Classic Traveller: Round up a Posse (IC)

[happyturtle]

"Festering Dungheap," Becky says, brightening. "I like that. We can call her Fester for short."

[Jolly Steve]

Hmmm...a cunning plan. But better yet, why don't we call it....Not A Festering Dungheap?

[Voshkod]

"Even better," Seong muttered. "I bet the ship is stolen, or under bounty, or a former smuggling vessel. We'll find the corpse of some mob boss in the engine room, and suddenly everyone will want us dead. Might as well call her the Coffin Corner."

[happyturtle]

"Don't be silly," Becky says cheerfully. "We're far more likely to die from a lifesupport malfunction than a hitman."

[Voshkod]

"Only if you get me mad. Otherwise, life support will work just fine. Now, who do we have to . . . ask to get a drink on this shuttle?" Seong looked around for a steward of some sort.

[Lycar]

Orwn looks between his alien compatriots as they seem to make fun of the naming issue. So many years of living with besides humans and they still can give one pause every now and then.

"Er... i don't think that an organization such as the TAS would have the bad sense to try to pass off a wreck as a prize. Think of the damage to their reputation."

"So... do you put much value on a ship's name? It is often a ... cultural thing i understand?"

Lycar

[happyturtle]

"The name of a ship affects everything inside it," Becky says. "Take two sister ships, built at the same dockyards. Name one of them Camel and the other one Rabbit. I guarantee you, within ten years, Camel will be more reliable, and Rabbit will be faster. Not because the name affected the machinery of the ship, but because it affected the people who maintained the machinery, who crewed the ship, who made the decisions that made the ship what she is."

This is fairly philosophical talk from the normally down-to-earth Marine, and she seems as surprised by it as anyone else.

[Lycar]

Orwn listens to Becky, at first a bit concerned about what seems to be superstition coming from the Captain of their crew. But then he smiles.

"Ah, of course. Motivation is a key element for everybody's performance after all. And if you are part of a crew, you want to live up to it's reputation. In that case we are well advised to delay any naming until after we have an actual plan about what to do with our prize."

"Considering that a scout isn't exactly a trader, we should think of something other then trying to scrape by transporting goods for third parties."

Orwn looks over at their pilot.

"Tuesday, you've been with the Scout Service. Do you know how private interests work at the borders? Exploration buisines and such?"

Lycar

[Were-Sandwich]

From the technical specs Seong has, the ship is shaped like an elongated arrow-head, a tell-tale sign of one of the newer lines of Type-S ships, replacing the blunt triangle shape of the older models. Its maintenance log dates it at being brand new, with no mechanical problems. You wonder what exactly has customs in such a tizzy.

A waitress glides somewhat inhumanly down the aisle, reinforcing your impression that the staff are all banged out of moulds. Her tray boasts a veritable cornucopia of alcoholic beverages, snacks and tapas.

"Can I interest you in anything, courtesy of DFG Starlines?" She says with a smile that looks like it was sculpted on to her face.

[Lycar]

Orwn uses the opportunity to order something.

"What food do you have? And some fruit juice for drink? Bring a straw."

Lycar

[Were-Sandwich]

"We have a large vegetarian meat platter, or some lactose-free yogurt." She begins to rummage. "Nut-free nuts, tofu or salad? We do have some fruit juice I believe, sir." She produces a small colourful carton of juice, with a straw stuck to the side and a delightful cartoon animal motif. A label on the side proudly proclaims "Does not contain fruit."

[Lycar]

Orwn looks at the alien woman in front of him dumbstruck for a few moments. His right ear twitches a bit.

Then he smiles carefully and says "Ah, he he, very funny. I sure appreciate your efforts to lighten the mood a bit. Seriously now, what food do you have?"

Lycar

[Jolly Steve]

Tuesday, you've been with the Scout Service. Do you know how private interests work at the borders? Exploration buisines and such?

Why yes, I do. You see, there are all sorts of interstellar regulations on mining/settling rights, as well as first contact procedures. Basically, as long as you don't get caught you can ignore them. Tuesday says, with a slight tone of 'who doesn't know that?'

[Voshkod]

"Listen, sweetie," Seong says to the stewardess, "can you bring me two vodkas with a vodka chaser and a tall glass of ice?" He twisted uncomfortable in the seat, looking out of place outside of the hoverchair.

[Were-Sandwich]

The stewardess seems confused by Orwn's rebuke, but the fixed smile never leaves her face.

"I am sorry sir, this is the only fruit juice we have."

She turns to Seong and whips the drinks out from under her trolley, in a "here's one I made earlier" kind of way.

[Lycar]

The stewardess seems confused by Orwn's rebuke, but the fixed smile never leaves her face.

"I am sorry sir, this is the only fruit juice we have."

Orwn looks at the stewardes again for a moment.

(Maybe it's an android. Humans are pretty advanaced in robotics after all. Well, not that advanced maybe, if this is one, it's malfunctioning.)

Leaning a bit over into her direction, Orwn sniffs the air a bit, trying to pick up her scent. Does she indeed smell like a living, if dimwitted, human being or...

Lycar

[Were-Sandwich]

She smells like a human, underneath layers of perfume, clothing starch and hair products.

A steady rumbling and sligh increase of cabin temperature indicates you are beginning re-entry.

"Ladies and gentlemen, please fasten your seatbelts. DFG starlines wishes you a pleasant trip."

[Lycar]

"... right. Just some fruit juice will be fine then."

Orwn takes the offered pack of fruit juice reluctantly. He peeks at the table of contents for a moment.

(Ugh.. no actual fruit content, all artificial flavouring. I suppose it's to prevent them form being sued if someone has an allergic reaction. But vegetarian meat platter.. come on...)


Lycar

[Were-Sandwich]

The cabin is now becoming uncomfortably hot, and a rumbling noise can be heard from somewhere off the starboard side. Your experience with atmo re-entry tells you that something is going wrong. Some of the other passengers are beginning to look somewhat distressed.

[Tuesday's piloting expertise tells him the pilot is not using his thrusters to correct your entry vector, meaning you're hitting the atmo at the wrong angle]

[Jolly Steve]

I call out to the pilot

"THRUSTERS!!!!"

[Lycar]

Orwn feels the rising heat and starts to pant slightly.

However, since his experince told him that humans can't help but look at him funny if he lets his tongue hang out, he strives to keep it inside his muzzle.

Oh well, at least he has some fruit juice.

"*pant* What's going on? What about the thrusters? *pant*"

Lycar

[Jolly Steve]

If the pilot doesn't respond, I'll get up and walk towards the cockpit.

[Were-Sandwich]

'Walking' toward the cockpit becomes more of a controlled stumble as the ship starts to shake rapidly. Fortunately, the cockpit is on the same deck as your seats. Unfortunately, the door is locked, but doens't look to sturdy. A stewardess, eerily similar to the one that served your food, shouts at Tuesday.

"I'm sorry, sir, the cockpit is off limits to passengers! DFG Starlines would like to-" She is cut off by a large jolt that knocks her off her feet.

The passengers are in full blown hysterics now, screaming their heads off; the stewardesses try in vain to reassure them.

[Voshkod]

"Well, this is just typical." Seong tosses back his last vodka. "Let me guess, this time I'll just end up as a head in a jar."

[Lycar]

"Why, do your people put the heads of their deceased on display?"

Orwn seems to be a just a wee bit anxious about the situation. You know, ears laid back flat on the head, 'grinning' nervously and if he wouldn't already be sitting on his tail, it would probably be firmly between his legs now anyway.

Lycar

[Voshkod]

"Last time I was in an accident, Lon, I lost the use of my legs. You think I sit in that damn hoverchair for fun?" Seong snorted. "This time, I'll lose my arms, or my head, or other more important parts. You just wait."

[happyturtle]

Becky follows Tuesday to the cockpit to help him force the door if needed.

[Jolly Steve]

I kick down the door.

That's strange - I just had a strange feeling that I was looking for treasure in a quasi-medieval world.

[Were-Sandwich]

Between the two of them Becky and Tuesday manage to gain entry to the cockpit, amid cries of alarm from the Stewardess. The cockpit is rather large, roughly 20ft in both directions with an 8ft ceiling. Banks of instruments and readouts obviously to do with flying the ship take up most of the walls. There is another door on the left hand wall, which you presume leads to the staff area.

On the floor lie two people who you assume from their uniforms to be the pilot and co-pilot, both bleeding out from gunshot wounds. In the pilot's seat sits a medium-sized man with a shaved head, wearing a casual shirt and slacks. An accelerator rifle lies on his lap. His body convulses slightly now and then. He appears to Tuesday to be deliberately crashing the shuttle.

Orwn and Seong hear the commotion from the front as Becky and Tuesday do a little freelance door-smashing.

[happyturtle]

Becky tackles the gunman, with the intention of dragging him out of seat and keeping him out of the way while Tuesday tries to save the ship.

(brawling roll needed?)