1.1 - Welcome to Torpol (Closed)

[Sneaksby]

The colorful drink is politely accepted with a 'thank you' and sipped through the crazy straw. It was good, if tooth-achingly sweet. Kesper sets it down, pops the fruit garnish into his mouth, and festoons the tiny umbrella in his new hat.

"Proper navy types?" He asks while chewing, "What do you mean?"

It would do to learn about their competition, and besides, these 'navy types' sounded less like bounty hunters and more like people backed by some kind of authority. If they were imperials that would be concerning to say the least.

[Emmettmcglynn]

Mahan took a drink, then raised an eyebrow when he realized he was being offered two. After a moment of awkward juggling he takes a sip from the one in his left hand, then makes a strained choking noise and blinks several times in rapid succession. Striving to keep his tone neutral he replies to the Provost before setting both drinks down on coasters.

"Thank you, sir, it's very... sweet. To get to business we'd like whatever leads you can give us to track them down. Were they confirmed to have left system after the strike on the High Port? Any direction they seem to have gone? The number, tonnage, and class of ships involved in the raid? Identifying marks, noted loadouts, and suspect persons. Oh, and anything the Keepers from Clarke might have seconded to you on the hits they suffered. Finally, would it be possible to view footage of the attack itself, to get a better understanding of their modus operandi and try to pick out information ourselves?"

Edited July 25, 2023 by Emmettmcglynn (see edit history)

[Niraverine]

Lovely area, Eirene thought sarcastically and stuffed hands into her pockets.

Those three places that they've noticed looked promising, but they needed a moment to finally make some decisions. She spotted a relatively secluded spot on the other side of the alley and went in that direction with a small gesture for her companions to follow. Navigation through the crowd was instinctual for her even if it took a little longer than she would like. She briskly walked past a vendor trying to sell them small key-chains depicting some famous Torpolian building that she never heard about and didn't bother to remember ("Only 3 credits! If you take two you'll pay 5 credits! Great deal!"), waved away a guy trying to sell trips around "the historical centre of the Downport", jumped over the puddle of... something... and finally reached her destination which thankfully allowed her to look closely at the Starfall.

“Out of curiosity, how are your betting habits these days?” The tone in which it was asked was seemingly disinterested and the corsair herself appeared to be mostly observing the crowd surrounding the entrance to the flashy establishment. No, she decided, that one won’t do. Which left either Gambit or Rogue, but the first one only if someone actually was in control of his addiction. Eirene side-eyed Urien. “Well? That gambling den would be my first choice if I wanted to find dirt on someone”, she continued lightly, “but for what we need currently I recon the seedy establishment over there might be a better choice.” The comment was complimented by a sharp nod in the direction of the Rusty Rogue.

Edited July 26, 2023 by Niraverine (see edit history)

[DJ P4NTSL3SS]

Tlaiowaha Subsector
Kesper, Mahan
Provost's Office, Torpol Downport
012 (Week 1) 1105, Imperial

The Provost regards each of you as you speak - and you catch that he's alternating between each drink rather than focusing on one or the other. When he seems to find a natural pause from the two of you, his face lights up with a renewed smile, "Ah, of course, of course! Those proper Navy types! The Third Imperium wanting it to be known they're patrolling the Reach and keeping the law! You know the sorts!" He hops from the corner of his desk and circles around, setting his drinks down as he turns to the console on his desk to punch in a command. The windows - leftmost to rightmost from your perspective - change from the view of the beach to three other camera views.

The left is a 200-ton vessel, text on the screen identifying it as a 200-ton Far Trader that identified itself Argo 1. The shot is from it on one of the exterior docking ports of the Highport.

The center is a 400-ton Vulture salvage hauler, landed under the identifier of Argo 2. Like the Argo 1, this vessel is docked to an exterior docking port, rather than one of the interior hangars the Highport offers.

The third, rightmost, is a 100-ton Scout/Courier, landed under the identifier of Misery's Company. It sits in one of the covered hangar bays like the one that your own vessel is docked in.

He motions for one of you to take over the console to enhance the footage and computer data as you might wish. At the same time, he fetches both of his beverages, and paces in front of the screen, "The Argo 1 and Argo 2 are the prime suspects! They docked with the Highport, took on only fuel, and according to the staff they did not have anybody depart or board! Best we know, these may be the same ones who hit Clarke!" He nods, "Then they drew away, and launched their attack on the Highport! Plundered more fuel, maybe more! A tragedy! Then they made for the jump diameter and were gone before the defense boats could get within weapons range!"

That is when he points to the picture of the Scout/Courier in hangar, "While we don't know what, our analysts have been able to determine that Argo 1 sent an encrypted message to this vessel before Argo 1 left. This ship had been here for one day prior to their arrival, and left shortly after the attack!" Again, he shakes his head before draining one of the two drinks in one final, long pull to set it aside, "She was captained by a Vargr named Krrsh sold a whole belly full of computer components and scrap! Then out at the jump limit, got in some sort of incident with a vessel called the Sarcomond - though we aren't clear on the details!" He actually laughs a bit at that, "Proper spacers! Close-mouthed sorts!"

 

[Dastardly Tristar]

Tlaiowaha Subsector
Urien, Rhane, Eirene
Arriving in the Torpol System, out of jump
012 (Week 1) 1105, Imperial

Urien appeared by her side, a Torpolian key-chain jingling mutely by his side, and a polystyrene bowl of 'infinity stew'. He sipped on it once as he listened to Eirene, decided he didn't like it, and then threw it into a dumpster. "I sold everything to make a trek to the frontier of nowhere, just to see if an old job offer still existed." He said plainly, pulling out a handkerchief and wiping his mouth and fingers. "I am the living embodiment of bad odds and unclear results."

He jerked his chin at the Rogue, which caused Astrid to look at the general direction with widened pupils. "A lot of things can happen while the cards are being shuffled. That is my be- choice." he looked mildly annoyed at his poor choice of words. Ruffling his hair, he turned to look at the corsair.

"You worry about your vices, let me worry about mine." He checked to feel if his hidden weapon - and decorative gauntlet - was working. When it hummed with a satisfying charge, he patted Eirene's shoulder. "I also have an ace up my sleeve in case things look south for us. Shall we?"

[Emmettmcglynn]

Mahan takes in most of the information with a serious expression, nodding along with the descriptions of the suspected ships. Neither the free trader nor the Scout/Courier would be a problem as long as they could locate them, with neither the mobility nor the firepower to handle an aggressive Harrier-class. Their superior numbers could prove problematic but with the right tactics and enough skill they could be managed. The real concern was the Argo 2, with its superior size and array of firepower, serving as a flagship for the entire flotilla.

"Oddly good encryption, even for pirates. Paranoid bunch." Mahan comments idly as he works the cybersecurity tools. "Right, got it. They definitely know each other, they have a conversation just before the attack. 'Argo 1 to Misery's Company, stop. Glad to see you made away Clarke safe, stop. The door is going to close, stop. Don't make any jokes, stop.'"

As he finishes recounting the short interplay, he focuses on the ships themselves.

"Argo 1 shouldn't be a threat, its got a couple of pulse laser but as long as we manage range they can't scratch us. Same for the Misery, but they've only got regular lasers. Argo 2 is a bit tricky but we'll just have to play it tactically, they're no match for a proper ship." Mahan gave a summary as he fiddled with the console a bit more, lifting one of his drinks to his lips.

Then he froze.

Leaning in with narrowed eyes, he fiddled with the image a bit more, then put his drink down. Turning the moniter towards the Zhodani, he allows him in on the secret before turning back to the Provost.

"Provost, I think we might have a slightly bigger problem on our hands than anticipated. Argo 2, the ship that attacked your High Port, isn't a pirate. It's an Imperial Navy vessel in disguise."

[Sneaksby]

(Psi: 9/11)

"Are you sure? How can you tell?"

Kesper leaned over to look at the monitor with what seemed like casual interest, as though Mahan were sharing one of those cat videos that flowed endlessly from Solomani space. On the inside, a spike of adrenaline sent his heart racing.

Instinctively he expanded a mental probe to collect the Provost's budding thoughts, measuring his reaction to see if it was appropriate and proportional to the information revealed. Kesper spoke up as he digested his findings.

"Imperial Navy vessels performing a false flag attack on an independent world. They'll create a problem and 'solve' it for you to use as leverage in future negotiations, maybe hoping to incorporate Torpol into their territory. It's a pretty classic stratagem."

He didn't mention that it was more or less exactly what they themselves were planning to do. It just seemed like the Empire had beaten them to the punch.

"The attack seemed quick and decisive. Planned to avoid your defenses. Unsurprising that they'd be professional about it if they really are Imperial Navy. But that begs the question of how exactly they gathered their intelligence. Typically, it's an insider. Provost Falx, would you have any suspects?"

[Kiro Haas]

Tlaiowaha Subsector
Urien, Rhane, Eirene
Torpol System
012 (Week 1) 1105, Imperial

 

Rhane had followed Urien and Eirene like a shadow, keeping her silence for the most part as she watches and observes. This was her two compatriots' habitat, not her own. She was a doctor, a scientist, an officer, and a lady. She'd let the two ruffians of the crew take charge when it came to being... well, ruffians, and handling ruffianism. She also refused to comment on Urien's choice of meal in his bag of stew, especially as the man just as quickly threw it away. K'kree food wasn't for everyone.

 

"I leave the choice of venue to the two of you," she murmurs, her arms folded behind her back as she follows their gazes to the two venues they seem to be debating over. "Though, if you'd be so kind as to illuminate a layperson like myself, why have you chosen to discard the Starfall venue from your debate?" She queries, rolling her shoulders within her coat for a moment, flexing her single gloved hand behind her back. At least she'd be more than prepared if a brawl began, which seemed likely if Urien was anything to go by.

 

[DJ P4NTSL3SS]

Tlaiowaha Subsector
Kesper, Mahan
Provost's Office, Torpol Downport
012 (Week 1) 1105, Imperial

The Provost is caught so off-guard that he drops one of the two glasses, and it... doesn't shatter. After all, this is a station with glass and metal production for underwater habitation. But it does make a horrible mess, splashing the hem of the Provost's orange robes with a brilliant, smearing streak of white and blue. It gets on the carpet and hardwood flooring, as well, and he shakes a sandal-clad foot, "Bollocks!" He huffs, seemingly more caught up in that than the news for a moment.

The nearby aid seems equally panicked, rushing to try and fix the matter with a cloth from his back pocket.

"I - but why would the Imperials be behind this attack?!" He furrows his brow, "That can't be possible! Not at all!" And he starts to shake his head, "Surely - but if - I mean - couldn't it be something resold and repainted?!" And then he regards Kesper, "I - you mean?"

He looks to the assistant, "You! Shoo! Out! There's critical business to discuss!"

The assistant repeatedly blurts out several apologies to all of you before he quickly makes to rush from the room. Then stops, turns about, picks up the fallen glass and tray, and then rushes from the room.

The Provost huffs, "I - I don't think that would be possible. Besides which, the High Port is not my area of responsibility! That falls under one of the other Provosts! And we keep a tight lock on operational securities. Their attack was on the external resources of the High Port, laid out visibly on the docks. It wouldn't take a master to understand where it was." Again, he shakes his head, "Besides which, the Imperial embassy has yet to say anything on the matter if that were the case," he waves his hand in a dismissive gesture. "besides the usual pleasantries about their sympathies for what occurred."

He begins to pace, "This feels like piracy. The Imperial presence here is... limited. Or it might be - " He furrows his brow again, "Perhaps some triple ruse! Perhaps the King of Drinax! Or another party!" His eyes light up, as if he has been struck with an idea, "As if we're surrounded by foul actors!" He points emphatically to the two of you, the same physical exuberance from before quickly returning, "You! You and your ship! You are surely able to get to the bottom of this, yes?! Find these pirates and bring them to justice, to find out who was at their head!"

 

---

 

Tlaiowaha Subsector
Urien, Rhane, Eirene
The Rusty Rogue, Torpol Downport, Lower Levels
012 (Week 1) 1105, Imperial

The Rusty Rogue is a weathered bar that sits tucked in one of the darker pseudo-alleys of the downport's halls and passageways. Dull yellow paint on the storefront is visibly peeling and showing signs of needing redone, and the windows have flickering neon signs that advertise they have beers made from native plant life - both genuine and synthetic. And when you walk in there is a steel-blue layer of smoke that has drifted to the top while all around you can see any color of patron huddled up by the bar or tucked away in one of the booths. The three of you barely even seem to catch the interest of the patrons as you make your way in.

At a glance you can see a motley collection of belter-punks - immediately obvious from the way they all still wear hardsuits even here, as if they've barely just come down from orbit, and with that cloying tinny stink of someone who lives and breaths recycled atmo'. And their suits decorated in a wide variety of eye-catching insignia and custom decoration that most certainly didn't come from the factory production.

Another is what looks like a ship's crew all gathered together. There's some space around them that they likely worked to establish, with two of their number on chairs taken from nearby chairs sat outside the stall but still facing in. The others are sat in the stall and they all seem to be localized and focused around a surly-looking greybeard wearing a jacket festooned with various patches and marks that make him stand out as the crew's captain.

Beyond that there are refugees, gamblers, and drinkers. A short red-haired Darrian woman mans the bar, wiping the countertop and handing out drinks to paying customers. The floor is open to you.

Edited July 30, 2023 by DJ P4NTSL3SS (see edit history)

[Emmettmcglynn]

"Here." Mahan says simply to both men, pointing at the painted over Imperial sunburst on the 400 ton "salvage hauler" claiming to be the Argo 2. "This is the ISN Mercifuge repainted to look like an independent vessel. Given the professionalism of the attack and lack of things actually stolen, I think this does point to being a non-pirate operation. Think about it, what do pirates want? Money. They hit easy targets that can't fight back, rob what they can, then escape. This one hits the Highport of one of the largest trade hubs, a high risk operation to say the least, steals at most a bit of fuel on top of what they already paid for and which could be aquired just from landing on a backwater and hunkering by a pond for a bit, and then escape? What do they actually gain from this except raising panic and getting a bounty on their head? And who benefits from panic but the Empire, looking for a reason to keep the Aslan from swallowing the region up in a single burst and putting the cats on the doorstep of Tobia? Drinax doesn't have the capabilities - their fleet can barely leave the system except to poke Asim - and the cats aren't normally this duplicitious."

Mahan leans back in his chair as he finishes his long speech. With a thoughtful expression, he continued. "However, you're not wrong. It does look like things are heating up. My crew and I will do as you ask and hunt them down. I'd rather not see the Reach consumed by anarchy or crushed under the bootheel of the big two. At the moment we have circumstantial evidence, but if we can get access to their ship logs and take some prisons we might be able to turn up something worthwhile. There's a web of conspiracy afoot, but every thread leads to the heart eventually. When the picture is clear, you'll be the first to know. My only question is, who on Torpol can we trust with this kind of intel? Are the other Provosts reliable, do you have trusted contacts we can seek out to report through, or should we take it directly to you?"

Edited July 30, 2023 by Emmettmcglynn (see edit history)

[Dastardly Tristar]

Tlaiowaha Subsector
Urien, Rhane, Eirene
The Rusty Rogue, Torpol Downport, Lower Levels
012 (Week 1) 1105, Imperial

Urien briefly disappears from the trio's side once they entered the Rusty Rogue, only to reappear with two drinks in his hands and a face that screamed he already had three himself. He handed the two drinks to the two women, eyeing the ship's crew. He looked around, making sure that the three of them weren't being observed. "Listen, no questions asked - I need one of you to slap in me front of that crew. Not now!" He added hastily, looking at Eirene in particular. "Just make it a good one."

The man had a plan, but it didn't involve Astrid. So he went to the bartender and asked if she could look after his cat. Astrid mewed sweetly at the Darrian and gave her a good dose of kitty eyes. "For your troubles." Urien said, hoping the generous tip would persuade the woman to his side. Walking back, he pepped himself with another drink, lightly slapping his cheeks and blinking hard.

"Alright." He said, reappearing by their side. "Ready? I will try to approach you, then you play along and slap me. All goes well, that will be my ticket to get in with the crew."

[Niraverine]

Hardly the weirdest request she's ever received. Easy to deliver too. Eirene just needed to remember all the times Urien's attitude was rubbing her the wrong way during the last week... and maybe some other things from the past. She glanced back at the man with an innocent expression. He clearly guessed what's been on her mind but he didn't need a proof that she was all too happy to assist.

" 'fraid it has to be me, the good doctor probably swore not to bring harm to people. It would be the height of rudeness to expect her to pun-... slap you." She didn't quite manage to keep a neutral expression and someone observing her closely could manage to spot the gleeful glint in her narrowed eyes.

"Besides", she continued lightly, "who in their right mind would put an Imperial and a Solomani on the same ship and expect tempers not to flare...", she trailed off and glanced suspiciously at the glass in her hand. Hopefully it wasn't a sugary abomination. With one last shrug she downed the drink in one go, grimaced a little (too fruity, damn this tourist trap), and slammed the glass onto the nearest table.

"Now, try not to fill any complaints regarding the behavior of the XO", the corsair drawled sarcastically then cracked her fingers with a wry smile. "I am just being helpful."

[Kiro Haas]

Tlaiowaha Subsector
Urien, Rhane, Eirene
The Rusty Rogue, Torpol Downport, Lower Levels
012 (Week 1) 1105, Imperial

Rhane quirked an eyebrow as a drink was suddenly thrust into her hands. She glanced at Urien for a moment, before turning her gaze back to the drink. She gave it a brief sniff, and was at least satisfied that the alcohol content was strong enough to kill off any bacteria that may have developed in the glass in an establishment such as this. She also quirked an eyebrow at Urien's comment, but understood the ploy easily enough. It was a fairly standard infiltration tactic, and while she might not have gone on such missions while she was part of the Special Arms branch, she had received training in such tactics.

"Very well," she comments as she takes a sip of the drink, finding that her assessment was more or less in line with Eirene's. Too sweet, ruining the balance of the cocktail. She gently reaches out to touch the corsair's shoulder, and passes her drink to the woman. "When he returns, throw the drink in his face as well. It'll help sell his ploy, if they see him drenched in booze," she murmurs under her breath. "And try to look offended, not like you're getting your Ascension Day present early."

She leaned slightly against the table Eirene had slammed her original glass into, doing her best to just look bored, as if she wasn't waiting for Urien to show up and try to flirt - badly - with her and Eirene, and that the other woman wasn't going to punch the Solomani in the face. "Don't worry about breaking his nose or dislocating his jaw," she whispers. "I'll fix it when we return to the ship."

 

[Dastardly Tristar]

Tlaiowaha Subsector
Urien, Rhane, Eirene
The Rusty Rogue, Torpol Downport, Lower Levels
012 (Week 1) 1105, Imperial

Urien slowly exhaled, getting back into the mind of an old, familiar skin. Oddly enough after a few seconds - where Eirene and Rhane would see the man staring blankly into the distance - it felt like going back to ride a bicycle. The old creases on his face reappeared, his back slumped slightly and an overall change in the familiar stiffness of Urien melted away. As a gaggle of aliens walked passed, Urien quickly left for the washroom, where he bumped into a drunk trying to aim poorly at the urinal. He tried to keep his distance and used the sink to slicken his hair back, and practiced his smile.

It took three tries, until a recognizable face beamed back at him. The last time he saw that face, it was wearing Imperial clothing. Faux-Urien, sniffed his clothing and reeled back. "Ugh. Horrendous."

Looking at how he had chosen to dress himself, Faux-Urien continued his makeover, slowly getting into one of his old identities. The trench coat did not catch eyes, and barely had any decorative markings. It was just a plain, albeit protective, piece of clothing, more function than form.

That did not sit well with Faux-Urien.

It took further tweaking for his attire, until the man looked less like a shady undercover police on a midnight patrol, and more like a vogue actor, wearing vintage clothing because it was 'hip'. He pointed finger guns at himself in the mirror, ignoring his lone audience to the left, who had given up on any means of accuracy and just, as they say, jammed it in there. "Show time." he said to himself.

Faux-Urien burst out of the washroom like a man reborn, or perhaps exiled from Hell for trying to preach the good word to the Devil. He made a few passes to some of the women by the bar, picking them off one by one with his corniest pick up lines. He laughed with them, or watch them leave disgusted, pleading them to come back.

As he walked past the ship's crew, he aimed his gaze at Eirene, and made a comical halt, pointing at the Vilani. "Woah momma!" he drawled loudly. "Where'd a gal' like you fly in from, heaven? Why don'tcha preach to me in a hotel room, cus I've been a real bad boy."

With that, he braced for impact.

[Niraverine]

Tlaiowaha Subsector

Urien, Rhane, Eirene

The Rusty Rogue, Torpol Downport, Lower Levels

012 (Week 1) 1105, Imperial

 

"I like the way you're thinking, doc", Eirene grinned cheekily, "and do not worry, I know him well enough to be sure that whatever leaves his mouth will instantly cause a knee-jerk reaction from me." She leaned on the table, drink held losely in hand, ready for whatever Urien would throw her way. She didn't wait long.

The transformation was rather impressive. So was the pickup line he used, easily in top ten of the worst she's ever heard. She didn't even need to try very hard to look offended. The corsair grimaced and looked at the man down her nose. "Care to rethink that sentence?", she growled, her Imperial accent suddenly more pronounced. She leaned forward, the glass held in a white-knucled grip. To Urien's credit, he didn't flinch and somehow managed an even worse follow-up - and that was precisely what Eirene needed to feel justified for throwing both the fruity drink and then a left hook into his face.

People were gawking. Some decided to move farther from them, just in case, some were nearly vibrating with excitement, hopeful for an actual brawl. Eirene scanned the crowd in search of bouncers. None that she could detect. Good.

"Think I overdid that?", she muttered to Rhane while glancing at her victim, then discreetly massaged her knuckles. Yeah, she probably overdid that, if their stinging was any indication for that. She huffed. Hopefully, the ruse was worth it.

Edited July 31, 2023 by Niraverine (see edit history)