Hugo
Rossi – Head Mechanic for Collace Down's racing team.
Mr.
Anderson – Local Vandars amateur racer.
Yang
– Just another local Vandars tough who hangs out with Mr. Anderson.
Saar
– Omni Security-Vandars contract worker and computer hack.
Notable
NPC's:
Clug
– a bodyguard who works for Collace Down
Collace
Down: Rich citizen of Kazawan City.
Paulo
Song – Omni Sun CEO
Cisero
– Headman of the Krunner Farm. They manufacture high end finishes
from Hellboria Wood.
Notable
Locations:
Kazawan
City
New
Lanark Apartments, Owens Block, Vandars
Krunner
Farm, colonists who are growers of Hellboria Wood.
Harean
Station, a grotto where colonists harvest Harean slugs. The slugs are
an important source of protein for the planets food supply.
Horsail,
a colonist hydrogen fracking operation.
This
is tricky, running a sci-fi game like a West Marches campaign. But a
very worthy Game Master challenge. My new experience in GM art is
these ad-hoc sessions with different PC's but using the same starting
location. In this case Vandars Colony Dome #1. On the surface of
Skalvil.
Today's
group makes for the fourth different mix of PC's while all the
players have played in this campaign world before, albeit only one
other session. I picked one of the players (fuckin'Hobbs) to be the
keystone for the session. That is he was going to use his original
character from a year ago and the rest of the players would need new
PC's who would have some tangential relationship to (fuckin'Hobbs) so
they would be in the same room. This being his pumped cube at the New Lanark Apartments, Owens Block. He
is called Saar, an Omni Security-Vanders contract worker and computer
hack. After his first session he split from his party members to
spend time cracking the data dump he took from the Omni
Horron Research Facility (Oh-Rif)
and suck on his electrocuted fingers. He was leaking from a few
combat wounds as well. He looked like shit the last time we left him
and now he has hanger-ons in his pumped cube at the New Lanark
Apartments, Owens Block and in no mood for company.
PC
#2 and #3 are Anderson and Yang. Both are Vanders' locals. Mr.
Andeson likes to think of himself as kind of a hot-shot on the
amateur race circuit while Yang usually has nothing to do but hang
out with Anderson. Saar was modifying Anderson's power converters and
he is here to pick them up.
“Wait
out side. I'll get 'em for you.” Saar then plugs in the data chip
and begins cracking. There are 8 files. All of various degrees of
complexity, therefore various degrees of time to crack. Saar goes to
work on the easiest. Time stamped photos of a corporate party in
Kazawan City. The photos seem to focus on one individual in
particular. It will take running a facial recognition app to try and
figure out who he is. Fifteen minutes tops. While the comp runs the
program Saar looks up at the wal-vid broadcasting the latest scream
sheet.
“Gang
violence breaks out at the Synapsis club between off-duty Omni
Security and the Binary Dogs. No information yet on why these
off-duty officers were at the club or why they engaged gang members,
but Omni Security has requested anyone with any information on the
whereabouts of Officer Jones [Picture of Jose looking up from a bowl
of cereal] or Omni Contractor Hernandez [Picture of Paul riding an
electronic bull] please contact Omni Security immediately. They
should be considered armed and dangerous. A series of video camera
footage just outside the entrance of the club in the top floor of a
high-rise is being looped showing Jones and Hernandez entering the
club with two other men. Quick head shots of the deceased Binary Dogs
are displayed, then the usual quick reactionary crowd shots of the
average Vanders citizen at the scene complaining about police
corruption, the drug-trade and the poor colonists stuck in the middle
trying to earn a living.
“What
the frak?!” When Saar left Jones and Hernandez they were heading to
the Below Zero to collect the cash Bargar Vas promised them for
getting the water turned back on out at Oh-Rif. What were they doing
hours later at the Synapsis in a gunfight? And where is Schmidt?
Sergeant Schmidt ran the mission out at Oh-Rif. Last he knew he had
just got done debriefing the chief and collecting credits. Well it
sure as purple-acid-rain did not concern Saar at the time. “My
fraking fingers hurt.” He winced as he stabbed his deck for the
readout.
Paulo
Song, Omni Sun, COO Omni
Horron Research Facility, responsible for the agra-augmentation
program being conducted there.
“Hey
Saar”, this was Mr. Anderson punching his apartments com. “Someone
is here to see you.”
“Tell
him I'm not here.”
“Okay.”
Saar
bends back over his comp and begins and extraction program on the
next most easily hacked piece of data. Six hours. “Run it.”
“He
says he can't really leave until he sees you.” the apartment's com
crackles again. Aw
hell, Saar punches the door access code. Anderson and Yang come back
in with a well dressed man. Obviously Kazawan City, not a colonist.
Anderson
introduces him as his boy Hugo Rossi. Both Rossi and Saar look at
each other trying to figure out why in the hell either one them would
be talking to each other. Rossi trimmed out, good job obviously,
standing in a pumped cube in the dome talking to cut up,
electrocuted, dying computer hack. Saar was concluding once again he
was shit at choosing friends.
“My
employer, Mr. Down, would like to talk to you if you wouldn't mind?”
“Can
he patch me up?”
“I
hope so, or I've taken a two hour tube ride for nothing.”
“Who's
your boss?”
“Collace
Down. His son just returned from Xxcarvis. He is concerned about his
son, the condition of his return, and for some reason now he wants to
talk to you. He also advises that we try and leave the dome as soon
as possible.”
“Down
is big in the professional circuit,” Anderson beams, “his son,
Flare is probably the top celebrity sports star on Skalvil. I've
raced against him before, he's totally cool.”
Saar
accepts he will not be having a quite night at home but says he can't
leave until he makes a few files. He wants forty minutes. Rossi
doesn't see any problem with that and shortly thereafter the group
hits the concourse and grab a tube to Kazawan City. Down lives in a
plush high-rise and they are escorted into what can only be the
suite's lounge. Rossi fixes everyone drinks while a house attendant
treats Saar with stimpacks and NueSkin patches.
Heavy
set with a face sandpaper-washed from time spent outside the
environmental domes of Skalvil. Sharp dressed. Long time local who
made it good some how.
“Thank
you for coming. I
see you have met my mechanic Hugo Rossi. He has a lot to do with
keeping this family in the winner's circle and a truly capable hand.
I myself as you can see am quite capable, but I have some current
issues I am having some trouble wrapping my head around and I believe
you may be helpful. It
is my understanding you were recently out at Oh-Rif. Specifically you
were on the ground dealing with the seizure of the facility by
terrorists. Is that right?”
“Yes.
Sergeant Schmidt, Omni Security. He hired me along with some other of
his contract help to go out and see what the problem was.”
“What
did you find?”
“What
was reported. Some unknown armed group had taken over the facility,
disrupted the water flow. Don't know why. Attracted a whole bunch of
attention. How could it not. Angry colonists were outside ready to
force their way in if the water didn't get turned back on. My group
secured the facility, engaged the terrorists. We killed some. Some
got away. Looks like they killed the whole staff their too. Didn't
make much sense. Still doesn't. But it paid. Once we contacted Omni
with a sit-rep the salaried boys rolled in and told us to go home.”
Down
drains his glass and sits on the couch. Arms spread, his prodigious
stomach sticking out form his jacket. “My son got into trouble on
an expedition on Xxcarvis. Championship grav-skiing on those
tremendous ice peaks. Film crew, the whole works. Going to set a new
frontier record no doubt. Now it is a four week journey one way so I
don't expect up to the minute briefings, but that I was almost able
to keep up daily with the expedition group. They would tight-beam
their daily logs from the range to the Omni-Sun drilling facility.
There they would be loaded onto the next transport out. There is
enough regular commercial traffic out of Xxcarvis that every other
day I had footage. He must of got into some trouble out their because
the daily tight-beam stopped. I paid the Scouts to get out there and
look for them. The Baudy Beth I think it was. 200T free-trader, 2
jump capability. Four
weeks out, four weeks back minimum. A crew of four. They returned two
weeks ahead of schedule with my son, the body of one of the scouts
and the sole survivor of the trek. I still have not got any
information on the whereabouts of the other two crew members.
“The
official report is they came across Flare in life-pod orbiting the
gas giant at 0304. Still 2 parsecs out from Xxcarvis. Word is he was
never on Xxcarvis. No
trace of his ship, his crew. He is not okay. Something happened to
him. The
surviving scout from the mission I have been unable to find out who
or were he is. Probably under lock and key at their base here in the
city. I was able to find out the body of the dead scout had been
transferred to Oh-Rif. So I want to ask you again: What did you
find?”
Saar
let the stimpacks take him far away from his singed skin and
lacerated torso. “They had some EMP device. Detonated in the power
room. Brought the whole facility down. No power, no communication.
They killed all the staff and took a body. They fled on boat out into
the Skalvil Sea. We
found it beached on the north shore. Original crew bound and
executed. Most likely killed before the terrorists used the boat to
enter Oh-Rif. They fled into the wastes on a four-wheeled ATV. The
frequent acid-rain storms had quickly made their trail impossible to
follow. Schmidt returned to the Omni tower to debrief and collect
pay. I came home to find, well all of you.”
Saar
looked at the rest of the PC's. They all seemed happy with their
drinks. “All
I can say it didn't make any sense.”
“I
want to take a look at that body. Do you think you can find it for
me?”
“Sure,
were do you think we should look?”
“There
isn't much north of the Skalvil.” Downs picks up a remote from the
table and turns on the his holo-vid. A three dimensional image of the
rain scarred wastes of Skalvil in brilliant display. The Skalvil Sea
was prominent then the display zoomed into the terrain north. Three
colonies were identified; Krunner
Farm, Harean
Station
and
Horsail.
“Harean
Station is a slug farm, protein bases for you poor colonists food
supplies out there on the plains and you poor dome'ers living on
subsidy. Krunner Farm harvests Hellboria
Wood. Very
hard, very colorful when back lit and very expesive. My bar top here
is a nice specimen. Horsail is a fracking operation. Anyone heading
north via ATV's cannot get very far without living, knowing or being
supplied by one of these colonies. Someone
is going to know who they are and where they are. I suggest you start
out immediately. Omni knows as much as this too. If they are hot to
track down the terrorists they will be heading there soon. But then
again, now the facility is back up maybe not so soon. Hugo
here has tuned up the Trell III, a capable back
country air raft. Enclosed of course. He has agreed to accompany you
all. As a top mechanic you shouldn't have to worry about breakdown.”
Navigating
the Skalvil wastes it was apparent to all but Anderson that he drives
way too fast. He calmly whistled some inane tune as he carved the
grav-powered hover jeep through the tortuous terrain racked by sudden
purple sheets of rain and deep defiles. They were heading to Krunner.
The closest colony to the sea and the hardest to reach. The
PC's expected signal contact soon.
“Uh oh.” Anderson stopped whistling.
“Uh oh.” Anderson stopped whistling.
“What?”
asked Yang. He was white-knuckling it shotgun.
“I
think we're going to hit a Wempir swarm.” Everyone starts yelling
for him to turn around it.
“I'm
going too fast. You better break out the guns.” Aggressive little
five
kilogram grey-mottled
blimps, Flying Wempirs
attack anything flying along close to the ground. Their massive
swarms will envelope suspected prey with viscous barbed mouths. For
the Trell III it would be like hitting a brick wall at this speed.
“Start blasting and I'll try and spin us out!” Anderson was
yelling now.
The
crew lowered their wind screens and squirted their rifles and sub
machine guns on full auto. The wind and the rain screamed along with
the furious shriek of the swarm, black against the now obliterated
purple sky. The jeep was buffeted by hundreds of splatting flyers,
made a sickening barrel roll and slid out of the swarm down a slot
canyon.
“Whooee!”
Anderson and Yang were pounding the dashboard delighted to not be
dead. It was hard to tell what the rest of the crew was thinking all
rain and Wempir gore sprayed.
“Bogey
One this Krunner Farm please identify.” crackled the dash-com. (to
be continued)
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