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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Shadowdancer" data-source="post: 1868698" data-attributes="member: 515">Chapter XVDate: 167-993 Location: Aboard the Bray Keaven, in jump space between Sentry and FonneinDressed in a crisp and pressed duty uniform, Kevon is the first to reach the lounge. He is awake and alert — clearly more used to shorter sleep periods than the rest of the crew is — as he brews a pot of regular coffee in the traditional naval fashion: strong. He greets the rest of the crew as they enter, spending the rest of the time reviewing a military technology journal on a portable viewer. -----Aidan walks into the lounge early, dressed in a gray silk morning suit, crisply pressed, with a white shirt and a darker gray bow tie. Of course, the pain wrinkling the corners of his eyes belies his appearance. Aidan nods to Kevon and heads straight for the drink dispenser, draws a large mug of black coffee, cradles it in his hands, and sits down at the table waiting for the crew to arrive. -----Martha stumbles into the lounge, her short mop of hair disheveled from the previous night's rest. Her coveralls aren’t fully zipped, revealing the pink belly–shirt underneath it and part of the slogan "Queen of Kingsland." She shuffles over to the dispenser and punches up a steaming cup of Bitterstouts, her homeworld's equivalent of coffee. As the hot red fluid fills the Engineer’s mug, she absently straightens her hair somewhat with one hand, and looks around the lounge at the others. Though some greet her, she simply mumbles something unintelligible back, waiting for the dispenser to *ding*. When the mug is full, she shuffles to the table, mug in both hands as if to warm them, and blows gently on the liquid's surface. She sits down, sips once from the drink, wracks her face into a contorted mask of bitterness, relaxes, then proceeds to down a good portion of her mug. "Ugh, I hate this stuff!" are the first intelligible words she speaks, and to no one in general, but takes another gulp before saying anything else. "Whew! Good morning, all!" Martha puts the mug down in front of her, becoming a bit more animate. "Hey, Doc, how are we looking? Think we’re on course?" Although she is young, Martha knows well enough that the first signs of a misjump are jump sickness. Hearing his name, Saro laboriously lifts his head off his chest and slowly opens his eyes, the lids almost audibly scraping across his bloodshot corneas. Blearily, he squints as he focuses in on the voice. Looking around the room at each person present, he smacks his mouth a couple times to clear away the dry, fuzzy sensation before he responds. "Well Martha, based on my exhaustive visual examination, I’d say we are all lacking our daily recommended dose of Vitamin Sleep. But other than that, we are all doing as well as can be expected." He stretches a bit and cracks his neck loudly. "Hmm. On second thought, it is my professional opinion that I am suffering from a severe lack of scalding hot caffienated liquid nourishment. I think I’ll prescribe myself a 750ml dosage of said medicine, to be ingested immediately." With that he stands carefully and wobbles over to the drink dispenser. "Hey, Doc, we’ve got some limited resources in regards to the Bitterstouts, but I think it’s got a better kick than java," Martha says with an innocent smile. With that, she turns her attentions to Vasilii, interested in hearing about his conversation with Mr. Silver and their discussions in the cargo hold. -----Ian arrives freshly shaved, wearing clean ships cloths, and walks over to retrieve a mug of hot java and breakfast. "Good morning lady and gents." He makes eye contact with Vasilii, raising an eyebrow in a questioning look. He finds an empty spot opposite the table from Mr. Silver. "So Vasilii, what did you and our passenger discover in the cargo hold?" Ian asks as he takes a gulp and proceeds to consume his meal. -----Swann walks into the lounge just as Ian is sitting down. He prepares himself a big bowl of oatmeal, with lots of sweetener, and carries it and a cup of coffee to the table. -----Vasilii doesn’t seem to respond to Ian’s questioning look or to his inquiry. Instead, the Vilani Merchant appears absorbed in thought, absently looking down at the table, while almost unconsciously eating spoonfuls from an entree pack from one of the military rations in storage. About the time Ian notices the entree pack, his nose tells him what’s on Vasilii’s breakfast menu: the only ration uniformly rejected by nearly all sophont military forces in the Imperium, even by near–starving K–9 units — the greatly–vilified Blue Cheese and Burrowarg Loaf. Vasilii seems oblivious to its taste. After a lengthy moment, Ian is about to write off the attempt at small talk when Vasilii finally iterates with a tone of futile optimism: "Maybe we can get out in three years with good behavior." He finally looks up at Ian and holds up the entree pack to him, his voice registering increasing amounts of panic. "Here, you want to try some of this? I heard these rations sorta taste like prison food, thought I’d try and get used to it. Do you think I would look good in those orange jumpsuits they wear in those prison colonies? Do you think it might be a bad thing to look good in a jumpsuit in a prison? My cellmate will probably be some big, burly Aslan named ‘Cuddles’ or something." Swann overhears this as he sits down. He looks at Vasilii with a smile and says, "Oh, you’ll like Cuddles. He’ll keep you warm on those cold, lonely nights." "He wouldn’t last three months in a real prison," Swann thinks. "Not without a real Cuddles to protect him, in exchange for ‘services.’ " "You’re not helping here," Vasilii says to Swann, shaking his head with a smile. Turning to Ian, he says, "To answer your question, well, let’s see. We lied by omission on our depositions, so there’s the *first* charge of obstruction of justice involving a capital crime. A seasoned prosecutor could make the argument that the depositions were given under oath, thus adding perjury to the mix. Regrettably, we ran off with only two of the three key pieces of evidence in said crime, so there’s the second obstruction of justice charge along with evidence tampering involving a capital crime. And since we didn’t turn in the boxes right off when we found them, they’ll probably add receiving stolen goods to the list, just to make the point. After briefly glancing at his wrist chronometer, he continues. "By now, the Oser’s crew’s been awake for several hours worth of interrogation, and the Sentry people have had enough time to look at what’s left of the evidence, and have inevitably arrived at the conclusion that we didn’t tell them everything, and have probably sent a message a few hours behind us telling the Fonnein authorities to detain us. "All things considered, I think we were doing better getting shot at on Aleif. Any votes for going back to King George’s Land?" he asks, raising his hand.-----Vargas walks into the lounge area with his beaker, Rusti, on his shoulder. "I think I’m glad I missed most of that, didn’t sound wholesome." The former Scout wanders over to the drink dispenser and draws a cup of Kevon’s paint thinner/Navy coffee. "My suggestion is that we all plead insanity, but only after calling each other as character witnesses. No jury, Noble, or . . . anyone else would convict us." He waves vaguely about before next wandering over to the opened military ration pack. "Now this, this is a different story. Clear violation of the Imperial Rules of War. Lucky we haven’t been nuked from orbit by Marines. Now then, how are we all this morning? Mr. Silver?" Aidan looks up at the sound of his name. With a somewhat ghostly, but recovering, semblance of his usual voice, he says, "Ahh, you would like to hear about my antique computer parts, sir? In addition, I have an old freighter I’d like to sell, plus some black globe generators from — never mind, shouldn’t be flip this soon after jump. Although after that reference to Cuddles. . . . Hmm, where was I? Ah yes. Perhaps instead you’d like to hear about a certain set of cubes?" Aidan looks around to see if ears have perked up at the mention of the cubes. He then proceeds. "Vasilii mentioned last night that there was a large amount of circumstantial evidence tying together everyone with an interest in the cubes. The one thing I can tell you for certain is that I know nothing about them, other than certification that they are not dangerous if they stay sealed. I was approached by a particular patron who is well placed in, well, let’s just say some upper circles of society, with ties to ImpSec. Naturally, I respected her opinion and request, as it seemed the healthiest thing to do. Fortunately, I can report that her description, at least when last seen, does not match that of any of the people described to me as having been involved in your, umm, adventures. "So, what I can tell you is that I was commissioned to see the cubes delivered to another patron, unopened, for a certain sum. I have to say that my curiosity is particularly aroused by the mayhem around the cubes. But I think this is a situation where the discretion for which I am counted on as a courier should be exercised. "I think that, perhaps, this small mission of mine may be a nice clean way for you all to dispose of the cubes without backlash — and perhaps earn a little good will in the right circles. So, I leave it to you." "To be honest, Mr. Silver, we owe you no such courtesy," Kevon says. "We can just as easily space these cubes of yours while in jump. And nobody gets what they want. "And there’s another thing: possession is nine-tenths of the law, and we have the cubes," the lieutenant commander continues. "You, as facilitator, are only entitled to the standard broker’s fee. I’ll be generous and offer you 15 percent, and since I control whether the cargo is released to your prospective buyers, you’d be best advised to accept." "Well sir, you certainly speak the truth on the release of the cubes. Of course, I’m simply acting as, hmm, yes, ‘facilitator’ is the correct word. If you choose to not allow them to be delivered then I’m out my fees so far, but no more. How about this instead — waive my fees for transport of the old electronic parts and my passage, make it a 10 percent commission, and I’ll introduce you on the other end as a resourceful crew with the wits to carry out special courier services? "My pardon, please allow me to get some more coffee." Aidan does so, then returns to the table. "Now, your thoughts, sir? Certainly, you could also space my person and I’d be hard put to resist. But the investigation might be messy." Swann pauses in eating his oatmeal, says, "I’m in favor of keeping spacing a viable option," then takes another spoonful. "So let me get this straight," Martha says, interrupting. "You broke into our ship once before, planted these damn cubes, then broke into our ship’s computer again during contact with someone who’s obviously working against your employer, and now expect us to just take some cash to forget all the crap you’ve done to us." Martha scoffs. "And you don’t think we’ll space you or the cubes, or indeed, turn everything over to the local government once we arrive back in normal space?" Martha turns to the others. "That’s two! I know my vote! I’m tired of us being treated like — well, like Mr. Silver here is a Cuddles in fine clothing." She then turns to the whimpering Vilani. "Vasilii, stop your blubbering. You should know as well as any of us here that we won’t get in too much trouble on this run, trust me. We were duped by Mr. Silver here, and if we turn over the cubes and Mr. Silver to the locals on the other side, we’re free and clear." The Engineer then turns back to Mr. Silver. "Sir, is there anything else you might want to consider mentioning, now that you’re coming clean about all of your illegalities? Kick any puppies in our cargo bay? Rape any small children in our staterooms? Any other violations you care to add to what you’ve already done?" Martha is obviously upset, feeling particularly violated by Aidan’s actions which have put her friends and comrades in danger, as well as destroying Martha’s concept of her ability to maintain any sense of protection, security, or privacy aboard the Bray Keaven. "Everyone in favor of duct taping him like a mummy and throwing him to the puppies in the cargo bay, raise your hands," Vargas attempts a weak joke. "If he doesn’t follow orders, I have no problem with it. Where we gonna find puppies out here?" Ian says with a smile. "Right. Sorry." Vargas stares at his boots for a moment. Aidan sits back, looking rather stunned. He clears his throat. "My pardon madame, I don’t quite know what to say. My first contact with your ship was when I requested the hauling of those electronic parts. My contact on Alief indicated that the cubes were on board and wanted me to find them, extract them, and deliver them. Circumstances precluding that, it seems better to work with you and the rest of the crew." His voice regaining some smoothness, he continues. "As to my other illegalities, I regret to say that it would be better that they not be mentioned, although let me assure you that they run to helping revolutionaries and getting kicked out of society rather than anything violently sociopathic. "My deepest apologies on your feeling of violation over my entry into your ship. However, I deemed it wise to first find out somewhat about the crew before mentioning knowledge of the cubes. You have rather a reputation for, shall we say, rough actions, developed back planetside. "But Mr. Vargas, the Cuddles comment aside, I’m not really into that sort of thing." Swann listens to the discussion with a sense of amusement, until the mention of Alief jump–starts his paranoia. Having finished his oatmeal, he leans back from the table and focuses intently on Aidan. "I suggest you keep our well–deserved reputation for rough actions in mind. After what just happened with the Oser, I daresay none of us are in the mood for any Noble foolishness or games of one-upmanship. And after some of the stunts you’ve pulled — however justified you feel they were in the name of completing your mission — you have built up very little good will with this crew. In fact, your good will account is pretty much overdrawn. "So why don’t you start at the beginning and tell us everything. Start with the name of your contact on Alief and who that contact works for. I’m sure you know, there are some governments and factions on the planet we probably don’t feel like helping out. Then tell us about these cubes: what are they, what do they do, where did they come from, and why are they wanted on Alief?" "I think we deserve the full story, Mr. Silver, if you wish to remain on this side of the airlock for the remainder of the journey," Kevon warns. "Rest assured sirs, that your reputation is very much in mind," Aidan replies. "Nor do I indulge in games of one-upmanship. Noble foolishness I will perhaps admit to. "So. The whole story from my perspective, although I think you’ll find I know nearly as little as you. Nonetheless, I swear upon my honor that what I’ll tell is true." Silver switches into storytelling mode. "My patron contacted me, through the rather obscure, but certified channels, with a request to get a certain pair of cubes delivered. My patron, although not directly a member of ImpSec, is associated with them. I thus pay some respect when I get a call for a job. My patron is not to be the recipient of the cubes, merely the conveyor of the arrangement. "The cubes are to be delivered to 069-256 and Adukgin. The previous captain of the Bray Keaven was the original assignee for this contract, but his untimely death led to the mission going astray. I did not originally know that the shipment was on the Bray Keaven and have spent some months tracking the disposition of the cubes, running through approximately KCr150 so far of my available expense account. "After discovering that the cubes were on the Bray Keaven, I tracked the ship to Sentry, found out about the plague emergency, made passage back to Alief, found out that the Bray Keaven was still there, then followed when the Bray Keaven left for Sentry. I avidly followed your adventures in the news journals. I must say, they brought back some old memories for me. "Hmm, yes, well, I am to be paid KCr50 for each cube eventually delivered, this will come delivered into a numbered account. If I deliver the cubes myself, then that goes up to KCr150 per cube. The delivery is arranged in the form of a person contacting the ship at each destination system. The person is to use the name ‘Sare de Salui.’ That person will know the tracking numbers on the cubes. There is a passphrase they will also know. They will also then immediately hand over KCr100 for the delivery. "As to the nature of the cubes? I am certainly curious, and have researched that as well, but have found no reference. I do have this warrant indicating that the cubes are not inherently dangerous. Beyond that, I know nothing about them. Although I have some small knowledge of my patron, I have no knowledge of the recipient of the cubes either. "You may find it curious that I do know so little about these. Believe me, in the jobs I’ve had recently, that is frequently the healthiest way to operate. As to why you were attacked at Sentry or by the Oser? I have no knowledge. "Now, as an offering of some assistance. I would be happy to use the expense account for this mission to assist in repairs to the Bray Keaven. KCr75 may go some way to helping with that. "There is also, potentially, KCr300 more if you choose to see the cubes all the way through. Although I have no way of guaranteeing that the encounters along the way will be any safer than your experience so far. Given your capabilities though, you seem quite capable of handling anything thrown at you." With great gravis, Aidan concludes with, "Upon my honor, this is the whole of the story as I know it. I leave it to you to decide what to do with it." Ian finishes his breakfast while listening to the story. "Mr. Silver, why should this crew ever trust you again? As Martha said, you have violated our ship’s security numerous times, which is a direct attack against this crew. We owe you nothing! IF we decide not to space you and your cubes, you will be confined to your quarters for the duration of the trip. When allowed out of your quarters, you will have a constant escort. I will accompany you during meals to the lounge and back. If you feel you need to exit your cabin, you may contact me through the comm and we will discuss your reasons." Turning to Swann, he asks, "Is it possible to mechanically cut off his access to our ships computer from his cabin so that he couldn’t even wire in his personal computer for access?" Swann considers the question as he eats a couple of spoonfuls of oatmeal. "I can disconnect his terminal, sure. I don’t know if I can keep him from accessing the system using his own computer without yanking the fiber optic cable out of the conduits for that cabin. We could do that, no problem, but if we ever want to hook it back up in the future, I’m not sure if even Rusti could get in there to rerun the cable. The cable’s usually already in the conduit when they install those cabins during construction." "Additionally, it’s possible to rig a connection into the comm," Aidan says. "Please be assured, I will not use your shipboard computer equipment again without supervision until given leave to do so. Although I would beg that someone do some tuning of the software that’s producing this coffee." "Hey, that’s good coffee, Mister!" Kevon protests. A much more serious Vargas chimes in. "How about disconnecting the terminal’s fiber on the system router end, air gap it? Or is the whole thing on a single BUS?" "Cutting off the connection that way works if each cabin is individually wired to the MUX, but that’s somewhat unusual I would say," Aidan responds "You’ll also need to remember to cut off the wireless reception and broadcast as it might be possible to tap in that way. Not that I shall. Just a note for your future use." ----- Standing by the coffee dispenser Saro takes long swallows of coffee, refilling his mug several times while he watches the participants in the morning’s "love–fest." He takes in Martha’s outburst, verging on the edge of hysteric. Kevon and Ian both angry, although trying to restrain themselves. Vasilii upset, yet enticed by the chance for profit. After Aidan reveals his story, the Doc waits for a moment of silence, then coughs softly to get the attention of everyone. "Now it may seem a bit incongruous for me to be giving this bit of advice, giving my little outburst aboard the Oser, but I think we may all benefit from a bit more calm." Turning, he addresses Aidan. "Mr. Silver, you may not be aware, but your activities and those of the Oser’s crew are not all we've had to contend to lately. The past few weeks have been most stressful — recent events have just been icing on the proverbial cake." He turns back towards the others. "We still have a week or so until we exit jump space, so I think we can afford to take another day to relax, calm our nerves, and regain a more objective perspective on recent activities. "This is not to say we won’t come to the same decisions, but at least we’ll do so from a more grounded state of mind. I’d suggest that we confine Mr. Silver to his cabin and restrict his access to the computer, at least until tomorrow morning. The rest of us should catch up on our sleep and/or engage in the activities that each of us finds relaxing and calming. "Tomorrow morning we can reconvene and discuss our plans of action. How does that sound to everyone?" "That’s fine with me, Doc," Swann says. "But I think tomorrow’s meeting should initially only include crew members." Vargas indicates the ship’s only passenger with a nod of his head and says, "We could lock him up with the puppies." "I stand ready to return to my cabin," Aidan says. "I believe Mr. McConnell offered an escort back." -----After all discussion is completed, Ian escorts Mr. Silver to his cabin.</blockquote>

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