What puzzles us is the reason behind the attack.
Chiskisk turns and taps a few commands into their computer.
According to the incident report just released by station security, two gangs were involved in the attack: the Downside Kings and the Level 21 Crew.
Gang wars are not uncommon on the station, but they usually confine themselves to the more lawless sectors like the Puddles.
It is rare for street gangs to battle openly in public areas like the docks.
We cannot help but wonder whether all is as it seems.
There must be a reason why those two gangs were at Docking Bay 94 at that particular time--the time of your arrival, coincidentally.
But was it coincidence?
Were you and duravor just innocent bystanders caught in the crossfire, or might you and he have been specifically targeted?
And if so, why?
Chiskisk leaned forward.
Our understanding is that you are interested in becoming Sarfinders, and since you were witnesses to the attack, We would like to ask you to investigate the incident on behalf of the Society.
Find out exactly what happened and why.
It may simply be a matter of being in the wrong place at the wrong time--We have no doubt station security will rule it so--but if Duravor was murdered, we would like to find justice for our friend.
At the same time, this will give you the opportunity to demonstrate your own skills and abilities and show the Society that you are worthy of the title "Starfinder".
Ruhk clicks his tongue as he tries to wrap his head around the idea of becoming an investigator.
"Hmmm...I see. A chance to show our talents is it?
But I would assume you have some ideas where we should start at the very lest?"
Max nods and opens up his laptop. He does a web search on both gangs to see how active they were on social platforms.
After drinking the coffee and smiling at their hosts.
"Thanks for the excellent hospitality--it is hard to get the froth perfectly like this. We would like to use this area as a home base for a while."
Max nods and opens up his laptop. He does a web search on both gangs to see how active they were on social platforms.
After drinking the coffee and smiling at their hosts.
"Thanks for the excellent hospitality--it is hard to get the froth perfectly like this. We would like to use this area as a home base for a while."
Celebryn smiles at the well-intentioned little chipmunk, "Where I'm from, that's a good way to get killed quickly, by the jungle or by the Houses. Perhaps the Society wants to hire us because we will NOT be here, and we are NOT Starfinders yet."
"Your Lord(s)ship, is there somewhere here in the city you might suggest we take lodging? Relatively inconspicuous but with good access to resources ... and a replicator with froth programming?"
"But I would assume you have some ideas where we should start at the very lest?"
Chiskisk leaned back.
"We are... curious as to the two gangs involved in the shoot out at the docks. To encounter each other, well away from their familiar 'Turf', is a great coincidence? Very." They said, opaquely.We would like to use this area as a home base for a while.
Chiskisk cocked his head at Max.
"But you are not a Society member yet, young one."He turned and punched in several commands on his computer.
"The Society has transferred 200 credits to each of your personal financial accounts. A 'signing bonus' as they say."
Each of your personal devices pings a 'payment received' chime.
"If you have not yet found a place to stay, we recommend a small hotel called 'The Moons of Sleep'. Located just a short walk from the parks and towers of the Eye, the hotel is centrally located and has both efficiencies and suites available. Furthermore, the Moons offers discounted lodging to Starfinders who book rooms for at least a week's stay; 16 credits per week for an efficiency, or 50 credits per week for a small, two-bed suite."
He does a web search on both gangs to see how active they were on social platforms.
Quick search results for "Downside Kings" is pretty thin. Other than that they seem to be referenced as being somewhere Downside (Absalom Station lower decks), there is no result.
Quick search results for "Level 21 Crew" is barely more than that. Other than they claim Level 21 and are infamous for graffiti, there is no result.
"Hmmm, investigating a number of seemingly unconnected happenings, including murder, gang war and potentially more.
Well, this is very much like an old school "Crime Noir" drama.
I am intrigued."
"A couple of possibilities occur," Valtri said, "Either one side has done something to tick the other off or make itself an attractive target, or the docks have become prime territory to control - smuggling opportunities, perhaps."
Prime territory or not, this kind of open warfare was surely counter-productive. There'd be eyes on both factions, and on the docks following the brawl.
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"Or...someone lured both of them there as a cover for a clandestine killing of a Starfinder Society member?"
Max seems a little sad.
"Limited social media presence, neither gang is advertising. I will need another mug of that Joe to Go!! I guess we check in to the Moons and wait for intructions??"
Max holds out his own mug as he didn't want to take a Starfinder mug with him.
"There is a chance the death was actually accidental, but, there is no reason for two gangs to fight both so far from their own territories and in a location which would see quick law enforcement response. They were probably paid, somehow, to be a distraction for other activity. Which, yes, could have been a murder. It could also have been simple smuggling. Many options."
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Gurlak is waiting for you out front, and is able to convey you to the Moons of Sleep along with your luggage.
He is also able to negotiate with the manager to secure three two bed rooms opening on a comfortable common area with a kitchenette attached, chairs, couches, large threedee, power and dataports to the station infosphere. Sharing the cost makes it 20cr each for the week.
Flipping through the tridee looking at news, entertainment and sports, you come across an effusive talking head, showing the laser shootout at the shuttlebay. An overhead security camera focused in on Valtri as she throws the lever that foamed the area as the talking head proclaimed this "Unknown woman" a hero for stopping the killing. There is also a vigorous commentary scrolling to its right speculating, sometimes very rudely, wondering who she was and where is she now?
But that was just a side story compared to the biggest news story currently by far, discussed endlessly on newsfeeds and in public conversation, is the arrival of the derelict ship Acreon a few days ago, the whereabouts and fate of its missing crew, and the nature of the mysterious "Drift Rock" the ship brought with it.
Rumors and speculation are rampant: The Acreon's crew witnessed something significant and were killed to keep it secret; the entire crew lost control of their senses and walked out the airlocks; the Drift Rock contains precious riches, from rare and valuable minerals to advanced technology, or even legendary treasures of lost Golarion, preserved before the planet disappeared.
Less sensational, but more important to the business of Absalom Station is the disagreement between Astral Extractions and the Hardscrabble Collective, both of whom claim ownership of hte Drift Rock and the right to examine the Acreon and determine the fate of its crew.
Max uses his laptop to access the internet. He had only the basic ripping tools any hacker could get, but he went into the new service network. He also accessed the Astral Extractions and Hardscrabble Collective systems looking for any information.
Max took an efficiency in the Moons, not trusting a place not recommened by the SFS.
Gurlak is waiting for you out front, and is able to convey you to the Moons of Sleep along with your luggage.
He is also able to negotiate with the manager to secure three two bed rooms opening on a comfortable common area with a kitchenette attached, chairs, couches, large threedee, power and dataports to the station infosphere. Sharing the cost makes it 20cr each for the week.
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Max approves of the upgraded accomodations and realizes that this may be the time to live it up after his encounter with a laser pistol. His flight suit was supposed to be fireprooof, but it wasn't laser proof.
He nods approvingly as the elf pulls off the negotiations.
"Thanks! We may also need to rent a jet bike for flying around if this area is dangerous. I can't walk as fast as I can ride."
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"So, that was quite the adventure, wasn't it?
Certainly got off to an exciting start to my visit to Absalom Station."
Pulling on his cuffs to make sure they are nice and presentable, Ruhk chuckles.
"It occurs to me that we have not really been formally introduced as such.
If we are to work together, perhaps we should take a moment to get to know one another?"
"You sir, are so very correct, and please forgive me."
The elf smiles, quite disarmingly.
"I am Celebryn Edasseril, Son of the Third House of El, Holder of the Sacred Chalice of Iadara, Heir to the Viridian Crown: very much at your service. I'm looking forward to working with you."
He smiles again, with just a hint of mischief ...
"Our greetings on Castrovel, among the Houses, tend to be more of an opening statement of positioning. For you my new friends, I should simply be Celebryn, and it really is a pleasure to finally meet those who I've already fought alongside."
When there is a pause of sufficient length to suggest that this would be the time to join the introductions . . .. "I am Prototype 12., or 12. The body was in a storage tube when came to awareness. I know nothing of the body's history."
When there is a pause of sufficient length to suggest that this would be the time to join the introductions . . .. "I am Prototype 12., or 12. The body was in a storage tube when came to awareness. I know nothing of the body's history."
"You could not have told me, even a few hours ago, that I might have all that much in common with an android, no offense intended new friend, but to hear that gives me pause. I too am missing parts of my history: I was born before the Gap."
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"Valtri Cloudfall, of Asthium," Valtri said when the introductions moved around to her, "I second looking forward to working with everyone, though I wish we hadn't begun on such a tragic note."
Valtri was sufficiently sensible to leave well enough alone when it came to the infosphere's reporting on her. No doubt the news cycle would move on with its characteristic swiftness. Best to assume she'd be recognised if she turned up on the gangs' respective doorsteps, though.
Max looks around at the group assembled:
"I am Max. I can fly and fix almost anything. Freighters and tugs get a bad rap -- I started on them."
He looks at the elf. "My friends used to call the Gap the time after drinking and before waking up, but I assume you mean something else."
Max looks around at the group assembled:
"I am Max. I can fly and fix almost anything. Freighters and tugs get a bad rap -- I started on them."He looks at the elf. "My friends used to call the Gap the time after drinking and before waking up, but I assume you mean something else."
"Very much something else ... but I am already fond of your friends and how they think. I am older than the Pact Worlds. Carbon dating, astrochronology, and some time honoured divination all allow me to know fairly certainly that I am 327 years old. My lineage is not, wholly, in question, while its relavence certainly remains unanswered. So yes, my birthday is the 19th day of Rova, in 10 PG. It can be difficult sometimes."
"But it also has drivien me to be a champion of my culture, a relic hunter, and a student of time. Studying precognative magic has been one of the great joys of my life so far, and I hope to be able to apply that to help us solve this murder."| 2 people marked this as a favorite. |
"And I am Ruhk Ekensköld, the most handsome man on my home planet."
Ruhk pauses and shrugs, with a wry grin.
"Excepting of course that now I am on Absalom Station instead.
People call me "The Dandy", and I have absolutely NO idea why."
Again, he pauses and fusses for a moment with his cuffs, making sure they are juuuust right.
When Max (and anyone else) uses their computer skills to search the Station Infosphere...
You find a solitary GNN news article about them:
"The Downside Kings are a brutal street gang that controls several decks of Absalom Station’s lower levels, or “Downside,” through a combination of intimidation and violence. They are known to engage in a wide variety of illegal activities, from extortion, fraud, robbery, smuggling, and theft, to drug and arms trafficking, kidnapping, murder-for-hire, and trafficking in sentient species."
One Station Public Relations judicial response to a subpoena (unpublished) had an overview of them:
"The Level 21 Crew are a street gang that claims (unsurprisingly) Level 21 of Absalom Station’s seedy lower decks as its territory. Their known criminal endeavors include theft, fencing stolen goods, gambling, sex work, racketeering, and smuggling.
"They are most famous for their widespread and daring graffiti."
"It appears we stumbled into a proxy war between the Hardscrabble Collective and Astral Extractions over the drift rock. The street gangs are just pawns, these two companies are the players. Given the nature of the two groups, the Hardscrabble collective is more trustworthy and have the better claim and may be acting defensively. I think I will visit them first."
He waves the others to join him.
"I guess renting a jet bike will have to wait, and the Hardscrabble Collective may have some good coffee."
"Acting defensively might include sending suspicious visitors to ping the core," Valtri said, employing what was probably a euphemism of some kind, "We should be on our guard."
Max was probably right that they were the people to start with, though whether they'd want to share their story with meddling outsiders was an open question. None of the group struck her as having an 'in' with asteroid miners, though perhaps she was wrong on that front.
Max talks excitedly to whoever will listen as he heads to Hardscrabble Collective.
"The Hardscrabble Collective is like a fierce family that bands together. They even have ysoki like me. That other group seems to be a bunch of thugs and bullies. This drift rock is a big deal, a really big deal given the fight we just saw. I gotta find more about this Acreon arrival next, after the Hardscrabble visit. I might need to print me some Acreon patches for my flight suit, but I have to get a good logo."
He excitedly searches for any pictures and news of the Acreon or its crew as he walks using his laptop to search the infosphere.
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Max checks out his new laser pistol.
"Do these charge up with wall power?? Guess I need spare batteries."
I must admit, Ruhk scratches his nose and looks a little bashful, that as exciting as I find this while thing, I am a little at a loss of what we should no next.
A criminal investigation goes a little beyond my field of expertise."
I must admit, Ruhk scratches his nose and looks a little bashful, that as exciting as I find this while thing, I am a little at a loss of what we should no next.
A criminal investigation goes a little beyond my field of expertise."
"and yet perhaps less at a loss than you might think. Our small friend is doing the initial prep work and laying the foundation of what we know, and what we need to find out. When that is complete, we can then plan some "site visits" - the character of those visits I should think will be determined by diplomacy, subterfuge, and weaponry. The results of those visits will also key us in to what other resources we might need, magical or technological, to arrive at a conclusion."
Valtri was happy enough to listen to Max's overview. There would probably be no stopping him from engaging with the Hardscrabble Collective with the cheerful enthusiasm of somebody who had met kindred spirits. Valtri intended to keep an open mind on the matter. Whether or not they were the wronged party, it did seem they'd helped set the stage for the shootout, and that didn't endear them to her.
Max discovers that the Acreon was constructed 85 years ago in the Castrovel United shipyards, then run as a light cargo/mining ship for the Czerka Megacorp until thirty years later a bad accident left it derelict in the diaspora. It was salvaged by the Hardscrabble Collective, fixed up and operated by them ever since.
Max can find no data on current crew or Captain. The Collective aren't big on bureaucratic record keeping; at least not on this data hub.
Trying to contact the Collective directly is impossible, as they don't live on the station proper, but out on the Absalom Station parking orbits assigned to their fleet.
The Collective does have a business office on the station, but whenever you try to call them, all you get is the "Due to the ongoing business dispute with Astral Extractions, the Hardscrabble Collective is not accepting new clients at this time. We apologize for the inconvenience."
"Do these charge up with wall power?? Guess I need spare batteries."
Each of the rooms have power outlets suitable for recharging devices, batteries and power cells.
"I am a little at a loss of what we should no next."
At least, its always worked for your favorite private detective shows.
Ruhk rubs his nose for a moment, considering a good next step he could take.
"Some people have little trouble gossiping with strangers, and, not to boast, I am a charming person.
I am considering "hitting the streets" and doing a little bit of investigating."
Max let his companions speak, but they were unusually quite except for the human who was going to hit the streets. Max points to his comm unit, "Stay on the comm net. I am going to see about getting out to the Hardscrabble fleet, but first I am going to see if there is anyone at their office."
Max begins to print up patches for both the Astral Extractions and Hardscrabble Collective. Unsure which one to afix to his flight suit for now, he is content to have them in his cheek pouch for quick retrieval. He heads to the physical address of the Hardscrabble Collectiive, who is sure is the good guys, upset that in this era of ecommerce he had to resort to a physical trip. And, it was not enough to justify renting a jet bike.
He beckons for the others to follow.
"Who is gonna keep me outta trouble??"
Max spends several hours getting more and more frustrated.
The Hardscrabble Collective are not accepting visitors (media, pretend media, strikebreakers, government negotiators, etc.), or communications to their parking orbit while their general strike is on.
The onboard business office is similarly closed while negotiations are ongoing, at least that's what the sign on the access port says.
Maybe it's the Radio Shack 150 cyberdeck he's using, but what he's able to access is so... limited.
Ruhk is going down to the Level 21 to look for information, anyone going with him?
Ruhk is going down to the Level 21 to look for information, anyone going with him?
"Rukh, it would be a shame for you to get dirty without backup, allow me to accompany you."
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Ruhk favours Celebryn with a warm smile.
"Why certainly, you've proven to be quite a useful fellow to have around.
I believe the term is "Let's get into trouble"?
Though I think the trouble can wait until AFTER we have found some information."
Max makes his own level 21 knockoff patch to put on his flight suit. It is a scantily clad woman showing an ace and a jack.
Under the patch it says Level 21 Elite.
"Wait for me!!"
Ruhk and everyone going with him head down by lift tube to the lower half of Absalom Station.
As the lift car descends, the people change from the richly clad peoples of the business and diplomatic strata of the main concourse, to the crowded and run down and graffiti marked areas of the neglected parts of the Station (very Blade Runner here...).
The lighting is dimmer here, there are water and reclamation leaks, crowded and broken down slidewalks passing by family barracks and ethnic food carts.
As you wander around asking questions...
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"Hmm, look over yonder on that wall, I recognise that graffiti.
I believe they are known as "gang tags", specifically for the Level 21 crew.
I believe that this means we are entering their territory.
Game faces on everyone."
Max slaps his new patch on his flight suit and finishes his quadrocino, a four shot espresso.
"I'm ready!!?"
Ruhk and everyone going with him head down by lift tube to the lower half of Absalom Station.
As the lift car descends, the people change from the richly clad peoples of the business and diplomatic strata of the main concourse, to the crowded and run down and graffiti marked areas of the neglected parts of the Station (very Blade Runner here...).
The lighting is dimmer here, there are water and reclamation leaks, crowded and broken down slidewalks passing by family barracks and ethnic food carts.
As you wander around asking questions...
** spoiler omitted **
Celebryn is NOT smiling, at all, but he does seem to be on the look out; you can tell he is concerned that there are elves who live in these conditions.