Donovan, Jones & Associates - Turn Four Pre-Mission and Mission, Nephilim Mountains Hike - Five Parsecs from Home

Turn 4 Aftermath

“I thought I’d find you in here,” Midori said as she walked into the medbay.

Dask looked up from his position leaning on the table where P’Hol’s cryo casket lay. The lid was open as a thin wisp of frosty mist rose up from the refrigeration unit.

“I’m finishing up the last of the arrangements for her body. Her end of life instructions were for her, her effects, and whatever pay she had outstanding, was to be sent back to her family. I’ve done everything, all I’m waiting on now is the courier to arrive.” Dask muttered.

He looked up and down P’Hol’s body, she looked serene, almost angelic in the mist of the cryo casket. Her personal possessions were nestled around her feet and legs, all wrapped in a few layers of plastic.

“You’ve never lost someone before?” Midori asked as she walked up to Dask and placed a hand on his shoulder.

“My first time,” Dask replied.

“When I was the XO on my last ship I lost a few in a pirate ambush on Theria. We got hit by snipers as we were offloading our cargo. It was a setup from the start and the captain was winged by a plasma bolt, we ended up having to amputate what was left of his right arm once we dusted off. It was a good crew, but we couldn’t bounce back from that one. We went back to a midworld and took a vote. The captain wanted to sell his share and I didn’t mind, the two other remaining crew members wanted to do likewise. In the end I can see why some crews can’t bounce back from a casualty event like that. So we sold the ship, split the proceeds and amicably parted ways. The two that bought it, we made sure their shares made it back to their next of kin.”

Dask stepped back and lifted up the lid of the casket.

“You’re a good one, Midori. I hope I can live up to that standard.” Dask said.

“You’re doing well so far, where is everyone else?” Midori asked.

“I’ve given them the day off, we haven’t got anyone gunning for us right now so I’m happy to let the crew recuperate from that fight. Just me to keep an eye on the ship while they’re out.” Dask said as he sealed the casket with a snap hiss.

“How about you take some time off as well, I’ll hand P’Hol off to the courier and watch the ship. You look like you can use some time to yourself.” Midori offered.

“Thank you, I’ll take you up on that,” Dask replied.


—-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dask found a pub a short walk from the spaceport. It was a MacKeller’s, a chain of mid grade public houses that catered to the working class. Back in the core worlds he’d met a lot of clients discreetly at an anonymous table in the backrooms of a MacKeller’s franchise. Now he found the place strangely comforting and familiar, like all corporate chains, mediocre, but consistent in quality.

Dask sat at the bar with a pint of cheap lager and his data slate in front of him. He occupied himself by casually scanning and probing the electronics of the other patrons of the pub and seeing what casual hacking he could do to amuse himself. It was cheap and low rent data crime,  but he didn’t even take anything. Dask found it amusing to read the kind of stuff that people kept on their personal devices, sometimes there was real paydata, but mostly it was inconsequential secrets.
Dask frowned as a series of data pings of Converter based signal protocols came into range and interfaced with his pad’s wireless. Dask looked up at the door and spotted a Converter drone standing in the doorway, or rather, a former drone. The drone scanned the bar with intelligent eyes that weren’t dulled by the harsh directives of a Converter control chip. Every eye in the pub briefly looked up to him for a moment, as Harlem’s World has had a long history with Converters, but just as quickly the attention was lost as they all came to the same conclusion, that this was a former drone, de-converted.

The drone crossed the floor with heavy footsteps and sat down next to Dask.

“A pint of Everbright Bitters,” the drone said as he addressed the bartender.

“Coming up,” the bartender replied as he went to the taps to fill the order.

Dask studied the drone, only for the drone to swing his head around and look at Dask directly in the eye.

“Can I help you, mate?” the drone asked.

“Nah, just never seen Converter chrome in person before, I meant no disrespect.” Dask said.

“How do you know it is Converter chrome?” the drone retorted.

Dask tapped his pad and lifted it slightly to show the drone the contents of the screen.

My passive datascrapers picked up base level Converter protocols when you walked in the door. I’m sorry about what was done to you, if that means much.” Dask said.

The expression of the drone softened a bit. Then he got his drink and took a swig.

“Yeah, me too. What’s your name, friend?” the drone asked.

“Dask Donovan, captain of the Hand of Fortune and freelance hacker,” Dask said as he offered a hand to the drone.

The drone took it with his left hand, the still human one.

“Malcom Khan, a farmer and pious man of faith in another life. Now a freelance dealer in death, violence, and mayhem,” the drone said.

Dask shook the offered hand.

“How long were you converted?” Dask asked.

“I’m not sure, I was de-converted after a Unity assault on a hidden Converter outpost on Dessany Three, I was one of the units they were able to disable mostly intact. The local Unity military high command was still on the capture and de-convert orders. I guess I was one of the lucky ones. After the techs finished scrubbing and auditing my episodic memory they reckon about six to eight years. I don’t remember much of it, only flashes. The techs mostly took care of that, Mashallah.”

Dask murmured in agreement.

“How did returning to the world go?” Dask asked.

“About as well as could be expected. Once the techs had done their job, Unity gave me an account with fifty cred and the contact details for a post trauma counselling specialist then kicked me out of the recovery ward. Money dried up quickly and I didn’t have enough to make my way back to my people.  So I made a deal with some of the local gangs, I’d work for them as muscle for pay, and they would remilitarise some of my hardpoints. Turns out I was good at it. I ended up getting back in touch with my people, they were supportive and compassionate about what I had become, but being amongst them felt wrong, like I was putting them at risk, so I’m just drifting, I guess.”

“That’s rough, who are your people?” Dask asked.

A minor Islamic sect, you probably haven’t heard of them. The name translates into standard as Pilgrims of Shen. We’re a settler movement with the goal of bringing Allah’s light from the cradle of humanity to the uninhabited worlds of the cosmos, so that all worlds may be walked upon by God’s creations.

“Haven’t heard of it, sorry,” Dask said.

“Understandable, we aren’t well known, even within the Islamic community in the core worlds.” Malcolm replied.

“How about you, Dask. What brings you out to a cheap pub on a workday night?” Malcolm asked.

“I lost one of my crew, she was a good, very professional. I’m working through my feelings about it. It’s a fact of life that in this line of work that people die before their time. Still, I’m feeling guilty about it, I guess.” Dask replied.

“I’m sorry to hear that. Whatever gods she kept, I hope she is with them.” Malcolm replied.

“I never asked, if she did, she kept it to herself. Say, you said you’re drifting now, what happened?” Dask asked.

“I got tired of dealing violence to people over a kilo of narcotics at a time, I paid my way out of that world, now I do odd jobs for the Pilgrims when they need me. I am thinking about making a run for Hastina. I have family there, but I don’t have the cred to pay for passage.” Malcolm said.

“Hrm, I have something to ask you, Mister Khan?” Dask asked.

“Yeah?” Malcolm replied.

“Wanna job?”

Campaign Event, a chance meeting
De-Converted - Malcolm Khan
Background - Religious Cult
Motivation - Revenge
Class - Ganger

Other Events
Estra lost her shotgun, it will turn up soon.

From Battlefield looting the crew gained a motion tracker.

Turn 5 Pre Mission

“Everyone, I’d like you to meet our new colleague. Mister Malcolm Khan.” Dask said as he gestured at Malcolm.

Malcolm studied each of the crew members in turn.

“Peace be upon you,” Malcolm replied.

Midori stood up, went over, and shook Malcolm’s hand.

“Welcome aboard, Mister Khan. My name is Midori Jones and I’m the XO of the Hand of Fortune. If you need anything or any help getting settled in, let me know.”

Every member of the crew gave their introductions, though most of them seemed a bit put off by the ex-Converter metal standing before them that didn’t immediately want to capture or kill them.

“I appreciate the trust that you have placed in me. However, I regret I have not explained to Mister Donovan the full reason for my presence here in Calhoun City.”

Dask gazed at Malcolm with a slightly annoyed expression.

“Is this something that is going to change the nature of your time with us?” Dask asked.

“Probably not, I am also here to run an errand for my local Pilgrims of Shen chapterhouse. There is a patch of real estate near Marion, that is the main city of the southern hemisphere. My people have been using it for some time as both a retreat, and as a staging ground for long distance missions beyond the limits of explored space. Our colonists use this ground to train in all of the tasks required for building a sustainable colony on a hostile world. Unfortunately our staff on site were driven away from the site at gunpoint by some out-system smugglers. Since the facilities are just as much a shipping waystation as they are a religious grounds they have been using the site to smuggle goods too and from Unity space. We’ve tried to raise this with the local authorities, but we’ve heard that the smugglers are paying them to look the other way. They even threatened to arrest our local members unless they drop their complaints. That is where a team of seemingly unattached outsiders come in.” Malcolm said.

“I see, it looks like god has put us in your way.” Whillem said with some sarcasm.

“Inshallah,” Malcolm replied with a smile, then continued.

“I have been tasked with putting together a crew of operatives for this job, and to participate if necessary. The bad news is that we have a new wave of colonists expected to arrive and begin their training for far-reach colonisation next month. The training grounds need to be clear and repaired before then. So this job has some urgency attached to it.” Malcolm continued.

“It sounds very straightforward, I assume you have a briefing packet prepared?” Shoutheri asked.

Malcolm nodded and flicked a connection over to Shoutheri, who then opened it up on his wristcomp and studied the details.

“They have full plans of the grounds, recon data going back two months… This is well laid out,” Shoutheri said after perusing the packet for a moment.

Dask nodded and turned to the others.

“Thoughts?” Dask asked.

Estra stared at Malcolm with a weird mixture of fascination and fear, but she snapped out of it when Dask addressed her directly.

“Umm, yes, I think so,” Estra stammered.

Whillem, who had been sitting on the couch and soldering a broken control board on the coffee table, looked up and shrugged.

“If it pays, and these religious folk don’t sound like the worst clients we could have.”

Shoutheri nodded and then gave a thumbs up, a human gesture that he had recently learned from Dask and had now been employing it everywhere and with great enthusiasm.

Midori smiled, then turned to Malcolm.

“And I am happy to accept the job. Looks like we are all in agreement,” Midori said.

“Excellent, well I’ll get started with the dockmaster. It’ll be a decent flight to Marion, and we can use the time in transit to plan the op.” Dask said.

Mission: Reclaim the Facility for the Followers of Shen
Danger Pay +3 Cred
Battle Conditions - Delayed
Notable Sights - Curious Item
Objective - Secure

Donovan, Jones & Associates - Turn Four Pre-Mission and Mission, Nephilim Mountains Hike - Five Parsecs from Home

The sun beat down on Dask and his crew as they weaved their way through the dense forests of the slopes of Nephilim Mountains. The ETU job hadn’t been exaggerating when they described the nature of the terrain. It was dense with centuries old forests with an almost tropical climate. The forest floor was choked with highly invasive species of vines and ferns. These plants had been introduced after the last Converter invasion to help cleanse the radiation poisoned atmosphere. The plants were tolerant of radiation and toxins, and were capable of absorbing and neutralising those contaminants. These plants had been extremely successful at their task and now dominated their niche in the current ecosystem. Every now and then, Dask stumbled as he found himself tripping on a loose pile of collapsed building material, now mostly covered by a layer of soil and forest litter. Every now and then they passed some still standing walls; tombstones for the massive sprawls that had once dominated the slopes of the Nephilim Mountains.

The ambush from Dask’s brother had given him and his crew a moment to breathe. They’d taken a couple of days to allow Shoutheri time to fully recover before they committed to their next action, especially since ETU had given them a broad timeline to complete their objective.

Midori and Dask had taken some time to browse the markets of Calhoun City. Dask had managed to offload some old salvage while Midori was offered some old tech which may have been either valuable or worthless, an offer which she declined.

Actions - Midori / Dask - Trading

Whillem and Estra had managed to finally fix the blaster pistol that they had been working on. Whillem now had it strapped to his hip, however he had kept the automatic rifle that he had used during the last encounter. Whilem led their column with his automatic rifle held at the low ready, while Estra brought up the rear with her shotgun.

Actions - Whillem / Estra - Repair

Shoutheri, rather than using the couple of days to recover, instead went off to explore Calhoun City as he usually does. He had made some contacts with a local arms dealer, but given how many spares they had in the shipboard armoury he had decided not to purchase anything.

Action - Shoutheri - Explore / Arms Dealer

They had flown the Hand of Fortune from Calhoun City and set down at a small frontier settlement that was loosely under control of the Harlen’s World planetary government. From the settlement, they had hired a ground car and drove up a narrow gravel track until the track disappeared, and Dask and his crew were faced with vegetation too tightly packed for the car to proceed. From that point they dismounted and proceeded on foot further up the mountain, and and towards the site where ETU had dropped their automated eco-monitoring stations. At this point they had left civilization behind, this land was controlled by outlaws and survivalists. The towns at the foot of the mountains regular faced raids from holdfasts up the mountain; either bandits with outstanding warrants, or survivalists that had fled to the mountains generations ago during the Converter invasion. Both parties had a deep seated hatred for Unity, and were more than willing to rob settlements and kill settlers either for material gain, to extort tribute, or out of simple spite.

“Dask!” Whillem hissed as he dropped to one knee and crouched down behind a fallen log.

The entire column mirrored Whillem’s actions as they lowered themselves to the ground as deep as they could go. Dask crouched down beside Whillem and looked at the Feral.

“Noises up ahead, I think we’ve got trouble.” Whillem murmured.

“Okay, got it,” Dask replied as he keyed his comm to the rest of the team.

“Okay people, possible trouble up ahead. Fan out and keep your heads on a swivel.” Dask said.

New Minis

Before I begin, I have finished up a batch of minis and I’ve got a couple of new ones to replace the current ones I’m using for the following characters.

Dask


Estra


Action

“Move, move, move!” Dask hissed as he gestured his group forward.

Dask could hear the voices now, somewhere up ahead the low murmur of conversation drifted down the valley.

“Sensors were tripped in this sector, could be Unity, guns up.” a distant voiced called out.


“Come on, over here! Get down!” Dask hissed as he gestured towards a low rise in between his party and the loose skirmish line of outlaws that came down the valley with their guns held at the low ready.




Dask keyed the team comm again.

“Okay, stay down and wait for them to get right on top of us. We’ll get the drop on them,” he whispered.

Everyone crouched low and held their weapons ready to go as the crunch of boots on forest floor came closer and closer.

“Movement pings, just over the rise, guns up and flush them out, go!” One of the outlaws called out.

“We’ve been made, go loud!” Dask yelled just as a volley of gunfire slashed overhead, narrowly avoiding Dask’s team.


Dask looked up just in time to see an outlaw sweep forward, a very old rifle held at the low ready. The outlaw and Dask locked eyes and began to trade shots.


On the left flank, Whillem and Estra sprang into action. Estra ran hard for the cover of a nearby tree while two of the surprised outlaws tried to draw a bead. Estra traded shots with her shotgun, but didn’t hit her target. The two outlaws didn’t see Whilem follow Estra into view and draw down on them with his auto rifle. The weapon bucked in his paws and his volley brought down the lead outlaw.

Dask and Shoutheri clambered up onto the rise, their weapons spitting fire at the outlaws. Dask’s hand cannon found its mark and brought down his shooter, while Shouteri’s laser scored a hit on another outlaw.

On the right flank Midori and P’Hol advanced on another pair of outlaws that were trying to get a flank. Midori climbed up onto the rise and took down the lead outlaw with a ruby red beam of laser fire, while P’Hol dashed out and sprayed the second outlaw with her subgun. The outlaw was a heavy set feral with a military style rifle, and shrugged off the shots without only a few growls of pain.


The Outlaws collapsed on the left flank, Estra swept forward and took down another one with a shotgun blast while Shoutheri and Whillem advanced on the remaining outlaw, a man with a marksman’s rifle and shot him down.

The feral in front of P’Hol swung his rifle around and fired a short burst at P’Hol, who took the volley in the upper chest, she staggered backward and collapsed with the force of the blow.

“P’Hol!” Midori yelled as she came forward and fired her laser, scoring another hit, but the Feral remained standing. Dask followed up and aimed on the move and fired. His shot landed home, and the Feral at last fell.

“Clear!” Shouteri called from his end of the line.


Midori ran forward and crouched beside P’Hol and began checking her vitals. Dask holstered his weapons and strode forward and looked down at P’Hol. Midori rolled P’Hol onto her back and used a knife to cut away the composites of her armour vest. The volley had blown right through, smashed into her ribcage and exited through her spine. There was so much blood, pale blue in colour. Dask felt his stomach churn as his gaze drifted up to P’Hol’s face. Dask knelt down beside her and cradled her head in his hands. Her eyes looked up at the sky and saw nothing, there was a look of surprise on her unmoving face.

“She’s dead,” Dask whispered.

Midori threw away a mass of bandages that she had tried to use to staunch the bleeding in the chest cavity but finally gave up when she realised that P’Hol’s heart had been utterly destroyed.

“Yeah, she’s dead,” Midori whispered.

Donovan, Jones & Associates - Turn Three Mission and Aftermath, Ambush in the Boneyard - Five Parsecs from Home

Battlefield Conditions - Gloomy

“Spread out, my brother’s flunkies are here!” Dask hissed as he gestured for P’Hol to cover him, then gestured for Whillem and Shoutheri to fan out up front. Estra took one step backward, then turned on her heel and faded away into the night.

“Where are you going!” Dask hissed at Estra, but she was already gone.

Estra ignored Dasks protests, she fought to control her breathing and glided through the darkness like a wraith, going wide around the gantries and darted from cover to cover as she closed in from the other side.

Shoutheri and Whilem grabbed positions under a decaying gantry by a mostly rusted through tank. Shoutheri readied his laser rifle and switched on the new battle sight, while Whilem cycled the action of the Auto-Rifle that he had withdrawn from storage and braced it against a decaying support pylon.

The sound of pounding boots on asphalt and the wooping of gangers psyching themselves up for a fight sounded from up ahead, and out of the murky dark. The lead ganger, a woman with an impressive hairdo clutched a crude flamer scanned the ground ahead for targets, and clapped eyes on Shoutheri first. Behind her, a rat faced ganger with a vibroblade revved the mechanism and grinned as he charged forward.

Estra stopped in the shadows as she caught sight of the approaching mob of gangers. She drew her shotgun, braced it and fired.

One of the gangers went down in a heap as his torso took the majority of the buckshot. His comrades gasped in horror, but turned their attention to Estra and charged.

The ganger with a flamer paused and braced her weapon, then sent a gout of flame arcing towards Shoutheri. Shoutheri took the brunt of it, and fell to the ground cursing and yelling. He rolled around in an attempt to smother the chemical fire. Whilem opened fire, and cut down the ganger with the flamer with an abrupt burst of machine gun fire.

Dask and P’Hol scrambled up a nearby ladder and found themselves on top of the gantry, in the perfect position to envelope the mob of gamers with incoming fire. P’Hol darted off to one side, dropped to one knee and fired a short burst at the ganger carrying the vibroblade. The shots hit home and the ganger went down in a heap. Dask stode forward and squared off with another ganger coming up the stairs of the gantry. The two men traded shots without hitting one another. Two gangers closed in on Estra and loosed shotgun blasts and pistol shots, but Estra faded into the dark long before their shots could find her.

Dask raised his hand cannon and squinted down the sights at the oncoming ganger, then held his breath and squeezed the trigger.

Dask’s shot hit the man in the head, who fell backward and came to rest on the stairs.

Estra darted out of cover for a split second, raised her shotgun and fired.

The shot caught another ganger, sending him to the ground.

The surviving gangers tried to dive for cover, but they were covered from up high and down low. Autorifle fire from Whilem and machine-pistol fire from P’Hol killed another. The only remaining ganger screamed in terror as he realised the futility of his situation and turned and ran.

Dask strode forward, sighted the fleeing man in, but didn’t fire. Instead he holstered his pistol and called out to him.

“You tell my pissant brother that you are going to have to do better than that!”

Dask then looked down to see Whilem tending to an unmoving Shoutheri.

”The burns are superficial, I’ve shot him full of painkillers, but nothing permanent.” Whillem said.

“All right, looks like we’ll have to cancel our meeting with ETU and get back to the Hand of Fortune. Let’s back it up and get moving before the enforcers arrive.”

Turn 3 Aftermath

Shoutheri sat on the lounge in the Hand of Fortune while Whilem applied another layer of burn foam over the side that had caught the worst of the flame blast.

“You’re very lucky, Shoutheri. The damage seems almost all superficial, it won’t even scar,” Whillem said.

Shouteri nodded, then leaned back.

“I almost dodged it, next time I’ll be a bit quicker on my feet,” Shoutheri replied.

Post Battle Injury for Shoutheri - School of Hard Knocks

“Dask?” P’Hol called out as she jogged into the lounge.

“Yes?”

“There is a man who claims to be from the Valeris Syndicate at the ramp. He wishes to speak with you. He came alone,” P’Hol said.

“Lead the way,” Dask instructed as he followed P’Hol down the ramp into the cool night air.

A small man with thick rimless glasses and dressed in a designer trench coat waited at the bottom of the ramp. Estra stood nearby and leaned on one of the landing struts, she had her shotgun cradled in her arms as she studied the man.

Dask approached the man and looked down at him.

“I’m Dask, is this about the incident that occurred earlier this evening?”

The man smiled at Dask and politely bowed his head.

“Yes, my name is Cherrun Signh, Envoy for the Valeris Syndicate. I come before you to express my profound sympathy and regret for this evening's earlier trouble. Rest assured, the attempted hit on you had indeed been arranged by Ernst Donovan, your brother I believe?”

Dask nodded and let Cherrun continue.

“Well, the leadership council for Harlen’s World did not sanction this hit. They have voted to remove Ernst Donovan from his leadership position and expel him from the Syndicate for his actions.”

A brief flash of worry crossed Dask’s mind, as much as Ernst deserved whatever fate he got, he was still his brother.

“What are you going to do with Ernst?” Dask asked.

“If Ernst was anyone else we would fly him out to a remote corner of Harlen’s world, put a bullet in his head, and leave his corpse for the Gellec. But given who he is and his connection to your father, we’ve expelled him from the Syndicate and he is currently boarding the next coreward liner under escort. We will deliver him to his father and explain the situation to him.”

Dask suppressed a smile as he heard this. With an embarrassing incident like this on his record, Ernst was now guaranteed to be out of the running for the inheritance of the family business, and hopefully that meant that none of his other brothers and sisters would try to take a shot at him in order to remove him from the competition.

“Good, I appreciate the mercy. I don’t like him, but for better and worse he is family,” Dask replied.

Post Battle Rival Roll - Rival gives up

“Along with this apology I also wish to convey an invitation for a meeting with representatives of the leadership council of Harlen’s World. You handled our people well and we could always use reliable professionals for situations where our own shooters aren’t up for the task. Are you interested?” Cherrun asked.

“Of course, I’d be happy to take the meeting,” Dask replied.

“Splendid, well, here are my contact details,” Cherrun said as he took a thin card out of a breast pocket and passed it to Dask.

Dask looked at it for a moment and saw that it was a series of unmarked network nodes and hidden interface ports with a couple of encryption keys. He put the card in his pocket and nodded.

“Thank you, Envoy Singh, I’m grateful that the Syndicate doesn’t wish to indulge my brother’s vendetta against me,” Dask said.

Cherrun smiled, “goodnight, Mister Donovan,” he said, then turned to leave.

Dask watched the small man disappear into the late evening murk.

Campagin Event - Made some business contacts (Valeris Syndicate)

Dask turned around and studied Estra, who in turn stared back with a vaguely sour expression. P’Hol glared back at Estra for a moment, then headed back up the ramp.

“Something to say, sir?” Estra asked with a little bit of sass in her tone.

Dask sighed, walked up to Estra and leaned on the landing strut next to her.

“You’re a stone cold killer, Estra, I’ll give you that. You handled yourself well and I appreciate it.”

“Thank you, Dask, I thought I could get around behind them while they were distracted. It worked out pretty well.” Estra replied.

“Yeah it did, but I did notice something. Your eyes, they’ve got a blue tinge around the edges. How long have you been using Blue Sap and are you still using?” Dask asked, bluntly.

Estra glared for a moment, an expression of vulnerable fury on her face, which quickly morphed into resignation.

“No, I almost screwed up today, but I’m not using right now. I’ve been clean years.”

Dask didn’t reply, instead he nodded.

“Listen, sir. I don’t want to get kicked out, I just got here and I want to make this work. The pay is good and you don’t seem like the worst boss I could’ve landed.” Estra said, almost in a panic.

“It’s okay, I admit, I wouldn’t have hired you. But Midori vouched for you quite strongly and I trust her judgement, now I’m beginning to see why. I’ve now come around to Midori’s point of view, but that is predicated on you staying off the sap, I need my crew to be able to see the galaxy with sober eyes,” Dask said.

“I… Thank you, Dask.” Estra replied.

“I don’t think we need anyone on sentry now, go inside and get some rest,” Dask told Estra.

Estra nodded, then headed up the ramp.

Battlefield Salvage - Vibroblade, Tracker Sight

Character Event - Dask, Time to move on but no effect because character is not currently in sick bay.

Donovan, Jones & Associates - Turn Three Pre Mission - Five Parsecs from Home

***

“You won’t be able to repair it without a new phasing coil, even if our onboard printer had the resolution we don’t have the materials for it,” Whilem said to Estra as he watched her working on his Blaster, which currently sat disassembled on a cleaning cloth in front of Estra.

Estra studied the phasing coil from multiple angles. At one stage it consisted of thousands of nano-scale superconductive wires wrapped around and connecting to a charge capacitor. The coil rather than being bright copper in colour had warped and discoloured from heat damage, and there was no disguising the ballooning sections of the charge capacitor, even if Estra was able to somehow un-fuse all of the nano-scale wiring, Whilem knew he would not feel comfortable firing an energy weapon with a charge capacitor on the verge of a spectacular failure.

They stood over a bench in the Hand of Fortune’s small machine and repair shop. While it was within spec for repairing starship components their reserve of spare parts for non-starship systems was small to non-existent.

“It is a unitised component, designed to be replaced after about five thousand shots. I don’t know where Dask purchased all of these small arms, but I believe that weapon has been used without maintenance well beyond its projected service life,” Whilem said.

“And we have no budget for this kind of maintenance, unless we pay for it out of our own wages?” Estra said with a frustrated tone.

“No,” Whilem said as he tested the weld on his boarding sabre that he had been attempting to mend. Almost immediately the simple join began to bend and give way.

Whilem sighed as well and put the weapon aside.

“Without proper materials and access to a grade three machine shop I wouldn’t trust any fix on this. Let’s go and see the captain.” Whilem grumbled.

“What are we going to say?” Estra asked.

“Let me handle it, we need to make it clear that we’ll need to pay for non-ship related expenses, especially if he drags us into more hot jobs like the last couple.” Whilem replied.

Whillem and Estra attempted to repair equipment, but both failed.

***

Dask and P’Hol found a new Patron Mission

Dask took a deep breath and sat down in the lounge on board the Hand of Fortune; he was alone, for the moment. The large couch that had been fitted by default still bore the livery of a long defunct passenger cruise line, and despite a decade in service the fit out crew had done an admirable job of restoring it. Dask let himself sink in the couch and closed his eyes.

The initial meeting with ETU had been productive and for his trouble Dask now had a new job for his crew. ETU, despite its name, was not the largest terraforming company in Unified Space, let alone Harlen’s World. They are a small player in a competitive market as every magnate in the core with money to spend was more than happy to burn it on moonshot terraforming investments in case they happen to pay back a century later with land rights to the next hottest tourist destination for the galaxy’s wealthy elite.

Harlen’s World had its own long history. It had endured being on the frontlines on multiple galactic wars, and during the last major Converter invasion, Harlen’s World had been subjected to a nuclear bombardment from both Unity and Converter warships, and the vicious on the ground fighting caused even more devastation. The population had fallen by almost three quarters, either dead, missing, or fled. Centuries later, the planet’s biosphere had mostly recovered, but the original settled population hadn’t bounced back. In the hinterlands there were massive abandoned towns and cities, either overgrown or fallen to ruins, and those ruins weren’t always unoccupied, which was the main thrust of ETU’s work.

The job was a simple one. ETU had deployed some remote weather monitoring stations some months back in an area that had been settled by a survivalist collective. ETU had decided that they would rather risk the lives of freelancers than their own employees to retrieve the weather station data. The problem was that the site was not easily accessible by air, so they would have to hike in through the survivalist’s territory first, and their leader had a bounty on their head for robbing outlying homesteads and towns.

Patron Job

Objective: Move Through

Notable Sights: Priority Targets

Opponents: Criminal Elements - Gunslingers

Dask heard the sound of footsteps coming from the machine shop and into the lounge. Dask opened his eyes and sat up as Whillem and Estra entered the lounge.

“Captain, we have a request,” Whillem said as he faced down Dask.

“Go on,” Dask said.

“We’re going to need a budget for equipment repairs,” Whilem declared.

“Okay, I’ll consider it after the payment from the next job comes through, but for now draw something from the armoury.” Dask replied.

Estra was about to speak up, but Whilem reached out and gently touched her wrist. As he did Estra closed her mouth and looked up at Whilem with an expression of petulant impatience.

“Estra, did you have something you want to say?” Dask asked.

“No, it’s not important,” Estra said with a sigh.

“Well, don’t go far. Once Shoutheri get’s back we’ve got an appointment at ETU’s office to go over the details of the next job this evening.” Dask said.

“Yes, sir,” Estra replied and sulked off.

Whilem shook his head, then headed towards the ship’s galley.

Dask didn’t have to wait long, he heard the sound of Shoutheri’s footsteps coming up the entry ramp. As Shoutheri strode into the lounge Dask nodded to Shoutheri.

“Shoutheri,” Dask said.

“Donovan,” Shoutheri replied, then strode off to his cabin.

Shoutheri Action - Explore - Found Trainer

Ten minutes later the crew had assembled and they set off towards ETU’s office for the briefing for the upcoming job.

The sun had set and the city lights of Calhoun City were winking to existence. The route to the ETU offices was through a low traffic industrial area. The area was a hell of rusting gantries and catwalks, most of it was old cargo handling and refining infrastructure that had long since been abandoned and left to rust. Few lived here except for the homeless, and others that didn’t want to be found.

“Hello friendos,” a voice called out from somewhere ahead of Dask and his party.

Dask and the party halted in their tracks as they spotted figures moving ahead of them.

“Good evening,” Dask replied and gestured for everyone to fan out, he then drew his gun and held it at the low ready by his side.

“Dask Donovan, my man. You are difficult to find. We’ve got a message from your brother,” the voice replied.

“Dask?” P’Hol asked as she dropped into a low crouch.

“We’ve got trouble,” Dask replied.

Rival Ambush

Deployment Condition: Gloomy

Notable Sights: Loot Cache

Rival Attack Roll - Brought Friends

Enemy Type: Criminal Elements - Gangers 7 opponents, 2 specialists

 

Donovan, Jones & Associates - Estra's Interstitial - Five Parsecs from Home

Estra sat on a pedestrian overpass that spanned across Navarro Boulevard, which ran almost the full length of Calhoun City’s north western quarter. She sat on the cold hard concrete of the structure and dangled her legs over the edge, which she swung back and forth in the open air as she leaned forward with her chin on the lower railing and watched the slow movements of the late afternoon pedestrian traffic. Every now and then she heard the hurried footsteps as people crossed the overpass behind her. Apart from that she had it to herself, and the local enforcers were nowhere to be seen. Estra decided that she would have another good half an hour to meditate at this spot before the enforcers would force her to move along.

Estra closed her eyes and cast her mind back to the events of the past twenty four hours. The flight out to the ruined, overgrown, reclamation zone, the trek through the forest, the fight against the Gellec, then the incident in the medical bay with Whillem. At that point Estra’s train of thought came crashing to a halt, and a lingering pulse of deep embarrassment welled up from within her.

Whillem’s creamy orange fur, in that moment had brought back a memory that had long since faded into the murk of her deep memory back into sharp relief in that moment. The feeling of Whillem’s fur in her hands, it had the exact same texture and colour of a stuffed toy that her parents had gifted her as a juvenile. She had slept with it every night until the beginning of her second decade, at which point it remained on the shelf and only came down at moments of great emotional distress to act as a source of comfort, and after the annexation of Estra’s homeworld there were many nights where that comfort was required.

Her mother and father were followers of Vralu, a major fertility deity within the Precursor pantheon. They had forsworn most high technology and instead opted for a life of simple pastoralism on the small colony world of Berslae that other followers of Vralu had first colonised centuries ago. She had been a difficult child; while her parents were devoted followers of Vralu, Estra had always been curious and inquisitive about the high technology of both her race and the wider galaxy, which put her at odds with her community. Breslae lay on the Precursor - K’Erin frontier and had been the subject of much K’Erin sabre rattling for generations, citing ancient treaties and survey claims. Eventually all of this boiled over into a short war of annexation, and as pacifists, the colonists of Breslae didn’t resist and surrendered to the K’Erin without a fight.

The K’Erin mostly left the followers of Vralu alone, aside from enforcing a modest tithe of the colonists' agricultural produce. Over the years the K’Erin built up a small fleet base and colony on the world. This meant that Estra had found herself with a fascinating source of high technology, the occupying K’Erin and their colonists.
Estra began to sneak into depots and stockpiles; she used bootlegged technical manuals to learn how to bypass locks and disable security systems. The K’Erin eventually caught her and deported her to a prison colony for twenty long years as punishment for her crimes. Those years broke and remade Estra, she endured the tournaments of her fellow inmates, and draconian punishments of her jailers. When the K’Erin finally released Estra, she knew she had been permanently changed by the experience.

Where Esta was once a curious and young precursor, barely out of her family’s household, there was now a jittery, damaged, and deranged woman; a shadow of the graceful being she once was. She couldn’t bear the thought of going home and letting her parents see her like this, so she drifted up and down the fringes for a hundred years, stealing, trading, and tinkering to support herself. For all she knew, her parents still made their home on Breslae and had kept that soft toy up on the shelf to this day.

Estra looked over her shoulder as she heard someone approaching from behind her. One hand drifted to the grip of the sawn off shotgun buried in the fold of her robes, but that impulse faded the moment she recognised the scraggly faced skulker that had approached her.

“Ah, so that was you, Estra. I knew I’d recognise that mound of rags anywhere.” the Skulker said.

“Azdel, I’m happy to see you,” Estra said with a smile as she leaned over and patted the concrete next to her.

“Care to sit a while and contemplate the view?” she asked.

“Of course, always a delight,” Azdel said as he shimmied over and slipped his legs over the side.

Azdel was in many ways like her, a misfit in his own way, but Skulkers tended to have a better time of it than other races. While Estra had a fascination with technology, Azdel had a fascination with religion and philosophy, and collected them as one a more mundane hobbyist would collect rare coins. Azdel’s neck and wrists were laden with necklaces and bracelets that hung with the icons of a hundred different religions from all of the races of the galaxy. The old skulker now looked at Estra out of the corner of his eye and smiled.

“How long has it been since you were last on Harlen’s World? You don’t appear to have aged one bit.” Azdel said.

“Twenty years, and I see that time has not ravaged you as much as I thought it would’ve,” Estra replied.

“I’m young in spirit, how have you fared since our last meeting?” Azdel asked.

“I’m doing better. A friend of mine, Midori, got me a spot on a crew. I’m going to see how long this lasts, but so far it has worked out okay. How about you, Az?”

“I’m now matching buyers to sellers in the agricultural trades business. I’ve pulled out of the antiquities business, there are too many forgeries floating around, it was tanking the market value for legitimate finds. The agricultural commissions are decent, but trade is slowing down, and the corps are starting to muscle in directly. I’m going to have to find something else soon. I ran with an independent crew, back in my youth. It can be lucrative, but it can just as easily kill you while you’re young. No, this life suits me now. Adventure is for the young ones.” Azdel said as he shivered a little bit and pulled his jacket tighter around his body to keep out the wind chill.

“I think I’ve been going it alone for too long, I’m going to try to make the most of this opportunity, I don’t think I have scared them off yet, I hope,” Estra said with less conviction than she felt.

“I also have a nice cabin, it is small but it is warm and cosy. I thought I got used to never sleeping in the same spot two decades ago, but this has reminded me of how much I miss a nice, safe place where I can sleep without worry that I’m going to get robbed, or murdered.” Estra realised that she was beginning to ramble.

Azdel smiled and reached over and clapped Estra on the shoulder.

“I’m happy for you, last time we met you really weren’t all there. But you seem to be doing well now, I like this change.” Azdel said.

Estra looked away from Azdel and studied the toes of her boots. A trace of anxiety began to gnaw at her, the fear of going back to that time welled up in her again.

“Listen, Az. Do you still have your side business?” Estra asked as a terrible feeling of want rose up from deep within her psyche.

Azdel blinked, then looked away. The old skulker had contacts on Harlen’s World and could barely break even on the assorted schemes and enterprises that he had up in the air. Azdel’s real source of income was his connection with smugglers and all of the wildly illegal narcotics that they brought in from labs hidden beyond the reach of Unity.

“You appear to be in a good place right now, I’d rather not ruin that for you,” Azdel replied in a cautious tone.

“I know, but listen. I’ve been clean for years, but if I have a bad time and need to take the edge off it I would like to have a little stash that I can draw on.” Estra said.

This was Estra’s secret shame, the prison colony that she had been sent was awash with narcotics. The first time she had broken the colony’s rules she was sentenced to a caning. A human inmate took pity on her and gave her half a gram of Blue Willow Sap to ease the pain of the punishment. Blue Willow Sap was an excellent pain killer, a powerful euphoric agent, and tremendously addictive. Soon enough, Estra found that she couldn’t live without it, as the intense feelings that the drug brought on made the misery of the prison colony more tolerable, and even after she had been released she had never quite managed to kick the habit, and not for lack of trying. The last few years she had stayed away from the stuff, but often as she tried to meditate or lay awake at night, in those quiet moments of thought and contemplation, the carvings came back. At another time Azdel had enabled her addiction, she must have fenced hundreds of credits of stolen, salvaged, and repaired technology to him in exchange for a steady supply of the Sap.

Azdel sighed in a very human manner and turned to look her in the eyes.

“Can you pay?” Azdel asked.

Estra took a credit chit out of a pocket and was about to hand it over. She held a good chunk of her remaining sign on bonus in her hand and was about to drop it in Azdel’s paw. Before she could Azdel shook his head, withdrew and stood up.

“No, I can’t do this to you. I won’t. Get help, Estra, and whatever gods you keep, may they guide you through this safely.” Azdel said, then turned and walked away.

“Wait, come back!” Estra yelled as she scrambled to her feet and began to follow, but Azdel stepped up his pace and disappeared into the crowds.

Estra stood there for a moment and felt another fresh bout of shame wash over her. She had been doing so well, clean of her Sap problem for years and in a moment of weakness she almost had ruined it like this had done many times before. She felt the old, familiar sense of self loathing rise up as she turned around and walked away.

She climbed down from the overpass and headed north along Navarro Boulevard, she stopped at a noodle stand to buy two containers of fresh stir fry and then continued on her way. The sun had set by the time she reached the Hand of Fortune at the landing fields. She climbed up the ramp, keyed her access code, then stepped through the hatch as it slid open with a hiss.

The corridors were empty, which suited Estra just fine. She then made her way to the sick bay and made sure to take the side passages to avoid the crew lounge. There were sounds of low conversation coming from that area and Estra didn’t want to run into anyone at the moment. Estra stepped into the sick bay and spotted Midori, who rolled over and looked as Estra as she approached.

“Hey, what’s up?” Midori asked as she manoeuvred herself into a sitting position.

“Dinner is what is up, I thought you may have been getting sick of the packaged rations, and I know that no one else on this boat will cook us a fresh meal.” Estra said as she plopped one of the containers of stir fry in Midori’s lap.

Midori stared at it for a second, then scooped it up, detached the pair of disposable chopsticks from the container and then opened the lid and took a moment to savour the aroma. Estra smiled and did the same.

“You are a goddess, Estra.” Midori said, then scooped a mouthful of noodles out and stuffed them into her mouth and took a good thirty seconds to enjoy the flavour.

Estra smiled and tucked into her meal with slightly less enthusiasm.

“Listen, I wanted to express my gratitude for getting me this job,” Estra said to Midori in between mouthfuls of noodles.

“It’s all good, I’ve been hoping to get you something stable for a while now. I think it would do you good and that you will do right by us. I’m sure things will improve once the others get used to you.” Midori said.

Estra shook her head then put her noodles on the nightstand by the bed.

“Listen, I wanted to apologise to you about what happened with Whilem today, I got weird didn’t I?” Estra asked.

“Don’t worry, he thinks that you’re harmless.” Midori replied.

Estra snorted back a laugh at that news.

“I’m glad, listen. I like it on the ship, I want to make it my home as much as I can. It’s clean and warm, there is plenty of food and the pay is okay. The people are mostly pretty good as well, apart from P’Hol.” Estra said.

Midori chuckled slightly.

“I’m sure she’s fine, she just takes herself very seriously.” Midori said.

“I do like Whillem, he’s dignified and serene without being arrogant. I still feel like a creep over what happened between us today, what I said came out wrong, then there was the touching…” Estra trailed off then looked away.

“Can you tell him I’m sorry?” Estra asked.

“Estra, it’s okay. I’m sure there will be plenty of time to get used to each-other. Maybe you should tell him yourself?” Midori said.

“Maybe,” Estra said.

“Can I get you to do one more thing for me?” Estra asked.

“Sure, as long as it is not running a marathon, I don’t think I’m in shape for that yet,” Midori replied.

“If I’m making a mess of things, please pull me aside and let me know. I don’t want to ruin this opportunity.” Estra said.

“Of course, I am your friend, but I’m also the ship’s executive officer. I will make sure to keep you on course.” Midori replied.

“Thank you, Midori. I appreciate it.” Estra said.

“Well, as your commanding officer, can you do me a favour and turn on that monitor over there?” Midori asked and gestured to one of the blank video monitors that was fitted into the wall.

“Sure,” Estra said and did as instructed.

Estra found the power switch and turned it on. As the monitor hummed to life, Midori tapped a control on her nightstand and queued up several episodes from her favourite teledrama, something that involved ancient human mythology that Estra wasn’t familiar with. The two women sat back and ate in silence while the opening title of the show started to roll.