Raiding Season

[The Bindoner]

The default setting on the Ship Slave Anklet is 200 meters, so Remington will have to tag along with Raven or Kar if he wants to visit more than the outskirts of the festival.

200m is plenty of range to keep out of sight, if he wants, but that runs the risk of being out of sight of safety - 1 minute out of range starts the clock, 2pt shock every 30 seconds, if he doesn't reach an officer or ship in two minutes the charge detonates.

A crew member could set the range to 1Km. If he asks they might.

[Gorethirster]

Given that his current agitated state is indirectly caused by Raven, Remington decides to try and tag along with the captain. He hasn't seen or heard much of the man commanding the ship, so he figures that following him around the festival grounds might give him a chance to get a sense for what their gallant commander is like. That is, assuming that Kor will allow him to follow along.

[coastguarder]

Ridley wasn't sure if this merchant would show up ..... he was notoriously unreliable and totally paranoid ( mainly for good reason ) once at the agreed meeting spot ( darkish corner of the local ale house ) Ridley pulled up a chair for Kor and himself and attempted to strike up some meaningless chit chat ....

So ...... your the boss this time around ay ? .... don't worry ill try and behave infront of the rest of them ....

Ridley was clearly trying to avoid the obvious question of what in gods name were we doing here ....

[The Bindoner]

Kar seems content for Remington to tag along, and Ridley apparently has not noticed his presence – or is indifferent to it.

The tavern is a Corsair Crew bar on the edge of the Starport facilities, just outside the festival grounds. It isn't a dive, nor is it anything special. Today it is not crowded, but there is a regular turnover of ship's crewmen coming and going – stopping in to talk to, or leave messages for, comrades on other ships or sharing a quick drink with friends away from the noise ( and higher prices ) of the Setting Forth festival.

As Ridley sits avoiding telling Kar the point of the visit a pleasure slave, touting for custom, stops at their table to desultorily proposition them before moving on. Nobody seems interested, especially not her. She isn't trying hard to find trade, or she wouldn't be here. The customers for her wares are elsewhere today.

Soon after she leaves the bar there is an outbreak of what sounds like automatic gunfire, and a grenade going off.

Some of the Corsairs in the bar draw weapons, some look for back exits, and there is general disorder before someone calls out Bloody fireworks! In the lull the sound of the excited chatter and laughter of young boys can be heard before there is another salvo of firecrakers.

A voice from the previously empty table beside Kar and Ridley rumbles Even the small ones turn heads, eh, Bomber?

Recognising the voice Ridley turns to the suddenly arrived Gígaskrímsli ( Crater-monster, definitely not the name his parents called him ).This time he is blond and heavily bearded. That beard, and the hood of his jacket, help conceal the scars on the left side of his face, but they cannot hide them completely.

Gígaskrímsli joins the group.

So,you want something big? Special? He grins That I have.Two nuclear warheads on missiles, I bought then last season. One is still on the missile,working, if your ship has a rack. Other missile I stripped. Made a demo charge. Lot of work. Making it safe. He grins again, but broader.

Missile is 20. Suitcase bomb is 50.

While that settles in he hurries on:

I have thermobaric too. Fuel-air. No good here, but a world with plenty of oxy, as good as an atom-smasher. Beautiful ball of flame, huge shockwave and a vacuum on target. Pure too, you can walk in soon as the fire burns out. I have a Wasp rocket launcher, a couple of guided bombs and big deadfall. You can make any of them into a placed charge easy. Wasp is 5 for the system, 1 for three missiles. Got 12 of them. Bombs are 5 each on the smart, 8 the dumb.


Plenty of compound of course, as always. Build a big charge out of that.

Having made the offer he orders, by gesture, a drink from one of the serving-slaves and waits to hear the response.

[coastguarder]

Ridley took a gulp of ale and stroked his beard ...... the suitcase was just what he had in mind .... never mind the warhead ..... ill take the suitcase for 50 but you can throw the rest in with it .... i remember the last time you tinkered with one of these devices it didn't go well ..... we have been honoured by our great leader to embark upon a mission of great importance ... the price should reflect this great undertaking giving kor and jab in the ribs he muttered you can cough up some credits too ... i no your good for it

[coastguarder]

Persuade 3 [2d6] = 7 + 3

[The Bindoner]

The Crater-Monster sighs and makes a rumbling noise.

Yes, I ask a lot, but you offer too little. The suitcase, 40. Same for the rest, fifth off, If you give me images. Since I know you'll use them. It is why I sell them. These things are not for keeping in boxes.

[The Bindoner]

Ridley's comm pings with incoming mail. A burner comm somewhere in the festival grounds has sent him images of the various munitions Gígaskrímsli mentioned, each item placed in the snow somewhere. Proof of existence.

The suitcase is in fact a polycarbon hardcase for an anti-armour missile launcher covered in light tan leather to make it look "civilian". The device fills the large case, which has been lined with radiation shielding material. A person can carry it, but it is not easily concealable, or "pocket size".

There is indeed a large quantity of Complex Chemical explosive available, and a selection of detonators and timers. Beyond that pile can be glimpsed anti-personnel mines.

[coastguarder]

Ridley thought this had gone well ..... although he was not entirely sure how safe that briefcase was ..... then grinning as he saw Remington lurking in the background .... Remy your presence is most encouraging .... im sure those ears of yours function as well as your tongue and you already have the gist of what's going on here ? without waiting for a response from Remington he continued make sure all the items we have discussed check out and are safe enough for transport ..... o and make sure the suitcase is well hidden from the rest of the crew .... under your bunk should do it ay .. Now turning to Gígaskrímsl Very well ..... shall we drink on it ? my slave will inspect if it doesn't blow himself up and us with him ill assume all is in order Finally Ridley was starting warm up to this strange task ..... he had a ship and enough unstable explosives to really get into some trouble ...Come Kor let us drink as if it was our last day in this world ..... then muttering under his breath your round ..... im bloody skint

[The Bindoner]

Gígaskrímsli rumbles again, this time it seems to be a form of laughter.

This is why you are my favourite customer. Your slave can see the toys, check they work. They don't move until I have your money though. 63.

He has apparently been in communication with someone outside because he announces Transport is here. and nods toward the door.

There is a woman standing just inside the entrance, dressed in wilderness clothing, waiting.

When Remington reaches her he realises she was the “pleasure slave” that visited the table earlier.

Assuming he will follow she turns and leads him to a grav-truck parked in a side street. After directing him to get in the cargo section she shuts him in and pilots the vehicle into the snowfields.

While Remington is flown to the munitions Gígaskrímsli drinks with Ridley and Kar, his conversation limited to explosives and the amusing things one can do with them. He has video.

The grav-truck stops and Remington is let out. The vehicle has stopped in a dead-end canyon. In the snow there are several discrete arrangements of explosives. There are automated weapons installed on the heights above them.

Remington can examine the suitcase device unhindered while the woman loads the thermobarics and four blocks of Complex Chemical into the vehicle.

Roll for whatever skill/stat you think best helps.

[coastguarder]

This is why you are my favourite customer. Your slave can see the toys, check they work. They don't move until I have your money though. 63.

Well seeings as im your favourite ...... ill be getting your absolute best price ..... and you have my word my slave will be trained to be the best camera man you have seen yet .....


2D6 + Persuade 3 Mod

[2d6] = 7 + ?

[The Bindoner]

This rumble seems to indicate disappointed resignation.

Ach, no-one wants to pay what a thing is worth. Very well, a round 60. Next time I add three-fifths at the start and settle for the real price, since you treat me like a market trader.

This is a familiar lament. Ridley knows from long acquaintance that Gígaskrímsli makes explosives as well as dealing in the more exotic forms. He can afford it. He really will expect good quality Holo of these things exploding though. No images, no more sales.

[Gorethirster]

Remington winces as he realises that he's abruptly been promoted to "suitcase nuke inspector." Once again, this is technically something that's within his area of expertise. That said, understanding how a nuke is supposed to work on the atomic level and actually having a clue how the engineering bits actually function to make it explode only when you want it to are two entirely separate kettles of fish. After the plasma gun debacle Remington doubts either Kor or Ridley would be interested in that "unimportant" distinction, and braces hismself for a miserable trudge through the snow to inspect what could most charitably be called "a jury-rigged suitcase nuke." On the bright side, if he's wrong about it being safe there's a chance everyone will die of acute radiation poisoning before they realise it's his fault.

[coastguarder]

After a few moments muttering with Kor about splitting the cost of the merch Ridley turns to Gígaskrímsli ...Very well ... i will escort my technician to the merchandise so he can make his assessment ... move your self remington .... time for you to earn your salt slapping Remington on the back as they leave and chuckling good of you to show up by the way

[hardrocks]

Kar, happy with Ridley leading the negotiations with "His friend". Also willing to cough up the crimp for some "Moody" explosives that will then end up on the ship, that our Lord has kindly loaned us. Is less than happy about having to accompany a slave, to act as an escort. However. This he will do, as Ridley is his friend and number 2.

With a pointed, private, "Cold Face" look, at Ridley (And for that matter, Giga too!)

Lets go Remington, time to earn your keep

[hardrocks]

Ooc: I'll go check out the merch with Rem. If thats ok with you all. Rid can stay with his friend

[The Bindoner]

Ridley turns to Gígaskrímsli ...Very well ... i will escort my technician to the merchandise so he can make his assessment ...  good of you to show up by the way

Hmph. It is my business. How can I sell if I do not meet? Besides, I like to help fellow artists. I look forward to seeing your creation.

.. less than happy about having to accompany a slave, to act as an escort. However. This he will do, as Ridley is his friend and number 2.

With a pointed, private, "Cold Face" look, at Ridley (And for that matter, Giga too!)

Lets go Remington, time to earn your keep

Outside the tavern Arnbjǫrg, the Wilderness Ranger who had posed as a slave to scout the venue, is waiting. Leading them through alleys and up a flight of steps to a landing-pad she gestures to Kar to get in the passenger side of the Grav-Truck after putting Remington in the cargo section. It is a rugged design, built for bad weather. The control cabin is a sealed environment set to be comfortable in outdoor clothes. There is a sleeping-cubby behind the seats, behind curtains.

During the flight Arnbjǫrg keeps the vehicle very low, weaving between the contours of the landscape without navigational instruments in a way that makes it impossible to determine the route or destination.

This puts Kar and Remington in the canyon, Ridley and Gígaskrímsli at the tavern.

[Gorethirster]

It is perhaps a sign of Remington's growing adaptation to his new life that being bundled into a flyer to inspect a homemade suitcase nuke a freezing canyon is merely an annoyance, rather that the blatantly suicidal project he would have considered it before. Tromping through the snow he makes his way to the equipment pile, homing in on the still rather bulky "suitcase" he saw on the data pad when he peeked over Ridley's shoulder. Since his geiger counter doesn't immediately start ticking, and his eyeballs don't feel warm, Remington is at least confident that there's not a vigorous radiation leak, and begins to scrape the snow away from the sides of the device. Step one is a general investigation of the damn thing. He's confident in the general principles of uncontrolled nuclear reactions, but the engineering isn't exactly his wheelhouse. So, for the second time that day, Remington finds himself slowly and carefully dismantling a device he only theoretically understands, neurotically photographing everything as he does so. This time, however, his main goal is not a total deconstruct/reconstruct, but merely to take apart enough to familiarize himself with the mechanisms.

Of course, the fact that he's "merely" annoyed doesn't mean he won't complain bitterly. "Good morning Remington, how are you? Oh, we don't care, fix my plasma gun. What's that, you don't know how a plasma gun works? We don't care, fix it. Oh, you want to go for a walk to clear your head before you're blamed for failing to produce a good omen? Fine, come along to a seedy bar to make a deal for a suitcase nuke homemade by a barbarian. Oh, while you're here, give it a once over. No, we can't take it to the ship first, what if it's a hazard? You can just make a nice little screw pile in the snow, it's not like losing one or two would matter..."

Rolling investigate to get a general sense of the nuke detonation and control mechanisms
[2d6+1] = 5+1 = 6

[The Bindoner]

Remington may not be familiar with weapons engineering, but fortunately he knows enough about electrics to be able to make an assessment of the device.

The polycarbon hardcase has been lined in radiation-shielding, and the warhead and it's control system embedded in a foam block that fills the space.

Remington soon recognises that the core of the device is a standard military ship's missile sized warhead. It has not been modified beyond being removed from it's missile and having it's detonation trigger replaced. The fact it is a standard warhead means it should be stable and safe, right up to the moment it isn't. The shielding lining the case may be “belt and braces”, or it may be to foil scanners.

Whatever the original trigger system was it is now hard-wired to one of a pair of encrypted comm units, the other being detachable. It appears the wiring is using the LED camera-flash unit of the embedded comm to initiate the detonation. This is standard electrical engineering, and Remington can see it has been competently done. Whoever did the work took the effort to make tidy connections, with neatly cut insulation and no excessive solder.

The removable comm is “on” and wakes up when lifted. It's holo display opens with a boom and flash which forms a rainbow coloured mushroom-cloud. It then cheerfully announces in Oghman

Welcome to the Crater Maker! This is a secure system. Authorisation code required.

Arnbjǫrg, passing with the Wasp system in it's case, comments: The code will be sent later. Don't try to guess. Three wrong answers and it burns out.

[Gorethirster]

Arnbjǫrg, passing with the Wasp system in it's case, comments: The code will be sent later. Don't try to guess. Three wrong answers and it burns out.

Remington shoots Arnbjǫrg a dirty look. "Oh, yes, I was about to try to guess the code, because I'm just so keen on atomizing myself." Having vented some of his spleen on another person instead of a suitcase nuke and some snow piles, Remington decides to take a careful look at the comm units. Just because only two came in the case didn't mean that there were only two networked after all, and letting something like that slip onto the ship unnoticed would certainly earn him much worse than a casual head wound. For the third, and hopefully final time that day, Remington goes diving into the guts of a device which has the potential to get him killed, looking for surprises.

Roll electrical engineer to see if there's anything odd or suggestive of tampering in the comms units
[2d6+2] = 9+2 = 11