"Start with his.... then use yours if you have to. And thank you Kazador. Seriously."
She turns her head in though for a moment before, turning back, "Make sure you've got the supplies you need.
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"Yeah, we're talking EJ. Thank you." The relief on her face is obvious and intense. “You're headed to Entha. Entha’s a water world. Right now, it’s nothin’ but a Company town while they work to terraform the planet into some kinda highfalutin’ resort. There’s no reason for folks to show up there unannounced. Fortunately, I have your way in. The Company’s pushin’ all their equipment to its absolute limit, which means they need a regular influx of replacement machine parts.” She hands Angel a folded piece of paper with an address in the Spike and a shipping manifest. “This is a warehouse here on the station, where the Company’s next delivery is waitin’ for pickup. Of course—like always—there’s a catch.” “This delivery job technically goes to the lowest bidder, but it might end up bein’ first-come, first-served. A lotta crews want to get in good with EJ Corp, thinkin’ a free delivery shows moxie or somethin’. So you’ll have to hustle—maybe even convince the warehouse workers that they should load your ship instead o’ someone else’s.”
She looks down, rubbing a paw thoughtfully across the fur on the back of her head. “I can’t afford to pay you for this one. I’m askin’ as a... a professional courtesy.”
Tarika takes a deep breath, looks around, and briefly fidgets with her wrench before continuing. You can clearly see that her gestures seem at odds with her usual boisterous confidence. “It’s my daughter, Shan. She’s missin’. She’s been workin’ for the Company on some terraformin’ project way out in the Vast. Turns out the planet’s full of life—life that’s gonna be wiped out by the project. And, surprise surprise, the Company’s goin’ ahead with their plans anyway.” Tarika chuckles, then seems to realize the strangeness of it. She quickly explains, “Oh, it’s just that the Company picked the wrong employee if they wanted someone to stay quiet. Shan told me she’d rather leave the Company for good than carry on with that. Thing is, that’s the last I heard of her. And that’s not like her. I need you to go out there and make sure she’s okay. Bring her back to me safe—if she’ll let you.”
"Hey, thanks Kaz..." “A couple things, and thank you for coming. First, I recovered some data when you—” she lowers her voice even more, “—acquired the Oliphaunt, now FireStorm. I’m still workin’ on decryptin’ it, and I think I found the right angle to hack in.” Tarika sighs. “But I’ll need more time. I’ve been a li’l distracted. That... that brings me to the second thing: I need your help.”
“Well, the idea was we’d blend in with all the weirdos. I guess I didn’t think about them blendin’ in with us...”
"Umm.... but if someone's listening, they would know that you know. That means there's no way for you to know if there's a they to know. So, I'm not going to stay the word in case you decide to know a thing you couldn't know. You know?"
"Hey guys... ughh... so, hey I really need your help. Can you meet me in Castamir's Station? It's a Starfinder bar here on the station. I need to meet you. I really need help on this one."
"Like I said, I hope you don't mind turning around. The message says they'll pay pretty well."
"Adani recommends you venture to Kahrudi Canyon to gather this many defrexes. The vast gorge, deep within the Yiti Preserve on Vesk-2, creates a natural barrier that isolates defrexes from other predators, protects their dens, and allows them to flourish." "Also, they sent a little help. Adani sent along the infamous tell-all memoir, Taming the Herd: The Secrets of Kamazren Ranch], a book written by Tottarox Matrox, a skittermander who labored for years on Vesk-2’s largest defrex homestead, Kamazren Ranch. Tottarox reveals several techniques for herding and domesticating defrexes that he claims have been kept hidden as trade secrets." Though melodramatic and at times even racy, Taming the Herd does provide useful advice. You can refer to the memoir at any time for guidance on what they need to herd defrexes and take care of them long enough to reach Skitterhaven Ranch.
"I hear you're looking for something bigger! Well, I hope you don't mind turning around. Because I've got a message for you! This seems like it'll be profitable and fun! Here. I'll send it to your screens now."
"Hey now, we aren’t the first people to try to make some creds out of this tragedy. A bunch’a goblins already came by and made off with the Drift engine from that wreck! I don’t know what they think they’re gonna do with it, but the Harlequin’s Prayer had a Signal Booster—a big step up from the basic Drift engine in most starships, including your fancy new ship.... though it looks like you already upgraded! See, freelancing is paying off!”
"Head down to the Revenant Urge, a club dedicated to Urgathoa and located in Absalom Station’s Downlow district, where one Rishae Tulvauran meets with potential clients. Rishae may have what we need already on hand and, if not, she’ll know how to get them. Sorry I can’t be of more help but, y’know... corpse trading is kind of a niche market.”
"Yeah, weirds me out too Kaz... and they ain’t interested in telling us who they are until we arrive, goods in hand,” Tarika warns. “And they’ve advertised this job across the Pact Worlds. Whichever crew tracks down the cargo and delivers fastest gets the prize.”
"Well, to be honest, I'd likely rename it if I were you..."
Tarika points toward the wrecked luxury liner. “Believe it or not, that unfortunate wreck is our next meal ticket. The Harlequin’s Prayer was a Vercite starliner. Got popped by pirates. Hull burst. Killed almost everyone on board. Sad, but how does that keep us in credits? Well, I found a buyer on Vesk-2 looking for fifty tons of black hearts. Those are necrografts—strips of dead flesh you can get attached to your insides to, you know, ignore stuff that kills us living people, like vacuum and radiation. And where do we get enough corpsicles for all those necrografts? You guessed it!” She gestures dramatically to the wrecked luxury liner. “There’s a broker named Rishae who handles stuff like this. She’s at the Revenant Urge, a club here on the station." “Wha’dya say? Should I tell her yer comin’?”
“Welp, this ain’t exactly what I had in mind when I said I was fixin’ to go independent, but I’m glad y’all made it off that rock without too many bullets in yer brisket. And hey, Sinjin shirked the deal! So y’all are the proud new owners of a cargo hold big enough for a stuffed nyssholora! Book it to Absalom Station. I found a job that’ll light yer doshko.”
“Looks like whatever happens, we’re in it together! I'm out too!” she says, with characteristic optimism. “Once we do this thing for Sinjin, we’ll be independent at last! No one’ll tell us what to do. I’ll find you all the work you need—for a modest administrative fee, of course—and the universe will be your open road. I got a nice little package too.
"Yeah, I mean, you weren't being paid to guard a caravan. You made the delivery. Should be fine. I'm more worried about the lost credits and what EJ is going to do, but that's my problem. You handle your shopping and get yourself to the Casbah."
“I’ll file a report with the information from your ship log. I’ll make it look as good as I can. Try not to worry.”
"Well? I haven't heard. No news is good news, right?"
"That's the spirit!"
"Arms trafficking comes with its own set of rules. And you work for the company because, well, what else are you going to do? After making up for the loss on the last job your individual cut should be...... 15,000 creds total to split."
"Sinjin, don't know much there. Not a lot at all. Only women can rise to positions of authority in a drow house, so whatever Sinjin is ‘lord’ of, it must be somethin’ else. Anyways, he’s not on Apostae. Not sure where he is, actually; that’s why you’re meetin’ with Tause Jarzeed instead. And no Aldo, you can't trust him. You can't trust anyone. Well, you can trust me. And yeah, payment on delivery.”
"Innocents is a stretch my friend, a VERY big stretch. These are hobgoblin worlds. I know the job stinks. Every job stinks, don’t it? But this one’s got a fat paycheck, and that’s what we need to get y’all off the Company’s hit list. Uh, figuratively speakin’. I mean, they haven’t hired assassins to kill you yet. I mean, as far as I know. Ha ha!”
“Corporations are expandin’ so fast,” Tarika says with a weary sigh. “By the time y’all went from Castrovel to Akiton, your local buyer had already been bought out by an interstellar conglomerate! Guess there’s no room for family businesses anymore. Not in the Pact Worlds, at least.” She shakes her head and taps a few buttons on her datapad. “But let’s focus on what matters: gettin’ y’all a high-payin’ gig to put ya back in the Company’s good graces. I got just the thing. Came in not long ago, in fact, and it’s... well, not perfect, but it’ll do the trick. A drow callin’ himself Lord Sinjin is shippin’ guns from Apostae to a planet in Near Space. I guess the Gideron Authority is tryin’ to settle a world called Vohxa, and the local miners are turnin’ into more of a problem than anyone figured they’d be." “So the job is simple: go to Apostae and meet with Sinjin’s agent, Tause Jarzeed, at a place called Lamashtu’s Lair, where you’ll pick up the cargo. Take it to a Gideron military outpost on Vohxa and collect payment. Oh, and no questions asked. You know the type.” Tarika rolls her eyes as she sends over the last of the job details. "I mean YOU can ask questions of ME. Whatcha got?"
“Howdy team! I’m just checkin’ in on y’all. If you’re receivin’ this, you must have arrived at Akiton. Your drop-off site is in Hivemarket. Now, you can’t miss that place—just look for the biggest damn mountain on the entire planet. That’ll be Ka, the Pillar of the Sky, and Hivemarket is around its bottom. There’s a business there called Ka Imports, and Siski, the manager, is your contact. You can collect payment from her." “Be careful on that dust bowl of a world, though; there’s no real law on Akiton, and the desert is no place to go explorin’. I’m lookin’ for your next job, and I’ll send a transmission when I have somethin’ for ya. If you haven’t heard from me by the time you’re done on Akiton, come on in to Absalom Station.” |