Traveller, Session 1: Flammarion High Port
Jun. 8th, 2023 05:07 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
janestarzSession 1: Flammarion High Port
June 7, 2023 / 001-1104
The High Port on Flammarion in stationary orbit around the planet was packed with ships and shuttles. Ships unable to land on the planet itself would come here to pick up or drop off cargo and shuttles would ferry passengers from the surface to High Port to catch their ride.
After the docks and the customs offices the rest of High Port was open to everyone visiting. The bars and general areas were bustling on this first day of the year 1104. Civilians were rowdy, drinking, carousing and celebrating whatever they wanted, even if it was officially a celebration of Emperor Strephon's birthday, and the anniversary of the founding of the Third Imperium. The place smelled of human and alien sweat, stale liquor, beer and piss, although the latter two were probably not far off being closely related.
A human male with caramel skin and short black hair sat alone at a table, observing the people in the bar. It was a habit he picked up during his time as a detective and he had never really shaken it. His dark hair was cut longer on top but shaved close to the scalp at the sides, and it was styled to stay in place even in low G. His hand reached up to rub his clean-shaven chin and then he picked up his drink to sip. In the bar full of happy people drinking and dancing, the people at the next table seemed troubled. A younger man with a neatly trimmed beard and a belter tattoo on his face was leaning back in his seat while an older man with greying hair was hunched over his drink. The older man with a face like a clenched fist was big, his muscles clearly stood out and him hunching over his drink did nothing to hide his build. Not to Qupar watching them, at least. He suspected that the two could be trouble for whoever picked a fight with them. The younger man with the tattooed face seemed a little more mild-mannered than his companion, or at least his face wasn't set to the perpetual scowl the bigger man was sporting. They seemed to be eavesdropping on the people at yet another table, trying not to show their interest.
The subjects of their attention were a group of three: two humans and a bwap. A reptilian species looking like overgrown salamanders, bwap were still smaller than humans. It was wearing some sort of caftan, and animatedly talking to the human female in a simple zippered jumpsuit at the table. Her hair, a dark chestnut brown, was tied back to not interfere with machinery, if that was her kind of job. The last person at their table was an overweight man with greasy shoulder-length brown hair. At his side was a satchel that seemed to hold some kind of electronics. He was nursing a drink like it was the first of many, and his eyes peered through a wrap-around style of glasses that curved from ear to ear. They were interrupted by a tall man approaching the table.
"Moira McCarthan, and why, if it isn't Postman Bwap himself." the tall man said.
The bwap made a coughing sound, lifted an admonishing finger and corrected the human. "James Jameson, you know perfectly well my name is Parappa."
"And you can call me Jamie." He took a seat, rubbed his upper lip, and bent forward a little, ignoring the third person at the table who was just quietly sipping his drink. "How's things on your rust bucket?"
"Still flying;" the human female said. Her voice was melodious, something you could listen to for hours. "It's in fine shape, and we aim to keep it that way. On both counts."
"I might have a job for you, but..." Jamie's eyes flickered around the room nervously. "...not here. The walls have ears. Airlocks too. You know how it is. Let's meet up tomorrow. Where are you berched?"
"Dock Six."
At that answer, Jamie got up, lifted his drink and toasted; "To the Imperium!"
After swigging his drink, he sauntered off in the crowd, looking for his next few drinks and amiable companionship.
Parappa was just about to say goodbye to Jamie's retreating figure when Moira spoke. "We need a new job, but it'll be tight. No crew to run the ship, no crew to back us up. I'd be the sole navigator, and I'd like to sleep every now and then."
Parappa nodded. "We can't run the ship all day and night, we will need our rest as well."
At the next table over, the two men stood and sauntered over to them. The more muscular of the two spoke first. "I overheard what you said just now. Myles here might be able to help you out with the navigation, and I'm sure I can be of service as well. My skills are very versatile. Name's Hasta Navis and this here is Myles Brayden."
The three looked the two men over, and turned to the side to schmooze.
"That could be a stroke of luck;" Parappa said; "Or the start of trouble."
"Do we really have a choice?" Moira sighed softly, keeping her voice down. "We could see what Jamie has to say tomorrow when he shows up at the ship. See if the job fits to these people. Try them out for a while."
Qupar glanced over to another part of the bar where some of the assembled people were not carousing or celebrating Empire Day either. It made them stand out like a lump in a warm glass of milk, just floating like flotsam. Their clothes were nondescript, worn but comfortable, and roomy enough that weapons might be stashed under them, although customs would probably have taken them off them when they entered High Port. Their behaviour, demeanour and attire would be screaming "Thug!" if that had been anything but an invitation to be beaten up.
Qupar swirled his drink, making sure not to stare. These people were up to something, and they seemed to be paying a lot of attention to the table with the bwap, even after the two humans stepped up to him and his human companions.
He glanced back at the thugs. Several of them had gotten up from their seats with that 'check your weapon' shrug that Qupar had seen many times before, and half of the group disappeared in the crowd, possibly through one of the doors in the back wall. The rest were still very interested in the other table.
The bwap looked startled as another human approached the table.
"I overheard your conversations just now, and I will advise you to move the discussion to a more secure location." Qupar said. "I wasn't the only one listening, and I'm not the only one interested in whatever you have going on, but I am probably one of the nicer ones. There's a bunch of thugs in the back of the room that are very keen on keeping an eye on you, and some of their group just moved to get reinforcements so they can make a move. Let's get you to that safe location."
He sighed, and added as an afterthought: "I'm Qupar Vahj by the way. I used to be in Law Enforcement."
The bwap was visibly agitated, and urged the others to get up as well. "Let's get back to the ship."
"How secure is your ship?" Qupar asked.
"Just the standard airlock." Moira answered. "Anything else will have to go on the List."
The capital L was audible in her statement. Apparently the List was a Thing, and there were more than a few Things on the List.
"They probably heard where you are docked as well as I did. If they come knocking, we might be able to hold them off in that tight space though." Qupar indicated the muscular man. "He looks like he can hold his own."
Hasta collected his stowed duffel from a locker in the Customs office. It was a large bag, it looked quite heavy, but he didn't seem to be having any trouble lifting it. As he slung the bag over a shoulder, several large metallic items went 'clunk' loudly. To Qupar it sounded like rifles, but what kind he didn't know.
They entered the Penelope through the airlock and Moira closed off the ship tightly. Parappa was bustling about in the cargo bay while the others looked around. It was quite empty. The Penelope might be a Far Trader, but it was clearly not trading anything at that moment.
With them all secure in the ship, it was time for a round of introductions. Hasta was the oldest of the lot, and spoke of his time as Space Marines, jumping out of the planes Myles would be flying. Qupar nodded, he had seen from his distinctive stance that the man had been in military training. The human with the greasy hair that had been nursing a drink at Parappa and Moira's table introduced himself as Dendr, a former journalist. He had a face that seemed to invite people to punch him, but maybe he was a fast talker and got himself out of trouble that way.
Moira served some of the booze they had on board, and they all toasted to the Empire.
The next morning there was a loud banging on the airlock. As they scrambled to open it, still bleary eyed from their celebrations, a call came.
"Open up in the name of the Imperium!"
It sounded official. After sharing a look amongst themselves, they opened up the airlock door to a dozen Space Marines in full gear.
"...yes? Can we help you?" Parappa said questioningly.
"You are to come with us for questioning!" The Space Marine at the front barked.
Moira nodded docilely, but Hasta put out his muscle-bulging arm to stop her from walking forward. "Listen;" Hasta said. "I've been in the service, can I ask what's going on?"
The commanding officer looked Hasta up and down and nodded politely, clearly noticing a fellow marine, possibly a veteran of the service. "These are our orders. We've been tasked to collect you and bring you in for questioning." He turned to one of the squad. "Cuff them."
"Is that really necessary?" asked Moira quietly.
"Protocol." The Space Marine replied without looking at her.
Moira put her arms forward and was handcuffed not ungently. As the Space Marines moved to handcuff Parappa and Dendr, Hasta looked at Qupar, who shrugged. It conveyed a "might as well see what they want" without words.
As they were jostled through Customs in handcuffs people turned to stare. It was rare to see people escorted by Space Marines, and this was a full squad no less. The handcuffs were the finishing touch and a murmur rose from the crowd, causing more people to turn and stare. Aside from being handcuffed they were all nursing a hangover so they probably looked about as bad as they felt. A bunch of ragamuffins being escorted in cuffs by Space Marines, what is the High Port coming to?
Their handcuffs were fastened to a bar that was bolted to a table that in turn was bolted to the floor. Moira looked pale but Dendr just looked annoyed.
"When they come in to question us, do not speak." Qupar instructed. "Let them do the talking."
It took quite a while until an officer in a uniform of the Scout Services came in with an aide. He looked at the people cuffed to the table for a moment and then whispered to the aide "Are these the ones?"
The aide replied immediately; "Yes, they are".
At that, the aide left the room and the officer took a long look at each and every one in turn. When his gaze fell on Hasta, there was an imperceptible nod. As he turned to look at Myles, there was a smaller, lesser, imperceptible nod. Finally, when his gaze fell on Parappa, he murmured; "Postman Bwap".
At that, Parappa bristled. "What's going on? Why are we here? I am quite sure there are regulations about holding people in cells that you should follow."
Qupar rolled his eyes for a moment at the bwap, but then turned to the officer. "What are we being charged with?"
The cold emotionless reply was like a blow to the chin. "You have been arrested on suspicion of murdering an Imperial Scout."
Read the next entry in this campaign.
Read the first entry in this campaign.
June 7, 2023 / 001-1104
The High Port on Flammarion in stationary orbit around the planet was packed with ships and shuttles. Ships unable to land on the planet itself would come here to pick up or drop off cargo and shuttles would ferry passengers from the surface to High Port to catch their ride.
After the docks and the customs offices the rest of High Port was open to everyone visiting. The bars and general areas were bustling on this first day of the year 1104. Civilians were rowdy, drinking, carousing and celebrating whatever they wanted, even if it was officially a celebration of Emperor Strephon's birthday, and the anniversary of the founding of the Third Imperium. The place smelled of human and alien sweat, stale liquor, beer and piss, although the latter two were probably not far off being closely related.
A human male with caramel skin and short black hair sat alone at a table, observing the people in the bar. It was a habit he picked up during his time as a detective and he had never really shaken it. His dark hair was cut longer on top but shaved close to the scalp at the sides, and it was styled to stay in place even in low G. His hand reached up to rub his clean-shaven chin and then he picked up his drink to sip. In the bar full of happy people drinking and dancing, the people at the next table seemed troubled. A younger man with a neatly trimmed beard and a belter tattoo on his face was leaning back in his seat while an older man with greying hair was hunched over his drink. The older man with a face like a clenched fist was big, his muscles clearly stood out and him hunching over his drink did nothing to hide his build. Not to Qupar watching them, at least. He suspected that the two could be trouble for whoever picked a fight with them. The younger man with the tattooed face seemed a little more mild-mannered than his companion, or at least his face wasn't set to the perpetual scowl the bigger man was sporting. They seemed to be eavesdropping on the people at yet another table, trying not to show their interest.
The subjects of their attention were a group of three: two humans and a bwap. A reptilian species looking like overgrown salamanders, bwap were still smaller than humans. It was wearing some sort of caftan, and animatedly talking to the human female in a simple zippered jumpsuit at the table. Her hair, a dark chestnut brown, was tied back to not interfere with machinery, if that was her kind of job. The last person at their table was an overweight man with greasy shoulder-length brown hair. At his side was a satchel that seemed to hold some kind of electronics. He was nursing a drink like it was the first of many, and his eyes peered through a wrap-around style of glasses that curved from ear to ear. They were interrupted by a tall man approaching the table.
"Moira McCarthan, and why, if it isn't Postman Bwap himself." the tall man said.
The bwap made a coughing sound, lifted an admonishing finger and corrected the human. "James Jameson, you know perfectly well my name is Parappa."
"And you can call me Jamie." He took a seat, rubbed his upper lip, and bent forward a little, ignoring the third person at the table who was just quietly sipping his drink. "How's things on your rust bucket?"
"Still flying;" the human female said. Her voice was melodious, something you could listen to for hours. "It's in fine shape, and we aim to keep it that way. On both counts."
"I might have a job for you, but..." Jamie's eyes flickered around the room nervously. "...not here. The walls have ears. Airlocks too. You know how it is. Let's meet up tomorrow. Where are you berched?"
"Dock Six."
At that answer, Jamie got up, lifted his drink and toasted; "To the Imperium!"
After swigging his drink, he sauntered off in the crowd, looking for his next few drinks and amiable companionship.
Parappa was just about to say goodbye to Jamie's retreating figure when Moira spoke. "We need a new job, but it'll be tight. No crew to run the ship, no crew to back us up. I'd be the sole navigator, and I'd like to sleep every now and then."
Parappa nodded. "We can't run the ship all day and night, we will need our rest as well."
At the next table over, the two men stood and sauntered over to them. The more muscular of the two spoke first. "I overheard what you said just now. Myles here might be able to help you out with the navigation, and I'm sure I can be of service as well. My skills are very versatile. Name's Hasta Navis and this here is Myles Brayden."
The three looked the two men over, and turned to the side to schmooze.
"That could be a stroke of luck;" Parappa said; "Or the start of trouble."
"Do we really have a choice?" Moira sighed softly, keeping her voice down. "We could see what Jamie has to say tomorrow when he shows up at the ship. See if the job fits to these people. Try them out for a while."
Qupar glanced over to another part of the bar where some of the assembled people were not carousing or celebrating Empire Day either. It made them stand out like a lump in a warm glass of milk, just floating like flotsam. Their clothes were nondescript, worn but comfortable, and roomy enough that weapons might be stashed under them, although customs would probably have taken them off them when they entered High Port. Their behaviour, demeanour and attire would be screaming "Thug!" if that had been anything but an invitation to be beaten up.
Qupar swirled his drink, making sure not to stare. These people were up to something, and they seemed to be paying a lot of attention to the table with the bwap, even after the two humans stepped up to him and his human companions.
He glanced back at the thugs. Several of them had gotten up from their seats with that 'check your weapon' shrug that Qupar had seen many times before, and half of the group disappeared in the crowd, possibly through one of the doors in the back wall. The rest were still very interested in the other table.
The bwap looked startled as another human approached the table.
"I overheard your conversations just now, and I will advise you to move the discussion to a more secure location." Qupar said. "I wasn't the only one listening, and I'm not the only one interested in whatever you have going on, but I am probably one of the nicer ones. There's a bunch of thugs in the back of the room that are very keen on keeping an eye on you, and some of their group just moved to get reinforcements so they can make a move. Let's get you to that safe location."
He sighed, and added as an afterthought: "I'm Qupar Vahj by the way. I used to be in Law Enforcement."
The bwap was visibly agitated, and urged the others to get up as well. "Let's get back to the ship."
"How secure is your ship?" Qupar asked.
"Just the standard airlock." Moira answered. "Anything else will have to go on the List."
The capital L was audible in her statement. Apparently the List was a Thing, and there were more than a few Things on the List.
"They probably heard where you are docked as well as I did. If they come knocking, we might be able to hold them off in that tight space though." Qupar indicated the muscular man. "He looks like he can hold his own."
Hasta collected his stowed duffel from a locker in the Customs office. It was a large bag, it looked quite heavy, but he didn't seem to be having any trouble lifting it. As he slung the bag over a shoulder, several large metallic items went 'clunk' loudly. To Qupar it sounded like rifles, but what kind he didn't know.
They entered the Penelope through the airlock and Moira closed off the ship tightly. Parappa was bustling about in the cargo bay while the others looked around. It was quite empty. The Penelope might be a Far Trader, but it was clearly not trading anything at that moment.
With them all secure in the ship, it was time for a round of introductions. Hasta was the oldest of the lot, and spoke of his time as Space Marines, jumping out of the planes Myles would be flying. Qupar nodded, he had seen from his distinctive stance that the man had been in military training. The human with the greasy hair that had been nursing a drink at Parappa and Moira's table introduced himself as Dendr, a former journalist. He had a face that seemed to invite people to punch him, but maybe he was a fast talker and got himself out of trouble that way.
Moira served some of the booze they had on board, and they all toasted to the Empire.
The next morning there was a loud banging on the airlock. As they scrambled to open it, still bleary eyed from their celebrations, a call came.
"Open up in the name of the Imperium!"
It sounded official. After sharing a look amongst themselves, they opened up the airlock door to a dozen Space Marines in full gear.
"...yes? Can we help you?" Parappa said questioningly.
"You are to come with us for questioning!" The Space Marine at the front barked.
Moira nodded docilely, but Hasta put out his muscle-bulging arm to stop her from walking forward. "Listen;" Hasta said. "I've been in the service, can I ask what's going on?"
The commanding officer looked Hasta up and down and nodded politely, clearly noticing a fellow marine, possibly a veteran of the service. "These are our orders. We've been tasked to collect you and bring you in for questioning." He turned to one of the squad. "Cuff them."
"Is that really necessary?" asked Moira quietly.
"Protocol." The Space Marine replied without looking at her.
Moira put her arms forward and was handcuffed not ungently. As the Space Marines moved to handcuff Parappa and Dendr, Hasta looked at Qupar, who shrugged. It conveyed a "might as well see what they want" without words.
As they were jostled through Customs in handcuffs people turned to stare. It was rare to see people escorted by Space Marines, and this was a full squad no less. The handcuffs were the finishing touch and a murmur rose from the crowd, causing more people to turn and stare. Aside from being handcuffed they were all nursing a hangover so they probably looked about as bad as they felt. A bunch of ragamuffins being escorted in cuffs by Space Marines, what is the High Port coming to?
Their handcuffs were fastened to a bar that was bolted to a table that in turn was bolted to the floor. Moira looked pale but Dendr just looked annoyed.
"When they come in to question us, do not speak." Qupar instructed. "Let them do the talking."
It took quite a while until an officer in a uniform of the Scout Services came in with an aide. He looked at the people cuffed to the table for a moment and then whispered to the aide "Are these the ones?"
The aide replied immediately; "Yes, they are".
At that, the aide left the room and the officer took a long look at each and every one in turn. When his gaze fell on Hasta, there was an imperceptible nod. As he turned to look at Myles, there was a smaller, lesser, imperceptible nod. Finally, when his gaze fell on Parappa, he murmured; "Postman Bwap".
At that, Parappa bristled. "What's going on? Why are we here? I am quite sure there are regulations about holding people in cells that you should follow."
Qupar rolled his eyes for a moment at the bwap, but then turned to the officer. "What are we being charged with?"
The cold emotionless reply was like a blow to the chin. "You have been arrested on suspicion of murdering an Imperial Scout."
Read the next entry in this campaign.
Read the first entry in this campaign.
