Precision Malfesense IC - Shiny

[TheAmishPirate]

Mrs. Snow feigned gasping from the smoke and heat. She grabbed the Alliance soldier, pulled him close, and hissed in his ear, "The reactor is releasing catastrophic levels of gabion particles," she said, "it won't kill anyone so Command won't give the evacuation order but we will get cancer ten years down the line if we don't leave now. Get me and my research on board the shuttle and we'll both live long, healthy lives,"

Manipulate: 9

Understand for a moment that I'm not nearly as traditionally educated as yourself, so spare me this foolish question: Is there actually such a thing as a gabion particle?

[Thanqol]

Understand for a moment that I'm not nearly as traditionally educated as yourself, so spare me this foolish question: Is there actually such a thing as a gabion particle?

No. Mrs. Snow stole Professor Gabion's research, beat him to the patent office and named the particle she's thinking of the Yamaguchi Particle (which was her maiden name). So while history will remember it as the Yamaguchi Particle she still thinks of poor old Professor Gabion whenever she says it.

EDIT: Oh wait, you mean, 'are they flooding this spaceship right now?' How the f*ck would Mrs. Snow know? She's a scientist, not an engineer. Ask grease-face.

[Anarion]

"I suppose that must have been the case." Andersen says flatly. "After all, you spend all your time crawling around the guts of this junker. Hardly time to tell you anything, is that right?"

"Now captain, I'm sure you didn't mean any offense to this lovely, fetching young lady." I rub a nearby bulkhead appreciatively and give it a reassuring pat. "She's very sensitive you know, and this gal would get you halfway across the galaxy and back carting a herd of cattle the whole way if you wanted." I look back over to him. "But you'd be right that I spend my time keeping the lady running and not making small talk with the passengers. So, would there be anything else you'd like?"

[Deadly]

More souls wandering the maelstrom. Only this time, you may just know where you're going.

Tell me, what's the psychic maelstrom like to you?

You know how it is when you close your eyes and focus on the back of your eyelids? How shadows and blotches of light and color linger and drift around in an empty blackness? And maybe if you focus on them long enough, follow the trails of light long enough, they will take form, make sense and show you a different world? Aeron doesn't have eyelids like others do, or even eyes in the same way others do. Aeron has his face, and when he withdraws his mind from this world, he can see behind it ... see behind his face almost like others see behind their eyelids. Imagine that your whole face was nothing but eyes, or even one big eye, and when you close them ...

... he can see and hear and go places that are not in this world, but yet of this world. It is a world of light and shadow, of whispers and silence. And if he watches, the world will take shape, but always the images and sounds and movements exist within a background of dark, silent stillness. As if what he sees is the real world reflected on the back of a black curtain in a silent theater.

[Elanorin]

He smiles, smug and satisfied. "Do you know," he asks. "How hard it is to get a decent bath out here? You'd think the terrible vacuum of space would leave things cleaner, but where there is life, there is dust and germs and filth." He wipes at one of his gloves, smile dropping a fraction. "You would not believe how often I've had to wash these."

"I would love if you could show me the miracles of hot water and skilled hands." He offers his gloved hand to you.

What do you do?

Willow smiled. "A good bath is indeed a rare luxury out here. Thankfully I share your love for them and have just the thing to soak away the grime of space and cares of the galaxy." She rises tentatively, looking to Andersen and his guards to see if she may leave.

"Let me go about drawing it for you now. Join me in... 10 minutes?"

[TheAmishPirate]

No. Mrs. Snow stole Professor Gabion's research, beat him to the patent office and named the particle she's thinking of the Yamaguchi Particle (which was her maiden name). So while history will remember it as the Yamaguchi Particle she still thinks of poor old Professor Gabion whenever she says it.

EDIT: Oh wait, you mean, 'are they flooding this spaceship right now?' How the f*ck would Mrs. Snow know? She's a scientist, not an engineer. Ask grease-face.

Just the first answer is fine, but the second's appreciated.

The soldier stops tugging at your arm for a moment. Hard to see his face behind the gas mask, but it looks like he doesn't fancy dying a slow, horrible death. "We have to get to the cargo hold first. We can hit the evacuation signal once we're in the shuttle." Way he talks about the cargo hold, it sounds like it's something you're supposed to know about, being a respectable member of Andersen's crew and all.

You know how it is when you close your eyes and focus on the back of your eyelids? How shadows and blotches of light and color linger and drift around in an empty blackness? And maybe if you focus on them long enough, follow the trails of light long enough, they will take form, make sense and show you a different world? Aeron doesn't have eyelids like others do, or even eyes in the same way others do. Aeron has his face, and when he withdraws his mind from this world, he can see behind it ... see behind his face almost like others see behind their eyelids. Imagine that your whole face was nothing but eyes, or even one big eye, and when you close them ...

... he can see and hear and go places that are not in this world, but yet of this world. It is a world of light and shadow, of whispers and silence. And if he watches, the world will take shape, but always the images and sounds and movements exist within a background of dark, silent stillness. As if what he sees is the real world reflected on the back of a black curtain in a silent theater.

A grand, cosmic puppet theater, where all that matters is the shape of a thing. Men can put on a face or a voice as easy as putting on a suit, but no man can hide his shape. You of all people know that best. Figures the kid with a false face can't be fooled by a mask.

You see the silhouettes of Andersen and his troops putting on their sharp uniforms, gearing up with their dangerous weapons, and marching in time to a silent beat. Their pretty little patrol boat sails in the skies above them, and all scatter before the long arm of the Alliance. But although they wear the trappings well, you have seen their shape.

And it is not the shape of the Alliance.

Willow smiled. "A good bath is indeed a rare luxury out here. Thankfully I share your love for them and have just the thing to soak away the grime of space and cares of the galaxy." She rises tentatively, looking to Andersen and his guards to see if she may leave.

"Let me go about drawing it for you now. Join me in... 10 minutes?"

Andersen motions to the guards, and they move away from the door. "I will see you then, my dear."

True to his word, you can get back to your quarters without any trouble at all, and nobody's going to disturb you for the next ten minutes. What do you do?

"Now captain, I'm sure you didn't mean any offense to this lovely, fetching young lady." I rub a nearby bulkhead appreciatively and give it a reassuring pat. "She's very sensitive you know, and this gal would get you halfway across the galaxy and back carting a herd of cattle the whole way if you wanted." I look back over to him. "But you'd be right that I spend my time keeping the lady running and not making small talk with the passengers. So, would there be anything else you'd like?"

"Just one." He waves the guards over, and doesn't even bother with whispering. "Go take a look through engineering, and the engines too. Leave no stone unturned."

"Sir, we already walked through the engines. Messy, but nothing out of the ordinary to report."

"Leave no stone unturned, soldier." He folded his hands resolutely. "That's an order."

[Thanqol]

Just the first answer is fine, but the second's appreciated.

The soldier stops tugging at your arm for a moment. Hard to see his face behind the gas mask, but it looks like he doesn't fancy dying a slow, horrible death. "We have to get to the cargo hold first. We can hit the evacuation signal once we're in the shuttle." Way he talks about the cargo hold, it sounds like it's something you're supposed to know about, being a respectable member of Andersen's crew and all.

"Sure, whatever," said Mrs. Snow, interested if there was anything worth pinching from the cargo hold, "but tick f*cking tock, sir, tick f*cking tock."

[BlasTech]

If you want to get a bead on Andersen, then I think you'll be wanting to Read a Person. If you want to take stock of your situation, that'll be Reading a Sitch.

Either way, you know that something is up from your previous Read a Sitch roll, and now you're trying to take advantage of that fact. If you roll, take your +1.

For better or worse, Hall is playing the player in front of him. Trying to get a feel for whether Andersen is going to bite or not.

(2d6+2)[10]

Question 1: What does your character intend to do?
Question 2: How can I get Andersen to allow Hall to head back to his quarters.
Hold 1

[Anarion]

"Just one." He waves the guards over, and doesn't even bother with whispering. "Go take a look through engineering, and the engines too. Leave no stone unturned."

"Sir, we already walked through the engines. Messy, but nothing out of the ordinary to report."

"Leave no stone unturned, soldier." He folded his hands resolutely. "That's an order."

It seems I must again copy our fine captain.
Read a person (2d6+1)[10]
First question: What's Andersen intend to do with them leaving no stone unturned in the engines?

[Deadly]

A grand, cosmic puppet theater, where all that matters is the shape of a thing. Men can put on a face or a voice as easy as putting on a suit, but no man can hide his shape. You of all people know that best. Figures the kid with a false face can't be fooled by a mask.

You see the silhouettes of Andersen and his troops putting on their sharp uniforms, gearing up with their dangerous weapons, and marching in time to a silent beat. Their pretty little patrol boat sails in the skies above them, and all scatter before the long arm of the Alliance. But although they wear the trappings well, you have seen their shape.

And it is not the shape of the Alliance.

Is that so? Interesting. Aeron observed Andersen with a new intensity, looking right through the facade to the mind behind it. Funny how the interrogator became the interrogee.

Read Andersen: 4+2+2 = 8

How can I get him to let me in on his secret?

[Elanorin]

Andersen motions to the guards, and they move away from the door. "I will see you then, my dear."

True to his word, you can get back to your quarters without any trouble at all, and nobody's going to disturb you for the next ten minutes. What do you do?

Willow would dive out to find Hall as soon as she was clear, dashing for his quarters, assuming that's where he was being held, hoping Andersen wasn't moving on to question him just yet. Should she run in to anyone she simply claimed she was fetching 'supplies' for the bath.

[TheAmishPirate]

It seems I must again copy our fine captain.
Read a person [roll0]
First question: What's Andersen intend to do with them leaving no stone unturned in the engines?

He intends to have his men empty your tools out of their boxes, touch everything and anything you own, pick up parts and not put them back where they go, and otherwise blunder through your workspace until whatever system of organization you had is completely annihilated.

Then - much later, in the privacy of his rooms - he will think of the trouble he's caused you, and laugh.

For better or worse, Hall is playing the player in front of him. Trying to get a feel for whether Andersen is going to bite or not.

[roll0]

Question 1: What does your character intend to do?
Question 2: How can I get Andersen to allow Hall to head back to his quarters.
Hold 1

Andersen intends to abuse his power over you and your crew for his own amusement. You both could've been well on your way, except you had to hail him and ruin everything. Now he's going to have what fun he can in payment for this unnecessary delay.

Now, best way to pull one over a man like this is to make him think he's pulled one over on you. Fake some sentimental attachment to a useless piece of junk on this ship, and squirm appropriately as he sends his troops off to "investigate" it. Once they're done messing with it, he'll be feeling mighty good about himself, and he'll send you back to your room without any more fuss.

Is that so? Interesting. Aeron observed Andersen with a new intensity, looking right through the facade to the mind behind it. Funny how the interrogator became the interrogee.

Read Andersen: 4+2+2 = 8

How can I get him to let me in on his secret?

Kid, I don't know what the world's coming to when I can tell you how to get a man to let you touch his brain, but I can't tell you how to get Andersen to let you in on a secret. He's big, you're little. Anything you could offer him, he'd take by force. Any threat you make on him, he can threaten harder. I just can't see the angle here.

Best I can say is this; you might not be able to get him to squeal, but Willow can. You know she can do it. Rope her into your scheme, and maybe it can happen. Otherwise, your best bet is to cut off his communications - Jane could do that, I wager, if she got full access to her workspace - separate him from his troops, and jump him. He's not armed, he thinks he's safe, so long as he doesn't make too much noise, he's yours. But there's a whole lot of 'if' in that plan.

Sorry, kid. Wish there was more I could tell you.

Willow would dive out to find Hall as soon as she was clear, dashing for his quarters, assuming that's where he was being held, hoping Andersen wasn't moving on to question him just yet. Should she run in to anyone she simply claimed she was fetching 'supplies' for the bath.

Alas, Hall's not in his quarters. Must have just taken him for questioning. Or maybe he's someplace else. Who knows?

The important question is that you've got an opportunity burning a hole in your pocket, and your Captain's gone missing. Who do you go to instead?

"Sure, whatever," said Mrs. Snow, interested if there was anything worth pinching from the cargo hold, "but tick f*cking tock, sir, tick f*cking tock."

He gives one more pointed look to your lack of oxygen tank, then rushes off towards the cargo bay. It's a place normally reserved for dockhands, robot help, and thems what misbehave. Low lights flicker as the ship's systems are still reeling from your lance. Crates are stacked up everywhere, each of them proudly stamped with the flag of the Union of Allied Planets. It's a safe bet that whatever was inside would be similarly marked.

Spoiler: Flag

Show

Your soldier friend - whose badge identifies him as Pvt. Curtis Adams - makes a beeline for one crate in particular. Up goes the lid, up goes a second, and a third, and after digging around the guts of the false crate he plucks out a case full of data rods. "Hope these things don't mind a little Gabion radition..." He mutters, though it comes out more like a prayer.

Of course, while he's working, you have the opportunity to root through some boxes yourself. Not like he'd begrudge you trying to salvage some goods from a potentially doomed ship. Before you do, though, what are you hoping to find? It's not like you'll discover a giant bag full of credits, or the full technical specifications of all your competitor's products. Salvaging is a gambler's game, and you have to know what it is you're really after.

Tell me about a treasure that you'd never dream of taking, and a common piece of junk you'd give your good arm to steal.

[Deadly]

Kid, I don't know what the world's coming to when I can tell you how to get a man to let you touch his brain, but I can't tell you how to get Andersen to let you in on a secret. He's big, you're little. Anything you could offer him, he'd take by force. Any threat you make on him, he can threaten harder. I just can't see the angle here.

Best I can say is this; you might not be able to get him to squeal, but Willow can. You know she can do it. Rope her into your scheme, and maybe it can happen. Otherwise, your best bet is to cut off his communications - Jane could do that, I wager, if she got full access to her workspace - separate him from his troops, and jump him. He's not armed, he thinks he's safe, so long as he doesn't make too much noise, he's yours. But there's a whole lot of 'if' in that plan.

Sorry, kid. Wish there was more I could tell you.

Oh, is that what he thinks. Unarmed, thinking he's safe and dealing with a useless kid... but no, as tempting as it was to play with Andersen all by himself, perhaps there was something even more tempting about teaming up with Willow to make him squeal. Mmm ... now there was a mental image he liked.

Aeron resumed patiently waiting, giving the best impression that there was nothing worthwhile to come for here, just a clueless kid with nothing to offer, while in his mind he was already imagining all sorts of ... things.

[Anarion]

He intends to have his men empty your tools out of their boxes, touch everything and anything you own, pick up parts and not put them back where they go, and otherwise blunder through your workspace until whatever system of organization you had is completely annihilated.

Then - much later, in the privacy of his rooms - he will think of the trouble he's caused you, and laugh.

I see, I see. That sounds like a might big waste of time. Mind answering me another question? What could I do to make him rescind those orders?

[Thanqol]

Your soldier friend - whose badge identifies him as Pvt. Curtis Adams - makes a beeline for one crate in particular. Up goes the lid, up goes a second, and a third, and after digging around the guts of the false crate he plucks out a case full of data rods. "Hope these things don't mind a little Gabion radition..." He mutters, though it comes out more like a prayer.

Of course, while he's working, you have the opportunity to root through some boxes yourself. Not like he'd begrudge you trying to salvage some goods from a potentially doomed ship. Before you do, though, what are you hoping to find? It's not like you'll discover a giant bag full of credits, or the full technical specifications of all your competitor's products. Salvaging is a gambler's game, and you have to know what it is you're really after.

Tell me about a treasure that you'd never dream of taking, and a common piece of junk you'd give your good arm to steal.

Mrs. Snow would really like to take one of the A.I. cores. Nothing better than a good fake person to help you with your research and handle all the long division. But you can never be sure of their loyalty, or know what weird tricks the Alliance stuck in 'em, and so she reluctantly passes them over.

The hunk of junk she does grab? The cargo manifest. Not only does this big ol' data file show what they have in stock, it also shows all the resupply stations in the region - which includes co-ordinates and approval codes for ISI stations - and what they have in stock. It's like a crime map, and no one will miss it because they can just download a newer copy.

[BlasTech]

Andersen intends to abuse his power over you and your crew for his own amusement. You both could've been well on your way, except you had to hail him and ruin everything. Now he's going to have what fun he can in payment for this unnecessary delay.

Now, best way to pull one over a man like this is to make him think he's pulled one over on you. Fake some sentimental attachment to a useless piece of junk on this ship, and squirm appropriately as he sends his troops off to "investigate" it. Once they're done messing with it, he'll be feeling mighty good about himself, and he'll send you back to your room without any more fuss.

Hall, bored, leaned back in his chair and took to staring at the walls of the kitchen.

In particular, he let his eyes rest on one piece of fabric that was hanging over the mantle. An old, tattered thing, with the number 84 written on it in faded yellow thread.

[Elanorin]

Alas, Hall's not in his quarters. Must have just taken him for questioning. Or maybe he's someplace else. Who knows?

The important question is that you've got an opportunity burning a hole in your pocket, and your Captain's gone missing. Who do you go to instead?

Well, my second choice is Rebecca (oh hell, do not tell her I said that) but she went and snuck on to the Alliance ship so...

Willow cursed under her breath when she realised Hall was not there. She hesitated for a second as the though of who else to seek out and a moment later she hurried quietly off to find her good friend Jane instead.

[TheAmishPirate]

I see, I see. That sounds like a mighty big waste of time. Mind answering me another question? What could I do to make him rescind those orders?

Weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeell the bad news is that you've done a good job of both making him mad, and showing him exactly what you care about on this ship. Like I was just telling Aeron, this isn't a situation where you've got an overabundance of leverage to push back with.

Still, if you could show him that your workspace is dangerous, and too risky for his men to go poking about all willy-nilly, then he'll relent. He'll probably turn around and make you root through everything yourself, but at least your system will be intact. Failing that, there is the universal language of bribery.

Oh, is that what he thinks. Unarmed, thinking he's safe and dealing with a useless kid... but no, as tempting as it was to play with Andersen all by himself, perhaps there was something even more tempting about teaming up with Willow to make him squeal. Mmm ... now there was a mental image he liked.

Aeron resumed patiently waiting, giving the best impression that there was nothing worthwhile to come for here, just a clueless kid with nothing to offer, while in his mind he was already imagining all sorts of ... things.

*beep beep*

Andersen's card reader blinked green. He didn't hide his disappointment. "Well, would you look at that. Fake face and a real ID." He flicks over your ident card and waves Ramirez over. "Finish processing him. I've got better things to do." And with that, he leaves you in the very capable hands of Ramirez. Given how he hasn't left since your roll, I'll say you still have a Read a Person question on him.

The private flicks through the list he'd been given, nearly dropping it twice "Alright. Port of entry? And...destination?"

Hall, bored, leaned back in his chair and took to staring at the walls of the kitchen.

In particular, he let his eyes rest on one piece of fabric that was hanging over the mantle. An old, tattered thing, with the number 84 written on it in faded yellow thread.

"Oh dear, my delicate web of lies has been shattered." replied Hall, deadpanning. "Now I have to confess the existence of my ragtag sabotage squad and our various desires to topple the tyranny of the Alliance."

He eyeballed the captain for a moment. Trying to gauge what kind of response would cause the captain to stick around a little longer. After all, whatever Ms Snow was doing over there, she probably needed more time.

"That was sarcasm, if you done wonderin." he said, sighing and leaning forward. "Look, captain, with all due respect, this ain't the first time I've had one of these little chats. The whole 'tryin' to trip me up thing?' it's wastin time, time that could probably be better spent going our own ways."

Andersen sighs. "Well, if you promise you're not up to no good, and that you'll sail along like good little boys and girls, then I suppose we must let you go. I'll tell my men to stop their search immediately, and to make your bunk on their way out."

"...that was sarcasm, if you're done wondering." He gets up and starts pacing the kitchen. With every pass, he gets closer and closer to the bit of cloth. "Honestly. I've lost count of the number of times I've heard a crew of bottom-feeders assure me that I am wasting my time. One particularly idiotic specimen kept telling me that even as I uncovered his stash of stolen drones. Said they were a gift from his grandmother..." He trails off, stopping right in front of the fabric. "...hrm. '84. A good year for you?"

Well, my second choice is Rebecca (oh hell, do not tell her I said that) but she went and snuck on to the Alliance ship so...

Willow cursed under her breath when she realised Hall was not there. She hesitated for a second as the though of who else to seek out and a moment later she hurried quietly off to find her good friend Jane instead.

Jane may or may not be available. While we sort that out for you, what about the other crew? The passengers? Don't you have anybody there you can rely on?

Mrs. Snow would really like to take one of the A.I. cores. Nothing better than a good fake person to help you with your research and handle all the long division. But you can never be sure of their loyalty, or know what weird tricks the Alliance stuck in 'em, and so she reluctantly passes them over.

The hunk of junk she does grab? The cargo manifest. Not only does this big ol' data file show what they have in stock, it also shows all the resupply stations in the region - which includes co-ordinates and approval codes for ISI stations - and what they have in stock. It's like a crime map, and no one will miss it because they can just download a newer copy.

Smart find. Small, portable, and valuable only to the ones with the right sort of insight.

You've just copied over the data when the entire ship lurches under you. Then falls away. Then comes rushing back to greet you. You hear your guide hit the deck hard.

As the gravity stabilizes and the lights stop flickering, you hear a tremendous *CRASH* as a pile of crates come tumbling down. Right in front of the exit.

What do you do?

[Thanqol]

Smart find. Small, portable, and valuable only to the ones with the right sort of insight.

You've just copied over the data when the entire ship lurches under you. Then falls away. Then comes rushing back to greet you. You hear your guide hit the deck hard.

As the gravity stabilizes and the lights stop flickering, you hear a tremendous *CRASH* as a pile of crates come tumbling down. Right in front of the exit.

What do you do?

Well it sounds like we're going to have to crawl through the -

*dramatic shudder*

ventilation shafts.

Oh damn I'm going to look like grease face after this.

[Deadly]

*beep beep*

Andersen's card reader blinked green. He didn't hide his disappointment. "Well, would you look at that. Fake face and a real ID." He flicks over your ident card and waves Ramirez over. "Finish processing him. I've got better things to do." And with that, he leaves you in the very capable hands of Ramirez. Given how he hasn't left since your roll, I'll say you still have a Read a Person question on him.

The private flicks through the list he'd been given, nearly dropping it twice "Alright. Port of entry? And...destination?"

Aeron had very little interest in filling out a lot of unimportant paperwork, he had more important things to attend to. Besides, he didn't like leaving behind a trail, or at least not a useful one.

How can I get Ramirez to just wave the thing off, maybe fill in some random made-up answers for me?

[Anarion]

Weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeell the bad news is that you've done a good job of both making him mad, and showing him exactly what you care about on this ship. Like I was just telling Aeron, this isn't a situation where you've got an overabundance of leverage to push back with.

Still, if you could show him that your workspace is dangerous, and too risky for his men to go poking about all willy-nilly, then he'll relent. He'll probably turn around and make you root through everything yourself, but at least your system will be intact. Failing that, there is the universal language of bribery.

Oh, well that's not too hard. About the time his men would get there, I quietly press a button on my arm. I've got some spare capacitors hooked up on my desk. They're cheap, not worth much, just extra electricity storage. But overload them and you get some very nice results.

[BlasTech]

Andersen sighs. "Well, if you promise you're not up to no good, and that you'll sail along like good little boys and girls, then I suppose we must let you go. I'll tell my men to stop their search immediately, and to make your bunk on their way out."

"...that was sarcasm, if you're done wondering." He gets up and starts pacing the kitchen. With every pass, he gets closer and closer to the bit of cloth. "Honestly. I've lost count of the number of times I've heard a crew of bottom-feeders assure me that I am wasting my time. One particularly idiotic specimen kept telling me that even as I uncovered his stash of stolen drones. Said they were a gift from his grandmother..." He trails off, stopping right in front of the fabric. "...hrm. '84. A good year for you?"

Hall carefully schools his features, clearly trying not to give anything away. He also, with obvious reluctance, looks elsewhere in the kitchen. The ceiling, the floor, Andersen. Basically anything other than that piece of cloth. That, rather brown-ish, almost flag-ish, piece of cloth.

"Yeah. Good year." he mutters.

It clearly wasn't the flag of the browncoats, as that was (paradoxically) green and yellow. But the 84th Overlanders had been a division in the war, one that fought hard in the battle of Keylene, and had held the line in the stalemated Battle of Dhu Kang.

[Elanorin]

Jane may or may not be available. While we sort that out for you, what about the other crew? The passengers? Don't you have anybody there you can rely on?

I try to make a point out of not relying on anybody. That's the kind of thing that leads to complications. I don't like complications. Sure, I enjoy mine and Mr Snow's talks we have and the occasional culinary adventure with our chef, but neither are people I feel I can run to when in trouble.

[TheAmishPirate]

Aeron had very little interest in filling out a lot of unimportant paperwork, he had more important things to attend to. Besides, he didn't like leaving behind a trail, or at least not a useful one.

How can I get Ramirez to just wave the thing off, maybe fill in some random made-up answers for me?

Rameriez has been jumpy since first he clapped eyes on you. He wants to do this whole song and dance just as much as you do. I'd advise against threatening him directly, as there's a chance he might up and shoot you if you came right at him. But if you push him a little further, if you give him a glimpse at the weird, the grotesque, the downright disturbing you, he'll bolt, and make up something for the paperwork later.

Out of purest curiosity kid, does your face come off?

Hall carefully schools his features, clearly trying not to give anything away. He also, with obvious reluctance, looks elsewhere in the kitchen. The ceiling, the floor, Andersen. Basically anything other than that piece of cloth. That, rather brown-ish, almost flag-ish, piece of cloth.

"Yeah. Good year." he mutters.

It clearly wasn't the flag of the browncoats, as that was (paradoxically) green and yellow. But the 84th Overlanders had been a division in the war, one that fought hard in the battle of Keylene, and had held the line in the stalemated Battle of Dhu Kang.

Andersen roughly snatches the flag off the wall. He puts his ear to the wall, tapping and listening for a hollow, a safe, a hiding-place.

Now, I'm going to take a leap here and guess you haven't led him to a secret stash of yours, but I've been wrong about a fair bit before. Come to think of it, tell me about your hiding-places. Does your ship have any? Is there anything in them right now? Who all knows about them?

Oh, and as always, what do you do?

Oh, well that's not too hard. About the time his men would get there, I quietly press a button on my arm. I've got some spare capacitors hooked up on my desk. They're cheap, not worth much, just extra electricity storage. But overload them and you get some very nice results.

Right on cue, Andersen's communicator buzzes to life with reports of fire, explosions, and electrical witchcraft. Disgruntled, he buzzes back, "Get back up here, and let the grease-skink do it herself." Turning to you, he glowers menacingly. "My men will be watching. Don't try anything."

A few minutes later, his soldiers return to escort you down to the engine room for your long, boring task of sorting through all your junk. Mission accomplished.

I try to make a point out of not relying on anybody. That's the kind of thing that leads to complications. I don't like complications. Sure, I enjoy mine and Mr Snow's talks we have and the occasional culinary adventure with our chef, but neither are people I feel I can run to when in trouble.

The Outer Rim is one of the last places in the 'Verse a body can just keep to themselves. Then again, it's awful hard to be truly alone, isn't it?

In any case, you find Jane being escorted to the engine room by a pair of guards.

Well it sounds like we're going to have to crawl through the -

*dramatic shudder*

ventilation shafts.

Oh damn I'm going to look like grease face after this.

The sacrifices we make for the things we love.

With some help from Pvt. Adams, you both climb up some crates and into the ventilation shafts. It's dark, it's cramped, and there isn't a single sign pointing the way to the hangar. How are you navigating?

[Anarion]

In any case, you find Jane being escorted to the engine room by a pair of guards.

"Howdy, Willow" I say as we pass in the hallway. She looks like she's got something on her mind, but I can hardly ask her to speak it all with the guards right there. "If you need something, the alliance captain has asked these fine gentleman to escort me to the engine room while I 'search' it for them." The slight twang to the word "search" is just faint enough for Willow, who knows Jane well, to get that she's being sarcastic, but not enough that the soldiers would think it's anything more than an ugly frontier accent to which they should turn their noses up. "I'll be a few minutes, or you can come with."

[Thanqol]

The sacrifices we make for the things we love.

With some help from Pvt. Adams, you both climb up some crates and into the ventilation shafts. It's dark, it's cramped, and there isn't a single sign pointing the way to the hangar. How are you navigating?

Woman's intuition? These evac maps I grabbed? The guy who lives and works on this spaceship?

[Elanorin]

The Outer Rim is one of the last places in the 'Verse a body can just keep to themselves. Then again, it's awful hard to be truly alone, isn't it?

In any case, you find Jane being escorted to the engine room by a pair of guards.

"Howdy, Willow" I say as we pass in the hallway. She looks like she's got something on her mind, but I can hardly ask her to speak it all with the guards right there. "If you need something, the alliance captain has asked these fine gentleman to escort me to the engine room while I 'search' it for them." The slight twang to the word "search" is just faint enough for Willow, who knows Jane well, to get that she's being sarcastic, but not enough that the soldiers would think it's anything more than an ugly frontier accent to which they should turn their noses up. "I'll be a few minutes, or you can come with."

"Hello, Jane," Willow's smile doesn't falter despite noting the unfortunate presence of guards. "I see. I would offer to help you but Captain Andersen has requested a bath so I will be busy seeing to him for a good while." Willow smiled happily, clearly delighted to have a client. The kind of delighted a good friend could tell was part of a careful act. "I'm sure our Captain will help you if you let him know, so you're done by the time Captain Andersen emerges from his bath. I think he wants to head off quite soon after, from what I understand," Willow added, all innocent sweetness and light.

[Anarion]

"Oh, I'm sure we'll be done by then. These fine young soldiers wouldn't want to keep their captain waiting after his nice bath, ain't that right boys?"

[Deadly]

Rameriez has been jumpy since first he clapped eyes on you. He wants to do this whole song and dance just as much as you do. I'd advise against threatening him directly, as there's a chance he might up and shoot you if you came right at him. But if you push him a little further, if you give him a glimpse at the weird, the grotesque, the downright disturbing you, he'll bolt, and make up something for the paperwork later.

Out of purest curiosity kid, does your face come off?

Well, sort of. Some of it. See, a large part of his skull and jaw has been replaced with metal and electronics, all part of the prosthetic. That part can't be removed ... certainly not without massive surgery, at least. But much of the outward mask - the part you see - can be removed, yes. It's not particularly easy or neat, but it can be done.

"Have you ever looked in the mirror," Aeron said conversationally as they left Andersen, entirely ignoring the questionnaire, "and thought you looked a little different? Like maybe your face was changing, but you can't quite put your finger on what has changed?"

He stopped and leaned against a wall. "Before I got this," he said and tapped his metal face, "I sometimes couldn't recognize myself in the mirror. My face was too sick and pale, like wax that couldn't hold its shape. It reminded me of some alien, fleshy fungus growing out of my head.

"Do you think a face can exist independent of its body? That it can take over its body?" Aeron paused and studied himself in the reflection of a metal pipe. "When they cut away my old face and replaced it with this, it was a relief. I was ridding myself of a cancerous growth, replacing it with something that doesn't change. I wake up every day now, and it's the same face I see. I don't have to worry."

He turned and looked straight at Ramirez. "Or so I thought, anyway." He turned his head slightly to show the intersection between metal and skin, running a finger over the scarred tissue. He seemed to invite Ramirez to study it more closely, showing how the skin seemed to grow over the metal. "Right after I got it, I could take the face plate off with ease, but now everything's begun to merge with the flesh and bone beneath. It's like the old face, the alien cancer the doctors tried to cut away, is growing again, trying to recover and grow over the metal like it did the face I was born with.

"Maybe it'll spread, and spread ... and spread," he said, studying Ramirez' face like it had suddenly sprouted some obscene growth. "Perhaps the face you see, the smooth unchanging metal, is the only thing that's me anymore. Maybe it's the only real face among a walking flock of fleshy alien fungi. I think about that sometimes."

[Elanorin]

"Oh, I'm sure we'll be done by then. These fine young soldiers wouldn't want to keep their captain waiting after his nice bath, ain't that right boys?"

"Right. Good. That's... good." Willow was painfully aware she was no good at this subversive plotting thing and hoped she wasn't making a mistake in detaining Andersen. "I'll just... get some towels..." she motioned over her shoulder and took a few hesitant steps away, offered her friend another warm yet slightly worried smile before heading back to actually get that bath set up. It wasn't just a case of hot water in a tub after all, there needed to be lit scented candles, soaps, fragrant oils, toasty towels, bubbles.