"Right, right, I forget you're not used to seeing people bits left in the shipchef. Rand's nobody, a treacherous nobody, believe me, it takes one to tell. I know you don't ask a question and follow it up with sausaging some fool's hand - that's why I did his hand first when he told me to fuck off, then asked nicely. Besides, what else do you think these guys know that we need to keep 'em around for?"

"Oh, nothing, really. I'm more concerned with him making trouble for us later down the line, but I defer to your judgment on this one. I know that you know what you're doing, that's why I want you working with me on this." He thinks for a second. "Dunamis' access might be useful when it comes time to get out of here, so we might have to dispose of Rand anyway to get him to help us. For right now, though, we should let them stew and work out an angle to hit Dunamis at in case we end up needing him. I've got to get my things in order for the meeting, so that's about it for now. I think Semo's got a card game going down in the bunks, if you're interested, or you could come with me to the meeting." He starts to walk away, then stops and turns back around. "Oh, and I asked Dunamis about you. Just trying to fill in the blanks, get to understand you a little better, since it looks like we'll be mostly working with each other. Figure I should tell you before he tries to slap you in the face with it and makes it into some sort of trust issue. Are you alright with that?"

admiralducksauce wrote:

Oskell raises his hand of cards to Angel's statement before leaving them on the makeshift table and slinging his weapon for his stint outside. "Ain't that the truth," he agrees.

The cards pass the time, as they always do. Semo draws enough attention through conversation that Angel manages to get some much-needed rest. Taiz and Ahaz seem fairly intelligent, but paranoid. They question authority too much for Semo's liking - they probably weren't soldiers by choice. Aq seems pretty baseline. Fairly interested in their status as Homeworlders, though.

"So who are you? On arr...ir... Earth, anyway? Do you people have a name, like Turai or Kansatai or Khiraba, or are you a mob, like us?" Aq smiles at his self-deprecation.

"Well...lets see. So on Earth, we have many nations, rather than a single unified one. We're from one called the United States of America - the most actively powerful nation at the moment. We have a standing force called the Army, much like the Turai, and from them we draw our best to form what's called "Delta"...the equivalent to the Khiraba, but drawn from soldiers of skill, rather than criminals and murderers. "

Hugh patiently listens to the tech briefing, but he's got enough trouble getting his Tivo set up...so the whole thing kind of blurs together.

If we jam it, they'll know somebody's doing it but they won't know who. Drones can be tricked, humans are tricky. Becoming invisible requires having a man at the source. Makes sense.

"Thank you, I'll try to remember that. Now, you mentioned that you had some problems...maybe we can help you with those."

Brinai steps forward to answer Hugh's question. "Quite honestly, if you and the Homeworld are capable of broadcasting the Repository's secrets across the entirety of the Gateway network that would be more than enough reason for me to back you."

Onas adds, "But men and equipment would be a fine trade for the assistance we've rendered thus far, and it seems may continue to render. Your weapons' ability to defeat Imperial energy scanners, for example. It is an advantage that will not last, no doubt, but what an advantage! Also, I know not what the Homeworld uses for currency, but gold, if your world has an abundance of that element, is accepted even where - especially where - lats are not."

Luis has made it past three more close calls with mantaships scouring the wilderness and is rapidly tightening his search pattern to bring him inconspicuously closer to the Morningstar. He knows there's no room under the overhanging canyon wall for a second starship, so his choices boil down to parking the Body Snatcher in the canyon, vulnerable to flyovers, or find a hiding place suitable for the smaller craft and have the freighter team pick them up in the warsled.

---

Quote:

Figure I should tell you before he tries to slap you in the face with it and makes it into some sort of trust issue. Are you alright with that?

"Dunno what he could've said that you didn't already know," Ngawai replies. "I've heard of him, he's heard of me, beyond that I doubt it's more than rumors. I don't know if your people know this trick, but on Sambasan we'd call it 'Good Kansat, bad Kansat'. I figure Rand's ready for a dose of Davis charm. I'm going to check out the card thing."

---

Ngawai's feet are heavy on the short steps leading into the cargo bay/barracks. She sees Angel talking with Aq and Semo chatting up Tais and Ahaz. Angel notes the bounty hunter's predatory eyes lingering on Semo's back for just a moment too long, but Ngawai walks over nonchalantly and pulls up a footlocker to sit on.

"Scoot over, I'm tired of the screaming up there. 'Oh please, don't run my hand through the masticator'. 'Why aren't you asking me questions?'. 'I don't know anything'. Vidas Lam, it never ends. I just wanna play some cards."

---

Max gets down to it. He stays out of sight the best he can behind a stationary skimmer and slides his Toughbook around where he can reach it. He activates his armored suit's vox and starts tapping away, attempting to slip his way into the Turai's local network. Max notices that his first few attempts are shut down by what can only be some human operator somewhere. He dives back into the electronic haze, operating more by instinct and practical experience than full knowledge of how the dataflows are connected. Max makes up for his earlier gaff with a string of ECM misdirection, and finally thinks he's got his suit broadcasting on the IFF network. Most importantly, they shouldn't scan him and see that his suit belonged to a dead man in a ditch a few hundred miles away.

Phase one, complete!

Max figures it's now or never. He starts walking towards the side access. The drones angle towards him. One of the Turai pushes his group of bystanders back so Max can enter the spaceport unhindered.

"Keep those weapons stowed, get to where you're going fast. It's a mess in there," the Imperial tells Max.

Max keeps walking past the Imperial gate guards and their drone minders into the spaceport dome itself. It's as if BWI was hit by 2 feet of snow on Christmas Eve. Merchants, crew, artisans, and bureaucrats alike sprawl through the workmanlike waiting areas. Aikoro's spaceport wasn't meant to see this much traffic, and it shows. The queues are packed with those who arrived too late to claim the limited seats. The noise of the crowd is maddening even through the Khiraba armor's helmet. Turai drones sweep back and forth through the multi-level building. Trios of Turai step lightly between the hapless visitors in one area; in another, they kick and shove people out of the footpaths.

Signs for the Gateway indicate Max needs to head down, but before that he knows that it's probably not going to be as easy as walking up to the Gate and dialing Diego Garcia.

He remembers back on Botane, the Gateway portals were coded in from elsewhere, probably an air traffic control of sorts, and judging from the lack of other structures in the area, it's got to be inside somewhere. Barring that, there's the Gate itself - through brute force or technical aplomb, Max could disconnect the Gate from whatever system the port is using to control the artifact's operation and dial it manually. He's still got to radio in his passcode to Earth so they can unblock their portal, else Max isn't going anywhere.

Although noone's given him any trouble thus far, Max is pretty sure he's not dressed for gate control duty. On top of it all, he notices the glares from the bystanders. The ones with the stubble and the greasy hair and the piles of food wrappers discarded around them. The groups of starship crew getting antsy under this much surveillance. This spaceport might not be the best place to be for too long.

Time to double-down...all or nothing.

Max pushes some bystanders aside, really getting into the role of a Hunter and making sure the Turai see it. When they approach, he'll make his case.

"Hey man, I need to get off-world. What's the current wait for the Gateway?" asks Max to the Turai-in-charge.

Angel wrote:

"To civilians, and the misadventure they bring. Without them, it would be too easy."

"No shit, that, Specialist," Semo replies, shaking his head.

rebels wrote:

"So who are you? On arr...ir... Earth, anyway? Do you people have a name, like Turai or Kansatai or Khiraba, or are you a mob, like us?" Aq smiles at his self-deprecation.

Semo pauses a moment to figure out a reply. "As Angel said, we're from America, so we're known as Americans. While most of us are Deltas, Max is a civilian scientist, and Davis is a non-military government agent."

Semo will do his best to keep the rebels occupied so that Angel can get a little shut-eye.

Max wedges his way into the crowd blocking the lower level access, shoving and pushing. The edges of the queue split up at Max's approach, but he finds himself in a pushing match for a few moments with some very surly men before shouts of "Step BACK!" filter through the bystanders' thick heads. Three Turai have raised their weapons at the civilians, who are quick to make room for Max. The drone follows him through the crowd and down the frozen motivator strips to the bottom of the ramp. The Turai'i in charge of the trin standing guard before Max steps to the scientist angrily.

"Things are bad enough without you starting trouble!" he says over local vox. The crowd can't hear that Turai's voice, although the amplified voices of the other two telling the crowd to 'remain calm, remain in line' cut over the din.

"Hey man, I need to get off-world. What's the current wait for the Gateway?" Max asks.

"Good luck with that - ask Samal Vinyup," the Turai'i replies, pointing at a Turai wearing a red sash.

Max leaves the trin to their guard duty and walks on, trying his best to put on an air of how he must think the Rock must feel all the time. The lower level is devoted to Gate travel and the necessities of organization, crowd control, and power that such an enterprise must require. Transparent barriers showing columns and columns of delayed portals and public security alerts divide the lower level into an array of waiting areas. Like the morass of people above, these Gateway loading areas are full of tired, bitter humans. Information drones skitter overhead, repeating warnings about security and exhorting visitors to head to the upper levels for assistance in registering for lodging. The Gateway itself must be closer to the center of the under-dome, as Max can't make it out from his position on the periphery. Nor can he discern any obvious Gate Control Room or the like. The Samal Vinyup the Turai mentioned is in plain sight, however. The undersuit fits a mite snugly on the soldier's frame. The Samal turns as Max approaches, his blank visor giving no indication of the officer's mood.

"Oh, you want to know what the current wait is for the Gate, do yer?" the Samal says in a rather hostile tone, switching to intrasuit vox so as not to disturb the civilians. "In-de-fin-ite. Maybe you just got back from your nature walk with yer fancy little widgets," he continues, pointing out Max's SCAR-H and Toughbook, but the rest of us lot 'ave been payin' attention to orders! You 'member orders, don't yer, fancy-pants? No. Outbound. Portals! I swear to the Masters if you were in my Quad I would start takin' fingers! If you lot 'ad done your job when you were supposed to, we wouldn't be in this mess! So if you don't mind, please take your ghostskin arse and get out of my sight!" Samal Vinyup raises up as best he can; Max is fairly tall, made more imposing by the armor, and for all his bluster the Samal is perhaps 4 inches shorter than Max.

Hugh listens to the requests.

"Men I can't promise. My government is reluctant to involve more people than strictly necessary...at the moment. I'm fairly sure that I can get us all the manpower we need if we pull this off, though. Weapons we can provide by the crate, and none of them will be picked up by Imperial scanners...just a clever application of metal and chemical explosives, no energy cells or electronics to speak of. I can get some gold, but honestly, it's rare on our planet, too. Do you trade in diamonds?"

Davis smiles. "Yeah, I've come across that one before. I'll see what I can do."

Davis heads down to the shipchef and Rand's bleeding form, dragging a chair with frisbee in hand. "Sorry about the hand, but you know how it goes. She doesn't like it when people don't answer her questions, and when that happens, she starts to improvise, and that usually doesn't go well for whoever she's talking to." He sits down in the chair. "I, on the other hand, am a bit more reasonable. So, Rand, the question that I have for you is, what do you want? Obviously, getting your hand back is on that list, so we'll start there. If there's anything that I could use, doesn't necessarily need to be about the blockade, then I think that should be worth getting your hand back. Well? What do you think?"

admiralducksauce wrote:

"Oh, you want to know what the current wait is for the Gate, do yer?" the Samal says in a rather hostile tone, switching to intrasuit vox so as not to disturb the civilians. "In-de-fin-ite. Maybe you just got back from your nature walk with yer fancy little widgets," he continues, pointing out Max's SCAR-H and Toughbook, but the rest of us lot 'ave been payin' attention to orders! You 'member orders, don't yer, fancy-pants? No. Outbound. Portals! I swear to the Masters if you were in my Quad I would start takin' fingers! If you lot 'ad done your job when you were supposed to, we wouldn't be in this mess! So if you don't mind, please take your ghostskin arse and get out of my sight!" Samal Vinyup raises up as best he can; Max is fairly tall, made more imposing by the armor, and for all his bluster the Samal is perhaps 4 inches shorter than Max.

"Samal Vinyup, I'm under direct orders of Rav-Whetu to find the fugitive Narsai'i. Impeding in my progress of that order is a direct violation of (Code blah, section blah blah) of the Hunter's Directorate. I have good reason to believe the Narsai'i have already left (no thanks to you doing your job) this Masters-forsaken rock and are currently regrouping. I need to pursue them now before the trail goes cold. Now, Samal Vinyup...knowing what you know...how do I gain access to the Gate?"

Good thing the Samal can't see Max sweat. Unfortunately, the same alloy facade that hides Max's apprehension also obscures Vinyup's reaction, until:

"Access the Gate? You don't access the Gate, standing orders. But go ahead, run it up the line, it's not my arse if you wanna try your luck! Those sorry spinks at the south Gate... all right, Gate Control is... hey, listen up! Gate Control is in the Aux ring, through those doors." Vinyup points to an "Authorized Access Only" hatchway some distance across the crowded under-dome. "The Gate itself's dead center of the lower level, out here and to the right."

Max continues on, casing the Gate area before reaching the Aux hatch. The Gateway stands in a 40-foot circle of luxurious padded flooring, lined with glyphs stating that there is no Gate travel at this time. Another Samal and two Turai stand on guard around the Gateway, while three attack drones hover idly above. The waiting areas and queues filled with people fan out from the Gate like a fleshy Tunguska blast. Other Turai wander the crowd or stick to assigned spots near walls and doors. Stationary surveillance pods monitor the room's activity. Max counts a full Quad of Turai and at least four drones before he moves on to the Aux door. It cycles open to reveal a brightly-lit smooth corridor with branching doorways leading to various maintenance, security, and power stations. Even in the future there are leaks - the drip drip drip from some failed gasket echoes down the hallway. A bleary-eyed tech with a foam cup of caf strides past Max, giving him the stink eye as he passes. The surveillance here is less pervasive. Some of the drone sconces sit empty, their contents retasked to sweep the public spaces above.

It doesn't take too long before Max finds a door marked "Gate Control" in large glyphs. An access panel blinks an unwelcome red next to the door. One Turai stands lazily against the wall, while a second paces the corridor a little further away. They look like they're definitely near the end of their shift.

---

Rand's face is getting that pale sweaty sheen, but the henchman replies, "Um... uh..." He looks at the meat cookie that used to be his hand. "Uh-I know the bounty's only paid when... when the Rav-Whetu gets you guys? Can't use just any K-Kansat station, it has to, has... has to be military. Um... I know they've got vid of that b-bitch Holoni and the Whiirr, plus I guess... those guys I saw when you brought me in. The bald... guy, his bunch. We were... Clubby and I was... well, okay, j-just me really. Clubby wasn't one for... for tech. Were watching Kansat updates... we didn't get any voxes back from Dunamis or the other two guys, so we bugged out... found the Gate bbl-blocked, and here I am. Come.. on, come on, man," Rand pleads, shaking his stump.

---

Semo is getting the idea that Ngawai isn't taking to him very well. He certainly doesn't remember having much contact except for during her escape attempt on the shadowport. She's surly enough just playing cards that Tais opts out, leaving her, Aq, Ahaz, and Semo - Angel's finally getting his sleep in a quiet corner of the cargo hold.

---

"Explosives, ah, I see now why your weapons do what they do," Onas nods. "I gather that the epic palaces made of gold, reigning over a lush paradise on the Homeworld are largely a myth, then?" he adds, smiling. Onas waves his hand dismissively. "Diamonds, yes, diamonds are good trade. It's a lot of effort to get them out here, but we do have them."

"Weapons for cash we could have handled via contacts," Brinai says, becoming slightly annoyed with such minutiae. "We have told you what we could use in the short term, and we have agreed that your goal is a worthy one, yes?" Onas and Jonnoperest nod. "What do you need from us?"

Luis brings the Body Snatcher low over the canyon hiding the Morningstar. Inside the freighter, the card game's disrupted by Oskell's shouts.

"We just had a flyover! Small, black and nasty! Is that our guys?"

admiralducksauce wrote:

Luis brings the Body Snatcher low over the canyon hiding the Morningstar. Inside the freighter, the card game's disrupted by Oskell's shouts.

"We just had a flyover! Small, black and nasty! Is that our guys?"

As he pulls up over his cross-direction run over the canyon, Luis stays on his current course a few seconds (long enouch to let people get to windows in their intial suprise), then loops around to come in low through the canyon, below the rim but high enough off the ground enough to allow somebody looking out of the Morningstar to see the single landing light he's toggling. Passing low and slow by the frieghter's hiding spot, Luis starts toggling the blinker on and off quickly, muttering as he does to make sure he doesn't garble his message. "Short, short, long, pause, short, short, short, pause, short, long, pause. Short, short, long, pause, short, short, short, pause, short long, pause..." He blinks it about ten times as he passes through the canyon: USAUSAUSAUSAUSAUSAUSAUSA

Luis yawns a bit as he pulls up the second time to get a look at the surrounding terrain for a possible hding spot. He'll be glad to get back to the Mringstar and get some shut-eye.

Davis frowns. "I don't know, Rand, you didn't really give us anything useful." He looks at the blood on the floor and sighs. "I must be going soft. Tell you what, Rand. I'll fix your hand, but you'll owe me. I'll keep Ngawai from cutting any more parts off of you, but if I need something from you, you'd better do it, or losing a hand will be the least of your worries. Got it?"

If he says yes, Davis heals his hand, if he doesn't or after he's finished, he heads down towards the cargo bay to see what the shouting's all about.

Looking over his hand of cards at her, Semo addresses Ngawai. "You seem kind of tense, Ngawai, and I get the feeling it's particularly directed at me. Want to talk about it?"

Hugh hears Luis report the flyover via shipvox; reflexively, he punches the "talk" button on a wall panel next to him.

"Set us down somewhere further down the canyon; I'll be with you in a second."

He turns back to la resistance.

"For now, helping us with the stealth measures is what we would ask of you, though any help with getting through the outer defenses of Napai would be great, too. Originally, we were going to ask you for help with acquiring a space ship," Hugh says with a smirk, "but we seem to have gotten a little bit ahead of ourselves on that."

Spaceport

The Turai at the door turns to watch Max as he confidently approaches the gate control room door. The second pacing guard stops a few meters down the corridor to watch as well. Max stabs some random keys on the access panel and tries to act confused inside his tin can when the door panel blinks red.

The guy at the door asks, "Can I help you with something?" His companion down the hallway seems to wake up a little bit and shift his stance in case there are shenanigans.

"Man, this is what...the fifth time they changed the code in the past week. It's not like anyone would be dumb enough to try and do anything," Max says.

"Step back, sir," the Turai says. The armored Imperial types a few glyphs into the panel and the door cycles open, revealing a circular split-level control room about 20 meters across. A dazzling array of holographics show the contents of the Gate room rendered in 360 degrees and three dimensions. Large blank screens would normally have an ever-shifting list of incoming and outgoing portals. Of the six technicians in here, only one looks up at Max's entrance.

Max steps in and the Turai cycles the door quickly.

"What do you need? I've been giving my reports over vox, what are you doing in here?" asks the primary tech.

---

Rand heartily (if groggily) agrees and Davis runs the frisbee on the bounty hunter's stump. The spook rushes downstairs to catch the sleek flitcraft flashing "USA" in Morse code as it coasts overhead. The Body Snatcher heads north and out of sight.

---

Onas agrees with Hugh's proposal. "Jonnoperest and his people will help you elude your pursuers. We can pool our resources and discuss how to get you onto Napai once we are free of this planet," he says.

With that, Hugh voxes out that the Body Snatcher's making camp and Luis lands a few klicks upriver. The closest manta is about 10 kilometers away; they don't change course but simply acknowledge Hugh's message.

---

Quote:

Looking over his hand of cards at her, Semo addresses Ngawai. "You seem kind of tense, Ngawai, and I get the feeling it's particularly directed at me. Want to talk about it?"

"Sure," Ngawai sneers. "You're the guy with the cannon. Harlon got pulped by a guy with a cannon. Therefore, I'm comin' for you. Maybe after Napai, maybe sooner if I get tired of waiting. But I'll be coming for you."

Davis watches the Body Snatcher head off, then runs inside. He hustles up the stairs, back to the cockpit area and looks for Swims-the-Black. If he's not there, he goes to Engineering next.

"Time to move out," Hugh says after the ship settles down. "Somebody should stay with the ship. Answer comms and move it if necessary. The rest of us has a bit of a hike coming up. If you're still in uniform, there should be some clothes in the lockers. Leave heavy gear here, just what we need to make the trip and defend ourselves. Questions?"

If there's no backtalk, Hugh moves to get his own uniform covered up.

"I'll stay with the ship," Arketta volunteers. "Our vox check-ins haven't gotten us in trouble yet, I don't think there'll be a problem now."

Luis spends a few minutes with Arketta, making sure their detour has at least some precedence in the Snatcher's logs. It doesn't seem like it'll draw too much attention as long as someone keeps feeding the Imperials the right blather over the vox.

The Deltas cover up their fatigues with Rand and Dunamis' spare clothing. Onas, Brinai, and the Bashakrans make ready to move as well. The Aikoran sun is beginning to blaze away as the group makes their way through the river canyon towards the Morningstar's hiding place.

---

Davis finds Swims-the-Black in the CIC. The Whiirr is running some checks on the freighter's passive sensors.

"I hope you're coming to tell me those were our friends," the shipmaster signs. "They put down nearby judging from the heat cutoff on scopes."