STORY: She puts a hand on her hip, examining you, Tueller. “You look familiar.”
TUELLER: “Oh finally someone recognizes me!”
TUELLER: “Yes, Tueller, excommunicado of the Ya’Makasi, and fledgling businessman on the Ark, at your service.”
TUELLER: A more energetic bow.
STORY: She raises her chin a little. “Ya’Makasi is the name on the deed here, if I’m not mistaken.”
TUELLER: “Yeah, my former family has their noses in all sorts of shit like this.”
TUELLER: “Through CJH. You may also know Sergio N’drangheta, also formerly of the CJH.”
STORY: She scratches under her chin. “Well, I hope you’re as excommunicated as you say, because if you help me get out of here the first thing I’m going to do is make sure that company is dissolved and every member of your family is bankrupt.”
STORY: She regards you coolly, looking like she’s ready to be attacked.
TUELLER: “Excellent!”
TUELLER: “I hope to see Esinam’s face on the feeds when it happens!”
STORY: We’re back with Tueller, Figgan, and Jenny on the prison planet Erehwon, run by Consolidated Jovan Holdings. I’d like to do something like we did last week and start out with a couple short cramped-quarters-style scenes in which everyone draws a card and picks an NPC to do a scene with along the guidance of your card result.
STORY: You can choose one of the PCs, or make up an NPC. The only off limits character is the ambassador, who is in solitary.
STORY: To give you some context – you’ve arrived at Erehwon, and three weeks have passed as you get settled in, discover that “Bria” is in solitary for fighting (but you hear from other prisoners that she’s there for her own protection, as a few other colony members took shots at her to try to prove their toughness), and figured out what your day to day was going to be like.
STORY: The guards are generally invisible to you, mostly staying out of sight in distant guard posts, though they’ve been seen now and then to break up major fights and distribute food and other supplies.
STORY: Erehwon is a penal colony, a terraformed moon in a system none of you have heard of dedicated to one thing: recycling.
STORY: The waste generated by the elite of Erde-Maris is shipped offworld to this place. CJH saw an opportunity and contracted with Ark Security to house prisoners there to do recycling work.
STORY: Your actual job: sift through literal mountains of human waste and garbage, looking for valuables that were left behind or thrown out.
STORY: Anything you find you are paid for, though your share is horrifyingly low, and the work is filthy, dangerous, and grueling.
STORY: If you don’t work, you don’t eat.
STORY: Jenny, your job as a guard is to monitor the situation, be involved in food and supply distributions, and otherwise take it easy. The other guards consider this a plum job.
FIGGAN: Figgan has a preternatural ability to find stuff in the mess. She’s fast and small and seems to see a valuable before most everyone else. That’s made her somewhat popular with some of her fellow inmates, but it’s also drawn some troubling attention from one particular, very large, very hairy fellow, Humphries.
FIGGAN: One morning, as Fig is trading a valuable to someone else in exchange for some information about how they might get to the ambassador, Humphries crowds his way between them.
STORY: Has Figgan let on to anyone that Bria isn’t who they think she is?
FIGGAN: Nope, at least not intentionally.
FIGGAN: But she’s also no spy. Just a modestly reformed criminal.
STORY: Humphries grabs Figgan by the standard-issue blue jumpsuit collar.
STORY: “Why does the small dog look for Bria?”
STORY: Some of the prisoners are from non-Ark races and have not been added to the universal translation service, and consequently speak in broken common.
FIGGAN: “Small . . . dog?” Figgan looks at Humphries squarely. She doesn’t struggle or move but instead treats this like he’s helping her out, so that she’s at eye level with him.
FIGGAN: “Who’s Bria?”
STORY: “You ASK FOR Bria. Why?”
FIGGAN: She cocks her head at him. “Heard Bria has some connections that I might want to get to know, both in here and outside. Business. That’s all. Why do you care?”
STORY: He thumps his free fist on his chest. “I will kill Bria, not you.”
STORY: “She is mine. Find another friend.”
FIGGAN: Fig’s eyes widen. Then she catches herself. “Whoa, big fella. I’m not interested in getting in your way. Just looking for win-wins, you know.” She smiles.
FIGGAN: “Your vendetta personal or business?”
STORY: “Hmph.” He tosses you to the ground and points in the face of the inmate you were dealing with. “No help for this one. Bria is mine.”
STORY: The inmate holds out all four hands, empty, in an exaggerated shrug. “Sure thing, I was just…” and scurries away.
STORY: Humphries turns back. “You’re trouble.”
FIGGAN: She smiles big. “Why thank you!”
STORY: He scoffs and leaves.
TUELLER: Hamish has been working his ass off, rather kind of enjoying it. He’s in his element, doing grueling and potentially dangerous work, and doing a good job separating out the dross and such, and he doesn’t do anything for the job at all the first week. What Hamish does do is find who’s got a still going, and try to get in with them. He spends all his credit with them.
STORY: Also you spend most of your days covered in literal feces, and the line for the showers is always at least an hour, so I’m surprised Tueller is doing so well with this.
TUELLER: There’s an Odh who seems to have the market cornered, goes by Riper (not ripper, but Ripe-r). There might be others, but that’s the first Tueller has come acrosss.
TUELLER: Tueller becomes a regular customer there when he figures it out, and spends his scrip there, just being friendly even though he’s shit-covered.
STORY: Riper is friendly and happy to see you as a customer, but seems somewhat concerned after your third trip to him in a week.
STORY: “You sharing, buddy?”
TUELLER: “I try, if I get any takers. Everyone needs friends, here.”
TUELLER: “I’m not stockpiling, if that’s what your asking. Not trying to become your competition or anything.”
STORY: “No, I’m just – I don’t know many humans, isn’t this a lot for one week?”
TUELLER: “I’m a lot, it’s said.”
TUELLER: “With that said,…about the competition…It’s early in the relationship, of course, but I…well, I wouldn’t mind becoming a partner, somewhere down the line.”
STORY: He cocks his head.
STORY: “Why?”
TUELLER: “Everyone’s gotta have friends, and alcohol’s the best way for making friends I’ve found in the galaxy so far.”
TUELLER: “Don’t want to end up like the scrub in solitary, after all.”
STORY: Riper looks around. “You’re new. You’ll figure out how things around here work eventually.”
TUELLER: “How long was she here before getting tossed up?”
STORY: “Day she arrived. Folks had heard about her rep and wanted to get ahead of it.”
STORY: “Seems like it worked. She was in the med bay for a week, then straight to solitary.”
TUELLER: “Her rep?”
STORY: “You don’t know Bria the Red? She’s a legendary merc, killed friends of half the people here.”
TUELLER: “I should know that name?”
TUELLER: “What’s ’er race?”
STORY: “A pinky. Vitruvan. Older than I’d have thought.”
STORY: “I caught sight of her when she arrived, then cleared out – you can tell when fighting’s about to start.”
TUELLER: Hamish laughs, “Ain’t that the truth? Who started it?”
TUELLER: Hamish takes a healthy dram of distilled algae.
STORY: Riper leans back against a crate. “Bit of a pile up, to be honest. The big brawls, hard to tell who did what when, know what I mean?”
TUELLER: “Shame. Just want to know who I should watch out for. I’m a little hurt that my own rep didn’t proceed me the same way. Still, everyone likes to have a go at a big guy from time to time.”
TUELLER: Hamish takes another drink, “You do good work with this stuff. The bioluminescence is a nice touch. Especially coming out.”
STORY: He nods. “Gotta do what I can to keep things interesting.”
STORY: He nods a goodbye and gets back to distilling.
JENNY: Jenny enters the break room after a double shift with the kind of small, quiet smile that makes her exhausted colleagues count their blessings rather than curse hers. She stretches briefly, silently grunting through the stiffness, pours herself a coffee, and takes it over to the table of one of the more senior guards, silently gesturing at a chair, asking for a seat.
STORY: She pulls one out for you. “Double?”
JENNY: Jenny nods thankfully and sinks into the chair with a sigh.
JENNY: “Felt like a triple, sometimes. You ever have those days?”
STORY: She nods. “Sometimes. Not as much anymore, the inmates have been calmer the past few months. Now it’s more about figuring out how to break the tedium.” She taps her flask as it rests on the table.
JENNY: “I hear you. I took the double for a change of pace.” She rolls her neck, eliciting some satisfying cracks. “And it kind of worked.”
JENNY: “I was wondering about that. Did the inmates used to be less compliant?”
STORY: Martek nods. “Oh boy, did they. The shit contract’s only a few years old – we used to be over on Telen VI doing deep sea mining. We had to be on the subs with them, and things would get…” she whistles. “Tense.”
JENNY: Jenny’s eyes widen. “Glad I’m not involved in that kind of close quarters work.”
STORY: “After CJH bought the Telen VI colony they cleared us out, moved the prisoners over here, and set up this shit-digging business. Way easier, way calmer, everybody’s happier.”
STORY: “My wife don’t like the smell when I come home, though.”
JENNY: Jenny laughs. “Can’t blame her, I might take a shower for a week if I ever get leave.”
JENNY: “But here, it’s always been safe? No riots?”
STORY: “A handful. One when we first got here and they found out what the work would be, we let that one run out. Lost a few inmates.” She shrugs. “A couple smaller ones. One a month ago when Bria was brought in.”
JENNY: Jenny nods. “Heard of her, of course. How’d that go? Any guards hurt?”
STORY: “Nah, was a quick one, as these go. We figured there’d be some disruption with her arrival, so we just let ’em at her for a minute or two and pulled her out. Were a bit too late, honestly – she had to spend a week with the doc.”
STORY: “Been in solitary since then, for her protection.” She raises her eyebrows at you.
JENNY: Jenny nods, “Makes sense.”
JENNY: “I went through the basic training with corporate before I got here, but is that crowd control walkthrough all there is to it? I mean, in a real riot situation, what could we do besides armor up and go bust some heads?”
STORY: She puts her feet up on an adjacent chair. “Well, we’ve got the standard equipment, plus-” she leans in and speaks in a loud whisper, “rumor is they’ve got some mass suppression tech installed onsite.”
JENNY: Jenny straightens up. “No shit?”
STORY: She nods, “Yes shit.”
JENNY: “Well, who has their finger on that kind of firepower?”
STORY: She shrugs. “Never had to use it so far. I assume it’d take an act of god, or, you know, one of the CJH muckamucks making the call.”
JENNY: Jenny laughs. “Sure, I bet they’d let us slug through a real emergency, but if one of their bean counters was on site and got frowned at they’d light this place up like Yule.”
STORY: She nods. “Don’t I know it.”
STORY: Okay!
STORY: So that’s life on this colony.
STORY: Shitty, boring, and sort of vaguely tense all the time.
STORY: Jenny, have you done anything to get access to Figgan and Tueller?
JENNY: Rarely. Taking double shifts to get assigned to their areas. Checking in on the general event logs for their numbers, that kind of thing.
STORY: No in person contact yet?
JENNY: Probably some same room, same yard contact, but no face-to-face.
JENNY: Just enough to see and be seen
STORY: Got it.
STORY: Tueller, Figgan, have you been working on anything else during the past three weeks?
FIGGAN: Figgan has been trying to leverage her ability to find stuff and trade it to get as much info as she can without raising too many red flags. Obviously, the interaction she just had with Humphries suggests she’s not been as careful as she might have been, so she’s been laying low since that encounter. She hangs out with Tueller/Hamish a lot, to keep the bullies away, making it clear she’s with muscle.
STORY: Figgan, let’s have a FA + Influence please to see how well you ingratiate yourself to the general population
TUELLER: Tueller’s been buying drinks for the bullies and seeing what they say if they get drunk.
FIGGAN: /roll 2d6 + 1
STORY: ablair01 rolled 7
STORY: Okay. Tueller, you get some hostility because of feathers ruffled by Figgan’s poking around, but no open fighting yet.
STORY: I’d like an Assessment + Influence from you to see how much you dig up about Bria with your free alcohol.
TUELLER: /roll 2d6
STORY: chris.stuart rolled 3
TUELLER: Oh christ almighty
TUELLER: —Should have just tried to beat the information out of people.
STORY: Well, the good news is you have to.
JENNY: haha
STORY: Some of Figgan’s ruffle-ees approach you for a free drink, then take it and smash the bottle on your head.
TUELLER: That’s where I’m a Viking!
STORY: Do you Viking?
TUELLER: Fuck yes.
STORY: Figgan, you’re there for this – what do you do?
FIGGAN: Figgan is quick. Not strong, but strategic. So, she grabs the nearest assailant’s leg and trips whoever it is up while finding cover.
STORY: Okay. Tueller, what about you?
TUELLER: Just punching the shit out of people.
STORY: All right! FA + Physique please, Tueller, if you need help Figgan can do a Get Involved + Mettle roll.
TUELLER: /roll 2d6+2
STORY: chris.stuart rolled 10 + 2 = 12
FIGGAN: Figgan gets comfortable and watches the Tueller show.
STORY: Oh boy! What happens?
TUELLER: Tueller growls and subvocalizes as the cheap glass shatters ineffectively on his head, drenching him in biolumescence. His eyes glow with it, as he smashes the assailant in the throat, kneeing him as he crumples. He grabs the next assailant by the eyestalks, and yanks him until he flies a little bit, and spins to kick the last assailant across both knees, which crack with what could be something quite bad–Tueller doesn’t know enough about his biology to know for sure.
STORY: You quickly subdue all three of them, and one that’s still conscious drags the other out the door.
STORY: Jenny, Assessment + Mettle please
JENNY: /roll 2d6 + 2
STORY: josh rolled 5 + 2 = 7
STORY: Jenny, you’re on guard duty, watching blankly at a screen that flicks from one outdoor camera angle to another.
STORY: You’ve been trying to keep tabs on Tueller and Figgan’s location, and vaguely register three aliens entering the shack they’ve been occupying after work hours.
STORY: The images cycle through again, and about a minute later, you see someone being dragged out of that shack.
JENNY: Do I see who’s doing the dragging?
JENNY: And who is being dragged?
STORY: Nope, images are too fuzzy for that.
JENNY: Okay. I tell my shift-mate that I’m going to do my rounds a little early so I can move my lunch up. Then I turn off the motion sensors on the monitor near their shack and saunter down to that area.
STORY: Tueller, it’s a few minutes later, you and Figgan have cleaned up the broken glass, and Jenny emerges into the shack.
TUELLER: “We’re all right here, officer. Just a spilled beverage.”
JENNY: Jenny turns slightly so her face is off-camera, grins. “Anything I need to report?”
TUELLER: “Sorry, not officer. Screw.”
JENNY: “Screw you.”
STORY: There’s no camera inside the shack!
TUELLER: “No, it’s a term for prison guard.”
STORY: Just outside.
FIGGAN: “You look good, Jenny. All guarded up.”
JENNY: “Kind of nice to be back in uniform.”
FIGGAN: “So, yeah, we gotta move this faster, I think. Shit’s getting real in here.”
TUELLER: “Seems to be going at a leisurely pace to me.”
JENNY: “There’s a mass suppression system, but the bean counters are the only ones that have access to it. So, whatever we do it’s going to have to appear to be manageable.”
FIGGAN: She shrugs who limbs while using another to pick up a cap from one of the broken bottles.
TUELLER: “Gas? We’re not tagged, as far as I know, so it can’t be electrical.”
JENNY: Jenny shrugs.
TUELLER: Tueller starts looking around. “This is an interesting conundrum here. Wish we had a Doc. Or a Ghost.”
JENNY: “If it’s gas I’d assume they’d issue masks to us.”
TUELLER: “Good point.”
JENNY: “And not everyone’s lungs work the same way.”
TUELLER: “I’m no closer to The Red. Just that everyone wants a piece of her. Or who they think she is.”
JENNY: Jenny nods. “Same.”
STORY: Jenny, your walkie comes on from your belt. “Prisoner transport, Sector D. Requesting assistance.”
FIGGAN: “Humphries may be getting close to a way to do it. At least he thinks he is.” She looks at Tueller. “Didn’t get a chance to mention that before you beat everyone up.”
TUELLER: “Which one was Humpries?”
JENNY: “They’re playing my song.”
TUELLER: “Also, I didn’t pick that fight.”
FIGGAN: “Work, work, work.” Figgan smiles at Jenny. “Hairy big guy. Not too bright.”
TUELLER: “Let me know if you need someone to dance with, Screw.”
JENNY: Jenny grins. “Hasn’t anyone here taught you not to flirt with your betters yet?”
STORY: Jenny, your walkie turns on again. “Prisoner fight, Sector D. Requesting assistance NOW,”
JENNY: “Have fun in the shit!” Jenny turns and jogs away, on walkie, “Nilsson on the way!”
TUELLER: “Think I might take a walk, stretch my legs, work off this buzz.”
TUELLER: “Maybe…somewhere around Sector D? It’s a nice night for it, Yep.”
STORY: Jenny, you come up over the crest of a hill and see what looks like a proper riot starting.
FIGGAN: “A walk sounds nice.” Figgan drops whatever’s in her hand and follows Tueller who’s following Jenny.
JENNY: To herself, “That’s convenient.”
STORY: There are at least five guards being pulled into a central conflict area that you’d best describe as an extremely violent mosh pit.
JENNY: How far behind me are the others?
STORY: The up side of a penal colony is it’s mostly hands off. The down side is that the prisoners have access to way more things that could be made into weapons.
STORY: They catch up as you hit the top of the hill.
JENNY: OOH
JENNY: Hang on
JENNY: Deduction!
STORY: What’s the question?
JENNY: What caused this situation?
STORY: You watch keenly at the mosh pit of violence and see what looks like a figure crawling through it – a… wait. A vitruvan. Middle aged.
JENNY: “Tueller, Figgan, I want you to keep other inmates off me. I’m going in for the target.”
TUELLER: “Excellent.”
TUELLER: Tueller goes in.
FIGGAN: “Wait . . . target?” Fig doesn’t see her immediately, but he follows Tueller’s lead and heads for the scrum.
JENNY: Jenny starts running with perfect form, dodging and hurdling inmates and debris.
TUELLER: “I miss my gloves.”
TUELLER: Tueller goes in and tries to look like he’s just fighting, but focusing on keeping people off of Jenny.
STORY: All right! Jenny, this is gonna be Face Adversity + Mettle.
JENNY: /roll 2d6 + 2
STORY: josh rolled 5 + 2 = 7
STORY: Tueller, are you helping?
TUELLER: Yep, physically.
STORY: Get Involved + Physique please!
TUELLER: /roll 2d6+2
STORY: chris.stuart rolled 4 + 2 = 6
TUELLER: —OH fuck you.
FIGGAN: Fig will also do her best to help.
STORY: All right, Figgan, you’re gonna be Get Involved + Mettle
FIGGAN: /roll 2d6+2
STORY: ablair01 rolled 8 + 2 = 10
STORY: So we start with a partial success which drops to a failure and then goes back up to a partial. I’d like you three to tell me how that happens!
JENNY: Okay, I’ll start
JENNY: Jenny hurdles a couple of inmates wrestling on the ground for thrown out hammer, but skids to a stop as she sees a half dozen inmates brawling in her path. She slows briefly, moving to the right as Tueller runs past her on her left.
TUELLER: Tueller charges right into the mass of inmates, throwing himself on them with all his weight. Which, turns out, is way too much weight.
TUELLER: The scrum of them goes bowling over, and envelops the elderly Vitruvan just trying to get away.
TUELLER: There is a mass of limbs of five different alien species, some with shanks, and some with claws themselves, and one that looks like a pair of garden shears, all mixed up, and all angry.
FIGGAN: Figgan scrambles right over the top of the pile, up over Tueller’s head and shoulders. “No time to lay around,” she says as she rolls down the other side, grabbing the fingers of one of the mass who has just gotten a hold of the target. She twists the fingers back, making the alien to whom they belong cry out in agony and giving the Vitruvan a window to squirm mostly out of the pile. Tueller then topples down the pile just in time to help drag the Vitruvan free.
STORY: She’s free! Where are you taking her?
JENNY: Jenny (gently) pushes Tueller back down and (gently) grabs the Vitruvan by the elbow. “Hands off, inmate!”
JENNY: There’s a set of hills and divots nearby that are hard to capture on camera. They come out near a supply entrance. Jenny makes eye contact with a miniscule head nod toward the area and hustles the Vitruvan that way.
JENNY: “This way, please.”
STORY: She looks at you, panicked, then back at the big ball of violence behind her, and quickly hurries where you guided her.
STORY: Tueller, Figgan?
TUELLER: Tueller’s coming with, but covering our exit.
FIGGAN: Figgan is ahead of Tueller, letting him have the rear. She’s trying very hard to stay clear of the actual punches.
TUELLER: Backing away from the BBoV, waving everyone on, and looking over his shoulder to see that they’re doing so.
TUELLER: Tueller’s totally prepared to jump back in if it’ll cover the exit.
STORY: The four of you slip away, and in a minute Jenny’s got you in a small shed. The vitruvan has an injured ankle and leans against a table to take weight off of it. She’s got a cut across her cheek and is probably gonna bruise in quite a few places.
STORY: She looks at you, wild-eyed and still full of adrenaline from being jumped. “Who are you?”
TUELLER: “Madame Ambassador,” Tueller gives a formal bow.
STORY: She takes a deep breath and looks hesitant, narrowing her eyes.
STORY: “Who?”
JENNY: Jenny’s eye brows raise, she gives a less formal bow.
FIGGAN: “Safer to be the Ambassador than Bria, I think.” Figgan looks back out behind them. “You’re welcome, by the way, Madame.” She too bows and smiles quickly.
TUELLER: “Or Madame Councilor if you prefer.”
STORY: She inhales and looks at the three of you evenly. “Catch me up.”
JENNY: “Madame Councilor, it’s a long story, but the shortest version is that we’re the only people on this planet interested in getting you home. And we’re going to need your cooperation to do that.”
TUELLER: Tueller stands there catching his breath, and nods.
FIGGAN: “And a shit load of good luck.”
STORY: She puts a hand on her hip, examining you, Tueller. “You look familiar.”
TUELLER: “Oh finally someone recognizes me!”
TUELLER: “Yes, Tueller, excommunicado of the Ya’Makasi, and fledgling businessman on the Ark, at your service.”
TUELLER: A more energetic bow.
STORY: She raises her chin a little. “Ya’Makasi is the name on the deed here, if I’m not mistaken.”
TUELLER: “Yeah, my former family has their noses in all sorts of shit like this.”
TUELLER: “Through CJH. You may also know Sergio N’drangheta, also formerly of the CJH.”
STORY: She scratches under her chin. “Well, I hope you’re as excommunicated as you say, because if you help me get out of here the first thing I’m going to do is make sure that company is dissolved and every member of your family is bankrupt.”
STORY: She regards you coolly, looking like she’s ready to be attacked.
TUELLER: “Excellent!”
TUELLER: “I hope to see Esinam’s face on the feeds when it happens!”
TUELLER: “I have fought off at this point 9 separate CJH assassins.”
TUELLER: “Since we went our separate ways.”
TUELLER: “There were some before then, too.”
FIGGAN: “That’s cold.” Fig gives Tueller a nod of appreciation. “Respect.” She smiles. “I thought it was only 6. You’ve been holding back.”
TUELLER: “Well, not all of them are interesting stories.”
TUELLER: “And what should I call you?”
TUELLER: “Be warned, I love nicknames.”
STORY: “Aice.”
TUELLER: “Excellent! Pleasure to meet you.” Tueller sticks out his hand to shake.
STORY: She takes it.
TUELLER: “To the destruction of my family!”
STORY: Then, a breath, and looking around the shed.
STORY: “So. How are you getting me off this moon?”
TUELLER: “I have no idea!”
TUELLER: Tueller turns to Jenny.
FIGGAN: Fig smiles wide at this. She too looks to Jenny.
TUELLER: Then to Figgan.
JENNY: “There’s a shuttle that carries all the reclaimable junk from here to the nearest CJH station. We’re going to steal it, I think.”
FIGGAN: “Fun!”
STORY: Aice nods. “Ah. That one’s the leader?” Pointing at Jenny.
JENNY: Jenny raises her eyebrows and barely hides a smile, looking to Tueller.
TUELLER: “That one’s the guard.”
TUELLER: “She’s also plenty smart.”
TUELLER: “I’m technically in charge, I guess, but I’m not bossy these days.”
FIGGAN: “Look who’s got his flirt on!” Fig gives Tueller a little jab in his thigh, which is about three inches above her head.
JENNY: “Let’s worry about the org chart later. Madame Councilor, I’m going to ask you to do something you’re not going to like.”
STORY: She raises an eyebrow. “What’s that, soldier?”
JENNY: “Your skin tone, while radiant, is also fairly distinctive. The inmates are looking to make soup of you and the guards are, ah, undermotivated in preventing that. We’re going to need you to roll around a bit in the muck.”
JENNY: “For your own safety.”
STORY: “Oh for fuck’s sake.”
STORY: “Fine. Do the three of you at least know why I keep getting beaten every time I set foot in that camp?”
FIGGAN: “Oh, you’ll love this.”
TUELLER: “Because you’ve been falsely identified as a mass murderer.”
FIGGAN: She looks at Tueller.
FIGGAN: “Bria the Red!” Figgan adds gleefully.
TUELLER: “I’d never heard of her, but apparently ‘you’ have a reputation.”
FIGGAN: Fig nods. “A real nasty one.”
STORY: She shakes her head. “I don’t even look like her. Racists.”
STORY: “Fine, find me a puddle.”
TUELLER: Tueller goes to the door, opens it up, and checks around to see who’s around.
STORY: Nobody, the roar from the fight down the hill is still going.
TUELLER: “Clear. Let’s get dirty.”
STORY: She rolls around for a while, mostly obscuring her face and skin, and you throw a blanket you found in the shed over her shoulders to obscure the rest.
JENNY: Jenny stays clear. Her plan is that she’s escorting some inmates back to cells from the riot.
STORY: Jenny, what’s happening?
JENNY: She’s going to lead from behind, with weapon drawn, leading some particularly riotous prisoners back to quarters. But they’re headed for the shuttle bay. The latest shuttle is a day’s salvage from fully loaded and should be parked and ready to steal.
STORY: Okay. Let’s have you do a Face Adversity + Mettle to see how well you can lead them through this undetected.
JENNY: /roll 2d6 + 2
STORY: josh rolled 10 + 2 = 12
STORY: Tell me how it goes!
JENNY: Jenny runs into a couple of patrols, but diverts them easily. The group arrives at the shuttle bay and Jenny has them wait around the corner. She marches confidently into the shuttle bay and dismisses the guards there to the scene of the riot. Then she reclaims the others, take the keys from a nearby hook and enter the shuttle.
JENNY: It’s got a small personnel cabin on top and a large cargo container attached to the bottom. It’s capable of interstellar jumps, but we should probably ditch it in short order to avoid being tracked.
STORY: This shuttle’s enough to get offworld, but it doesn’t have the juice to travel all the way back to the Ark.
STORY: Still improvising or is there a plan after you break atmo?
JENNY: Jenny came up with the getting out of prison plan. Interstellar plans are not her remit.
STORY: You pile in. Who’s flying?
FIGGAN: Figgan does not. She can pilot small flyers, but nothing this big.
TUELLER: Tueller will take the wheel.
STORY: Tueller! What’s the plan?
TUELLER: I don’t have one!
TUELLER: “Knew I should have had Lah charter a ship.”
TUELLER: “Jen, what’s our space like. I was on a transport when we came here.”
TUELLER: “Transfer station at L1? Jump point nearby? Patrols?”
JENNY: “Standard observation satellites, a couple experimental ones designed to find the good trash.”
TUELLER: “And are we going to have any pursuit worth noting?”
JENNY: “Jump point is nearby, scheduled patrols. But we should be fine if we leave in the next four hours.”
JENNY: “Who knows? I’m hoping the riot will distract them so they won’t know we’re gone until they go looking for the shuttle.”
TUELLER: “Good enough for me.”
TUELLER: Tueller pulls back on the stick and takes off.
STORY: Aice winces and finds a seat to strap in from.
TUELLER: Tueller pulls up, turning towards the communication shed with the antennae broadcasting, and drops the cargo into the antennae as he goes.
STORY: FA + Mettle please!
TUELLER: /roll 2d6+1
STORY: chris.stuart rolled 8 + 1 = 9
STORY: Ok, you can escape and drop the cargo, but it’s not going to hit the antennae, it’ll land in a pond outside the comms building. Proceed?
TUELLER: Sure.
STORY: You can hang on to it if you want instead.
TUELLER: Naw. I’m okay pulling an Ethan Hunt there.
JENNY: “Now all we have to do is evade the biggest crime syndicate known to man, steal a new ship, and make our way back to the biggest commercial district in the galaxy, all without being seen. Easy!” Jenny leans forward and pats the councilor on one knee in what she hopes is a comforting manner. “I know that list seemed sarcastically long, but really. For us? Easy!”