The attack is by bots. Keeper is correct. It is very annoying. 

Why, thank you! 

I'll have to give it some thought.

Huzzah!

Ya! I'm here.

I only have two posts. Need more, folks. Thanks to those who have already posted.

I haven't heard from Crowe in some time. Has anyone?

Stop hurting yourself!

Are we waiting on me to continue?

What are we waiting on here? Just want to make sure I'm not holding anything up.

Giddy has been working double shifts. He's let me know that he hopes to have a post up soon but seeing as how this is the government controlling his life, I'd suggest we look at this as a Holiday break.

The Upstairs Downstairs Inc. Building - 8th Floor | Night City Integrate | Midcity | UrbanZone - March 9th, Day 3 (Sunday), 3:22 AM PST

Weather Conditions: High City (Thunderstorms, 15mph winds from the NE.) | Midcity (Rain, 10mph winds from the NE.) | Undercity (Fog and Rain, no winds.)

Air Quality Index: High City = 25 | Midcity = 42 | Undercity = 75 (masks required)

As his radio squawks, Fixer hears Vegas ask about the others in the squad.  "Who has the other radio? Did we lose the others?"

He thought a bit and worried remarks, "We need to move—we have two tasks that can not wait.  One: That hardware needs to be examined. Pronto. We need to search it and then ditch it. It might be traceable and we don't want it in our possession once somebody spots that little door we just made. So find a place where the lady can do her magic in private and then dump the junk. And hopefully, that tells us where to go next because we need some sort of clue soon or we have an even bigger problem. Two: If we lost Ghlahn and Charlie, they know who we are and what we were doing. We are out of the building—I don't want to get dragged back into it.  We need to make sure the whole team splits this block fast." He looked at Vegas and Casino. "This is your show now. What's the plan?"

Looking over at Bloodbank, Casino’s eyes are wide in disbelief behind his combat mask. Not wanting to think on the possible ramifications of a second loss of communication, he shakes his head.

“Unf***ing beliveable” A deep breath and the big solo looks to the rest. “I’ll try to hook up with him, let’s meet back at that small diner we hooked up before.”

“No,” Vegas shakes his head, “Casino, get the team to a safe place nearby. I’ll go get Ghlahn. Fixer believes that there’s a clock on this, so make it somewhere nearby and stay in radio contact.” Not waiting for confirmation, Vegas slaps his partner’s uninjured shoulder and turns to stride away leaving the remainder of the edgerunners waiting on Casino’s lead.

“Look,” Blossom remarks as though the information she’s sharing doesn’t really matter. “Fixer’s probs right. Many companies rig these boxes with tracing hardware in case some of their employees decide to make a few bucks selling surplus. So, we need to find someplace secure where I can jack in and do my full data transfer. Give me a quarter and I’ll make this pony dance.”

“Subway, maybe?” Echo steps up to the blonde solo so that their shoulders are touching. “We might be able to find a corner and give her some cover while she works. It’s close.”

(OOC: March 9th, Day 3 - Sunday, Time is 03:24 AM PST)

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

Near the Parking Garage two blocks from the Upstairs Downstairs Inc. Building | Night City Integrate | Midcity | UrbanZone - March 9th, Day 3 (Sunday), 03:05 AM PST

Weather Conditions: High City (Thunderstorms, 15mph winds from the NE.) | Midcity (Rain, 10mph winds from the NE.) | Undercity (Fog and Rain, no winds.)

Air Quality Index: High City = 25 | Midcity = 42 | Undercity = 75 (masks required)

“This is your last chance!” One of the men calls out, his voice echoing throughout the garage. Unfortunately, Ghlahn was unable to get the drop on them. They are obviously trained and have experience in this type of situation. “You don’t need to die tonight, choomba. Just surrender to us and we’ll iron everything out.”

“You’ve not done anything wrong, right?” another voice calls from that same direction. “You got a car up here? There’s no reason to be scared.”

Ghalan curses his luck. Not only did the sec team find him but they appear to be fairly competent. He doesn’t want to go down that road to surrendering if he can avoid it, so he digs in.

"Well, it seems we agree on one thing right off the bat, no one has to die here tonight. I was just up here staying out of that mess down below. The way that mob was acting there had no good outcome. This seemed a good place to stay out of the way and watch what happened. You all did a first rate job dispersing that crowd, I must say.

“As for coming with you and clearing things up, that is not gonna happen. I have done nothing wrong—you are correct about that. How about you just head back down and I'll make my way home and we all wake up tomorrow. I don't want a confrontation but believe me, I can make life miserable for your wives and kids is you push me too far."

Ghlahn hopes that if he can keep them talking until the others might show up and save his butt.  If not, it is going to get ugly quickly.

“You’re not doing yourself any favors here, choombatta,” calls out the first voice. “If you aren’t trespassing, your tag will prove your story. Refuse to comply and we’re going to have to assume you’re not supposed to be here. You see what kind of situation you’re in?”

“We’re not the only team up here,” a second voice drifts through the garage. “You have absolutely no way out. Don’t be a dick.”

Corporate security isn’t known for patience and if they do have another team moving about on that level then Ghlahn will be facing a minimum of six opponents and possibly eight to ten. Not to mention that his back is to a chain fence. A well-placed sniper could take him out from behind.

(OOC: March 9th, Day 3 - Sunday, Time is 03:07 AM PST)

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the Long Mile Fueling Station | SanFran Integrate | Midcity | UrbanZone - March 9th, Day 3 (Sunday), 5:00 AM PST --- Weather Conditions: High City (heavy rain, 20mph winds from the N.) | Midcity (light rain, 10mph winds from the N.) | Undercity (fog and drizzle, no winds.)

Air Quality Index: High City = 15 | Midcity = 36 | Undercity = 86 (masks required - Red warning)

After a half hour on the phone with Blackbird, Cred Stick Charlie has managed to wheedle her down by 50 credits for the printer and the modular holographic imprinter taking the price to 900 credits. He’s positive that this is as low as she’s going to go and she seems to be losing patience. He’s still got a half hour before the navigation unit claims he’ll be at the office building where Upstairs Downstairs is housed, time to either finalize the deal or cut bait and move on.

First, he has to gain some rapport. Then, he needs to make Blackbird2500 believe that the whole deal is a win/win and he does this by prying into other potential sales items she may have on hand and expressing interest. As it turns out, she’s liquidating old office furniture for her company.

She’s a senior tech officer and it’s her job to get something for the highly depreciated equipment. Chairs, desks, some bookshelves, fake trees, and a couple of printers.

Charlie splits his screen and begins his research to see if someone needs some office furniture, and attempt to have it sold before touching anything. There are prebuilt search bots that a person can use to search the many different libraries of players online. Not every app hits every library, but some that are available on the Dark Web are way better than those that are accessible by the common corporate drone. Cred Stick Charlie has been using a Dark Web app for just this sort of thing for years and it is to this that he now turns, entering in the keywords and setting it to work. Returning his attention to the top portion of his agent’s screen, he continues his current negotiations.

The Gearlogix has been used for close to six years and doesn’t appear to have anything wrong with it. The other equipment bears the marks of regularly used office equipment but is salvageable.

Now that he has her where he wants her (the whole thing has been going well-enough as Blackbird appears to be in dire need of conversation), it is time to begin working the deal. Deftly steering the conversation back to the Gearlogix and Hologenics offering, Luther offers a very low-ball price, cushioning the offer with the potential to help take the other items off her hands. Blackbird is handling the play pretty well and Luther isn’t altogether positive that she isn’t plying her own tricks but he is still gaining the upper hand and continues the work.

After a half hour on the phone with Blackbird, Cred Stick Charlie has managed to wheedle her down by 50 credits for the printer and the modular holographic imprinter taking the price to 900 credits. He’s positive that this is as low as she’s going to go and she seems to be losing patience.

Returning to the bottom screen, he checks on the search results which have been presented according to his preference of urgency ratings. There are five people total who can make use of the office equipment right away.

== Text Message ==

I’ve worked 14 hrs already. Tired. Deal?

== End Text Message ==

(OOC: March 9th, Day 3 - Sunday, Time is 5:03 AM PST)

Stardate: 2365.03.29 (Sunday - 42031.4)
USS George Washington Carver, Bridge, Deck 1 - 1050 Alpha Shift

…

=/= Falcone to Commander Cole. =/=

“Cole here. Go ahead.”

=/= Just finished all the tests, Sir. The WaveRider is ready to go. =/=

“Well done, Mr. Falcone. Please join us on the bridge. We’re coming up on Rho Puppis I and I think you’ll enjoy getting a first look along with the rest of us.”

Switching off the comm, Max glances at the console to his right that sits between his and Captain Rouhani’s chair. Everything is on schedule, he acknowledges as he peruses the information streaming across the screen.

“Report, Mr. Stark,” Cmdr. Cole orders of the Chief Security Officer. The information that the man has access to concerning their destination is constantly being updated by various scans his team are monitoring and protocol is to keep all security questions answered before they become a potential problem. With less than ten minutes to go before the George Washington Carver enters orbit, the time to wrap everything up is now.

(OOC: Stark’s report… I’ll type out any response Max needs to make if necessary. )

“Mr. McGinty?” Max continues his rounds.

“Sir,” Lt. McGinty frowns into her screen. “I’m reading quite an array of various minerals surrounding the planet. A number of them are unknown.”

“Elaborate, please.”

“Well, sir, we have elements that register within Federation databases but there are chemical combinations—and unknown minerals—that have never been cataloged.” Excitement is building in the woman’s voice.

Well, this is why we’re here, right? Max nods and pushes himself up from his chair. Tugging down on his shirt front he steps towards the helm station. “Section off the viewscreen, Ops, and bring up a side-by-side.”

“Aye, sir,” Siric complies.

Analyzing the readings, Max frowns and scratches his beard. There are too many unknowns. It’s like going to a Thanksgiving Dinner with relatives that you’ve never met. Lt. McGinty speaks up from her station.

“Sir, short-range scans have met with a layer of impenetrable substance at least fifty kilometers thick outside of the planet’s exosphere.”

“Boost that scan, Mr. Wilhelm,” Cole orders, narrowing his eyes at the screen’s image of the planet. The orb looks to be completely covered by a silvery-blue cloud that swirls and twists like tumultuous waters.

(OOC: Wilhelm’s response… )

“It’s no good, sir,” McGinty reports after a moment. “The scans aren’t able to penetrate.”

“Mr. Wilhelm?” Max turns to the engineer and raises his eyebrows.

(OOC: Wilhelm’s answer… )

Stardate 2365.02.19
USS Peregrine; Deck 3, Crew Quarters – 1705

Chirp

“Come in,” Lauren sits up and cradles the padd against her chest in surprise. It’s probably someone for Merida, she thinks.

With a pronounced swish in the relative silence of the crew quarters, the door slides open admitting a tall Andorian woman with a militaristic bearing. Scrambling to her feet, Lauren Crane feels naked in her sweatpants and undershirt, barefoot with her hair in a loose ponytail, messier rather than kept.

“At ease,” Asovil waves the salute away and steps further into the room, alien eyes scanning the room.

“Sir,” Lauren squeaks out while uneasily shifting to a semi-relaxed state.

“I have to apologize,” Lt. Sh’iraolnas jumps right in, her voice level and flat, almost Vulcan.

“Sir?”

“You should have been back to work a number of days ago and I’ve been preoccupied enough that I’ve failed to sign the appropriate permissions,” the Andorian explains flatly. “I’ve remedied that oversight, Mr. Crane. You will return to the labs beginning tomorrow morning and work a double. As per the conditions of your consequence, you’ll be working longer duty shifts for the next little while.”

“Yes, sir,” Lauren nods.

“If you’ll check the duty roster, you’ll find your assignments updated.”

“Yes, sir,” Lauren says.

“Do you have any questions for me, Mr. Crane?”

“No, sir,” Lauren answers.

Like an ice statue, Lauren observes as the science officer abruptly turns and leaves the room. As the door slides shut, the geneticist sinks back to her bed and grips the frame. Clenching her jaw, she barely suppresses the urge to scream. I hate her! She’s ruined my life and she’s so calm about it. Peering about the shared space, Lauren is overcome by the dark cloud of depression and falls back onto her mattress, white-knuckling the Starfleet emblazoned blanket.

Truth.

I'm sitting in South Carolina right now watching football and thought that I'd pop on and see what's happening. Honestly, this is really the first time I've thought about doing so in about a week. Holidays, right?

Happy Thanksgiving (U.S.) to all Innmates!

Stardate 2365.02.19
USS Peregrine; Deck 3, Crew Quarters – 1332

“Nine. Nine more days of confinement,” PO Crane says heavily. “But, I’m supposed to be entering active duty again any day now just with additional workloads. That was something that was supposed to be implemented a number of days ago but the Blue B*tch sent me notice that the captain’s court-martial was delaying the transition. I think she just wants me to suffer further and doesn’t trust my work.”

“I'm sure you know her better than I,” Cook replies, “but I hope that a Star Fleet officer would be above such petty things.”

“Well,” Dana replies, “I'm no counselor, but I'm always here to listen to you and offer advice. You know that.” It was a statement and not a question.

Cook sighs a little as she is saddened by this whole situation, then she slowly rises to her feet.

“I guess I've probably overstayed my time here,” Dana says with a shrug, “I don't want to imbue anyone's ire and make them think I'm violating your confinement. Though I wouldn't really care myself, I don't want to give them any reason to extend your sentence.”

Cook starts to walk to the door but stops short and turns back to Lauren.

“Maybe I'll try to talk to the Captain and remind him of your going back to work as originally scheduled,” she says, “If you're okay with that?”

"Oh, please don't!" Lauren shakes her head emphatically, her mousey features bunching up as though she has just sucked on a lemon. "I don't need any more spotlights shown my way, thank you."

After Lauren's reply, Dana nods to her friend and turns back to the door, “Don't worry Lauren, things will be back to normal soon.”

"My new normal," Lauren remarks. "Thanks for the visit, Dana. I miss it being the two of us. Have a good night."

Funny. I'm waiting on Giddy for a post. FYI, I don't know if Tann remembers correctly or if you're just having Casino misremember, but Bloodbank would have been the one that was last with Ghlahn and as his pocket notifies everyone that he has one of the radios, it could be obvious that he mistakenly took the radio that was previously with Ghlahn. Additionally, that happened within the first or second post of Giddy's return to playing his character (as he had originally started out playing Bloodbank) and he probably didn't even know that the radios were a concern so, the player made an honest mistake that is reflected in the character's oversight.

As an evil GM, this delivers no end of delight. 

'Tis a true statement. Write your posts in Google Docs. It's much safer.

And Breebles, I am an honorable assassin of emotional stability and that can either mean that I assassinate emotional stability or that I am an emotionally stable assassin. I shall leave that up to your imagination. Just know that I am honorable. 

Stardate 2365.02.19
USS Peregrine; Deck 3, Crew Quarters – 1325

Sitting up, the geneticist presses deeper into the rough. "You said there are a lot of new officers aboard. Dish, sister. I'm less malnourished than starving for new information and ship gossip is always a full course meal."

Dana chuckles and shakes her head and leans forward towards her friend as if she is going to whisper some juicy tidbit of information.

“Well, let's see,” she pauses to think, “there is a new Ops Chief, a Lt Nyle, who is a Daa'vit. Green skin and wolfish features, I hear. I am looking forward to meeting him as I've never met a Daa'vit.”

Lauren’s eyes widen but she remains quiet while Dana continues.

“Tactical has a new Chief Officer,” Dana continued, “I hear she's quite well trained in several forms of Martial Arts, though from the record I read, she doesn't apparently practice Boxing.” Cook grinned at her friend, knowing how she is always looking for a new challenge when it comes to the Boxing ring or Poker.

“I mentioned the new CMO,” she said with a look of contemplation, “so far she seems to be alright. She appears to approve of my 'strong hand' in Medical.” She grins, thinking her friend would get a kick out of that, as she knows how Cook handles her staff.

“I got a couple of new Lab techs,” Dana shrugs, “so I haven't seen how they work out yet, though I'm glad my nursing staff isn't changing. As for the new mission, I don't know much, there hasn't been an official announcement yet. Just that I heard we had set a course for the Trevil system. There is a senior staff meeting scheduled for 1600 hours, so maybe I will hear more then. Other than that, not much to tell just yet.”

“A Daa’vit? I’ll look forward to figuring out what that is,” sighing, Lauren shifts so that one leg is up on the bed, the other on the floor.

“So how much time is left on your confinement to quarters?” Dana finally asked, “I know you probably want to get back to work, but knowing you, you probably dread it just as much.”

She eyes her friend looking for signs of how she was doing mentally; the tricorder can't help her there.

“Nine. Nine more days of confinement,” PO Crane says heavily. “But, I’m supposed to be entering active duty again any day now just with additional workloads. That was something that was supposed to be implemented a number of days ago but the Blue B*tch sent me notice that the captain’s court-martial was delaying the transition. I think she just wants me to suffer further and doesn’t trust my work.”

“Well,” Dana replied, “I'm no counselor, but I'm always here to listen to you and offer advice. You know that.” It was a statement and not a question.

Stardate 2365.02.21
USS Peregrine, Chief Science Officer’s Quarters - 0352

Taking precautions against losing any further work, Asovil is writing first in her paper journal and then transcribing the work through to her padd. True, this process is taking much longer but she is finding that the effort is easing her anxiety while allowing her the luxury of refining her discourse. So far, the mysterious vanishing act her paper has performed every time she’s saved it hasn’t happened. Then again, she hasn’t saved it since she woke from her usual four-hour slumber and started working.

For some time, Asovil had felt very lonely as one of the only races that require a mere four hours to sleep. Hours alone at the Academy seemed an eternity before she had learned to embrace the opportunity and apply it to her studies, something she continues to this day to keep her performance the best that it can be. Sometimes, she exercises while others, she puts extra time in on a project, but of late, she has been spending the time working on her paper or stressing out over the loss of her work and the mystery behind the attacks.

Setting the padd tablet on her desk (something all senior officer quarters came furnished with), the Andorian stood and padded barefoot to her replicator. Despite the cool temperature she keeps her quarters at, she is wearing shorts and an undershirt.

“Computer,” she says, “Katheka, seventy-one point one degrees Celsius.”

Her mind is already occupied with the next series of notes that she’s documenting as the faint sounds of the native Andorian drink replication drift throughout her quarters. Taking the steaming mug from the bay, she turns and is pitched forward and to the right. Katheka leaps from the ceramic mug and splashes across the gray carpet and caught off balance, the tall woman falls to her bare hands and knees experiencing the resulting rugburn almost instantly.

Language that isn’t appropriate within Starfleet erupts from her mouth as she drops onto her heels and examines her elbows. Purplish abrasions are already lighting up the skin and investigating her knees shows the same.

“Fantastic,” she groans. “I’ll be feeling this all day.”

Climbing back to her feet, the blue-skinned woman’s antennae stand rigid with frustration at the sight of the mess on her floor but before she can do anything further, the lights in her room immediately start flashing red and the alarm sounds.

Instincts take over and she springs towards her closet, donning her uniform in record time. Still pulling a boot on, she’s already at the door and through it just as her heel settles into the cup of the footwear. Tapping her comm badge, the Chief Science Officer hails Ensign Maize.

“Make sure all personnel are at their stations and report back to me,” she orders. “I’m heading to the Bridge.”

=/= Aye, sir. =/=

As is to be expected, the turbo lift is occupied, but Asovil pushes her way in and orders it to her destination which takes precedence over the lower ranks in this situation. Stepping out onto the Bridge, she immediately makes her way to the science conn and awaits orders while attempting to pick up on what the situation is with an intent ear.

I thought Drake slept in the nude with his comm badge stuck to his bare chest.

As Giddy's father, I take every opportunity to make Life Lessons for him.  Don't you fret, though, Lanur will join the operation eventually.

If I remember correctly, the scans will result in the Waverider being necessary to get to the surface. However, in the meeting, the captain stated that she wanted all senior officers to be present on the Bridge when we arrived at the planet so it seems to me that the arrival at the planet is a great next post from our illustrious captain.

Thank you.

Lanur isn't exactly a gentleman, nor is he a joiner. The man is a ranger.

"Sir, before you go, who would accuse such a gentle young woman?" One of the women asks with great respect.

((OOC: any response))

"Thank you, sir, we shall see you shortly."

"It's a tragic business," the soldier says gently. "And I must say I find it hard to believe. I've known Millae since she was a child. Since we were both children. She was always so gentle." He firmed up slightly, straightening his shoulders. "But I have a duty, and all evidence points to her. If you truly want to help the girl, come to speak with her in the jailhouse when she wakes up. I'll see that you can get to her. Perhaps you might be able to prove her innocence."

Shaking his head sadly, Jandran turns away carrying an unconscious daughter and turning his back to a defeated mother and six onlookers as he strides down the solemn street.

The soft-spoken woman moves toward the hysterical older woman, still bleeding and sobbing at the fear of losing her daughter, "Ma'am, Mistress," what was it? Oh, "Velalin, may I heal you? I am no Aes Sedai, but I have been a healer in my, home, for as long as I can remember. May I?"

"My fellow travelers," one of the women says a little awkwardly, but then finds confidence and spurred on by the conviction of her feelings towards the woman she wishes to save, she continues. "Will you join me in investigating this terrible matter and, if discovered that she is indeed innocent, assist me in allowing the woman to be pardoned and set free? Please, my friends, I implore you to help me with this task."

"Of course," Cho'Ra says, turning her attention back to the woman, and wondering why the little Ebou Dari girl would consider them friends. She would help the young woman find justice if she were indeed innocent, and anyone who wanted to assist her in reaching that goal is welcome. Though it will put a damper on her lead.

"Blood and ashes," Lanur growls while still watching the retreating soldier. Swallowing the urge to leap after the soldier, the woodsman waves him off with the women. "You heard him. This is a matter that does not concern us. I have traveled a good distance and am due a meal and a roof over my head. If you lot wish to pursue this, it be at your own risk."

Turning from the scene he almost runs into the Ebou Dari man. Meeting his gaze, Lanur Dinas dips his head in acknowledgment of the support he'd shown. Stepping past the clean and well-presented swordsman, the ranger strides towards the inn while mumbling beneath his breath, "I'm not getting mixed up with no noble class intrigue and certainly not with Aes Sedai. The Wheel take the lot of them."

Looking forward to it.