Traveller Noir

I refurbished some verbiage on one of my precious Traveller sessions. Vanders Dome, some simple shenanigans dressed up in tech, cyber and my gawd awful Dashiel Hammet pastiche. Still, I like the way this seldom run game has begun to mingle action by different player groups into the overall action happening in the city. With modern communication you just might find out what other PCs are doing while you are out running errands... 

Session PC's:

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.

Trell 3 – All terrain air-raft loaned out by Collace Down

 

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 planet’s food supply.

Horsail, a colonist hydrogen fracking operation.

PC #2 and #3 are Anderson and Yang. Both are Vanders' locals. Mr. Andeson likes to think of himself as kind of a hotshot 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.

 

Chapter 1

 

W

ait outside. I will get 'em for you.” Saar then plugs in the data chip and begins cracking. There are 8 files. All 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 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 cannot leave until he makes a few files. He wants forty minutes. Rossi does not 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 outside the domes of Skalvil. Sharp dressed. Longtime local who made it good somehow?

 

“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 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 have 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 where 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 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 colonist food supplies out there on the plains, and the poor dome'ers living on subsidy. Krunner Farm harvests Hellboria Wood. Extremely hard, very colorful when back lit and very expensive. My bar top here is a nice specimen.

“Horsail is a fracking operation. Anyone heading north via ATV's cannot get 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.”

 

N

avigating 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.

 

“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)

 

 

Chapter II

 

B

ogey One this Krunner Farm please identify.” crackled the dash-com.

“This is air-raft Trell 3 out of Kazawan. We are scouring the wastes for criminals which recently attacked Oh-Rif. Permission to land. We’re like to ask you a few questions.”

“Sure thing Trell 3, ain’t seen nows none terrorists running loose around here by jingo. Dinner’s hot though. Just getting served in the mess tent. Come on in.”

Anderson brings the air raft down on the lighted pad in front of several above ground “tents”, rugged polymer wrapped metal buildings to withstand the tainted rain. By the time Saar stepped out of the air raft and smelt the burnt cashew of Skalvil the filters never caught someone was coming out of the tent in the middle wearing a worn and patched work suit.

“You don’t look so good”, Yang looks Saar up and down in the rain. “You sure you want to bring that?” He was looking at Saar’s SMG gripped in his bandaged hands.

“Do I look like I’m someone looking for criminals?”

“You look like someone who should be laying down.” Yang rolls up his window.

“Welcome to Kunner Farm, home of the finest Hellboria wood slabs. I’m Ciscero.”

Saar limps up to the farmer holding his gun-free hand up, Anderson dims the air raft’s lights.

“You see anyone coming out of the hard scrap recently, without vehicles?”

“No, we haven’t anyone passing through.”

“How long someone stay out here without a vehicle, on foot.

“Aah I say not very long. Depends how much clean water you have I suppose. You want to sit down? Get a cup of cava or something?”

“Anywhere to reach you from the lake from Omni-Sun?”

“Without vehicles, no, no. Not easy. Long way around, rough ground between here and there.

“Weren’t you all bothered by the trouble at Oh-Rif? Water got shut off.”

“No, we’ve been off Omni’s flow for a while. We got filters. They are not great, but they do the job.”

“That is good for you. Somehow Oh-Rif got shut down. Brought down a lot of your friends out to the plant. That cava sounds good, can the rest of my crew come in?”

The promise of pay for any information after breaking bread and conversation with Ciscero convinced Saar there was nothing more to be gained at Kunner. The saws which cut the rock hard “trees” into brilliant slices could be heard grinding away in the underground shops. Hugo gave Ciscero the radio ID number to contact if the colonists see any strangers.

“Slug farm is before Horsail.” Anderson starts the air-raft and gains altitude leaving the farm. The rain had let off and the night was black.

“Sounds good.” says Rossi.

Within hailing distance to the grotto which housed the topside buildings Anderson contacted Harean Station.

“Trell III we have been appraised of Oh-Rif. We are back up with full power. Haven’t had any problems here except the lights dimming there for a few hours.”

“Understood Harean Station. We are Omni Security contractors, we just need to look around. Some of the Oh-Rif saboteurs were believed to have fled the scene and remain at large.

“Copy Trell 3, landing request denied.”

“Dam that was cold. What is got these guys all uptight? Says Yang.

“Maybe they just don’t like Omni-Sun?” Saar says.

“Hey, I know Omni may not be everyone’s favorite out here.” Anderson gets back on the com. “Were not Omni. We are out looking for a missing person, Kazawan City. Private contract. Can you give me a break? We got credits for fuel. We can even give you a local scan, make sure the sector’s clean.”

“We don’t have time for this kind of nonsense. Request denied.”

 “Set down the raft out of sight, I want to check this out.”

Saars and Yang hugged the wet dirt of a small rise. It gave an unobstructed view of the front of the farm.

 

“There we go,” Saar growled under his breath. He handed the bi-noks to Yang. “See that. Two of them are leaving. Where could they be going in such a hurry just as we buzz them for a stop?”

“Tell someone we were here?” Yang raised an eyebrow questioningly.

“Damn right. And they didn’t want to broadcast it in case anyone in the area could pick up the transmission. Allow anyone to get a fix on who they were talking to. Kind of suspicious behavior for a slug farmer, no?”

Yang got on his com, “Anderson, get the Trell up. Come and grab us. And get a fix on two ATV’s heading… five nine nine three.” Yang and Saar both backed away from the muddy ridge and were quickly picked up by Anderson and the Trell.

“Want me to drop on ‘em?” Anderson asked as they quickly caught up to the four-wheel machines speeding over the dark, wet purple plain.

“No, just close enough they can’t ignore me.” Saar powered on the exterior sounder. “Harean Station, pull over. You only get one chance. Otherwise you are looking at an iso-cube back in Kazawan!”

No one in the Trell expected the drivers on the ground to comply, and none were surprised when the two vehicles split up, began heading in opposite directions from another.

“Which one boss?” Anderson called out.

“Hmmm, take the one on the right.” Saar says.

The Trell closed ground quickly and they could now see the ATV contained two riders. One of the two twisted around and leveled what must have been long range slug thrower at the Trell and started shooting.

“They started shooting!” Yells Anderson.

“Just hold it steady.” Yang says. He is powering down his side window and leans out with his light carbine.

It was either the second or third shot which struck the ATV. Blew out a tire. The ATV did a gut-wrenching lurch then rolled. The rider and passenger were both thrown from the wreck. With the Trell on the ground everyone but Anderson unloaded and approached the roll-over with guns drawn. One of the enviro-suited colonists was obviously dead. Crumpled against a pile of rocks. The other, the shooter, was unmoving but audibly groaning. The ATV was clearly undrivable. Rossi checked out the back of the dead one’s neck. “You’re right Saar. Strange tattoo on her neck.” This close it was easy to see the driver’s gender.

“Stop squirming slug-farmer!” This was Yang. He had his foot on the groaning colonist. Saar bent down and peeled back the suit to see the expected same tattoo.

“So what is going on? Bunch of wacked out religious nuts getting off on dead scouts is what I see.” Saar had pulled the colonist’s mask off, leaving the wild-eyed farmer to suck in the tainted air.

“You are so fucked. You all are so fucked!” He screams at them all. “You have no idea what is coming you smug capitalistic bastards!” Yang raised his fist preparing to slam the colonist’s head off the dirt but stopped short as the colonist’s insane babbling changed into a soggy, choking sob. His skin starts to ripple, become watery. Pinkish foaming regurgitation spews out of his mouth. His eyes pop with a watery sploosh, disappearing in rivulets down his yellow environmental suit, and then collapses into soft, lifeless corpse. A clear liquid continues to seep out from him into the purple dirt.

Saar looks down at the mess, puzzled. “Throw him in the trunk. The other one to. Then get the hell out here. We should get back to Kazawan.” 

(to be continued)