Strek contorts his mouth to the side of his head. "That's enough windshield tampering for one day. You can help me scrape off this spiderweb motif from these weapons instead."
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Jaraduk winces at the mention of "Pirates in the Diapora". He looks away to hide his face as he continues.
Yeah... we definitely wouldn't want that. I imagine anyway. We'd better report back in and hope for the best. Besides, Tarika got me this job. Ghosting the company is one thing, but I'd never forgive myself for leaving without explaining things to her.
Shirts... how would you ladies like to come back with us and set up shop at Absalom station. We find you a safe nook to setup in, we take a small percentage.
He looks at the others.
What?! We need continuous residuals to make up for how these jobs are going! We could turn a profit on this small amount of stock or we could bring the means of production with us!
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mumble mumble grumble "Got drafted so i wouldn't have to take orders from mom deserted so i wouldn't have to take orders from sarge and now I'm getting orders from a guy who couldn't make spear carrier numner 4 if Zo! was producing his act... "
She grumbles and instead of laboriously scraping off the Symbol on her gun just sawzalls off the sections with the motif and rivets, welds, or just carves wooden replacements to speed up the process. No one could accuse the finished product of being a Ziezer, and Zeizer themselves would be the last people to take bla..erm. Credit for the ysoki chic engineering that results. She's a LITTLE better with the others , presumably for sale, but instead of blending the grindmarks in and polishing them smooth uses the scuff marks as a place to pour epoxy and cover it with extra rubber or leather since scuffing the metal makes it stick better.
ysoki engineering: we don't live long enough not to take shortcuts.
"Come on Mr. Jaraduck. You got sent into a warzone with a delivery and ambushed by the fiercest freedom fighters this side of the gap. How could they blame you for not delivering the cargo when you were waylaid by a small army? "
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"How could they blame you for not delivering the cargo when you were waylaid by a small army? "
"Well, they would blame us because those slogans you came up with? They're mostly true." says Guess? with a shrug.
"That's true! It would also help provide some revenue for the rebel effort here..."
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Del snags the last battery and slips it into her backpack, still in a bit of a daze. At the sight of the ysoki—who was that again?—trying to paint on her windshield she jolts to attention and scrambles after the ysoki. "Not the windshield, not the windshield!"
She pauses, noticing the vandalism all over poor BD for the first time. "Oh, dear." She sighs. "Fingers crossed this works..."
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Melissa only has a few seconds to paint the windshield with something before the angry giant butterfly comes to kick her off, so quicklly paints up her rump and tail, moons the windshield and presses the resulting stamp to it, and scampers off.
EJ doesn't give a
STAMP
About Us
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"Well I was gonna say that gettin' ya hired with Edge wasn't gonna be difficult. It's usually tha 360 day probation most people have a problem with. But now that you're leaving 'prints' everywhere.."
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" Not everywhere. Just the window. And that chair. And the toilet seat. She scared me! Sides, by definition it's not something someone pays enough attention to to tel one from the other."
(Is now picturing some poor hobgoblin technician having rolled up Melissa with ink, trying to compare a person sized blot of construction paper to a picture of the windshield like old timey fingerprint comparison)
We have pictures of you so-called mooners. And just because the pictures aren't of your faces doesn't mean we can't identify you. At this very moment those pictures are on their way to Washington where the FBI has experts in this type of identification. If you turn yourselves in now, you may escape a Federal charge.
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The ladies respectfully decline your offer to join your enterprise and go back to sewing. Eventually the shuttle is painted and the new cargo is loaded into the smuggler's hold. The rebel dwarf and shirren leaders see you off. "Sure you don't want to be bloodied up a bit? Whatever we can do to help." You ignore the awkward offer and say goodbye to the rebel camp. You fly your ship and drive the empty hover truck to a wider patch of road by the still-smoking wreckage and call in to the Gideron Authority. The responder believes Guess?'s desperate call for help easily and reassures you. "Yes, we heard of the rebel attack. Sorry to hear about the loss. Send us your location, Edge-Team, we will send reinforcements your way." Within about ten minutes a half-dozen enercopters descend on the mountain pass. Most of the soldiers walk the area, inspecting the wreckage and looking for survivors. One of the female hobgoblins walks right up to you and you recognize her as Quartermaster Siib. She frowns. "First, you failed to deliver the cargo. You won't be getting paid. Second, I hear one of your coworkers died in the attack. I'm sorry, we'll get the rebels who did this." She asks a few follow-up questions about the rebel force: what they were armed with, where they went too, and any notable physical attributes.
Most of the crew helps Guess? in telling the tale while Melissa plays games on her datapad in the smugglers hold.
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"All you Endos look alike to me. Plus they was wearin' armor. Camouflaged like tha snow."
...forgot to wipe that blood off my clothes, didn't I?
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Akh sighs as everyone else seems to be willing to head back and try their luck with EJ's corporate mercy instead of cutting loose on their own. Even if he thought that was doomed in more ways than one, he would hardly be a good friend and ally if he abandoned them now.
Once facing the Gideron Authority hobgoblins, Akh rubs at his jaw as if the joint is painful. "They were terrible. Downright terrible. Their armor was hand-sown, likely by kindly grandmothers. Evil, kindly grandmothers, of course. And they killed so many people just to get their hands on those weapons... that's the rebels that killed people, not the evil grandmothers. Though I suppose the grandmothers might be killers too."
His story comes off as deeply overwrought.
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I don't know how we would know about their grandmothers, but I'll tell you what we DID know about: their IEDs and ambushes! It's like they knew we would be making this delivery! You all have got to work on your intel network so that we can safely make these supply runs and stay in business.
Slight change of direction... still overwrought.
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Prior to calling in the GA, Guess? will prepare a note supposedly written by the rebels left for the crew to discover when the crew 'wakes up' from unsconsciousness.
"It was horrible! It was awful! Those rebels swarmed out of nowhere like a some kind of pest invasion! We didn't see all of them... only a few. There were these two male dwarves and a male ysoki. One of the dwarves moved like some kind of bird - light on his feet. I'm thinking he must've had some magic support or augments - it was unnatural! The ysoki was horrifying - fur matted with blood and raggedy sharp teeth... practically fangs!!
"I'm sure there were more but these few seemed to target my crew first because we got hit with multiple waves of stun gun attacks knocking us out. So we didn't see how many more there were, nor how the battle went down. Aside from the stun guns, I did see one of the dwarfs carrying a rifle and the ysoki a pistol. But since we were knocked unconscious first, we didn't see what other armaments they had.
"And unfortunately, this means we also don't know where they went. When we came to, we were in our ship. We ran out and saw nothing but that burning wreck... ...and ...and... ...and the body of our crewmate!!!"
Guess? balls his fists in anger while tears begin streaming down his eyes. "Sure, that human would've made for a tasty meal... but gobbammit! He was my crew!! Those rebels!! Damn those rebels!!!"
A fierce look comes over Guess? as he eyes Siib, "Promise me! You'll hunt down every last rebel and make each one of them pay! Treat them the way they treated my crewmate! Burn 'em! Explode 'em! PROMISE!!!"
Guess? then calms down and continues his story...
"That aside, look at what they've done to our ship!"
Guess? points at all the anti-GA and anti-EJ vandalism sprayed all over our ship.
"And why didn't those cowardly rebels kill us? Well, they left us alive to send a message to our employers. Here's a note - it says: 'GA Sympathizers. As you are Pact World citizens, we have spared your lives this time. We have no quarrel with the Pact Worlds but will not stand by if the Pact Worlds arm the illegal Gideron Authority occupiers. Future arms shipments will be met with deadly force. Depart the system and do not return.'
"But Siib. I swear to you and to Lamashtu that me and my crew will NOT be intimidated!! The murder of our crewmate a the hands of these rebel filth must be... WILL be avenged!!"
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"Now, about that payment. Okay, fair enough that the cargo wasn't delivered and you'll have to garnish payment. But how about partial payment? After all, we went above and beyond in trying to move the cargo to your desired location whereas the purchase order stipulated that delivery be made to the labor camp - not the armory. Or at the very least, a personal service fee to cover our time and expenses in fulfilling your extraordinary request?"
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"Oh and one more thing, Siib. If you have anything you need delivered, give us a yell, alright? No delivery too small, no delivery too questionable. We've got a comprehensive list of rates to cover all manner of items that one might want transported, you know what I mean?
"And by the way, this works the other way around as well. If there are any particular specialty items that you or your colleagues here might want to procure - you let us know!"
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Del pales, "I didn't see them much—it was all I could do to keep the truck on the road, what with the yelling and the screaming and the explosions." She stares off in a daze for a while, then shakes her head. "Sorry, I.... I need a minute."
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Quartermaster Siib stares down Guess? as he speaks, eyes briefly flickering to the rest of you as you support him. She coldly looks on as he tells the harrowing story, lips twitching slightly at the mention of roast human. When he ends with a request for payment, she sighs. "Lamashtu's left lump, never send a gobbo to do a hobbo's job." She throws her arm out to point to the burning wreckage. "Your payment burned up with your friend. Welcome to the military, boy. You don't get results, you don't get paid. You get results, maybe you get paid." Her aid comes up to her with some notes on the wrecked truck and she turns back to you, still distracted. "Yeah, sure, whatever. I won't lodge a complaint with Eee-Jay", she pronounces the corporation's more common shorthand with deliberate pressure, "I'll just tell them what happened. Probably fine, at least you won't be fighting more rebels. Go deliver some toilet paper." She turns and walks away, waving her hand in dismissal. "Drop by the camp if you need medical help. Tell them I cleared you." Her aid follows her, taking dictation. A moment later, they run back to you. "Uh... can you describe those grandmothers for me? Strategic Intelligence will want to know everything."
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It seems Guess? has gotten you out of a tight spot, once again. You're free to leave this planet, though you will leave Lars' charcoal-coated grave behind. You may not have been close, but he was crew and he always went "to the Edge" when the situation demanded. The ship won't be the same without him. You all get into the ship, let Melissa out of the smuggler's hold, and show her around. There's a new bunk open, and a new crew member to fill it. Del, slowly coming out of the trauma that was Vohxa, pushes the starship into drive and you slip into the drift. This journey should only take a few days. It’s time to go back to Absalom Station, report in, and face the consequences of another botched job.
A few days into the trip and you've all begun working through Lars' death and started getting to know the newest ysoki, Melissa. You all meet up on third shift for dinner, as you do every day in the Drift.
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Melissa finishes her 16 hour shift of paint scrubbing. Coal tar and mica dust seemed like such a fancy idea at the time. She drags a largish bucket into the shower, hops in, and proceeds to methodically lather scrub rinse dunk dunk rather scrub rinse dunk dunk working from ears to tail o feet. The bucket rapidly fills up with grime, grease, dirt, dust, mud, mica, and leaves a terminal moraine of small pebbles, stone shards that have stuck with her fur through both showers in her whole week of basic training.
When she gets out it turns out that her bellyfur is white, and her back is positively gleaming silver. Without the odd glasses she was wearing attached to the EJ hardhat her eyes are large, brilliant, bright blue set in a heart shaped patch of white. The ysoki looks around for a hair dryer, and finding the one in there inadequate takes it apart and modifies it for more power and less volume. Hopefully no one will notice the missing jumper cables. Attempt one results in a mild shock and the lights flickering, but fortunately having your fur puffed up on end just just makes it easier to blow-dry.
For her first "family dinner" She slips into her fanciest clothes, a W.W.S.D.info-graphic t shirt, dumps the bucket of rocks into disposal, gives her fur the once over with the brush in a vain attempt to not look like a giant cotton-ball, and heads out.
(for the ysoki watching at home, this is the equivalent of the scene where the librarian pulls the hairpin out to let their hair fall down and takes off the glasses. Especially the engineering check on the hair dryer)
Having gotten right to work she hasn't seen the galley yet, and Stops staring as she rounds the corner to see it. "OMG is that an auto-chef 5,000!" she breaks into a run and pops open a few panels
"Ow wow, most of these parts are genuine too.. its still even got the bacteria attenuator in tact.. mostly..." she sniff sniffs the dispenser, whiskers twitching and her eyes light up
" OOOOO!!! Genuine goop!!!! Is it someones birthday or is this my welcome aboard treat?"
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Before getting down to the dirty business of scrubbing spiderwebs off grenades, Strek spends 3rd shift hooking up Lars' datapad to a continual power supply near the mirror in the hallway leading to the communal dining area, and sets it up to loop through some of the crew's fondest moments of him, in a sort of slideshow memorial:
"Anyone else have any submissions?"
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Akh takes up his traditional position coiled along the starboard wall of the common area, occasionally floating up toward the ceiling as a white-furred ysoki scurries at top speed this way or that. When she starts digging into the auto-chef, he calls out "Please be careful. Given our general lack of respect for her (the autochef) in recent months, I expect her sudden but inevitable betrayal is close. It would be a poor welcome to this team if you were to be poisoned by a bowl of porridge."
When Strek brings up the slideshow memorial, Akh shudders noisily, metal plates chiming against one another "He was taken from us too soon. Do you have the picture from when he seized control of the ship back from that package of hyper-intelligent plums? We would have all been dead back then without him..."
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Melissa Ooohhhhs.. as she turns around and sees the impromptu funeral, and a possible explanation for the "genuine goop". Despite ysoki have a more "we have reserves" mentality when it comes to meeting pharasma, she feels more than a little responsible for his death. She Slumps down in her chair until only her ears are showing over the table, and her fur assumes the dull industrial gray color of the plastic seat.
She does take an Ahk sized bowl and when no one is looking, intermitently shovels a few spoonfulls into her mouth with an mmmMMMMMmmm... "Well, I'm sure we'll be the best friends. "
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Guess? watches the slideshow in appreciation. "That's a good tribute there, Strek."
Replying to Akh, "I might have one. I'll have to see if I can dig it up. But yah, that was quick thinking on Lars' part!"
Guess? continues explaining, partly for Melissa's benefit, partly for the rest of the crew to reminisce. "While the rest of us were trapped and locked in the lavatories by those dang plums, Lars wandered back on board late after an all-night, high-stakes session of parcheesi - Akiton ysoki rules, if I remember correctly. Once he realized those plums had taken over the ship and held us hostage, he hacked the environmental controls, amped up the temps far beyond safe levels (voiding the ship warranty, by the way) and dried those plums up into prunes. In fact..."
Guess? walks over towards the crew quarters and comes back with a paper bag, then empties the contents onto the table - a single prune. "...here's the last of them. No better time for us to divide up this sweet lil treat than now... in Lars' honor, yah?"
Guess? then pulls out his canteen filled with superior intoxicant, pours out a glass for everyone (including Melissa) then raises his glass in memory of Lars and says somberly...
"You would've made a tasty treat.
"But to me, you were more than just a piece of meat.
"Together we were a crew, a team.
"We backed each other, especially when running outta steam.
"But you've moved on to some higher place,
"A reality difficult for us to face.
"But wherever your spirit now dwells,
"We wish you a fond and great farewell.
"TO LARS!!!"
Guess? downs his glass of superior intoxicant. And if anyone else doesn't down their glass, Guess? will down it for them.
Looking over at Melissa, Guess? says, "Heya, don't let Lars' death weight down on ya. The fault and blame doesn't lie with you. We as a group decided to go against that GA army. We all knew the risks and we all accepted them - including Lars.
"So what do you want to do now that you're off-planet? You want us to drop you off somewhere? You looking for a job and a crew? I'll be honest, the Company's hiring practices are pretty loose. Fill out a half dozen forms that no one in HR really actually looks at and you're hired! I would know - I used to work at HQ.
"You helped us out of a tough spot back down there and we've all pretty much already assumed it. But let's make it officially crystal clear. I think I speak for the entire crew when I say we'd be happy for you to join us for as long as you want. Welcome to the edge!!"
You almost think Jaraduk's horns slump down at the news of no payment.
Man, we are going to be fired for real this time.
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Back on the ship he arranges his newly acquired grenades in a neat row along his bunk. He sits down at the dining table and begins to tinker with one of his junk grenades while Strek goes over his slideshow for Lars. He doesn't really want to think about what it implies for the longevity in the rest of the group.
Please tell me this is the first slide deck you've had to make...
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"Was he working against them? We were kind of in the middle of things and ya'll were less than clear on that. " Alright. She's an adult now. She got a draft card and everything. She's seen the dwarves do this. You just tip it back an...it comes back out her nose as fast as it went in her mouth, dripping down her whiskers with a cough. "Ugh, that tastes like Uncle Delvar's Engine de greaser. Like. exactly. the same... "
"Well, You guys are complaining about a job that pays more credits than I've ever seen before in my life, so if you're not mad about...I'd like to sign on and see how a job normally goes. I WOULD like to say that's an awful lot of production value for something you've only had to do once... " she says, echoing the Nuars concerns.
Del spends the morning attempting to coerce Chefy into baking Lars' favourite blackberry pie. Or, at least, she thought it was his favourite. She'd really only seen him eat one pie, but she recalls the gusto with which he ate it.
For once, Chefy bows to her will, and even follows her recipe, and she plops a delicious pie on the table for everyone, alongside the prune to share and the intoxicants Guess? was pouring. She serves everyone a slice, then sits down—on the floor, legs sprawled out across the dining hall so she fits—downs her liquor and digs into her pie.
She saves the prune for last.
"Welcome aboard, Melissa. Sorry it has to be under these circumstances. We really are happy to have you with us." After a while, she asks, "Are you really okay leaving your family back on Voxha? I know leaving family behind can be... hard. I just... I want to make sure its where your heart's at. You know?" She smirks, "Not that I blame you for leaving. Not exactly paradise you're leaving behind."
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"Oh definitely SQUEEK!* " one planck time the pie is on her plate, the next there's a purple ring around her lips which she's licking off. "wowiwfweelwikeiwwitmiwdlecwassawaead"**
"Mom and dad have the whole crew looking out for them and each other so they're fine. When you're kid number 36 getting out is less of a heart breaking moment and more of a celebration. Even before the HGs moved in it cost more to live there than the mine would pay, and when your only possible job reference is the mine you grew up in they don't exactly have a good reason to give you a glowing recommendation to the mines that pay better. Not a whole lot of difference between "We're the HGs here's your GLOP and water keep mining" and "We're Mine 26, here's enough credits to buy GLOP and water at the company store, don't like it starve".. definitely not enough difference that I'm going to shoot someone over it " she pause. "Again."
*Pie! Proper inflection requires this be said outside the range of hearing of many sentient species.
**wow I feel like I hit middle class already. Ysoki isn't so much a separate language as a dentist like ability to understand someone with their mouth full.
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The next mealtime, the Auto-Chef breaks down again. This time it serves the normal gloop, but with bits of burnt pie crust mixed in. You muscle through and continue to get to know each other better over the next three days within the drift, the pale light of the rotating memorial that Strek set up landing on your shoulders as you pass and your hearts in the quiet moments. Then, with a pop you land back in real space with the mass of Absalom Station in your front windshield.
As soon as you arrive, Tarika quickly hails you. Her giddy brenneri face fills up the holo. "Friends! Welcome back to civilization! Center of the universe never felt so good, am I right? Alright, how about the Gideron Job? I already filled out the paperwork for your bonus, I felt real good about this one!" Her smile drops when she notices Lars is missing. As you confirm Lars' death, tears well up in her eyes. The comm goes black without warning. She calls back two minutes later, her eyes red. "Well, welcome to the Edge family, Melissa. I'm glad to meet you. Though I will miss Lars." She swallows and pauses for a moment, gathering her strength. "Ok, go on. Did the mysterious cargo from the mysterious client get to the mysterious destination on time?" Her futile attempt at positivity is glaringly obvious, but a refreshing change. When she learns of the loss of the cargo, and little or no payment...
She agrees with your actions, but she also expresses concern over the Company’s response. “I’ll file a report with the information from your ship log, maybe that will help. I mean, it's not your fault! You got screwed!” She purses her lips. “I’ll make it look as good as I can. Try not to worry.” But her expression makes it seem like maybe you should be worried... Then she tosses her wrench into the air, catching it in her mouth, and claps her hands. “Meanwhile,” Tarika says, “Lord Sinjin is lookin’ for you. By now, he’s gotta know how things went down on Vohxa. You’d think he’d be mad about the job fallin’ through, but he says he just wants to talk to you about, ah, ‘a potential business opportunity'." She does air quotes, holding her favorite tool in her pinky. "He’s stayin’ at King Curney’s Casbah, in the Armada. Y’all feel up to a face-to-face?”
True to her word, Tarika fields your communication with EJ Corp, leaving you to attend to any personal matters you may have on the Station before directing your ship into the Armada and to King Curney’s Kasbah. And let's be real, it wouldn't hurt to start spreading that resume around to potential employers...
King Curney’s Kasbah is a strange amalgamation of large freighters and smaller vessels welded together to create a maze-like casino, brothel, and drug den.
Jaraduk almost breaks when Tarika chokes up. He takes the minute of her offline to compose himself. It's more that's she's a dear friend than that he knew Lars nearly as well as the rest of the crew.
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An opportunity, he says. Why do I get the feeling that means our final mission as expendables. There's no way he's excited to see us... Jaraduk grouses.
He looks back up at the screen, to Tarika. What's your read on this? Why wouldn't he be mad and what are the odds we walk out of there alive?
"Seems like an odd place to meet them. King Curney’s Kasbah is just a bunch a freighters and smaller vessels welded together. Kinda infamous casino, brothel, and drug den."
Akh swirls about in the air behind the group as Tarika talks. "The mystery cargo did get to a mysterious client, but not without a lot of trouble and bloodshed. I think we have a preference in jobs at this point, and this type of job is one we would prefer to avoid."
When Tarika mentions an opportunity with Sinjin, he springs forward "Ah, it would be good to talk about the previous job with him as well. Let's go meet him. Sinjin is a good person - he wouldn't give us a bad job without very good reason. And if he's offering a business opportunity, it's probably a real one."
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The ysoki manages to roll to a sitting position. regretting nothing. Tries to lick their own muzzle clean. AHAHs at a particularly stubborn piece of pie and works it into powder with her incisors.
"How are these guys with contracts? From what you said ya'll fulfilled yours and then the HGs changed the rules...cause HGs. On the other hand if all they care about is results I'd park the ship near the nearest airlock and hope thats the one he spaces you out of. "
"Oh, Del. Do you want this bunk to push against your other one so you might almost kinda sort fit on it? This is a weird amount of space to have to myself. "
"Thanks, Melissa," Del says, busying herself with reorganizing their cramped crew quarters. She stays out of the discussion about Sinjin for now, not trusting herself to make a wise decision. After all, her last big decision ended with Lars dead.
When Akh vouches for Sinjin, Del regards him for a time. Eventually, she adds, "I trust you, Akh. So if you trust Sinjin and want us to meet with him, I'll be there."
A moment later, she brightens. "I've never been to King Curney's Casbah. Do you think they have good food?"
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Tarika shrugs. "It's hard to say. The drow deal with a lot of brutal disappointments in their business. It's cutthroat!" She draws her wrench across her throat to emphasize the point. "Maybe he heard how hard you tried to protect the cargo! That would make sense..." After answering any remaining questions you have, she hangs up and gets on the paperwork. You soon get a notification on your datapad confirming that the payment has been made to the
You head to Absalom Station, agreeing to meet back at BD514in a few hours to head to King Curney's Kasbah. [ooc]Does anyone have purchases you want to make? If you sell all of the remaining loot on Slide 6, and the trade goods, you'll each get 382 credits on top of what you already have. Speak now or forever hold your peace on not selling something!
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After a few hours you return to the spacecraft, not having heard back from EJ yet, and head to the Armada. As Del pulls the ship near the Kasbah, you are contacted by one of Sinjin’s bodyguards, who directs you to a specific docking port hidden among the chaotic jumble of former starships. After docking and emerging from BD514, a female drow greets you courteously. "Hello, honored guests! I am Deminda, I work for Lord Sinjin. Please, allow me to escort you." She waves to a pair of android security guards, who walk towards your ship. "Don't worry about your ship, my boys will watch over it. The folks you'll meet aboard the Kasbah don't respect rules too well, but they do respect true authority." She smiles cruelly and flashes the shurikens magnetically attached along her waist. Once you're ready she begins escorting you through one of the casino’s common areas to a private lounge. As soon as you leave the docking port, you are dumped into another world of opulence and sin. The Kasbah is an experience designed to stimulate the senses, and it does it well.
Inside King Curney’s Kasbah, you’re instantly bombarded by sights, smells, and tastes. A live band playing an assortment of strange instruments from across the galaxy jams with a chilled rhythmic thrum. The air is full of smoke from a variety of illicit substances and the layered murmur of clandestine deals. Members of many unusual species from Near Space and the Vast fill the establishment — a squid-like ijtikri crawls atop the bar to order a drink, and across the room a leafy ghoran and peaceful fur-covered neskinti pass a dose of hyperleaf back and forth. In a darkened corner, a masked embri negotiates with a strike team of vesk commandos. The smells of exotic cooking fill the air, coming from a bar where a chef creates designer foods from across the Pact Worlds. Del's trained eye picks out metallic delicacies from Akiton and airy oxygenated appetizers from Bretheda among other foods even she doesn't recognize. Deminda maintains a steady pace, moving across the large chamber to a bulkhead door guarded by a pair of female drow.
Akh swirls through the crowd, trying not to knock anyone over with a stray twist of his tail. A few times, he's forces to tug it free from a particularly leafed up guest who has grabbed a hold. By the time the group reaches the bulkhead door, he's rather frustrated. He covers his frustration by asking "Deminda, how is working for Sinjin? Seems like he's doing very well."
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Melissa has gotten back into the closest thing she has for an EJ uniform, the hastily patched together EJ ware. Upon seeing and smelling the cornucopia of options the room offers, immediately zig zags around and ahead of the host, stopping at every stall and twitching her whiskers. "OOOO calimari..." she says and tries to order the pickled ijtikri with a lot of pointing and charades
"I THINK he said it would put suckers on your legs, do you think that was a metaphor or... "
"Lots of suckers here. Best not to become one of 'em."
"Ok, go on. Did the mysterious cargo from the mysterious client get to the mysterious destination on time?" Her futile attempt at positivity is glaringly obvious, but a refreshing change. When she learns of the loss of the cargo, and little or no payment...
"Well, we arrived and despite some initial hostility, it helped that I'm well... look at me... I'm a goblin! But they wouldn't take delivery at the agreed upon drop-off location and they wanted us to transport the cargo to a different spot. We couldn't say no, for two reasons. One, if we didn't agree, they wouldn't pay. Besides, it was supposed to be just a short-ish truck ride away. So gotta do it, amirite? Two, they're a legit army, like with guns. If we try to force them to take it, well... they've got more guns than us.
"So long story short, we began transporting the cargo in two trucks, rebels hijacked us, beat us up but left us alive and took half the cargo. The other half blew up.
"On the plus side, the rebels did leave us alive in our ship together with half the payment to cover the cargo they stole. To their credit, they're trying not to piss off the Pact Worlds by leaving us alive and paying for what they stole... so it's not quite but kinda sorta evens out, amirite?
"And that's pretty much that. It was a tough one, Tarika." sighs Guess?
"As for the half payment we received, please make it out to House Zeizerer. The Company is not going to be happy with us either way but hopefully partial payment is enough to convince the drow house not to mark us as enemies to be made examples of."
"Wait, really? Serious?" Guess?'s head darts left and right. "None of you think he heard what I said about him earlier, do you???"
"The mystery cargo did get to a mysterious client, but not without a lot of trouble and bloodshed. I think we have a preference in jobs at this point, and this type of job is one we would prefer to avoid."
"Oh yes, that's right!" says Guess? hearing Akh's statement. Guess? turns to Tarika and says, "The crew had a discussion and for future jobs, can you mark us down with a job preference of hauling 'baked goods' please?"
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On Absalom, Guess? purchases some more superior intoxicant (for 10 CR) to top off his canteen and then he looks into what other cargo the party can potentially smuggle/haul...
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Walking through King Curney’s Kasbah, Guess? marvels at the place. "Wow. I smell money waiting to be made here..."
Guess? asks Deminda, "Any idea what Lord Sinjin wants with us? And any clue as to whether he's been in a good mood lately or what he likes or dislikes that would improve or sour his mood? Any little tidbits you're willing to divulge?"
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Only women can rise to positions of authority in a drow house, so whatever Sinjin is ‘lord’ of, it must be somethin’ else. While the drow at the bottom of drow society are fairly equal, that gender parity does not extend very far up into the ranks. It is exceptionally odd that a male drow, such as Sinjin, would have a powerful role and a little odd that he would have so many female drow employees.
Since all positions of power were held by drow women before the Gap and at its end, the drow have since established laws that cemented drow women as more powerful and important than men. These positions are usually held for centuries, so drow men and non-drow have very little opportunity to advance. For such individuals, the most likely way to power is through financial success or a reputation as an enforcer, assassin or spellcaster, but they have to contend with danger from both those above them and rival houses, who view them as either threats or assets to be eliminated. Because of this, ambitious midlevel managers often ask for permission from their houses to expand their operations off Apostae, allowing them to gather power away from those who would mark them as targets. Only half of such petitions succeed, but this is enough for ambitious drow.
Deminda smirks in that self-assured way that all drow seem to have mastered. "Sinjin is an excellent boss. Only reason we work for him really, since he's so... limited." Her eyes glance from side to side, watching for any listening ears. "It’s difficult for a man to really show his merits in drow society. If one wants to rise socially, one really must be a woman or seek opportunity elsewhere. So Sinjin made a fortune on other Pact Worlds and chose never to return to Apostae." She waves a hand at a stall operator who is selling fried drift-opus tentacles that is in the middle of explaining to Melissa that he only accepts Kasbah-coins. "Geroippee, put it on Sinjin's account." The one-armed vesk's eye muscles go up in surprise, then he serves the ysoki a heaping plate of tentacle. Deminda returns to her conversation with Akh. "Means we don't have much of a career path back home. But it's a big galaxy."
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At some point later, when out of drow earshot, Guess? will share what he knows about drow gender roles
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"If that's a problem why not just get the elixir? Its like. what.. 300 credits? Mom kept threatening to make dad carry the next litter. Probably got that in the couch cushions if you air them out " She gives the pink bow on her tail a shake. "Or are drow like humans about that sort of thing?" her line of questioning is thankfully shut off by the arrival of a tentacle and loud sounds of chewing. "OOmfp fwankwoo"
Jaraduk shows up to the ship and sighs, expecting the worst from the coming encounter.
He continues to look suspiciously at everything around them as they are ushered into the... casino complex. This turns to caution and anxiety as he begins to fear his horns are going to catch a display or light fixture along the way, as they follow Deminda.
He listens patiently as she explains their deviation from typical drow power dynamics, finally asking So... I have to ask. What makes us honored guests here?
Del nods along with Jaraduk, worried about why the drow are meeting them—and expecting nothing good. Regardless, she orders two different desserts off the Casbah's menu on Sinjin's tab. No sense in wasting a chance to eat!
Strek peruses the shelves with their bright, shiny bottles and keeps adjusting his gaze lower and lower, as if he's unhappy with the top shelf options on display.
"One large Slurm, if'n ya got it."
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Tarika nods earnestly, taking notes. "Baked goods.... got it. I just commissioned a group to deliver a whole cargo-load of flash-frozen wolliped taquitos! Maybe that will be yours next time." She looks up with a small frown. "Send the payment straight to House Zeizerer? Big bosses ain't gonna like that, but alright." She forces a smile. "Sure was nice of those rebels to leave some money behind! It's like a robbery tip! 50%, quite a tip."
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Guess?, speaking with Deminda, notices that his normal charm doesn't seem to be working on the drow woman. She responds in the same cool and controlled tone she used with Akh. "He has been in a good mood lately. Business is booming." She brushes aside a drunk brethedan being pickpocketed by a purple-haired gnome. "It definitely sours his mood when a group of box runners loses his cargo." The smile that flashes on her face is perhaps the only real emotion you've seen from the drow. Her eyes roll at Melissa's question. "The drow's ID card system is flawless. There is no way to hide your birth gender."
She appears to have a very clever joke mocking ysoki society queued up, but refrains to share it.
Just as you arrive at the bulkhead door, she pats Jaraduk on the arm. "Sinjin doesn't pay me enough to know things. All I know is, by the end of this meeting you'll either be fabulously wealthy or very very dead." Once again, that deadly smile appears briefly on her face. With a wave of her hand, the door opens. Beyond lies a sumptuously appointed chamber with a central rectangular table, at the head of which sits a handsome drow who rises as Deminda enters. “Ah,” he says with a smile. “The individuals who have cost me a great deal of money. At last we meet.” A half dozen armed female drow are positioned around the edges of the room, avoiding direct eye contact. The man steps out from behind the table and extends a hand. “I, of course, am Lord Sinjin.”
Sinjin invites you to take a seat, and Deminda pours you a rich Apostae wine. The drow laughs and speaks as she does so. "Akh, my old partner! It's been a while since Eox, eh? Glad to hear those Golden watchdogs didn't catch up with you." He turns to Del. "Ms. Reisora, do you miss the Kalistocrat's yet? Those stiff geezers sure understand the weight of a cred, I'll give them that." He begins to walk around the table, trailing his bodyguard. "Strek, you made it off Entha. Impressive, very few do. And Jaraduk... or do you prefer Benny?" He winks and pauses a moment to let that sink in. "Guess? Aren't you looking different each day. Deminda? Get a screenshot of the security cams, add this face to our catalogue." He pauses beside Melissa, staring down at the ysoki. "And you... are not Lars Pith, square-jawed cyborg obsessive." He waves a finger at Deminda, who just finished pouring the wine. "Figure this one out, please." He settles down into his chair and raises a glass. "To business!"
After a swirl of the glass and sip of the wine, he breathes deep. “Enough with the pleasantries. You failed to deliver my weapon shipment on Vohxa as ordered,” he says, “And you gave it to the Resistance, too! Not that I care about their little civil war, but it leaves loose ends that I had to clean up. And I hate cleaning. I don’t suppose you’d care to explain yourselves?”
Strek doesn't seem bothered by their knowledge of his crew. He shrugs, obviously aware they're surrounded by a superior foe in a lawless land.
...And that EJ won't come save them with that last botched job. So he sips his Slurm and resorts to an 'honesty is the best policy' tactic.
"For what it's worth, we chose to pay you over our bosses. Figured you were the more dangerous of the two. But ya probly know that. An' ya probly know we ain't got much else to compensate ya. So why bring us here? If ya need us to work a job for ya to make up yer loss, just tell us what it is an' we'll do it. Odds are we'd still make less if we did another job for Edge instead."
Country folk are bred to be practical and blunt.
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" Hey. Maybe armed rebels aren't the worst thing for your business. You don't need fancy rifles and explosives to take out miners with picks and clunky mining lasers. But if w..erm the miners have basic weapons, then you're going to have to buy more lasers. better lasers. Delux lasers. And you know how these things get reported out of hand. You see one freedoerm rebel firing away at night he tells his buddies it was a squad and his commanders blame their failures on a platoon. A little bit goes a long way. As long as it doesn't get back to you, and thats GOT to be easier when you DIDN'T do it than if you did.. unless you DID do it..."