Precision Malfesense IC - Shiny

[BlasTech]

Harold, you flip the gun's safety back on, right as Sam starts drumming his fingers on his holster. "I ain't keen on havin' a shouting match, Cap'n. You come over here. Then I got some verbs for you to...alize." Yang tightens his grip on his gun.

Hark's grumpy, but that's about usual. He's looking a bit nervous though, which is less usual. As Harke walks closer, switching off Yang's rifle in the process. He tries to get a read on Harke's face, to see what it is that's causing him such disquiet.

(2d6+1)[3]
What is he really feeling?

Edit: ouch.

[TheAmishPirate]

I'm done sneaking and peeking around corners. I've found what I wanted, now to take it.

I step out from hiding, but I give Sam Harke no time to so much as peep before I activate the pain-wave projector in my mask, filling the hall with a subsonic assault on every nerve. Sorry Capt'n, but there's no time to be gentle here. What I'm going to do is swiftly and decisively disable them all, drag them into a room where no one's likely to come looking, and tie up the two "Alliance" folk and Harke. Then hopefully have a one-on-one talk with the captain (note to self: apologize).

I'm not sure how this goes in the new system. In the old it would be Seize by Force. In the new one, that's called Seize Something Valuable by Force ... I guess people are valuable, and I'm seizing four of them, but maybe this is just Suckering Someone. I'm going to roll, and you tell me if it's SBF (Hard) or Sucker/Go Aggro (Weird). Either way, I mark XP and gain my first advance.

Taking them by force: 3+6+1 or +2 = 10 or 11

If SBF, I take definite hold, and uh ... everything except "inflict terrible harm". I'm not out to kill anybody here, just knock them out good.

Hark's grumpy, but that's about usual. He's looking a bit nervous though, which is less usual. As Harke walks closer, switching off Yang's rifle in the process. He tries to get a read on Harke's face, to see what it is that's causing him such disquiet.

[roll0]
What is he really feeling?

Edit: ouch.

Sounds like you are Suckering Someone. Four someones, to be exact.

Harold, before you even know what's hit you, there's this...actually, Areon, this is your toy. Why don't you tell the fine Captain what it's like? In fact, I'm leaving this in your capable hands. Harold, Sam, Yang, and Rameriez are all down for the count with bleeding ears and screams aplenty. You've got all the time you need to take them someplace, tie people up, maybe light some candles, set the mood, whatever it is you do when you've got company. Tell me - and Harold - what happens when they wake up.

"Mm," Willow agreed and folded up a towel neatly and placed at the head of the bath to cushion his head. "I can't help but think that a ship such as yours must be... well equipped. Comfortable. Spacious, even. More so than... civilian freighters," she commented, nudging the conversation along in a direction she hoped would prove yielding.

"Perhaps, while we savour the moment, we could also consider this... an audition?"

There is a thoughtful, telling pause. "And what role is our rising star aiming for?" he asks coyly.

I would indeed. [roll0]
[Why don't we cut to the chase here and just let me know what my best way through this situation is?]

The best way through is to explain that you're not dooming them all to a slow, painful death, and for Tom to back you up. But Tom's busy with the damage control officer, and the crowd's too panicked for logic right now. You need a way to shut everybody up for just a few seconds, so you can set the record straight.

Best answer I can think of? If the crowd's being loud, you just gotta get louder. A sharp bang, a piercing siren, a blast from a loudspeaker, something like that. Think of it like shooting in the air to get everybody's attention, only you don't have a gun handy.

Well, that's Mrs. Snow in the bleedout zone. Going to a real hospital sounds like a good idea. Luckily all her stolen kit is in her silver suitcase, so she didn't actually lose anything in the crash.

She's going to find the nearest rescue crew and tell them that a psychopathic Alliance soldier kidnapped her and was going to use her as a hostage while he committed an act of terror. And she is a poor innocent traumatized victim who is lucky to be alive, and now she needs urgent medical attention please.

(This was also a great way to get into a proper core-world hospital and start doing some in-depth analysis of her stolen data)

Manipulate: 10

The cops show up and start combing over the wreckage, but as soon as they hear your story they shuffle you into an ambulance, along with some more official help. Along the way, they ask you for a few more details on your story. What ship you were on, how he got you on the shuttle, did he take anything with him, when did he first start acting strange, did he seem like he was having hearing problems, anything you could tell them would be helpful to their investigations.

[Elanorin]

There is a thoughtful, telling pause. "And what role is our rising star aiming for?" he asks coyly.

"Oh I am who I am and I have no desire to be anyone else," Willow assured him with a content smile. "I imagine you reach just as many border-planet society as a freighter does. Perhaps with the added bonus of some visits closer to the core now and then? I can see the appeal in a slightly more busy calendar. Then there is, of course, the possibility of an exclusive contract. But an Alliance military salary would be somewhat prohibitive. Even for a Captain, I'm afraid. Unless... there is more to you than meets the eye?" she asked, appraising him head to toe and inviting him in to the bath.

[Thanqol]

The cops show up and start combing over the wreckage, but as soon as they hear your story they shuffle you into an ambulance, along with some more official help. Along the way, they ask you for a few more details on your story. What ship you were on, how he got you on the shuttle, did he take anything with him, when did he first start acting strange, did he seem like he was having hearing problems, anything you could tell them would be helpful to their investigations.

Mrs. Snow does not consider it to be in her best interests to give them a clear answer. She's playing the part of a traumatized civilian - notoriously unreliable types. If she gives them a push in any direction it's she mentions something about browncoat sympathies - surely some two-bit Independent militia will claim responsibility out of reflex.

[Anarion]

The best way through is to explain that you're not dooming them all to a slow, painful death, and for Tom to back you up. But Tom's busy with the damage control officer, and the crowd's too panicked for logic right now. You need a way to shut everybody up for just a few seconds, so you can set the record straight.

Best answer I can think of? If the crowd's being loud, you just gotta get louder. A sharp bang, a piercing siren, a blast from a loudspeaker, something like that. Think of it like shooting in the air to get everybody's attention, only you don't have a gun handy.

Well, I've already got the panel off, I just slam my wrench into the wire that connects to the emergency klaxon and boom the shuttle is blaring out one of those ear-splitting warning beacons. "If all y'all don't mind" I shout over the blaring shuttle. "I'm gonna need some pieces from here to fix your ship, and then we'll all be just fine! I'm helping out Tom, ain't that right, Tom?"

[Deadly]

Sounds like you are Suckering Someone. Four someones, to be exact.

Harold, before you even know what's hit you, there's this...actually, Areon, this is your toy. Why don't you tell the fine Captain what it's like? In fact, I'm leaving this in your capable hands. Harold, Sam, Yang, and Rameriez are all down for the count with bleeding ears and screams aplenty. You've got all the time you need to take them someplace, tie people up, maybe light some candles, set the mood, whatever it is you do when you've got company. Tell me - and Harold - what happens when they wake up.

It's not really a sound, which is why simple earplugs don't help. It's just that your brain doesn't have anything else to compare it to, so a sound is what it 'hears', but it doesn't go through your ears or even activate the hearing regions of the brain in the normal order, which is why you can't pinpoint the direction and why it feels really f*cking wrong, like it's coming from within your own skull. And technically, it kinda is.

It's not a loud 'sound' in the traditional sense either. You can't fail to 'hear' it if you're nearby, but assuming you were conscious enough to actually put words to it ... you'd probably find that hard, but 'maddening', 'confusing', 'nagging', 'low whine' might be some of the words you came up with. But the words you're more likely to use are various forms of agonized and delirious vocalizations, because that's what the 'sound' feels like. Much like a loud bass can be felt in your body, or certain notes can cause a shiver to run down your spine or tingles in your scalp, this 'sound' is felt too. Intensely so.

It's basically your brain overloading every sense and every nerve all at once. The bleeding, which at least isn't lethal on its own, is due to the intense physical shock and is largely internal. When all conditions are ideal, the overwhelming mental confusion and pain leave most people subjected to it unable to do anything but writhe and cry on the floor. It's most unpleasant.

At any rate, Aeron is quick to shove them all into a room, disarm them, and tie up all but the captain. He apologizes to them all, but especially Harold. "Didn't have time to be gentle, sir," he says once he's got them safely secured and turned off the pain generator. "We must talk." Sure, he would have liked to light some candles, put on a nice dinner ... but he didn't think they'd appreciate the delay as he ran off to the kitchen.

[TheAmishPirate]

"Oh I am who I am and I have no desire to be anyone else," Willow assured him with a content smile. "I imagine you reach just as many border-planet society as a freighter does. Perhaps with the added bonus of some visits closer to the core now and then? I can see the appeal in a slightly more busy calendar. Then there is, of course, the possibility of an exclusive contract. But an Alliance military salary would be somewhat prohibitive. Even for a Captain, I'm afraid. Unless... there is more to you than meets the eye?" she asked, appraising him head to toe and inviting him in to the bath.

"Maybe there is, maybe there isn't..." He teases, stepping out from the screen. "What can I say? I do fancy myself a man of mystery. And I can't reveal all my cards so early into negotiations. Surely you-ohhhhh, that's divine." He sighs, sinking into the warm water. "Surely you understand. 'The poor officer floods the field with bodies. The wise officer holds his mighty men patiently.'" He misquotes.

Well, I've already got the panel off, I just slam my wrench into the wire that connects to the emergency klaxon and boom the shuttle is blaring out one of those ear-splitting warning beacons. "If all y'all don't mind" I shout over the blaring shuttle. "I'm gonna need some pieces from here to fix your ship, and then we'll all be just fine! I'm helping out Tom, ain't that right, Tom?"

The crowd collectively shrinks a few inches as everybody winces and covers their ears. Folks are a lot more receptive when there's only one person talking.

"She sure is!" Tom shouts, glaring at the Pearson - the officer. "So if you'd give us some space, we'll have this all taken care of soon enough, dong ma?"

Pearson scowls (or so you assume) behind his visor, then backs down. "You hear the man! Back to your posts! Masks on until further notice, and somebody get me a full damage report!"

The report comes quick enough. Tom and Pearson pour over it, and from the snippets you can hear they've got more questions than answers. As you're finishing up, Tom checks over your work, and then pulls you aside. "Listen, I know you're just a civvie, but you're a damn fine engineer and it'd be a shame to see you, ah, come to serious trouble. So hear me out; you wouldn't happen to have anybody on your crew luggin' around some military-grade hardware would you? Anybody at all?" He watches you intently.

Mrs. Snow does not consider it to be in her best interests to give them a clear answer. She's playing the part of a traumatized civilian - notoriously unreliable types. If she gives them a push in any direction it's she mentions something about browncoat sympathies - surely some two-bit Independent militia will claim responsibility out of reflex.

Certainly. Nothing like free credit, right?

Once they see you're horrifically traumatized and of no use to anybody, they're all too happy to dump you off at the hospital. It's no Core World, state-of-the-art facility, but it's mighty respectable for the boonies. All the medical trade is doing them good. Especially considering half their medicine they can probably grow in their backyard.

Unfortunately, those hospitals are reserved for good little workers. Not for bums who crash-landed without so much as an ident card to their name.

The place they take you to is less of a hospital, and more of a longhouse where they keep folks with doctorin' knowledge. Compared to the shiny white hospital you glimpsed out the window on the way here, this place is surely infested with lice, all manner of tropical diseases, and the unwashed masses. Ugh. And they have the gall to charge you a competitive rate. If you're interested in paying in cash, it'll be 1 Barter per segment healed, and you'll have to stay overnight.

I mean, you're not bleeding out yet, right?

[Anarion]

The report comes quick enough. Tom and Pearson pour over it, and from the snippets you can hear they've got more questions than answers. As you're finishing up, Tom checks over your work, and then pulls you aside. "Listen, I know you're just a civvie, but you're a damn fine engineer and it'd be a shame to see you, ah, come to serious trouble. So hear me out; you wouldn't happen to have anybody on your crew luggin' around some military-grade hardware would you? Anybody at all?" He watches you intently.

"Mrs. Rebecca Snow." I say it without hesitation, just deadpan while I'm finishing up the work. "Mind you, I don't actually know what sort of hardware she's got. Might be nothing, might be that one of your own folks got a little antsy with the gun controls here. But I know all the tech that my ship's got, and Snow's the only passenger on there that's both unaccounted for while this happened and might have some of her own equipment capable of doing it in her personal stuff. So she's your gal if you care to hang around long enough to ask about it."

[BlasTech]

It's not really a sound, which is why simple earplugs don't help. It's just that your brain doesn't have anything else to compare it to, so a sound is what it 'hears', but it doesn't go through your ears or even activate the hearing regions of the brain in the normal order, which is why you can't pinpoint the direction and why it feels really f*cking wrong, like it's coming from within your own skull. And technically, it kinda is.

It's not a loud 'sound' in the traditional sense either. You can't fail to 'hear' it if you're nearby, but assuming you were conscious enough to actually put words to it ... you'd probably find that hard, but 'maddening', 'confusing', 'nagging', 'low whine' might be some of the words you came up with. But the words you're more likely to use are various forms of agonized and delirious vocalizations, because that's what the 'sound' feels like. Much like a loud bass can be felt in your body, or certain notes can cause a shiver to run down your spine or tingles in your scalp, this 'sound' is felt too. Intensely so.

It's basically your brain overloading every sense and every nerve all at once. The bleeding, which at least isn't lethal on its own, is due to the intense physical shock and is largely internal. When all conditions are ideal, the overwhelming mental confusion and pain leave most people subjected to it unable to do anything but writhe and cry on the floor. It's most unpleasant.

At any rate, Aeron is quick to shove them all into a room, disarm them, and tie up all but the captain. He apologizes to them all, but especially Harold. "Didn't have time to be gentle, sir," he says once he's got them safely secured and turned off the pain generator. "We must talk." Sure, he would have liked to light some candles, put on a nice dinner ... but he didn't think they'd appreciate the delay as he ran off to the kitchen.

See, that's the problem with life out in the black. Nothing ever goes all neat like. One minute, things are going well, under control, accordin' t'plan. Next thing, you're a'bleedin out on the ground, screaming for momma.

Not Hall though, he's too old to scream for momma. Yup. You better believe it. Ain't nobody better say otherwise who don't want their breathin' rights revoked.

Anyway, you said you disarmed them. Does that mean you took Hall's gun? Or is ole Betsy safe in her holster? Cause, far be it from the captain to be able to question how things are run on his ship, but having armed and, above all, angry alliance on the ship don't strike as the best time to go unarmed.

[Elanorin]

"Maybe there is, maybe there isn't..." He teases, stepping out from the screen. "What can I say? I do fancy myself a man of mystery. And I can't reveal all my cards so early into negotiations. Surely you-ohhhhh, that's divine." He sighs, sinking into the warm water. "Surely you understand. 'The poor officer floods the field with bodies. The wise officer holds his mighty men patiently.'" He misquotes.

Willow smiled in good humour at his comment, "That's quite alright. I understand if your Alliance life does not have space for a Companion. And I know not everyone finds it appealing to have one of us close at all times." she said softly and with complete understanding. With that she let the subject drop and silently began the slow and utterly sublime ritual of bathing another, waiting for him to take the bait.

[Rolling to Manipulate the good Captain to invite me to come live on his ship: 5+4+3=12]

[Deadly]

See, that's the problem with life out in the black. Nothing ever goes all neat like. One minute, things are going well, under control, accordin' t'plan. Next thing, you're a'bleedin out on the ground, screaming for momma.

Not Hall though, he's too old to scream for momma. Yup. You better believe it. Ain't nobody better say otherwise who don't want their breathin' rights revoked.

Anyway, you said you disarmed them. Does that mean you took Hall's gun? Or is ole Betsy safe in her holster? Cause, far be it from the captain to be able to question how things are run on his ship, but having armed and, above all, angry alliance on the ship don't strike as the best time to go unarmed.

Unless it was concealed, yes, but Aeron is happy to give it back to you once he's reasonably sure you're not going to blindly shoot at anything that's not on the ground with you. People can get so very trigger-happy when they're suddenly on the ground and don't know why, so it's just a precaution you see.

[BlasTech]

Unless it was concealed, yes, but Aeron is happy to give it back to you once he's reasonably sure you're not going to blindly shoot at anything that's not on the ground with you. People can get so very trigger-happy when they're suddenly on the ground and don't know why, so it's just a precaution you see.

Hey, a you can knock a man out, make him bleed from all the orifices he knows of (and a few of the others to boot), but takin Ole Betsy? That's just rude. Next thing you know, and you'll tell me that he took his hat too!

Anyway, Hall will follow Aeron to the kitchen. But he's gonna ruin any attempted conversation by bein' the grumpy old man he is until he gets his gun back.

[Deadly]

Hey, a you can knock a man out, make him bleed from all the orifices he knows of (and a few of the others to boot), but takin Ole Betsy? That's just rude. Next thing you know, and you'll tell me that he took his hat too!

Anyway, Hall will follow Aeron to the kitchen. But he's gonna ruin any attempted conversation by bein' the grumpy old man he is until he gets his gun back.

Nah, your hat is safe.

Aeron leads Hall out into the ... hall and hands him back Ol' Betsy. He's not going to go wandering off too far, what with these people around. Just far enough to be out of earshot. "These people aren't Alliance," he says, getting straight to the point. "They look like, and it's a pretty good ruse, but it's fake. Ms. Skaro is the only one I've told so far, besides you. She's got their captain in her care for now."

[TheAmishPirate]

"Mrs. Rebecca Snow." I say it without hesitation, just deadpan while I'm finishing up the work. "Mind you, I don't actually know what sort of hardware she's got. Might be nothing, might be that one of your own folks got a little antsy with the gun controls here. But I know all the tech that my ship's got, and Snow's the only passenger on there that's both unaccounted for while this happened and might have some of her own equipment capable of doing it in her personal stuff. So she's your gal if you care to hang around long enough to ask about it."

"I don't think we'll be asking her much of anything now." Tom shakes his head. "See, we're thinking she took off with the other shuttle after she did a number on our ship. Still piecing together the 'why', and if she had any help. Do you know where she might've flown off to? I don't think I need t'say this, but anything you could tell us would be a big help."

Willow smiled in good humour at his comment, "That's quite alright. I understand if your Alliance life does not have space for a Companion. And I know not everyone finds it appealing to have one of us close at all times." she said softly and with complete understanding. With that she let the subject drop and silently began the slow and utterly sublime ritual of bathing another, waiting for him to take the bait.

[Rolling to Manipulate the good Captain to invite me to come live on his ship: 5+4+3=12]

Temptation makes fools of even great men. So really, poor Andersen here didn't stand a chance.

Partway through the wondrous bath, he cracks. Tells you he's got plenty to offer a lady of your standing, and much more besides. He wears the colors of the Alliance, sure enough, but he's destined for greater things. The Alliance didn't appreciate a man of his caliber. Didn't see his value. Only a matter of time before somebody else did. Sure enough, he got word one day that his ship had come in. A person by the name of Madame Ching had a job for an Alliance man sick of Alliance work; delivery of some special cargo through heavily guarded territory. Suicide for any ordinary junker or scavver rat. But for him? It was as simple as getting together a loyal crew, hopping in an Alliance Patrol Boat, and cruising on through. The Alliance thinks he's just on routine patrol, and the lowlifes? The scum? Who of them would tangle with an Alliance vessel? The plan was utter brilliance. Foolproof. And now, my dear, you could sail away with him, and never have to worry about money again.

He makes you swear not to tell a living soul. And he's fool enough to believe anything you say.

What do you do?

[Anarion]

"I don't think we'll be asking her much of anything now." Tom shakes his head. "See, we're thinking she took off with the other shuttle after she did a number on our ship. Still piecing together the 'why', and if she had any help. Do you know where she might've flown off to? I don't think I need t'say this, but anything you could tell us would be a big help."

"Uh, the planet? We've got no connections with any other ships around these parts, and far as I know you folks and are the only thing in the area. If Snow's got some other friends floating around out here in the big ol void, it beats me."

[BlasTech]

Nah, your hat is safe.

Aeron leads Hall out into the ... hall and hands him back Ol' Betsy. He's not going to go wandering off too far, what with these people around. Just far enough to be out of earshot. "These people aren't Alliance," he says, getting straight to the point. "They look like, and it's a pretty good ruse, but it's fake. Ms. Skaro is the only one I've told so far, besides you. She's got their captain in her care for now."

"What, all o'them?" replied Hall. "They'd have to be pretty pretty slick to be haulin' off an Alliance cruiser intact. I got a good look at her comin' over: no damage, no burn marks. Looks official enough."

"Not sayin' I doubt you though. Their capt'n; I can believe him havin' more to his story. He didn' stike me as an example of upfront honest-like folk."

"You got a plan, young one? Or is this more a makin-up-as-you-go kind o'thing?

[Deadly]

"What, all o'them?" replied Hall. "They'd have to be pretty pretty slick to be haulin' off an Alliance cruiser intact. I got a good look at her comin' over: no damage, no burn marks. Looks official enough."

"Not sayin' I doubt you though. Their capt'n; I can believe him havin' more to his story. He didn' stike me as an example of upfront honest-like folk."

"You got a plan, young one? Or is this more a makin-up-as-you-go kind o'thing?

"I don't know what is more believable," said Aeron, "that a bunch of people got off with an intact Alliance cruiser, or that one person tricked an entire Alliance cruiser into thinking he's their captain." That'd make Andersen a master of manipulation and possibly even more scarily brainy than Aeron. Oh wait, he did know what he found more believable.

"My plan was to inform you. This is your ship, your call what to do. Personally I'd like to extract everything from them, possibly under torture ..." or pleasure, but sometimes the line was blurry between those two. His mind drifted off towards Willow's room, where no doubt an extraction was going on ... sadly he couldn't be the one doing the extracting, or enjoying the 'torture', but that was okay ... he had a very powerful imagination.

Casual brain receptivity via brain relay to Read Willow: 3+4+2 = 9

Let's see ... what is she really feeling during all this?

[TheAmishPirate]

"Uh, the planet? We've got no connections with any other ships around these parts, and far as I know you folks and are the only thing in the area. If Snow's got some other friends floating around out here in the big ol void, it beats me."

Tom nods, and thanks you for your time. He goes back to Pearson, and you hear something about having to make a call.

But that don't concern you none, does it? You've finally got the parts you need to get this engine back in shape. Now that there aren't any alarms blaring or people panicking, the job goes much more smoothly. Between the two of you, you have the engine all patched up in no time. "That ought t'about do it." Tom says, taking off his gloves and stretching out his back. "I'll just have to run a few tests on her, then we can tell Andersen we're good to go."

Oh. Right. The captain that Willow is still "interrogating." Your insight was so good, you got this thing taken care of quick. Much too quick. You haven't heard a word from your friend, your Captain, or anybody on the Neruda.

What do you do?

Mrs. Snow does not consider it to be in her best interests to give them a clear answer. She's playing the part of a traumatized civilian - notoriously unreliable types. If she gives them a push in any direction it's she mentions something about browncoat sympathies - surely some two-bit Independent militia will claim responsibility out of reflex.

Certainly. Nothing like free credit, right?

Once they see you're horrifically traumatized and of no use to anybody, they're all too happy to dump you off at the hospital. It's no Core World, state-of-the-art facility, but they've got some mighty respectable establishments. For the boonies, anyway. All the medical trade is doing them good, especially considering half their medicine they can probably grow in their backyard.

Unfortunately, those hospitals are reserved for good little workers. Not for bums who crash-landed without so much as an ident card to their name.

The place they take you to is less of a hospital, and more of a longhouse where they keep folks with doctorin' knowledge. Compared to the shiny white hospital you glimpsed out the window on the way here, this place is surely infested with lice, all manner of tropical diseases, and the unwashed masses. Ugh. And they have the gall to charge you a competitive rate. If you're interested in paying in cash, it'll be 1 Barter per segment healed; mark off Harm for however much you pay. In any case, they also want you to stay the night, and you find yourself an open cot to sleep off the day's excitement.

In the middle of the night, the cacophony of the jungle becomes too much to bear. Hundreds of thousands of insects, screeching together in an unending chorus of torment. As you try to get back to sleep, you notice the beds around you are vacant. As are all the others. No doctors walk their rounds. You don't even have the company of corpses. The entire hospital is empty, with all the supplies and furniture intact. Like no one was ever there.

What do you do?

[Anarion]

I nod to Tom. As engineers, we share a bond around these machines that's fundamental. I got something working for him, and he'll always respect that whenever we next meet, and no matter how we next meet. It feels good too: machines do what they're supposed to, and this crazy alliance ship, as high tech and crazy as it might be, still purrs like a kitten stretching out in sunlight when you get it running just so.

Oh, right, what do I do now. These choices. I'm burning all over to go run to my workshop, I've still got this crazy idea in my head. But Willow seemed pretty nervous earlier and I really ought to go check on her. I really, ought to, I'd feel like such a heel if she needed me and I didn't do anything about it. So...I go to check on Willow. She's got a sign on the door when she's doing "business" if you know what i mean, but I'm gonna try and listen in if I can, see what's what.

[Elanorin]

Temptation makes fools of even great men. So really, poor Andersen here didn't stand a chance.

Partway through the wondrous bath, he cracks. Tells you he's got plenty to offer a lady of your standing, and much more besides. He wears the colors of the Alliance, sure enough, but he's destined for greater things. The Alliance didn't appreciate a man of his caliber. Didn't see his value. Only a matter of time before somebody else did. Sure enough, he got word one day that his ship had come in. A person by the name of Madame Ching had a job for an Alliance man sick of Alliance work; delivery of some special cargo through heavily guarded territory. Suicide for any ordinary junker or scavver rat. But for him? It was as simple as getting together a loyal crew, hopping in an Alliance Patrol Boat, and cruising on through. The Alliance thinks he's just on routine patrol, and the lowlifes? The scum? Who of them would tangle with an Alliance vessel? The plan was utter brilliance. Foolproof. And now, my dear, you could sail away with him, and never have to worry about money again.

He makes you swear not to tell a living soul. And he's fool enough to believe anything you say.

What do you do?

Why, carry on of course. This is just getting interesting.

Willow swore her lips were sealed (demonstrating with a little kiss on his shoulder) and continued to make good on her promise of an utterly sublime bath and then a warm massage with more well-placed questions mingled with skilful seduction to learn what he knows of his cargo, where the cargo is and what his plans are once this job is over. All part of a genuine interview for the arrangement of their contract, of course.

His mind drifted off towards Willow's room, where no doubt an extraction was going on ... sadly he couldn't be the one doing the extracting, or enjoying the 'torture', but that was okay ... he had a very powerful imagination.

Casual brain receptivity via brain relay to Read Willow: 3+4+2 = 9

Let's see ... what is she really feeling during all this?

Oooooooh so that's how you get your kicks, little creep. I knew it. Makes a girl wonder if this is the first time your mind has wandered off towards a Companion's quarters during one of her appointments.

Willow is feeling bitter-sweet triumph right this moment. She has Andersen in the palm of her hand, wrapped around her finger and generally worked in to a compliant man-shaped puddle, but what she is gaining from him also proves you right and that annoys her. She'd much rather be able to show you up by gaining information that contradicted you or at least greatly exceeded what you already knew or suspected. You bet she's not done here.

She feels power, she knows she has Andersen at her mercy and can shape so much of his future, and her own, with a simple lustful whisper, a gentle touch of her hand. She is slightly drunk with it and its an exhilarating feeling that she knows well, you might even suspect it's an actual perk of her job that she enjoys perhaps more than she should, despite the demure and modest façade that she portrays of an average day (which you probably saw through long ago).

Last, she is no robot, Willow is so good at portraying herself as taken utterly away by her client, at seeming seduced by the moment despite herself, because she genuinely lets herself believe she is for those moments, and there is no small amount of erotic pleasure being gained by her too here. Even if she doesn't seem particularly attracted to Anderson himself, in fact, in her mind's eye you get the feeling he probably has an entirely different face.

[Thanqol]

Certainly. Nothing like free credit, right?

Once they see you're horrifically traumatized and of no use to anybody, they're all too happy to dump you off at the hospital. It's no Core World, state-of-the-art facility, but they've got some mighty respectable establishments. For the boonies, anyway. All the medical trade is doing them good, especially considering half their medicine they can probably grow in their backyard.

Unfortunately, those hospitals are reserved for good little workers. Not for bums who crash-landed without so much as an ident card to their name.

The place they take you to is less of a hospital, and more of a longhouse where they keep folks with doctorin' knowledge. Compared to the shiny white hospital you glimpsed out the window on the way here, this place is surely infested with lice, all manner of tropical diseases, and the unwashed masses. Ugh. And they have the gall to charge you a competitive rate. If you're interested in paying in cash, it'll be 1 Barter per segment healed; mark off Harm for however much you pay. In any case, they also want you to stay the night, and you find yourself an open cot to sleep off the day's excitement.

In the middle of the night, the cacophony of the jungle becomes too much to bear. Hundreds of thousands of insects, screeching together in an unending chorus of torment. As you try to get back to sleep, you notice the beds around you are vacant. As are all the others. No doctors walk their rounds. You don't even have the company of corpses. The entire hospital is empty, with all the supplies and furniture intact. Like no one was ever there.

What do you do?

Mrs Snow goes ahead and pays the two barter she's got on her. When she awakes and finds the place empty she thinks for a moment, then goes to steal it back. She'll also pick up any expensive medical supplies she can find along the way.

But she's sharp and alert as she goes, even as she's hurriedly rummaging through drawers. There are few good answers to why forty odd people go missing.

Read a sitch: 7 - what should I be on the lookout for?

[TheAmishPirate]

Why, carry on of course. This is just getting interesting.

Willow swore her lips were sealed (demonstrating with a little kiss on his shoulder) and continued to make good on her promise of an utterly sublime bath and then a warm massage with more well-placed questions mingled with skilful seduction to learn what he knows of his cargo, where the cargo is and what his plans are once this job is over. All part of a genuine interview for the arrangement of their contract, of course.

That's perhaps the best part; the cargo is a set of data rods. Small, inconspicuous, easily hidden in their cargo bay. Madame Ching's man wouldn't say what it was. He tried accessing them, of course, but the data was...jumbled. Incomplete, almost. Of course, it's nothing that he couldn't puzzle out. See, he noticed coordinates and fragments of coordinates scattered all throughout the data. Whatever this is, it's big enough that Ching won't send it over the Cortex. Too risky that it'll be intercepted. So what does she do? Break it up, and send it in pieces. What has lots of coordinates, is valuable enough to be divvied up and hand-delivered?

A treasure map. Pardon his poetic license, but it's almost assuredly a map to something big. And on top of the reward for bringing it to Ching, can you imagine what she would offer the ones who helped her find it? With his cruiser, the Alliance would have no idea what they were up to before it was too late.

As for afterwards, well, what would you do with a shiny pile of money and the favor of a crime lord? Andersen implies pretty strongly that he'll have his mind on carving out his own corner of space and living like a king. But what about you?

In any case, by the time you've finished milking him for information, you're through with the bath, the massage, and a thousand other little affections. "Mmmmmmm. And what an audition that was." Andersen says as he dresses himself, practically glowing. "I look forward to working with you, Ms. Willow. I think you'll be a fine-"

And then his radio buzzes; word from his ship that the engine is all fixed, and they're ready to go just as soon as he and his men get on board.

"Well, well, well. I had thought this day was cursed, but it seems I've found quite the good-luck charm." He gives you a smile he believes is charming, and offers you his arm. "Shall we?"

I nod to Tom. As engineers, we share a bond around these machines that's fundamental. I got something working for him, and he'll always respect that whenever we next meet, and no matter how we next meet. It feels good too: machines do what they're supposed to, and this crazy alliance ship, as high tech and crazy as it might be, still purrs like a kitten stretching out in sunlight when you get it running just so.

Oh, right, what do I do now. These choices. I'm burning all over to go run to my workshop, I've still got this crazy idea in my head. But Willow seemed pretty nervous earlier and I really ought to go check on her. I really, ought to, I'd feel like such a heel if she needed me and I didn't do anything about it. So...I go to check on Willow. She's got a sign on the door when she's doing "business" if you know what i mean, but I'm gonna try and listen in if I can, see what's what.

Just as you put your ear to the door, you hear Andersen telling Willow that he's looking forward to having her on his crew, and inviting her to leave.

What do you do?

Mrs Snow goes ahead and pays the two barter she's got on her. When she awakes and finds the place empty she thinks for a moment, then goes to steal it back. She'll also pick up any expensive medical supplies she can find along the way.

But she's sharp and alert as she goes, even as she's hurriedly rummaging through drawers. There are few good answers to why forty odd people go missing.

Read a sitch: 7 - what should I be on the lookout for?

You find 1 Barter worth of meds and supplies. You don't find any money; the safe hasn't been forced, but it was left open. You also don't find any blood. Whatever happened here was a singular sequence of deliberate events. It was without violence, with enough warning for somebody here to empty the safe, yet not enough to take the medical supplies. And strangest of all, they left you alone. You and your precious case are untouched.

Somebody has gone through a great deal of trouble to get you alone. You would do well to figure out why. Because if you've got some leverage, something that somebody else wants, odds are you're going to be in grave danger if you hand it over.

As you search, you find an old, beat-up communicator lying dead center on one of the tables. It's blaring static, there's a click, and then a female voice.

"Hello, Mrs. Snow. May we talk?"

What do you do?

[BlasTech]

"I don't know what is more believable," said Aeron, "that a bunch of people got off with an intact Alliance cruiser, or that one person tricked an entire Alliance cruiser into thinking he's their captain." That'd make Andersen a master of manipulation and possibly even more scarily brainy than Aeron. Oh wait, he did know what he found more believable.

"My plan was to inform you. This is your ship, your call what to do. Personally I'd like to extract everything from them, possibly under torture ..." or pleasure, but sometimes the line was blurry between those two. His mind drifted off towards Willow's room, where no doubt an extraction was going on ... sadly he couldn't be the one doing the extracting, or enjoying the 'torture', but that was okay ... he had a very powerful imagination.

Casual brain receptivity via brain relay to Read Willow: 3+4+2 = 9

Let's see ... what is she really feeling during all this?

Hall eyeballed the creepy fella for a moment, before shrugging.

"Much as I'd like t'do somethin', sad fact is that the cruiser over there has enough hurt on board to kill us all twice over." he continued. "'ain't sure what kind o'torture you had in mind, but we gotta worry about what we're bringin' down on ourselves. And I ain't sure this here mys-ter-ee s'worth dyin' over."

[Thanqol]

You find 1 Barter worth of meds and supplies. You don't find any money; the safe hasn't been forced, but it was left open. You also don't find any blood. Whatever happened here was a singular sequence of deliberate events. It was without violence, with enough warning for somebody here to empty the safe, yet not enough to take the medical supplies. And strangest of all, they left you alone. You and your precious case are untouched.

Somebody has gone through a great deal of trouble to get you alone. You would do well to figure out why. Because if you've got some leverage, something that somebody else wants, odds are you're going to be in grave danger if you hand it over.

As you search, you find an old, beat-up communicator lying dead center on one of the tables. It's blaring static, there's a click, and then a female voice.

"Hello, Mrs. Snow. May we talk?"

What do you do?

"You must have the wrong person," said Mrs. Snow into the communicator, feigning a Liverpludian accent. "Shall I tell her you called?"

Basic test, she figured, to see if they had eyes on her or not. She picked up her suitcase and walked around the clinic, peeking out the windows and making sure there was no one outside, also now checking for/breaking cameras.

[Anarion]

Just as you put your ear to the door, you hear Andersen telling Willow that he's looking forward to having her on his crew, and inviting her to leave.

What do you do?

You're thinking to yourself "Oh, she's gonna freak out and barge in with a big ol 'how could you?!'" ain't that right? But yeah, that ain't happening. First off, Willow's a big girl and if she wants to wander off with a crazy alliance captain, that's her business and we'll have a chance to hug it out before she goes. Second off, if he's talkin all nice like to her, then she's not in any danger so I won't be needing to kick the door down.

I'm just gonna wait outside at a polite distance for the two of them to come out. I want to gloat at the captain a bit about fixing his ship, you understand.

[Deadly]

Oooooooh so that's how you get your kicks, little creep. I knew it. Makes a girl wonder if this is the first time your mind has wandered off towards a Companion's quarters during one of her appointments.

Willow is feeling bitter-sweet triumph right this moment. She has Andersen in the palm of her hand, wrapped around her finger and generally worked in to a compliant man-shaped puddle, but what she is gaining from him also proves you right and that annoys her. She'd much rather be able to show you up by gaining information that contradicted you or at least greatly exceeded what you already knew or suspected. You bet she's not done here.

She feels power, she knows she has Andersen at her mercy and can shape so much of his future, and her own, with a simple lustful whisper, a gentle touch of her hand. She is slightly drunk with it and its an exhilarating feeling that she knows well, you might even suspect it's an actual perk of her job that she enjoys perhaps more than she should, despite the demure and modest façade that she portrays of an average day (which you probably saw through long ago).

Last, she is no robot, Willow is so good at portraying herself as taken utterly away by her client, at seeming seduced by the moment despite herself, because she genuinely lets herself believe she is for those moments, and there is no small amount of erotic pleasure being gained by her too here. Even if she doesn't seem particularly attracted to Anderson himself, in fact, in her mind's eye you get the feeling he probably has an entirely different face.

Who can tell where Aeron's mind has wandered before ...

Aeron would quietly smirk if he could. Who knows what goes on inside his head right now.

Hall eyeballed the creepy fella for a moment, before shrugging.

"Much as I'd like t'do somethin', sad fact is that the cruiser over there has enough hurt on board to kill us all twice over." he continued. "'ain't sure what kind o'torture you had in mind, but we gotta worry about what we're bringin' down on ourselves. And I ain't sure this here mys-ter-ee s'worth dyin' over."

"Are you sure?" This on the other hand, was a big let-down. His mask almost managed to look disappointed. "We have the advantage of surprise. They don't know we're on to them. We could take over control quietly and quickly before they realize what's up."

[Elanorin]

That's perhaps the best part; the cargo is a set of data rods. Small, inconspicuous, easily hidden in their cargo bay. Madame Ching's man wouldn't say what it was. He tried accessing them, of course, but the data was...jumbled. Incomplete, almost. Of course, it's nothing that he couldn't puzzle out. See, he noticed coordinates and fragments of coordinates scattered all throughout the data. Whatever this is, it's big enough that Ching won't send it over the Cortex. Too risky that it'll be intercepted. So what does she do? Break it up, and send it in pieces. What has lots of coordinates, is valuable enough to be divvied up and hand-delivered?

A treasure map. Pardon his poetic license, but it's almost assuredly a map to something big. And on top of the reward for bringing it to Ching, can you imagine what she would offer the ones who helped her find it? With his cruiser, the Alliance would have no idea what they were up to before it was too late.

As for afterwards, well, what would you do with a shiny pile of money and the favor of a crime lord? Andersen implies pretty strongly that he'll have his mind on carving out his own corner of space and living like a king. But what about you?

In any case, by the time you've finished milking him for information, you're through with the bath, the massage, and a thousand other little affections. "Mmmmmmm. And what an audition that was." Andersen says as he dresses himself, practically glowing. "I look forward to working with you, Ms. Willow. I think you'll be a fine-"

And then his radio buzzes; word from his ship that the engine is all fixed, and they're ready to go just as soon as he and his men get on board.

"Well, well, well. I had thought this day was cursed, but it seems I've found quite the good-luck charm." He gives you a smile he believes is charming, and offers you his arm. "Shall we?"

"Yes," Willow said, also satisfied but for entirely different reasons, "how long do I have to gather my things and talk to the Captain to terminate my contract with him?" she asked innocently as she opened the door of her quarters to let the good captain out.

I'm just gonna wait outside at a polite distance for the two of them to come out. I want to gloat at the captain a bit about fixing his ship, you understand.

"Jane?" Willow was surprised to find her there, but happily so. "Is everything alright?"

[Anarion]

"Jane?" Willow was surprised to find her there, but happily so. "Is everything alright?"

"Peachy. I just wanted to check in and see how you were. With everything I had to do, this was my first chance to get by, if you understand me."

I give the captain a little doff of the head. "Howdy captain. I fixed your ship for you, had a big old hole in it and your fella Tom needed a helping hand. Would have thought you'd alliance folk would be a better hand with the anti-grab thrusters, myself, but I guess your baby needed some frontier know-how to get her back up to speed. I sure do hope there's no hard feelings on account of everything." I offer him a hand to shake, and of course I came straight here and haven't bothered cleaning up since rifling around in multiple engines. But I'm sure he wouldn't want to be impolite, in front of Willow and everything.

[TheAmishPirate]

"Yes," Willow said, also satisfied but for entirely different reasons, "how long do I have to gather my things and talk to the Captain to terminate my contract with him?" she asked innocently as she opened the door of her quarters to let the good captain out.

"Why don't we go up together?" Andersen offers, stepping out. His smile instantly fades when he sees who's waiting for him.

"Peachy. I just wanted to check in and see how you were. With everything I had to do, this was my first chance to get by, if you understand me."

I give the captain a little doff of the head. "Howdy captain. I fixed your ship for you, had a big old hole in it and your fella Tom needed a helping hand. Would have thought you'd alliance folk would be a better hand with the anti-grab thrusters, myself, but I guess your baby needed some frontier know-how to get her back up to speed. I sure do hope there's no hard feelings on account of everything." I offer him a hand to shake, and of course I came straight here and haven't bothered cleaning up since rifling around in multiple engines. But I'm sure he wouldn't want to be impolite, in front of Willow and everything.

"Don't push your luck." He says sharply, and refuses to shake your filthy hand. "You've done your duty as a citizen of the Alliance. For once. If you're looking for a medal and a pat on the head, you've come to the wrong place." He motions for Willow to lead on to the Captain, and stop wasting time with this lowlife.

"You must have the wrong person," said Mrs. Snow into the communicator, feigning a Liverpludian accent. "Shall I tell her you called?"

Basic test, she figured, to see if they had eyes on her or not. She picked up her suitcase and walked around the clinic, peeking out the windows and making sure there was no one outside, also now checking for/breaking cameras.

"Mrs. Snow. There is a fifty-foot tall statue of you and your own portrait gallery in the Hall of Thinkers. You are not difficult to recognize." The voice explains patiently.

You don't find any cameras, nor do you see anybody outside. Then again, it is the middle of the night in a jungle. They could be a stone's throw away and you wouldn't see them. However, when you look out the window, the voice cautions you. "I would not go that way. More well-equipped than you have been beaten by the jungle. Who knows? Maybe you would disappear forever, and that would be unfortunate for all of us." Yeah, they've definitely got eyes on you somewhere.

The voice continues. "You had some things of ours, Mrs. Snow. And then you lost them. We think it is only fair that you get them back. I ask again; may we talk?"

[Thanqol]

"Mrs. Snow. There is a fifty-foot tall statue of you and your own portrait gallery in the Hall of Thinkers. You are not difficult to recognize." The voice explains patiently.

You don't find any cameras, nor do you see anybody outside. Then again, it is the middle of the night in a jungle. They could be a stone's throw away and you wouldn't see them. However, when you look out the window, the voice cautions you. "I would not go that way. More well-equipped than you have been beaten by the jungle. Who knows? Maybe you would disappear forever, and that would be unfortunate for all of us." Yeah, they've definitely got eyes on you somewhere.

The voice continues. "You had some things of ours, Mrs. Snow. And then you lost them. We think it is only fair that you get them back. I ask again; may we talk?"

"No, we do nothing," said Mrs. Snow. "I am talking now you pathetic over-promoted pocket protector! You are some wannabe hack who has cribbed your entire operation from cheap thriller movies, you have accomplished nothing of note in your life, and not only were you dumb enough to get your sh*t stolen your sh*t is so inconsequential to me that I don't even remember taking it! So I want you to understand something very clearly: You are a fat, greasy blob drooling into a microphone and I would rather take my chances with the alien forest than hear your amateurish attempts at threats for another second. You are not dealing with some wilting violet in a lab coat, you are dealing with Mrs. F*cking Snow and I will take you the f*ck apart."

Go Aggro: I want this guy either show himself or reveal his hand. I am threatening him with continued insults. 10; he can either cave and reveal, or he can force my hand and suck up listening to Mrs. Snow brutally demolish his ego.