman turns toward the party members and offers a weak, confused smile. "My name is Ceren. Welcome to my home." she says with genuine courtesy.
"Please pardon, my grandson, Jubair." the woman continues. "He is better with plants than people. "
She waives her hand on a pad on the wall and the door to the apartment swings open. "I am not sure that I can help you find whatever it is that you may be looking for." she begins as she gestures as an invitation for you to enter. "But, I am certain that our discussion would go more smoothly over a shared pot of tea. Please, do come in."
"Well, in that case,"" Ceren says,"I'll go put some water on and be out in just a moment."
The woman directs you to find a seat on the porch as she re-enters the apartment. Through the open door, you see a clutter-filled living space, filled with boxes, bags, novelties, and knickknacks. After a brief moment, Ceren returns with a small tray of teacups filled with piping hot liquid.
"Please, help yourselves."" Ceren says, extending out the tray to offer its contents. "It is not much, but I hope you will enjoy it."
She brushes aside a few horticultural supplies from a small table on the porch to provide room. She then reaches down to set the tray upon it. As she does so, some of her long, white hair hangs down.
"Now, what is all this talk of a "hackers' and 'spoofers'?" Ceren asks. "Would you please all explain to me just what you are doin' here at my home?"
|
|
Seing the cluttered enviorment, Elina snorts.
Not likely.
Elina turns and smiles again at Ceren, taking a cup of tea in one flipper with a dainty hold.
Much obliged my dear hostess.
She takes a tiny sip from the tiny cup before continuing.
My dear, we represent a organization of individuals who use our combined skills and abilities to support each other as well as explore the galaxy. Another organization, of the corporate kind, was recently hacked by a hacker who's skills nearly match one of our best... nearly. She was able to track the hacker's location to your home. Our job is to recruit that person, and if they would be so kind, obtain any information they recently acquired.
She sips at her tea.
You must forgive me, but despite your protests, I'm inclined to believe it's one of you two.
“Oh, this?” Ceren responds to the human Starfinder as her hand reaches for her artificial implant. “Why, its just a remnant from my younger, wilder, days. When I used to…”
The woman stops midsentence. She closes her eyes for a moment and concentrates. When she opens her eyes again, a momentary expression of surprise flashes across her face, quickly replaced by an expression indicating calming acceptance.
"My implants are indeed used for—what did you call it?—Ah yes, ‘storing and transporting data’. And, it would seem…” Ceren adds with a slight smile. "That they have been doing so, again, rather recently.”
"Nuna?!" Jubair cries out in shock.
The old woman gives him a soothing pat on the shoulder and continues."I was, what you might call a 'hacker', once..." the woman's eyes look straight ahead, as if they are focusing on a point in the distance, though there appears to be nothing of note in her view. She pauses for a moment, a smile forming on her face. She then, turns to address you all, her voice now a bit stronger, "I was a pretty good, one, too."
"But time has a way of affecting us all. And for me, old age brought on a degenerative brain disease. Forced my 'retirement', I suppose you might say." she explains. "I acquired these augmentations--implants in the brain--they were to help keep my mind functional, to halt the damage done."
"But, I suppose that time has been catchin' up with them too, 'cause I'm no longer as capable as I once was. Been havin' more lapses in memory lately. They've been goin' longer too."
The woman's remarks seem to spur on the coming of words of protest from the young man, Jubair. But with a glance from her, the man remains quiet and she continues, "I have no idea, exactly, when or how this particular dataset of information came to be stashed in my neural implants. But, I suppose its possible that during one of my memory lapses that I may have slipped into my younger 'mindset', acquired the data, and then forgotten about it." An amused look comes across her face.
"If you were able to track the hack here, then I suppose it is only a matter of time before corporate security does the same." she muses. "I always kinda figured that was how it was goin' to all end anyways, at least in my younger days..."
The woman seems momentarily consigned to a fate of capture, arrest, and worse. But, then, as the young man touches her hand, she appears to gain a new resolve. "But, since those days, I'm no longer simply responsible for myself. I have Jubair that I need to care for, too."
"If I am imprisoned or worse, then there is no one left to care for Jubair. As long as I am alive, then corporate security will not rest until I have been captured or killed." the old woman says, an undercurrent of excitement hinted within her voice.
"You may be looking for a recruit, but corporate security is looking for a victim." Ceren says, looking Elina in the eyes. "If you want me to join with you, then I am going to need some help getting out of this mess. Any suggestions?"
|
|
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
Elina fans herself and gives a MASSIVE tusky grin.
Why my dear Ceren, we simply MUST put on a show for them is all!
She smiles at her team.
Corporate security will arrive to find only the remains of a poor dear woman and her grandson, already killed and the data stolen from dark, unsavory elements!
She faux faints for a moment.
What tragedy What horror, and I witnessed it all. Those cruel, terrible, awful beasts!
She gives a lather loud blowing of her nose into a kerchief that suddenly appears as she sobs a bit more.
Who would DO such a thing!
She stops suddenly, and then winks.
Of course, we'd have to get you set up somewhere else first... any ideas my illustrious collegues? We'll have to make sure the act looks genuine... Props! Props are a necessity for a riveting portrayal!