Your day begins with a rather ordinary request from Venture Captain Arvin to meet him in his reception room within the Lorespire Complex on Absalom Station. When you arrive at the scheduled time, you find a large vesk in a muscle shirt sitting at the table and messily consuming the various laid-out refreshments. Venture Captain Arvin stands on the opposite side of the table, visibly annoyed at the vesk, and turns toward you with a look of relief.
“Thank you for your timely response. Please, have a seat and some...” he goes to gesture at the serving tray, but recoils his hand reflexively as the vesk grabs another bite, “...refreshments.” As you sit, he continues, “Some new technology has come to the Society’s attention”—to which the vesk interrupts by clearing his throat loudly—“from our contact, here, Julzakama. If you would?”
The vesk stands, pops his neck, and pulls a battered and stained gym bag out from under the table. “Feast your eyes on this little gemling.” He reaches into the bag and removes what appears to be a severed human forearm, complete with hand. Julzakama waves the limb as though it were a toy and chuckles before offering it to Arvin to shake.
Arvin declines the handshake, rubs his temples, and explains. “As you might have guessed, this is a prosthetic limb. It’s a standard cybernetic augmentation, but this one was made with a new type of biotech, so well grafted that it’s almost undetectable without magic. Its special features are just as well hidden.” Arvin takes the hand from Julzakama to demonstrate a nearly invisible compartment large enough to conceal a knife, several data drives, or a small toolkit. “Such technology would be invaluable for covert and diplomatic operations, and the Society would like to find the specialist who crafted and installed it. But therein lies the difficulty. Julzakama, if you could explain the... circumstances, of this discovery?”
Julzakama holds up his hands, feigning innocence. “Hey, now, lashling, I wasn’t personally involved. Some vesk customers of mine got inna territorial dispute with some manlings. Stuff happened, one of these guys turned his winnings over to my customer to settle a bet, and here we are.” Julzakama gestures at the hand, smiling ingratiatingly, and continues, “I thought you Starfinders might be interested. You've always been such good... clients, after all.”
“Indeed,” Arvin folds his hands behind his back. “Julzakama tells me that his acquaintances’ rivals had been known to acquire their gear from gray-market operations in the Freemarkets. As that is our only lead so far, I’d like you to investigate the area; even if none of the listed clinics are the source, they may have more information on who is.”
“Do you have any questions?”
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Fresh from a shift unloading a freighter from Dock 94, Kultha flashes a toothy grin at the sight of the burly pawnbroker;
”Vell met Tovarich. I vud say you are keeping hands in things but that would be in poor taste nyet?”
Rumbling a laugh, the towering dockworker eyes the prosthetic limb with curious interest;
”New biotek… High end… Which Korps in this business? Vhat about your client Julzakama, they konnected to anyvun?”
She shrugs her broad shoulders, then looks toward Arvin;
”Venture Kaptain. Kan ve have list of biotek clinics here on Absalom? Both legitimate and backstreet. Good place to start yes?”
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Julzakama flicks his tongue out, tasting the air, before he responds with, "Ah, haha, if it izn't my second favorite Stihna." He grins widely and finishes his beer before crushing it with one hand and deftly tossing the can into the nearest trash receptacle. He cocks his head in Arvin's direction and scratches the scales on that side of his neck before continuing, indicating he'll be speaking in Common while in the Venture Captain's presence. "Let's just, how-do-you-say... clients diskonected previous owner."
Arvin clears his throat uncomfortably and changes the subject. “It is a biotech augmentation, but it appears to work by actually modifying the host's DNA and self-integrating biological components to improve appearances. That's what makes it remarkable, though it's otherwise similar to mundane cybernetics that you’ve likely seen used throughout the Pact Worlds. We’ve just never seen any as well concealed as this. Unfortunately, biotech implants are generally customized to their recipient’s physiology and genetic structure, so we can’t simply transfer this one to someone else. We also shouldn't reverse-engineer it without more information. If we want Starfinders to have access to such augmentations, we need to find whoever created them, and above all, make sure they're safe.”
On the topic of clinics, Arvin adds, “If I recall correctly, there’s a directory of businesses near the entrance that’s updated monthly; you could check that for augmentation clinics. Unfortunately, their public-access infosphere isn't as up-to-date. The Markets have a high turnover rate; businesses open and close all the time. It might be worth your time to check with the Markets’ AbadarCorp representatives for an updated list of operating permits.”
There are no large vehicles in the Freemarkets; all internal transport is handled at the Markets’ lowest level, reserved for delivery and maintenance. The main avenue follows the curve of the station, with four other walkways on the base level. Most goods and larger items of merchandise are on this level. The second level has a grid of aerial walkways and contains mostly service businesses: cosmeticians, spellcasters, tax preparers, and the like. Aside from street-food stalls, most eateries are on the third level, where patrons can observe the hustle and bustle from above. High turnover prevents sorting of businesses by type. The entire market consists of small businesses that focus on the working to lower-middle classes; entrepreneurs with more upscale aspirations usually have the connections and capital to afford permanent locations in more exclusive areas. That being said, trend followers of all income brackets frequent the Markets looking for the next flavor of the week, and savvy financiers do so seeking up-and-comers they can sponsor at other locations or hire directly.
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Lexicor arrives, still uncertain if he was in the correct location.
It would be prudent for investigate further, especially based upon the novelty of the grafting process or whatever is being employed.
Other than his research into star pilots and history pertaining to those in the business, his cultural skills provide little insight to the freemarkets.
Arvin smiles warmly as Lexicor enters the room.
"Two missions in a row, now, eh? Happy to have you back, Lexicor. Please, have a seat. Sorry to report that there won't be any starship travel for this mission. Just a bit of a local mystery."
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Kultha rumbles a laugh at Julzakama's comment, then swivels her eye to track the android newcomer.
With a welcoming nod to the technomancer she introduces herself;
"Pleased to make your aqvaintance Lexicor. I am Kulthalovosh. Dok vorker and Mekanik. Friends and fellow Vayfinder know me as Kultha."
The mechanic turns her attention back to the task at hand;
"Investigation good. Savvy tactik. Vhere to begin is question... I know doks and ships. Not shops, markets and such places."
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LAR tries to follow Julzakama's colorful tale, but becomes lost in some of the innuendoes.
"This, limb. Who did it come from? Are they no longer living? It would prove quite beneficial to simply ask them where they acquired such an item. If they are deceased, perhaps they had...friends that we could question."
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Arvin nods, "Oh! Yes. I suppose introductions are in order. Julzakama here is, a, uhh, business owner in the Spik—"
"I run a pawn shop," the vesk interrupts, before addressing the newcomer, "You should visit it sometime, machineling. I'm always looking for new clients." He flashes a toothy grin and leans back in his chair, which creaks just a bit from the strain.
"—right," Arvin continues. "Julzakama sells to us when he comes across... items that he can't simply display on his shelve—"
The vesk interrupts again, "Stolen badges, body parts, informati—"
"Suffice it to say," Arvin continues, "investigating the Freemarkets is the only lead we have at this time. If you've never been, it can be quite an experience."
He forwards you a link to the Absalom Station wiki.
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Kultha watches the interplay between Arvin and Julzakama with quiet amusement, then turns her attention toward the forwarded data-link.
"Mmm. Freemarkets much bustle and hustle. Just three of us, it vill be like finding interkeptor in asteroid field I think."
The big mechanic gestures toward the two androids with a toothy grin;
"Do nyet sorry my friends. Kultha fix you if batteries run low vith all this hunting."
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"Oh, there should be at least one more agent accompanying you three. I think the comms were under maintenance earlier, so they may join you anytime between now and when you arrive at the Freemarkets."
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Machineling. Is that a term of endearment, or derision? I will need to log this encounter in order to cross reference it later. He also did not directly answer my question. That, in itself, is significant. Goes the inner dialog that is non stop within Lar 612's brain. CPU. Network?
"Yes. We will go to the free markets, consult the directory, meet work the fourth starfinder, and question likely vendors.". Lar looks to the others as he turns to leave.
"Best of luck!" Arvin turns to gather the serving trays and napkins that Julzakama seems to have used the majority of.
Departing the Lorespire Complex and bringing up directions to the Freemarkets on your comms is an easy matter, and you soon find yourselves at a set of massive, gilded doors that separate the Freemarkets from the previous station sector. The entrance area contains a sizable shrine to Abadar to the right; to the left, an office issues permits, takes complaints, and receives petitions. Through the entry zone, a giant signboard with a directory of businesses offers onlookers a way to locate their desired merchandise.
The walkways are laid out in an orderly manner, with lifts and staircases at regular intervals leading to the Markets’ three retail levels. Kiosks sporting AbadarCorp logos offer carts for rent and advertise delivery services. Other businesses promote themselves in a riot of lights, music, and recorded ad pitches. Businesses are not grouped by type; food stalls operate next to jewelry stores, and specialists repair high-end electronics next to secondhand clothing racks.
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Kulta hefts her gear, giving the burly Julzakama a farewell nod as she leaves with her fellow Wayfinders;
"Dasvidaniya. Try to stay out of trouble you rogue."
As she walks the big mechanic peers over the shoulder of the slighter LAR 612;
"Time konsuming, but thorough. Like Drift Engine refit yes?"
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"Of course it will not be accurate." A kisatha stares pointedly at the trio before holding out a hand as if to ward them off. A subdermal implant glows briefly - the crest of the Starfinder Society. The glow fades rapidly and the kisatha crosses both pairs of arms.
"Vyecmuraf. A pleasure to meet you all." From the flatness of their tone, it is difficult to assess how much pleasure they are actually experiencing. "Due to the transient nature of the market and its stalls here, entrepreneurs who wish to avoid the notice of the authorities sometimes set up shop for a brief time before disappearing into the crowd once more. If what the venture-captain said is accurate, what we seek is most likely to be found in one of these stalls."
It is difficult to make out the kisatha's expression from beneath their scarf, but their eyes appear to be frowning. "We will need to be swift and delicate, lest they think we are lawkeepers and run away. Find the stalls in the out-of-the-way nooks, look over their wares, ask if they've got anything else in the back, do not ask about their 'special stock', and quietly send a signal if you find a lead." They squint at the other Starfinders. "Think you can handle that?"
Perusing the most up-to-date list, you find five business names that appear to be biotech-related:
BioBoost
Cytech Clinic
Metagenesis
Renew-You
Synthathesia
As you examine the board, a pair of halflings exit the permit office to the left, leaving the well-dressed shirren clerk unoccupied for the moment.
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Kultha looks over the tall Kasatha newcomer warily, her eyes swivelling between the group;
"Vell met Vyecmuraf. Okay ve look at nook, but not mention spezial vares. Send signal."
The mechanic gives a thumbs up in acknowledgement,
"Let us get to kracking then yes?"
As the big vesk moves purposefully toward the stalls, she leans in toward Lexicor, hissing a whisper;
"Komrade... Vhat signal?"
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With the stalls apparently organized alphabetically, you first come across a standing podium made of gleaming white plastic. A muscular human male, wearing an exercise outfit that is perhaps two sizes too small for him, entertains a crowd using a headset and loudspeaker as he excitedly and proudly extols the virtues of hard work, diet, discipline, and his key ingredient - synthetic anabolic steroidal androgens!
" specializes in nutritional supplements and to give the best body money can buy, using the universal currency of , discipline, and
Once his 45 minute looping infomercial concludes you have a chance to inquire further.
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Kultha eyes the energetic vendor with disdain;
"He look like burst kolbasa."
She looks to the others;
"Venture-Kaptain said prosthetic vas biotek augmentation modifying host DNA and biological komponents to improve appearances. Kould be our sausage yes?"
The big vesk mechanic hangs back, looking for those with more social graces to take the lead...
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”Those words don’t even mean anything put together like that. Marketing buzzwords.” Vyecmuraf shakes their head, then sighs heavily and approaches the salesman.
”Hello! I saw your presentation, and boy was I excited with what I saw!” The sudden change in the kisatha’s personality is breathtaking. ”But, like, I’ve got a friend who lost a leg. It was a terrible accident at the factory, and we don’t know if she’ll ever walk again. Do you, like, think this BioBoost could help her regrow her leg? After the insurance payouts, she’s, like, totally stacked and could buy a year’s worth of that’s what it would take to get her body back!”
"RIGHT, sounds like your friend is PERFECT for our subscription plan. Home delivery. ZERO obligation after twelve month down payment. With BIOBOOST, hard work, and DISCIPLINE, that one leg will be all they need!"
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"RIGHT, we here at BIOBOOST pride ourselves with providing you only the best, ALL-NATURAL, 100% non-animal tested, ASDA-ORGANIC quality ingredients in every order."
He provides you with a handout that is essentially the ingredient list stickered on the back of every bottle:
Stanozolol, Crystalline Sugar, Synthetic Caffeine, Nuarine, Vitamins B4, B8 and B10 (for energy-promotion*), Sucrose, Entropic Acid, Sodium Bicarbonate, Magnesium Carbonate, Antigravity Caffeine, Glucose, Niacinamide, Calcium Pantheranate (ethically sourced*), Pyridoxine HCI, Vitamin B12, Natural and Technomagical Flavors, Colors.
*these statements have not been evaluated by the Absalom Station Drug Administration
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"RIGHT, all you gotta do, is just go to this commsite," he hands you a spiffy-looking business card, "register your comm number and physical address, and your free sample will arrive in days."
Continuing around the ring, you enter a district where the majority of stalls operate out of industrial storage pods.
The entrance to this industrial storage pod is taped off, with a prominent, official-looking (and of course, gilded) Freemarkets sign that reads, ”Closed and under investigation for suspected illegal drug activities.” Another sign posted nearby, from Absalom Station’s public health department, instructs any former customers to please contact them. Numerous fliers promising inexpensive legal aid and personal-injury attorneys or other criminal defenses have been taped wherever there is visible space.
Just next door to the pod is a permanent structure - a lively but somewhat rundown barber shop titled “Hard as Nails”. Peering through the windows, you see that the clientele is predominantly vesk with a smattering of other reptilian humanoids. A list of services at the entrance advertises horn polishing, scale detailing and claw sharpening.
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Vyecmuraf snaps a quick picture of the storage pod and the investigation sign outside it. "Be a shame if the authorities found our seller first," they mutter, enlarging the picture on their wrist display with a tap. "Kultha, why don't you see if those lovely folks next door saw anything useful."
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Kultha nods in agreement with a toothy smile;
"Ok. Vill check. I kud do vith pediclaw."
She enters the barber shop, eyeing the occupants as she jabs a taloned thumb toward the door;
"Dobryy den komrades. Have couple of qvestions you may assist with. Vundering about pod next door? Vhat happened? Bad business or bad luck?"
The big mechanic pauses, eyeing her claws with a hiss-tsk;
"Sekond, how much for qvick claw sharpen. I vurk in docks. Loading plays hell vith these..."
She holds up her hand, showing the uneven edges to her talons.
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A venerable, utilarian-dressed male vesk with a prosthetic leg looks you up and down. Catching sight of your cropped tail, he nods once and greets you with "Pozhaluysta," which is vesk for "You are welcome here”.
An adolescent vesk female, with striking familial resemblance to the elderly male, takes your name and sits you down at a wide, heavy duty chair designed for tailed species. She glances at the digital clock on the wall, "You're in luck! Industry night started five minutes ago. Pediclaw for station workers is complimentary! Katazoa will be with you shortly."
Once you're in the barber's steel-framed chair Katazoa breaks out the belt-sander and gets to work, happy to entertain you with small talk.
He begins by decrying local gang violence as the main culprit, saying that the pod next door closed shortly after a gruesome fight. "Julzakama? *hiss* That low-life. Yeah, bunch of us saw the fight ourselves. Some augmented gang jumped a client and her mate. Leader took a frag grenade hard and literally fell apart before our eyes. Rest of 'em ran. AbadarCorp’s officials weren't happy with the negative publicity. Hate how they handle things. Contributes to poor species relationships on the station."
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Lexicor shrugs as he has no need for the vanities of horn sharpening, nail polishing or hair grooming.
Being an android has its benefits. he thinks to himself
After considering the description of the violence.
AbadarCorp? They had negative publicity? Who threw the grenade, the Corp or the gang? Is that standard practice? How were these augmented gang members armed? A grenade seems extreme for dealing with a crowd especially if innocent victims were in the vicinity.
Once Kultha explains that the android is with him, the clients and employees of the barber shop relax a little (although they seem skeptical of this non-vesk asking questions).
Katazoa shrugs, "If I were ambushed by gang, I'd throw grenade, too. AbadarCorp hates it if word spreads that markets aren't safe. Fewer customers come shop. Even business here affected. If you want, tell your concerns to AbadarCorp official at entrance. Shirren. Can't miss him with that awful necktie he hangs outside his armor. He's investigating all the recent troubles. I hear there's others. Don't know what they are."
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A tall lashunta woman wearing a white labcoat and goggles over a dark blue second skin enters the barbershop. She glances at her comm unit and then at the party several times before telepathically introducing herself.
**Good day my friends, my name is Aluradux Hass. I'm sorry I'm a bit late. I was shopping when I got Arvin's summons and as I was finalizing my purchases a quartet of skittermanders decided I desperately needed their 'help.' They were quite charming but it did take awhile to politely disentangle myself from them. I understand we're looking into the origin some interesting biotech? This should be quite the interesting task.**
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Watching all of the starfinders enter the barber shop, Lar looks to Vyecmuraf. "I thought today only Kultha was to go in the barber shop. With it being primarily a Vesk establishment, and her being a Vesk, That gave her the greatest chance of gaining the information we sought, going in alone. Did I misunderstand something? Should we also enter?"
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The kisatha snorts derisively. ”Hardly. I have no desire to stand for an hour and watch vesk nails being trimmed. Are you patched into her broadcast channel?” Not bothering to wait for a reply, they begin pulling up public records on shirren employed by AbadarCorp stationed at the Freemarket today, as well as photos on the popular social media platform ‘RatsApp’ with the tag ‘#WorstNecktie’.
Vyecmuraf indeed confirms it is the same Shirren the group passed earlier.
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Inside the shop Kultha sits and listens as Katazoa denounces the ganger violence, hissing wryly at the particular condemnation of Julzakama;
"Unskruplious is that Julzakama... Sounds messy business. Grenades and gangs alvays bad mix."
As she mulls the possibility of augmented gangers being at the heart of this, the big vesk eyes her newly sharped claws with a satisfied rumble;
"Spasibo. You do good vork Katazoa. I vill kom back again."
Despite the fact the pediclaw was complimentary, Kultha leaves a fistful of credits in hard currency ;
"For kommunity."
She beckons for Lexicor to follow;
"Ve go now Lex, others vaited long enough I think."
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Exiting the shop Kultha regroups, sharing what they have gleaned:
"Hard As Nails most profitable. Ve now know gang vith augmentations in frame. Find gang. Find our biotek yes. Also I get best pediclaw. Most impressive."
The big dockworker displays her sharpened claws with pride, then nods at LAR's accumen;
"Da. Ve speak to oshibka... little bug. If AbadarKorp keep problems hush-hush, maybe vant Starfinder help in solving. How you say; You scratch me, I scratch you back yes?"
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It is hard to notice that the evening hours are just beginning as you make your way back towards the Freemarket's entrance, since attendance is just as lively as when you first arrived.
Entering the tiny AbadarCorp office, you see a shirren wearing dark armor trimmed in silver reading over a datapad and snacking out of a candy dish filled with protein wafers. A blue-and white nameplate advertises his name as "Philt".
His antennae twitch from side to side quizzically. "Gilded greetings. How may Abadar profit you this evening?"
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At the newcomer's entry
Welcome! I wish my last mission was as graced with keepers of the lost arts. Lexicor at your service.
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Smiling back at Aluradux comment
I do not think it will hold up as false advertising, but an interesting gimmick nonetheless. Greeting, Philt, is it? Are you the manager of this office? We seek a bit of information.