On Board the Space Port Albion

[Ahlmzhad]

Albion is a state of the art star port orbiting a planet that is a nexus of Imperial trade and military operations.

Space is at a premium so all lifestyles are one step more costly.

Jobs are available for those with high enough security clearance, or enough merc skills to rise above the regular scum.

Most of the major corps have offices here, but very few jobs locally.

Those with high enough credentials can get out readily, but most find themselves staying here for weeks waiting for a ship that they can get a berth on.

[Leitz]

You can tell a lot about a restaurant simply by the Progge de Maianna.

Stefano sat back and sipped his after dinner qana. Intentionally choosing an hour when businesses were busy meant he had a little more time, and space, to himself. More than on a starship, not nearly as expansive as the lands back home. He assumed, anyway, that the lands back home were still there. No one had told him otherwise but a decade or two can change things.

"The Minstrel" fit Stefano. His business suit wasn't cut and clothed to look expensive. It was expensive and cut and clothed to look like itself. As was Stefano. Not tall, not heavy, neither young nor old. Charming in person, and respectable if you knew who he was. The waiter, an actual human, didn't know who Stefano was but could tell who belonged and who didn't. Service was excellent. The Progge wasn't, but still not bad.

Work on Albion was done. Papers sent, accounts would be credited in good time, and everyone profited.

[Ahlmzhad]

As Stefano is slipping into reflections on home, the waiter returns. He excuses himself and indicates a young man waiting at the Hostess station in a grey work uniform.

"Sir, a courier has asked to see you, he wants to deliver a message, shall I bring him over "?

[Leitz]

"Stewart, if the young man passes your approval, then certainly! Qana as well, please."

Had two decades given Mother a chance to not despise quite so much? Stefano doubted it, she was one to hold to her standards. Time to set that aside; the young man approached.

The table, for the moment, was his. Stefano stood and extended a hand. "Stefano Domici, how can I help you?"

qana (KWA - na) is a rich espresso type drink. Hot, highly caffeinated, and hundreds of blends across the universe. Some better than others.

[Ahlmzhad]

The young man approaches and as he speaks you immediately recognize the uniform "Vloxmar Corporate Courier First Class Leman at your service". He hands you a high grade paper envelope. "Shall I wait for a reply"? He awaits your response.

[Leitz]

"Paper?" Stefano said as he took the envelope. He smiled. "Quaint, but a powerful indicator of quality. Please have a seat, Mister Leman, qana is on the way."

Stefano motioned to the other chair, and then sat back to read.

[atpollard]

The scanner beeped and the bored security agent suddenly looked up. “I thought you said you had no weapons to declare?”

Fred stopped looking around at everything and gave the security guard his complete attention “I have no weapons to declare.” Fred responded matter-of-factly. “I assume that you are referring to the Revolver in my luggage. It is not a weapon ... yet.” Fred presented all of the correct paperwork for the parts to build a revolver and his license as a professional gunsmith and the documents to transport the parts from his port of departure to this port of arrival. “I finished rough fitting the parts and deep carving the frame, but there is still a lot of fine fitting and polishing plus plating and engraving before it is a finished weapon.”

The paperwork was closely examined, and Fred and his luggage waved through the security checkpoint.

Fred stored his one large trunk in a rented locker at the Highport and wandered around. He smiled with excitement at everything. Fred had lived his whole life in the urban megacomplex that he called home. This was the first time Fred had ever been anywhere else ... and here he was in a genuine Starport on another world. Fred could have gone anywhere, but the truth is that he chose Albion because it was the only place other than his homeworld that he had ever heard of.

So it was that Fred strolled the Albion Highport wearing the same comfortable grey work coveralls that he had worn every day for the last eight years. He had actually done it. Fred could hardly believe that he had left home to become an actual starfaring Traveller in search of adventure.

Fred continued to stare at everything, like a tourist, barely able to contain his excitement.

[Ahlmzhad]

"Paper?" Stefano said as he took the envelope. He smiled. "Quaint, but a powerful indicator of quality. Please have a seat, Mister Leman, qana is on the way."

Stefano motioned to the other chair, and then sat back to read.

The paper says (ink printed or typed):

Master Domici,

I would like to introduce myself, I am Antil Orlovski. A certain Duke who is a mutual acquaintance of ours suggested that you might be interested in an opportunity of the proper breadth and capacity. To that end I would like to invite you to meet with me tomorrow or the day after at your convenience.

Please work with my courier he will assist you in setting an appointment, and providing you with the directions and basic information about the appointment.

Very Sincerely,

Antil Orlovski (signed by hand in ink)


The typing and hand signature on real paper is a symbolic way to communicate that shows the highest social etiquette in my galaxy.

The courier is sipping the provided qana and patiently awaiting your reply.

[Ahlmzhad]

The scanner beeped and the bored security agent suddenly looked up. “I thought you said you had no weapons to declare?”

Fred stopped looking around at everything and gave the security guard his complete attention “I have no weapons to declare.” Fred responded matter-of-factly. “I assume that you are referring to the Revolver in my luggage. It is not a weapon ... yet.” Fred presented all of the correct paperwork for the parts to build a revolver and his license as a professional gunsmith and the documents to transport the parts from his port of departure to this port of arrival. “I finished rough fitting the parts and deep carving the frame, but there is still a lot of fine fitting and polishing plus plating and engraving before it is a finished weapon.”

The paperwork was closely examined, and Fred and his luggage waved through the security checkpoint.

Fred stored his one large trunk in a rented locker at the Highport and wandered around. He smiled with excitement at everything. Fred had lived his whole life in the urban megacomplex that he called home. This was the first time Fred had ever been anywhere else ... and here he was in a genuine Starport on another world. Fred could have gone anywhere, but the truth is that he chose Albion because it was the only place other than his homeworld that he had ever heard of.

So it was that Fred strolled the Albion Highport wearing the same comfortable grey work coveralls that he had worn every day for the last eight years. He had actually done it. Fred could hardly believe that he had left home to become an actual starfaring Traveller in search of adventure.

Fred continued to stare at everything, like a tourist, barely able to contain his excitement.

The vid panels in the hallways near the entry port flash continually for sleeping quarters, hotels, and actual residences for rent. Intermixed with ads for more personal services. These are broken up with the periodic PSA's warning you about diseases, fraud attempts, and other things a government is powerless to stop but still wants to keep their hand in the game. There is the obligatory Traveller's Aide Society kiosk, and in the near horizon plenty of options for haircuts, drinks, and food.

[Leitz]

The paper felt solid. The handwriting looked bold. Stefano smiled. Obviously friend Antil knew sending a courier socially graceful enough to sip qana in "The Minstrel" spoke as clearly as the real paper and personal handwriting.

"Excellent." Stefano said. He folded the letter, returned it to the envelope, and tucked it inside his jacket. In a moment he had his fountain pen out and wrote on the back of a stiff fiber business card.

With three shakes to air dry the ink, Stefano handed the card to Leman and then sat back. "General comm info on the front, private on the back. Hotel and suite number if needed. Tomorrow afternoon would be perfect, please set the time."

A sip, then folded hands. "Given that we are in a public area, what can you tell me?"

[Ahlmzhad]

The young courier was caught a bit off guard by this question. It took a minute for him to collect his thoughts. "Mr Orlovski only contacts his most important clients in this manner, and he has cleared his calendar to meet with you. I would expect he has something very important to discuss with you, and it would be business related". Checking his handheld, he says "tomorrow at 2. I'll have the location sent to you so you can find our offices."

With that he excuses himself and retires.

In the next 5 minutes you will receive a e-message with the location and a reminder of the meeting.

[Leitz]

Stefano tapped out a few initial data queries. When the meeting data arrived he mapped out the route to the appointment. Being a licensed broker had its advantages and corporate histories was one of them. No doubt he'd have more queries when he got back to his suite. Only slight doubt that Orlovski wouldn't know he and the company were being researched. It would be bad form not to, really. Tomorrow's conversation could start with many of the details already taken care of. While "cleared his calendar" was probably meant literally, Orlovski probably wasn't the type to have nothing to do. Or maybe the task was personal? Stefano left cash, and a generous tip for Stewart, on the table.

Time to test the route; to see if there were challenges or other data points to gather. Nodding to a couple coming in for an early supper, Stefano stepped out and began to work.

Let me know if you need rolls for anything. I'm assuming data queries get logged, they can take some time if it's large enough, and licensed professionals can get more information than the general public.

Stefano is going to go to the address, without actually going into a building.

[Ahlmzhad]

Stefano's efforts get him nothing out of the ordinary. The company is solid and still bent on expanding. It's a very profitable operation and is trying to get its hands into more pies all the time.

The one interesting thing is some news stories about Vloxmar getting heavily involved in the new Long Jump route to the neighboring spiral arm of the galaxy.

[Ahlmzhad]

The scanner beeped and the bored security agent suddenly looked up. “I thought you said you had no weapons to declare?”

Fred stopped looking around at everything and gave the security guard his complete attention “I have no weapons to declare.” Fred responded matter-of-factly. “I assume that you are referring to the Revolver in my luggage. It is not a weapon ... yet.” Fred presented all of the correct paperwork for the parts to build a revolver and his license as a professional gunsmith and the documents to transport the parts from his port of departure to this port of arrival. “I finished rough fitting the parts and deep carving the frame, but there is still a lot of fine fitting and polishing plus plating and engraving before it is a finished weapon.”

The paperwork was closely examined, and Fred and his luggage waved through the security checkpoint.

Fred stored his one large trunk in a rented locker at the Highport and wandered around. He smiled with excitement at everything. Fred had lived his whole life in the urban megacomplex that he called home. This was the first time Fred had ever been anywhere else ... and here he was in a genuine Starport on another world. Fred could have gone anywhere, but the truth is that he chose Albion because it was the only place other than his homeworld that he had ever heard of.

So it was that Fred strolled the Albion Highport wearing the same comfortable grey work coveralls that he had worn every day for the last eight years. He had actually done it. Fred could hardly believe that he had left home to become an actual starfaring Traveller in search of adventure.

Fred continued to stare at everything, like a tourist, barely able to contain his excitement.

Arriving at your hotel your reservation is in place, and your luggage has proceeded you. Once paperwork is completed, and just before you turn to proceed to your room the clerk says "sir I do believe you have a message". He then locates and hands you a sealed message.

[Leitz]

Stefano enjoyed highports now and again. Much easier to get work done when you had to work, most people were close by and few offices ever really closed. There were other things he enjoyed, but none seemed extant. The energy of the commerce bouyed his step as he timed his trip from the restaurant to the address given.

Stefano kept his eyes open as he walked around the area. There were a few people to talk to; mostly lower tier staff and the nearby "fast lunch" cafes that served the local offices.

Barring outstanding incident.

After a while Stefano headed to a viewport. Space would help him think a bit.

[Ahlmzhad]

Stefano enjoyed highports now and again. Much easier to get work done when you had to work, most people were close by and few offices ever really closed. There were other things he enjoyed, but none seemed extant. The energy of the commerce bouyed his step as he timed his trip from the restaurant to the address given.

Stefano kept his eyes open as he walked around the area. There were a few people to talk to; mostly lower tier staff and the nearby "fast lunch" cafes that served the local offices.

Barring outstanding incident.

After a while Stefano headed to a viewport. Space would help him think a bit.

Stefano can ponder the man he is going to meet for the first time. Orlovski, born in a powerful mercantile clan of long standing. He had gone to the best schools and had advanced degrees in economics, business, and government from a trifecta of the top universities in the Imperium. He had started out near the top, and had made a dramatic climb up the step ladder of success for someone of his background. A director level job with one of the families closely held firms helped him go out on his own. That marked him as somewhat of a maverick. His subsequent moves marked him as a game changer. He had moved on to be VP of finance for a smaller firm, which led him to try his own hand at starting a delivery service. In a crowded field his company made enough noise that Vloxmar made an offer he couldn't resist. Which brought him to his current position as Executive VP in charge of Market Expansion.

[Leitz]

The highport's garden area had some of the best wide area ports and very comfortable benches. Stefano smiled as he took in the view. Orlovski was a game changer, but not an engineer. Did he have someone providing solid, trustworthy advice? Education could be good, or it could be blinding. Did the man pace himself and know his limitations? What risks was he willing to take, and more importantly, what risks was he not willing to ask others to take? Would he provide reward commensurate with risk?

Orlovski certainly had Stefano's attention. Simple gestures, powerful. It was easy to see how the man had worked his way up, and Stefano was willing to help him further his career either inside or outside Vloxmar. Double since the Duke had passed on Stefano's name.

Still, one must enjoy life. Children played near a tree and a parental looking person of unknown makeup watched. Others moved in and out of the park and Stefano made room if someone else wanted to join him on the bench.

[The Bindoner]

Ms Arquez walks casually away from customs, secretly relieved that her trusty stealth pistol and stilletto have again escaped detection. After the confines of the ship she is looking forward to exploring the Highport for a while before settling into the room TAS has booked for her. As she strolls the decks the Saluki-styled K-19 ‘Karp-Dog’ Ruslan pads along at her side while the Magpie-styled drone assistant on her shoulder quietly relays the local news and market reports.

[Ahlmzhad]

Ms Arquez walks casually away from customs, secretly relieved that her trusty stealth pistol and stilletto have again escaped detection. After the confines of the ship she is looking forward to exploring the Highport for a while before settling into the room TAS has booked for her. As she strolls the decks the Saluki-styled K-19 ‘Karp-Dog’ Ruslan pads along at her side while the Magpie-styled drone assistant on her shoulder quietly relays the local news and market reports.

The news is mostly mundane about new things opening on the port, and the same old reports about the various wars the Imperium finds itself in. The market reports have little of interest, but one or two items trigger her keen trader instinct to a possible fluctuation that could lead to a little extra profit on the right deal.

[Leitz]

Stefano

The park was charming. After an enjoyable hour or so breathing near mostly real plants, Stefano put a few more search queries in for the comp to digest and then headed back to "The Minstrel".

The walk took a little longer, more people. A polite conversation with the maitre'd and in a minute both Stewart and the shift manager politely approached.

"Hello, sir, I'm Ms. Tyson. Is there a problem?" The lady said.

"None but my absent mindedness." Stefano smiled and shook her hand. "Earlier Stewart ensured I had a wonderful lunch experience. In my haste I forgot to mention it to you and wanted to remedy that as soon as I could."

Stewart beamed and Ms. Tyson smiled. "Thank you sir. Stewart is one of our best."

His thanks and congratulations given, Stefano excused himself and headed back to the hotel. Stewart was one up in life. A good workout, a hot shower, and Stefano would be ready for more investigation.