Avastan: Planetfall

[The Bindoner]

Jess stays close behind Sugar and Kit/Gel, scanning for people paying attention to us as a group rather than merely ogling the bit of flash we're fronting with.

[Tiglath]

All

Both Prerna and Jess spot two mid aged scruffy guys wearing quilted "dusters" stood with the club security (at the pay point to the "better/upgrade" bar) who seem to have certainly clocked your crew as you transit the bar populated by younger patrons and thereby draw nearer to them.

[joertexas]

All

Both Prerna and Jess spot two mid aged scruffy guys wearing quilted "dusters" stood with the club security (at the pay point to the "better/upgrade" bar) who seem to have certainly clocked your crew as you transit the bar populated by younger patrons and thereby draw nearer to them.

Prerna drifts close to Jess, and keys her comm. "I forgot to ask; what's our cover story?"

[The Bindoner]

Prerna drifts close to Jess, and keys her comm. "I forgot to ask; what's our cover story?"

Well, I'm no spook. Not trained to it. So I'm going with a bit of the truth. See, I'm goin' to be round an' about in town later, with Sugar, hirin' a place an' askin' questions. Best not start with a lie.

I arrived on a Trader, an' I'll be lookin' for deals. Buyin' military surplus, maybe hirin'. Might as well call meself a businesswoman. It'll be pretty clear I'm a QM in mufti, to anyone in the biz, anyway.

Came in with Sugar over there. She's good at not lookin' like a merc, excellent cover. I'm invested in 'er, payin' passage an' lodgin' on 'er tour, with an int'rest any new contract she signs.

Prob'ly best stay honestish on the rest of yer too. We're new faces, an' there's not a lot of traffic. We all came on the same ship, obvious, so we met on that. First night in port blow-out. 'S true, in a way. Liv an' Polly are semi-detached, they're just fellow passengers, I don't really know their business. Who d'you want to be?

[The Bindoner]

Shouldn't need a cover story anyway. If a bloke asks, just give the girls a bounce an' ask 'bout his job.

Jess smiles and demonstrates the general effect a little bouncing on her toes has.

Men love to talk about themselves, an' they're so easily distracted.

[joertexas]

Shouldn't need a cover story anyway. If a bloke asks, just give the girls a bounce an' ask 'bout his job.

Jess smiles and demonstrates the general effect a little bouncing on her toes has.

Men love to talk about themselves, an' they're so easily distracted.

Prerna smiles. "That's true. Okay, so stick to mostly the truth. Got it. Should we go into that exclusive section?"

[The Bindoner]

Prerna smiles. "That's true. Okay, so stick to mostly the truth. Got it. Should we go into that exclusive section?"

F'sure. 'Part from anythin' else it'd be odd not to. We don't fit out 'ere, 'mong the kiddies.

Indicating the two men by security with a flick of her eyes:

Be int'restin' to see what those two think'v that, eh?

[joertexas]

Prerna smiles. "That's true. Okay, so stick to mostly the truth. Got it. Should we go into that exclusive section?"

F'sure. 'Part from anythin' else it'd be odd not to. We don't fit out 'ere, 'mong the kiddies.

Indicating the two men by security with a flick of her eyes:

Be int'restin' to see what those two think'v that, eh?

"You two run point. I'm not equipped for that position."

[The Bindoner]

Prerna smiles. "That's true. Okay, so stick to mostly the truth. Got it. Should we go into that exclusive section?"

F'sure. 'Part from anythin' else it'd be odd not to. We don't fit out 'ere, 'mong the kiddies.

Indicating the two men by security with a flick of her eyes:

Be int'restin' to see what those two think'v that, eh?

"You two run point. I'm not equipped for that position."

You just need proper uphols'try, 's all. Jess winks and laughs.

Turning away she gathers in Sugar and Kit and orientates them toward the VIP lounge: Righto, let's go mingle with the money, Honey.

[Tiglath]

The Away Team

The “mercs in mufti” approach the upgrade pay point. Beyond this they can see that the new bar искусство (art) is certainly a step up. Ubiquitous polymer is replaced by leather and glass while null grav “cages” studded through the dance areas allow the burlesque dancers performing within more freedom both in every sense and also an in additional dimension. The role of the club security here seems not so much as to ensure folk don't get in without paying but to ensure they have enough money to be worth letting in.

However, they are currently distracted by trying to evenly divvy up a handful of high value Imperial credit chips – apparently the laddo with the kit bag of cash has already been through. Nevertheless they are snapped to attentiveness as the credit profile from Polly's pay wand registers sufficiently with Club's Zoo's systems as to precipitate immediate staff fawning and direction through the fast tracked “VIP” entrance. The security goons ogle admire appreciatively as they swiftly usher Polly and Liv into искусство. Their supervisor personally escorts them to a nice table and immediately evicts the current occupants before chivalrously seating both women himself.

A trio of girls classy enough to be let in and yet clearly dressed for partying in very warm weather are let through. Once inside they dawdle whilst eyeing the queue behind focussing on a group of Avastan military. They appear to be officers - both by their shoulder boards, state of inebriation and by their expectation of heading right on through to the better bar. The girls share a group high five and check their make up.

The officers are shortly followed by a wedge of three suited men who are shoving youngsters out of the way of a scarred, shaven headed man of average build whose tailoring is as elegant as his manners are not. He is distinctive as his left eye appears to be permanently bloodshot. When a drunken party girl blunders into his personal space he takes the opportunity to stub out his cheap Avastan smoke on her back. His features remain utterly unmoved even as her scream is lost in the club's vibrant beats. Her boyfriend reacts angrily but both are dragged away by their companions who seem equally fearful of both the “blood eyed man” and his well groomed companion - a well muscled male sporting a pure white flat top whilst wearing a funerial suit.

Meanwhile, the mercs are intercepted by the two men in “dusters”. The first is an apparently slovenly, middle aged, unhealthy looking individual with bad teeth. He carries a long barrelled variant magnum revolver on a lanyard as well as a hunting knife. He flicks a lank strand of oily hair apparently into place on his bald pate and says “Well good evenin' laydees! We'll just take a moment of your time”. He smiles around the toothpick he's chewing revealing the entirety of his unaesthetic dentition. His partner is an equally dishevelled and skeletally thin mid aged male who apparently favours non (immediately) lethal methods. He carries a stun gun and what may be an anagun in a shoulder holster. He has a medical bag at his feet. He says nothing but eyes the female company appreciatively and, seemingly unconsciously, licks his lips. Both men then pull back their dusters to reveal Imperial Marshal badges bearing the names Slow and Whitfield. A third guy with a badge wearing a hooded coat sits motionless at a table behind them apparently monitoring a security feed of this location on his personal comm. The spokesman continues “Now don't y'all be alarmed we're just huntin' desperados – Imperial deserters no less! We just need to scan you for warrants and you can be on your way”. He winks and adds “It seems a slow night. My partners and I might cut loose early and take a few drinks at the bar if'n you're in need of company. We also offer an insurance policy. One thousand Imperial - saves you bein' scanned”.

[joertexas]

The Away Team

The spokesman continues “Now don't y'all be alarmed we're just huntin' desperados – Imperial deserters no less! We just need to scan you for warrants and you can be on your way”. He winks and adds “It seems a slow night. My partners and I might cut loose early and take a few drinks at the bar if'n you're in need of company. We also offer an insurance policy. One thousand Imperial - saves you bein' scanned”.

Prerna shows her teeth in what no one in their right mind would mistake for a smile. "We are entirely too much trouble for you to take on," she says in a pronounced Sword Worlder accent. "Just walk away and pretend that you never saw any of us."

[Tiglath]

The Away Team

In the lesser наука (science) bar the dance floor is flooded by a whole wildly dancing gopota of flatcap and tracksuit wearing gopniks as DJ Blyatman begins his hardbass set.

However, in the noise damped transit zone to искусство (art) Marshal Slow seems to take immediate offence to Prerna's retort and replies in an escalating tone “Why you ornery Swordie bint! I'm gonna take you into custody. Seems like you could do with some private time alone with me an' my skinnin' knife!”

Although still empty handed he begins to close the short distance to Prerna by advancing a few steps.

(OOC: Action paused for those wanting a test of the waters before posting!

As to relative time about half a round of actions/AP have elapsed).

[gurusql]

Kit

Kit maintains his position covering Sugar, at least for the moment.

[joertexas]

The Away Team

In the lesser наука (science) bar the dance floor is flooded by a whole wildly dancing gopota of flatcap and tracksuit wearing gopniks as DJ Blyatman begins his hardbass set.

However, in the noise damped transit zone to искусство (art) Marshal Slow seems to take immediate offence to Prerna's retort and replies in an escalating tone “Why you ornery Swordie bint! I'm gonna take you into custody. Seems like you could do with some private time alone with me an' my skinnin' knife!”

Although still empty handed he begins to close the short distance to Prerna by advancing a few steps.

(OOC: Action paused for those wanting a test of the waters before posting!

As to relative time about half a round of actions/AP have elapsed).

Prerna's grin widens. "Are you that tired of living?" She makes no offensive moves, not wanting to provoke a firefight in a crowded nightclub, but she doesn't back away, either.

[The Bindoner]

However, in the noise damped transit zone to искусство (art) Marshal Slow seems to take immediate offence to Prerna's retort and replies in an escalating tone “Why you ornery Swordie bint! I'm gonna take you into custody. Seems like you could do with some private time alone with me an' my skinnin' knife!”

Although still empty handed he begins to close the short distance to Prerna by advancing a few steps.

Prerna's grin widens. "Are you that tired of living?" She makes no offensive moves, not wanting to provoke a firefight in a crowded nightclub, but she doesn't back away, either.

Jess keeps her head turned to Slow and Prerna, but her attention is on who she presumes to be Mercy and, behind him, Quiet. She tries to tell Kit, Sugar, Able and Easy, covertly, with tactical hand signals, to flank the pair and cover the tech.

To herself, but out loud: Frell’s sake, this’s meant to be a night off.

She takes a deep breath and lets it out in a disappointed sigh.

Worst flirtin’ I ever saw.

To Slow: You really want to blow off yer whole night’s business pickin’ a fight with ‘er? Even ifn you win, you’ll’v lost yer chance at getting’ any payin’ trade tonight. Not very profeshnal. ‘Ssumin’ you are.

To Prerna: If he wants to waste ‘is time scannin ID, we’ll consider lettin’ ‘im. Fer a fee.

Turning back to Slow: See, time’s money, an this’s outside office hours, so it’s double time. Show us yer legal authority, give us a monkey, an’ we’ll wait long enough fer yer to do yer scan.

P'raps 'ave that drink, after. See, if we were friends, we could spot yer deserters. Fer a cut. Goin' ter be recruitin' while I'm 'ere, ain't I?

’Course, if you two just want ter dance, there’s the floor.

Edited to add Able and Easy. X-Ray, being with Prerna, is her responsibility.

[Tiglath]

All

What must be Quiet Jones stands up and puts a restraining hand on Slow's shoulder. In an amplified whisper emanating from a voxbox on his chest he states "She's not our interest here, Jebediah". His sibilant voice sounds like it's filtered through gravel as he urges "We should not fall foul of distractions now - not when we have a prospect at hand". Slow both relaxes his tactical stance and seems expectant at this last. He gives Prerna a stomach churning grin and fixes her with a manic glare while managing a less than sincere "You go on in and have a nice evenin' at the dance, Ma'am". On Slow's other flank “Mercy” Whitfield ceases his actions declaring "Nothing to see here. Move along" to both the alarmed Security and the nearby party goers. Interestingly his first response was to pull up a chem mask over his lower face and, although he still has his hands deep in the pockets of his duster, he now becomes still. On hearing Quiet's declaration he slowly reveals an empty hand and, unhitching a swag of rope, waves the whole group of mercs through the security/pay point. Beyond the acoustic screening DJ Blyetman's hardbass set is muted and in the new bar is replaced by a raucous New Moscow style ska band that the party heard out front of Club Zoo.

While the frisson from the unexpected action seems to diffuse through the crowd of folk nearby the man in black with the white flat top lowers his own sidearm even as the ripple of confusion and alarm spreads past him. No one can remember seeing him move to draw the weapon. Instead he seemed to throw out his gun hand in the direction of the perceived threat for it to be "met" by his bulky automatic*.

(OOC: * A nod to Harry Harrison's Deathworld series and maybe a pint to avoid spilling inside... ?

And apologies for the delay... ).

[joertexas]

All

What must be Quiet Jones stands up and puts a restraining hand on Slow's shoulder. In an amplified whisper emanating from a voxbox on his chest he states "She's not our interest here, Jebediah". His sibilant voice sounds like it's filtered through gravel as he urges "We should not fall foul of distractions now - not when we have a prospect at hand". Slow both relaxes his tactical stance and seems expectant at this last. He gives Prerna a stomach churning grin and fixes her with a manic glare while managing a less than sincere "You go on in and have a nice evenin' at the dance, Ma'am". On Slow's other flank “Mercy” Whitfield ceases his actions declaring "Nothing to see here. Move along" to both the alarmed Security and the nearby party goers. Interestingly his first response was to pull up a chem mask over his lower face and, although he still has his hands deep in the pockets of his duster, he now becomes still. On hearing Quiet's declaration he slowly reveals an empty hand and, unhitching a swag of rope, waves the whole group of mercs through the security/pay point. Beyond the acoustic screening DJ Blyetman's hardbass set is muted and in the new bar is replaced by a raucous New Moscow style ska band that the party heard out front of Club Zoo.

While the frisson from the unexpected action seems to diffuse through the crowd of folk nearby the man in black with the white flat top lowers his own sidearm even as the ripple of confusion and alarm spreads past him. No one can remember seeing him move to draw the weapon. Instead he seemed to throw out his gun hand in the direction of the perceived threat for it to be "met" by his bulky automatic*.

(OOC: * A nod to Harry Harrison's Deathworld series and maybe a pint to avoid spilling inside... ?

And apologies for the delay... ).

Prerna leads X-Ray through into the new part of the club in an attempt to defuse the situation. She mentally adds Slow, Quiet, and Mercy to her personal "to-do" list, along with the idiot who drew his pistol in a crowded room. If she has the chance, she promises herself, she will solve all their problems as a public service.

For now, she looks around the room to see who is here.

[Tiglath]

Meanwhile back at the Ranch Ship (Frank & Freya)

All seems relatively peaceful.

South of you across the runway the local garrison troops appear to be either having a barbecue or have just set something on fire at the rear of their defensive blockhouse. They have a portable sound system and all appear to be unarmed and off duty. They drink from containers while squatting about the fire and apparently munching dried seeds. They are “out of uniform” as those that have them wear flat caps with their combats. Oddly a few wear respirators but no gloves or MOPP / NBC* suits which seems to be a fashion affectation. Hardbass blasts from their media player as the young troopers dance wildly.

A more privileged group are doing more squatting while waiting at the blockhouse front but are attired not only in the ubiquitous flat caps but also in sports/training gear. They furtively pass around drink containers.

A ramshackle ground bus turns up and is directed across the runway by the disgruntled gate guards who pause their directions to the driver to tend the barrier and salute a military ground car that also drives onto the runway apron and towards the parked traders. The bus travels to the blockhouse whereupon the smartly dressed troops stash their drink aboard and then gleefully parade next to it while one fetches an NCO from the blockhouse. He appears attired in full “stepping out” uniform. He lectures the troops and then inspects them pausing to take a long swig from his hip flask when behind the back rank. He then gives the word and he and the gleeful squad pile aboard and head off for Startown.

Freya is aware that Florence, being ever helpful, has slaved one of the trader's security cameras to an auxiliary user. The camera is focussed across the runway on the dancing around the fire but suddenly pans and draws back to focus on two Avastan PDF NCOs who appear to be eyeing the merchandise spread under the parked traders. One bends from the waist to study the wares of the next trader up and the camera fast focusses on her athletically toned rear which is displayed by her tautly tailored breeches. Her comrade steps next to the ship's landing gear to conceal taking a drink from her hip flask. The camera immediately zooms in on her bosom. Muffled cheers sound from the troop deck. The female sergeant couldn't possibly have heard them but, maybe suffering from a sudden hot flush, fans her face and pops a restrictive button at the neck of her tunic. Apparently already known to the trader crew whose gear they have just looked over the good looking pair have a brief conflab and then begin to make their way towards McClellan Factors' "Four Nine" (your ship).

(OOC: Further GM apologies - you two have been neglected. )

[shaidar]

(OOC: Further GM apologies - you two have been neglected. )

No worries. Trust the troops to find themselves a bit of totty.

Frank is not surprised at the troops ingenuity to find themselves some eye-candy. He keeps an eye on the two women, checking with the ships crew to see if they are known to them and also watching them - looking for any indication they are more than just PDF (i.e. they are spies doing recon pretending to be PDF, or maybe BAD spies if they are that obvious). He also keeps a subtle eye on our troops to ensure none of them put the mission at risk for a bit of fraternisation.

[BackworldTraveller]

If we are supposed to be covert, the PDF guys could blow that just by being here. Can we intercept them outside?