"Hm... a small profit?" Dustin says "I suppose you're right, Cyril. I imagine a Duality fugitive would be worth a lot to them for selling." Dustin looks directly at Stephen.
"I didn't really think much about it, na. Too busy in the wrong place in the verse with people trying to kill me for no damn reason and all. But the hostility makes sense now: 'One-face, one-company...' even if you hate another employee's guts you don't show it in front of anybody that could be a potential customer. Bad for business, heh?" Dustin pauses a bit.
"Guys like them get paid lots, ne? They get treated pretty sweet-like, comfortable cows make the best milk and all. But, they're nothing without all their support support staff, all the people that make it even remotely possible for them to do things... see?"
"And they forget that, so easily." his voice lowers and has an edge of disgust to it. "They run. Maybe they wind up under somebody else's payroll, maybe they just... vanish. Either way it's treason."
Dustin frowns. "He's probably been trying to string you guys along when I'm not looking, maybe paint me as some kind of villian or something. They can't risk being seen... but I couldn't care less about this traitor. I just want to get the hell out of here."
There's a bit of agitation in Dustin next words. "Do you know how many credits I've lost from this? It was a system-level contract, my commission. Do you know how hard it is to successfully make a sell on ancillary agricultural tech?" Dustin scoffs. "I bet you didn't even know we made that kinda stuff... Keh. Once in a lifetime deal, giftwrapped for somebody else to pick up."
"And now I'm stuck here in a ship that I doubt they legitimately purchased from us, and you're telling me that they're going to use me for something? KEH. That's the last thing I want to hear!"
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“I used to draw, hard to admit that I used to draw...”
"Now wait just a second. What are you on about now?" Terrence looks at Dustin and then at the doctor. "Is there a problem between the two of you? Somebody sleep with somebody else's wife or something?"
"The problems not with me, it's between him and the corporation. He's probably got a bounty on his head too. I just want to get back to my everyday affairs." Dustin says.
"I don't know what you do for a living, or what you want to do... but a future of shooting rebels on some backwater dystopia is not something I'd like."
"A nice chai, maybe an escort or two... maybe on one of those low grav planets. Takes the weight off in all the right places. They're so perky, see... and--" Dustin remembers that Alliah is here, and looks at her while smiling sheepishly. "Excuse me... But yea. This isn't my scene, na."
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“I used to draw, hard to admit that I used to draw...”
"This may not be your scene, but you're still in it, just like the rest of us," Terrence shrugs. "And I don't recall seeing anyone here volunteer for any of this. I'd be interested to hear how you plan on getting to one of those low-grav planets from here though. For all the Duality hardware around, I doubt any of it's going to be open to you."
"I don't know... that might be precisely why they value him so much..."
"If non-Duality personnel have enough ability to use the equipment but not enough brains to master it- an employee from Duality could be seen as quite a prize..."
"That'd be so vid, na?" it seems as though Dustin is letting his mind drift a little bit more on those escorts. "Maybe if I manage to get close enough, to that officer I can get us out of here, hm?" With that, Dustin laughs a bit. It seems as though he's gone full circle. Adjusting to shock and unusual situations would be something required of a spokesperson.
"But anyway, you're right. There's not much I can do with this hardware. Even on the unlikely chance that it's not stolen or lost or whatever it would have been configured and secured proper, kuh."
Dustin looks over at Cyril, and adds "The cow over there could only provide its milk... not much else, and I sell things. They left our weapons though, so I dunno. Hm. Our weapons." Dustin lifts up the rifle he's been holding the entire time. "That sounds odd."
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“I used to draw, hard to admit that I used to draw...”
The time was now. Dustin had given him an opening, a reasonable cause for outburst. He was being somewhat careless, and Dustin would recognize this as a weakness, but it was his area, not Stephen's. Once it was out, he was hoping that Dustin would understand what to do.
Stephen rose quickly from his seat, lunging forward but stopping just short of Dustin's face. He contorted his own face in an expression of fury, a feat aided by the fact that he truly had no love for Dustin. This sort of acting was not his strong suit, but all the other passengers had plenty of reason to believe that this outburst would've came. He spoke quickly, in a growling tone, emphasizing the odd word to make it sound like he interspersed what he was saying with expletives. He spoke Dualist, one of the more rudimentary tongues, but one which he could trust Dustin to at least understand the gist of. The particular dialect was reserved primarily for dealings between researchers and marketers, a very limited interaction with a limited vocabulary to go with it. Stephen could only guess at what Dustin did and didn't know, but he was going to assume that his relative skill at hiding his own competency correlated with it directly.
«You imbecile! I would've thought you'd caught on by now with all hints I've been dropping, but once again I have to spell it out to one of you 'specialty dealings' dogs. "Being quiet", "our judgment", "good conscience"! The only thing you've done a good job of so far is convincing these maggots that we're enemies; and to think I believed you might have been working for Reis. At least if you had you would've shot me by now and all this crap would be over with, » as Stephen spoke he gestured wildly with his hands, he wasn't sure how he would make the situation appear to deescalate, but the important thing now was getting Dustin's cooperation without the others comprehending. «Before I explain any further, though, tell me if anyone's listening. Sound angry when you do it, too.»
"That sounds odd." Dustin says, when he notices Stephen rising from his seat. The Gibson calls up the HUD as his vision is reprocessed and fed back to him. He knows before knowing that Stephen hasn't drawn a weapon, he sees Cutter hasn't moved to attack him yet. The others haven't moved either. Across an instant that felt like minutes to him, Dustin weighed the simple decision. Naturally, he should shoot Stephen down before he got close. Charging headfirst into a guy with a rifle in his hand? Moron.
His body began to move in accord, as Dustin decided to insert some photons right between Stephen's eyes. Wait, na! He thought. If he dropped Stephen here, he'd surely have to take out everybody else as well, and he wasn't in a position to do that. Dustin hoped that he wouldn't regret his decision.
When all was said and done, it appeared as though Stephen startled Dustin by his actions. As Stephen began to speak to him in Dualist, he brought his rifle underneath his chin.
«Ne, what did you call me?» Dustin's reply was cold, and detached. The only indication of anger would lie in his facial expression. It seemed to Dustin that Stephen was attempting a common ploy, used by the most desperate of runners. I was sent here! He'd probably say. Mentioning a name before he even asked, he was truly desperate.
«Even if I were a 'specialty dealing' person... you wouldn't be worth killing.» Dustin seethed, and looked over at the others. "You all see this, na?" he says before reverting back to speaking in Dualist.
«I control this Videl.» There was no way for Stephen to know he was really lying. «Speak now before my finger starts to itch, cow.»
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“I used to draw, hard to admit that I used to draw...”
The nerve, Stephen sputtered, he was prideful to a fault, maybe even more so then Stephen was. Dustin's response made it quickly obvious that he was going to trust his own notions regardless of what Stephen could say, especially in such a hurried conversation, and he would try to resist going along with Stephen's little plant. It was all the same to Stephen, either reaction really benefited him, he was just worried for Dustin's sake that he was breaking character. Dustin's cooperation wasn't necessary, it probably wasn't even advisable, but Stephen knew he was out of his element and Dustin knew it too. What Dustin could gather and Stephen couldn't could be invaluable, Stephen was a neuroscientist, espionage wasn't becoming of him. If Stephen could give him one thing, though, it was that he wasn't making the anger hard.
«I don't need that superiority crap. If you shoot me or not is of little consequence to me, I'm set to die by the end of this regardless of the outcome. It's Duality that would be the worse for it,» Stephen chided, and didn't let on what he meant by "this". Whether Dustin actually believed that or not was up to him, at this point it didn't matter much to Stephen what Dustin believed. «You're acting like I'm not keeping up this charade for YOUR benefit. You said it yourself, whether or not I'm a runner is no concern to you, and I have reason to believe that of all the things you've said that's one that you actually do believe. Duality doesn't hand out rewards for bounties to employees, I know that as well as you do. If someone's getting paid to bring me down, it's most likely not going to be you. Also, if you've noticed I've been pretty damn accommodating to your lies, and I'm willing to continue to be so. However, you're going to need to cut the crap when it comes to me. If I'm a runner, so be it, you and I both know that Duality isn't going to be worse for wear when I'm off this rock. Reis is the only one who'll care.»
Stephen backed off slowly, back stepping to his seat across the Videl. «If you want to discuss business, connect to the cast I'm about to toss up with my MediStat with whatever inefficient piece of junk they're filling your heads with these days. What is that, a Visitech? Kingser? I hope it's not one of those god awful Gibsons, it doesn't take an analyst to tell you that there was shady politics to get that thing on the market... Regardless, if you don't want to cooperate I have half a mind to make this whole ordeal extremely difficult for both of us.» Stephen trailed off as he slumped back into his seat. Stephen thought he did an alright job of acting, despite Dustin's attempts to undermine him, it just appeared like Stephen had threatened Dustin, and Dustin played it off cooly. If Dustin attempted to play too much into incredulity, the exchange would only look stranger from his perspective.
The man truly spent his time in a box, Dustin realized. Shortly after the "shady politics" involving it hitting the market, the Gibson was pulled. It never took off -- for civilians, it was well under par. But with a few modifications and removals of various safeties, the Gibson truly found its place with military applications.
Its passive intranet connection and HUD meant that a wealth of logistical information could be relayed in real-time cross planet. Photoreflexive assistance and coordination functions meant minimal time training a soldier. Dustin was able to break down a variety of complex objects whose function and use he had no idea about.
Additionally, popping a runner without license to do so meant it was worth half its value, plus you'd have to pay the legal fees involved in pushing all the paper work to prove that killing the guy was within your diplomatically granted rights. The various treaties involved in creating his position gave him this right through a complicated series of loopholes and doublespeak. Stephen was corporate property. Dustin had the legal right and authority to destroy corporate property, especially if it was deemed defective.Counting in the fees and bribes you'd have to pony up to erase the records of an incident and you'd pretty much be paying to kill the man. A younger, more eager Dustin found this out the hard way.
Dustin considered flicking the lights inside the cabin, that was simple enough to not attract attention but really push the bluff that he was entirely in control of the ship. But he couldn't be sure of Stephen's reaction. Explaining to these outsiders portions of his job would mean admitting that there were enough runners to warrant the existence of guys like Dustin. Not the image he'd like to give, especially with a SHARD lackey and Council drone around.
Dustin launched a mock kernel for a Kingser, and connected to to Stephen's MediStat cast with it. It was fully functional and it's emulation virtually undetectable. If the good doctor attempted anything gutsy, the kernel would get bricked along with the MediStat. He had a few mock kernels, but Kingser's were the fastest and most optimized for data management. It was perfect for his 'position', regardless of Stephen's opinion.
Waiting for the MediStat to send its data, Dustin checked out the dummy database. It was filled with information on a brand of bottled pheromones that were included as part of a deodorant. Dustin thought about how he was nearly ran off world when he had to push this product to a religious sect.
«Keh, I'm not what you think I am and I have no clue what the hell you're talking about. I met one of 'those' people, see? And it's the legal fees for killing you I'm talking about. Anyway, I just want to go home. If your business helps me do that, then so be it, runner.»
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“I used to draw, hard to admit that I used to draw...”
Thought he didn't want anything too aggressive just yet, Cutter thinks to himself as the doctor shouts at Dustin in a language Cutter doesn't recognize. Hope he doesn't expect me to get involved with all these people around.
Luckily nothing happens. After an exchange of words between Stephen and Dustin, with the latter remaining pecularily calm after the former just shouted in his face, Stephen returns to his seat. Cutter follows the doctor to his seat with his eye, but the doctor doesn't make eye contact with him. Shrugging, Cutter cracks his knuckles and shouts to the front, "Hey, how long til we get to where we need to be. I'm getting tired of this bullshit. Some of us have places to be and wanna get the hell outta here."
While he was waiting for Stephen's 'information' Dustin returned his attentions to the current situation. He initialized the maintenance functions within the mock-Kingser.
From his maintenance access to the Videl, he tried to download any geographical data that the Videl held in its banks about this region. The more he knew the more he could plan, and the better off he could make out.
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“I used to draw, hard to admit that I used to draw...”
If the orderly or the crew hear Cutter's question, they don't respond.
Dustin
The Videl's navigation map reveals that the ship is bearing down on the heavily-populated superscrapers at Enthilore's heart, mere minutes from arriving at their destination: one of the smaller towers, presumably including Cailyl's residence.
The map is very incomplete, giving Dustin nothing but a vague outline of the city, and a few blobs of corrupted data that may or may not have been surrounding settlements deleted from its records.
Noticing that the Videl was descending, Cyril shifts over a few seats and places and peers out the window once more with a cynical expression he tries to grasp where they are
The ship is bearing down on what looks like a residential tower, albeit a very upmarket one. It's topped with a glass dome filled with greenery, and everything about it screams "money to burn". It would appear that the immediate area would be the Heights of this world- the homes to the richest of the rich on Enthiliun.
Stephen glanced toward Cutter and gave a slight nod, a tacit indication that everything that had just occurred was according to his plans. Stephen dwelled upon his 'conversation' with Dustin as he drew his MediStat from his briefcase. Dustin was not stupid, and it did not take long for Stephen to realize that he was a fool for initially thinking Dustin would be easily swayed. He had to change his angle if he was going to receive any cooperation from him, and there was virtually no possible way that Stephen could recruit him to his cause. It was all the same, Dustin was not inaccurate of his judgment of Stephen, at least not factually. For all intents and purposes Stephen was a runner, that was what the whole plan banked on. Stephen wanted desperately to explain himself, to describe the great pains he was being forced to endure, but this was not out of want of acceptance, it was merely because Stephen wanted to Dustin to know truly how important what he was doing was. Stephen had been a crappy operative so far. But who could blame him? That's not what he did, he was only in this position because he was as they perceived him; a pawn. The thought caused that all too familiar rage to well up inside him, but it wasn't productive. He watched the MediStat.
The card game appeared on his screen. It was an incredibly simple little game, 2D cards formed columns on a flat green plane. The actual program was of Stephen's own design. It was nothing too complex, the movement of the cards across the screen represented letters in different orientations, in turn Stephen mentally deciphered it into phrases and images. He had actually gotten pretty good at visualizing pictures by carefully following the movements of the cards. Any code breaker would have such a simple process figured out within the hour, but it served Stephen's purposes. He received Dustin's connection to his cast.
«Keh, I'm not what you think I am and I have no clue what the hell you're talking about. I met one of 'those' people, see? And it's the legal fees for killing you I'm talking about. Anyway, I just want to go home. If your business helps me do that, then so be it, runner.»
"Good, you can read a manual," Stephen sent back to Dustin. He didn't suspect that he would understand the reference, but the purpose of the reply was primarily to test the strength of the feed. He had meant the fact that Dustin went through the trouble to establish a mock kernel. It was standard protocol with semi-secure connections and newer generation implants, and Dustin didn't have a Kingser. Stephen, of course, was making assumptions, but Kingser was a muse implant, it was pretty much entirely built for data processing and transfer. It did a damn good job of it, but Stephen knew at least that Dustin had been using his implant during combat. It was definitely a Visitech.
That wouldn't matter, of course, a mock kernel was simplistic, but it was effective. They were impenetrable. Stephen had personally known the man who developed technology. He had seen him gunned down in his office, at least. The ordeal was minor, quickly dealt with. Of course Stephen would never know who was responsible for the murder, or why the murder took place. They were all kept in the dark. Men of science, men of incredible intellect, relegated to pawns. The man's death actually set Duality back a good deal. The newest generation implants couldn't correctly utilize mock kernels, they featured imperfect emulation with a noticeable decrease in speed. For it Duality took a hit in the trillions.
But Stephen's mind was wandering. "Here's the full medical data collected from that Gef raider back in the tower, not much, but a show of good conscience, eh?" Stephen transfered the information. "You know, you seem like you could use a friend. You may think me scum, or worse than scum, but momentary cooperation wouldn't hurt either of us."
He still lacked tact, Dustin noted as Stephen made the gesture to Cutter. He wondered just how he planned to take Dustin out.
Dustin was boggled by this bit of information. Of what use was it? Dustin's medical knowledge lay not in healing, but unhealing in sometimes unusual and curious ways. The man was clearly desperate, and afraid of him... despite Dustin's clear lack of any desire of benefit to hurt him. "Tch. So long as you don't try and attack me or kill me or get other people to try for you... I'm sure we'll get along just fine." Dustin sent in reply.
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“I used to draw, hard to admit that I used to draw...”
The Videl makes a keening sound as it begins to draw closer to the tower. Soon it pulls alongside yet another balcony, but this one is a baroque, wrought-iron affair draped in lush vines and flowers.
The cockpit door opens and the orderly steps out.
“We’re here. Better you than me- don’t piss her off or anything, okay?†He hits the hatch control panel and staggers back to his seat as the ramp lowers.
The room is made of pale stone, and feels more like the courtyard of some garden than the apex of a modern tower.
There’s a woman in a white suit standing with her hands folded behind her back- she nods curtly as the group steps off the ship. She watches as everyone walks towards her down exquisitely carved steps, and once the Videl has sealed its hatchway and retreated back into the sky she unclasps her hands and begins speaking.
“I imagine you have an awful lot of questions, so I suggest you let me field them rather than Cailyl. I’m a lot more likely to be honest than my employer, and I’m also incapable of blowing your brain up on a whim.†She smiles slightly. Her hair is an unnatural glassy colour, almost translucent, and she has an unpleasant scar across her left eye, which she appears to have difficultly keeping open.
Hey, it's Cutter's sister! Dustin thinks, well within the fortified recesses of his mind. Dustin conveys a sense of relief, despite the woman's slightly disfigured appearance.
He was out of the Videl, and maybe the group would remember that they're in this horrible situation together. Looking at the woman's hair he wondered if it was hereditary, or maybe had her genes modded to get that kind of hair.
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“I used to draw, hard to admit that I used to draw...”
Following the path laid before him , Cyril keeps a cautious gaze on the woman in front of him. He courteously crosses his arms on the back of his torso as he is in her presence.
Cyril removes he gaze momentarily to see if anyone else would speak first, and when no-one does he reverts his glance to the woman
Earnestly he asks
"What is it exactly your organization wants with us?"
Despite the woman's claims that she lacks various capabilities of brain combustion, Cyril's eyes shows that he is still humbled in some form.
Terrence spends the rest of the flight dozing. Whatever is going on between Dustin and Stephen, it doesn't seem to have anything to do with their current situation. He considers discussing events with Alliah, but she seems to be taking time to rest and there isn't much point to disturbing her.
There is no mistaking the sound of the Videl's drive whining as it approaches its destination. Terrence stirs from his rest and looks out the window in time to see the rich architecture of some nearby buildings. They're obviosuly in an affluent - of formerly affluent, at any rate - area. The orderly ushers everyone out of the transport and waves them towards the woman waiting to meet them. She isn't Cailyl, and if her claims are to be believed, she's no psionor either. That comes as something of a relief to Terrence.
Cyril jumps right in with a question, and not a bad one at that. Terrence thinks they need to start more at the beginning though, and before the scarred representative can answer he asks, "And what exactly is your organization?"
As the others begin to ask their questions, Dustin's eyes move away from the woman and around into the scenery. He looks for any doorways, and for any good spots that he could take cover in.
"Tch! This is a nice place, na" he says in an undertone, as he continues to look around. Waiting for an answer to Terrence and Cyril's questions, Dustin gazes passively at the woman. The scar told him that she'd either seen combat or been a victim of it. But what about the hands? The arms? Her stature? Was she a soldier, a politician, or their equivalent of an operative? The words she'd spoken hadn't made it clear or not.
He could guess that she either had or feigned fear for Cailyl, yet she referred to her by first name. She couldn't have been military, it was unlikely that she'd refer to her leading official by name. Her employer... perhaps she was a merc. He'd have to hear more before he'd ask any questions of his own.
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“I used to draw, hard to admit that I used to draw...”
“I have to admit that I’m not entirely sure what Cailyl is expecting of you. I believe you have records that she’s deeply interested by, but she hasn’t seen fit to inform me of her plans beyond that.â€
“As for your question,†she nods in Terrence’s direction, “the Foundation isn’t my organisation by any means. I guess you could say I’m a private contractor.
“As for what they are- right now, they’re everything. They seized control of all of Enthilore’s assets, and after that, they conquered or obliterated the surrounding colonies and exiled all the embassy staff.
“With the intranet jammer deployed, the rest of the galaxy has received little information regarding our situation, and even if they did the vast majority of ships would be hard pressed to reach the planet since we lack a working phase beacon.
“The Foundation has the backing of most of the populace, the backing of what remains of the world’s Academies, and until very recently they had the backing of various supercorporations who were expecting to reap the benefit of the world’s newfound independence.
“Needless to say, the Foundation backstabbed them.â€
"I see, pretty lady." Dustin replies. It's clearly not said in an insulting matter, nor does it carry any traces of sarcasm. Maybe Alliah's plan to destroy the records would have been a sound idea after all, Dustin thinks.
"And what exactly do you... do, hm?" Dustin asks her.
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“I used to draw, hard to admit that I used to draw...”
"Whatever the contract calls for. You'd be the... hah... Spokesperson Cailyl alluded to, yes? I'm sure you'd know all about my line of work and all the duties it can entail."
For just a moment, there's an unmistakably sinister glint in Dustin's eyes. The situation had changed. If they took out the intranet to keep people from knowing what happened here, then the odds of them getting out of this system with the foundation's aid were minimal.
"I see." Dustin says with a slight stress to his voice. He takes on a more relaxed posture, as he looks over towards her, carefully. "And what's your name, pretty lady? And just how long ago did they backstab the corps, hm?"
Checking to see what visible combat abilities she has - weapons, augmentation nubs sticking out her her skin, weird glowing lights in places that shouldn't glow, etc (Focus): 1d20+7 → [13,7] = (20)
tastydonuts on
“I used to draw, hard to admit that I used to draw...”
"It's been a gradual thing, but in the last few months they've been virtually annihilated by The Hand.
“The Foundation didn't lift a finger to help them- probably thought it'd make running Enthilore all the easier- but now they are, not to put too fine a point on it, screwed. The Hand took on Duality’s private force, so they’ll have little difficulty mopping up the Foundation’s amateurs.â€
Dustin notes that while the woman is quite tall and apparently healthy, there’re no visible signs of augmentation, and she doesn’t even appear to be armed.
There's a certain edge to Dustin's voice after he heard the Pretty Lady inform him that the Enthilore Foundation stood idly by and let his compatriots die. The ease by which the motley bunch he was with killed off the Hand's raiders so far only made him all the more disgusted. That was the thing, there was no anger to be found, only disgust.
"They did nothing?"
The question was rhetorical more than anything.
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“I used to draw, hard to admit that I used to draw...”
The nameless woman shrugs. “Virtually nothing. Granted, they sent a token force of Foundation troops, but they didn't co-operate fully. Which was a truly idiotic mistake, because it's my professional opinion that the two armies combined could have repelled The Hand.
“In fact, The Hand would have been all but destroyed if the Foundation hadn't systematically destabilised the region. All the embassies fielded their own defensive forces, and if they all acted together? Well, The Hand would’ve had a far harder time of it.â€
"So you've brought us here and for what?" Cutter asks. "There is no obvious reason to have us here. We, er rather, I, at least, cannot be of any interest to you." His lone black eye staring into the woman's lone good eye. "Where do we go from here?"
Cutter shows obvious annoyance with the situation. He crosses his big arms across his chest to show that he is determined to get a straight answer.
The woman violently jerks a thumb over her shoulder in a fashion that’s at odds with her usual demeanour.
“Cailyl is through that door. If you’ve no further questions, you should go through- I wouldn’t advise that you keep her waiting too long. You can ask her anything you like. Wouldn’t recommend it, though.â€
The door in question is made from studded oak, flanked by two tastefully simple statues. No doubt there’s some sort of hidden mechanism to counter its weight.
"Hang on." Terrence says. He'd been taking in the information quietly. It was all good stuff. "I have one more question. Maybe you can't or won't tell me much, but I was wondering how much you know about other private contractors working here. Both for the Foundation and this Hand group."
She smiles again. "Curious choice of phrasing. You wouldn't happen to be referring to a certain famous cyborg killing machine, would you? I've heard that rumour too.
"I don't think there's anything to it- to be perfectly frank, I don't think either of us would appeal to his usual hiring policies. I hear he's pretty choosy. Revolutionaries and terrorists... not his scene.
I have heard that The Hand have hired a Karamanit cyborg of some description, though, which might explain where the rumour comes from. They seem to have a lot of bions in their ranks, after all."
Dustin pays close attention when she mentions Karamanit. Karamanit was pretty much just another part of Duality Corporation after they liquidated their assets. It was highly likely that even portions of his Gibson had come from Karamanit tech.
A Karmanit cyborg would be a problem, along with whatever the hell else they had. He tried to think of any Karamanit cyborgs that would be noteworthy, but was drawing a blank.
"Ne, Pretty Lady. Perhaps we'll meet again." Dustin says as he puts his hands behind his head. "Maybe we can get a ride off this «Trash heap», na?" He adds. He was fairly certain that the only way out was to play this psionor's game.
tastydonuts on
“I used to draw, hard to admit that I used to draw...”
"Wait, wait. Let's assume for the sake of argument that the rumours are true. Does that mean that The Hand has means of communication and transport offworld?"
She gives Dustin an ironic wave, but Terrence’s question makes her pause. She lowers her hand slowly.
“I suppose that’s a possibility. But I’d hate to think that The Hand has an intranet transceiver that we can’t detect, or a phasecraft that can operate without a beacon.â€
"What makes The Hand so scary anyway? I mean, if they could take on the corps and win that's no small feat, but assuming our hostile encounters have been Hand forces they don't seem like much more than a bunch of thugs." Terrence shrugs. "Sorry to keep you with all these questions now. Sometimes you just never know what to ask. I'm sure you know how it is."
"What makes them 'scary', as you put it, are their elites. Most of them are just thugs, hordes that they've recruited from the local lowlifes, but their core forces are made up of Gef with a selection of specialised augmentations. Reports have some of them shrugging off plasma shots, or punching through walls."
Posts
"I didn't really think much about it, na. Too busy in the wrong place in the verse with people trying to kill me for no damn reason and all. But the hostility makes sense now: 'One-face, one-company...' even if you hate another employee's guts you don't show it in front of anybody that could be a potential customer. Bad for business, heh?" Dustin pauses a bit.
"Guys like them get paid lots, ne? They get treated pretty sweet-like, comfortable cows make the best milk and all. But, they're nothing without all their support support staff, all the people that make it even remotely possible for them to do things... see?"
"And they forget that, so easily." his voice lowers and has an edge of disgust to it. "They run. Maybe they wind up under somebody else's payroll, maybe they just... vanish. Either way it's treason."
Dustin frowns. "He's probably been trying to string you guys along when I'm not looking, maybe paint me as some kind of villian or something. They can't risk being seen... but I couldn't care less about this traitor. I just want to get the hell out of here."
There's a bit of agitation in Dustin next words. "Do you know how many credits I've lost from this? It was a system-level contract, my commission. Do you know how hard it is to successfully make a sell on ancillary agricultural tech?" Dustin scoffs. "I bet you didn't even know we made that kinda stuff... Keh. Once in a lifetime deal, giftwrapped for somebody else to pick up."
"And now I'm stuck here in a ship that I doubt they legitimately purchased from us, and you're telling me that they're going to use me for something? KEH. That's the last thing I want to hear!"
"I don't know what you do for a living, or what you want to do... but a future of shooting rebels on some backwater dystopia is not something I'd like."
"A nice chai, maybe an escort or two... maybe on one of those low grav planets. Takes the weight off in all the right places. They're so perky, see... and--" Dustin remembers that Alliah is here, and looks at her while smiling sheepishly. "Excuse me... But yea. This isn't my scene, na."
"I don't know... that might be precisely why they value him so much..."
"If non-Duality personnel have enough ability to use the equipment but not enough brains to master it- an employee from Duality could be seen as quite a prize..."
"But anyway, you're right. There's not much I can do with this hardware. Even on the unlikely chance that it's not stolen or lost or whatever it would have been configured and secured proper, kuh."
Dustin looks over at Cyril, and adds "The cow over there could only provide its milk... not much else, and I sell things. They left our weapons though, so I dunno. Hm. Our weapons." Dustin lifts up the rifle he's been holding the entire time. "That sounds odd."
Stephen rose quickly from his seat, lunging forward but stopping just short of Dustin's face. He contorted his own face in an expression of fury, a feat aided by the fact that he truly had no love for Dustin. This sort of acting was not his strong suit, but all the other passengers had plenty of reason to believe that this outburst would've came. He spoke quickly, in a growling tone, emphasizing the odd word to make it sound like he interspersed what he was saying with expletives. He spoke Dualist, one of the more rudimentary tongues, but one which he could trust Dustin to at least understand the gist of. The particular dialect was reserved primarily for dealings between researchers and marketers, a very limited interaction with a limited vocabulary to go with it. Stephen could only guess at what Dustin did and didn't know, but he was going to assume that his relative skill at hiding his own competency correlated with it directly.
«You imbecile! I would've thought you'd caught on by now with all hints I've been dropping, but once again I have to spell it out to one of you 'specialty dealings' dogs. "Being quiet", "our judgment", "good conscience"! The only thing you've done a good job of so far is convincing these maggots that we're enemies; and to think I believed you might have been working for Reis. At least if you had you would've shot me by now and all this crap would be over with, » as Stephen spoke he gestured wildly with his hands, he wasn't sure how he would make the situation appear to deescalate, but the important thing now was getting Dustin's cooperation without the others comprehending. «Before I explain any further, though, tell me if anyone's listening. Sound angry when you do it, too.»
His body began to move in accord, as Dustin decided to insert some photons right between Stephen's eyes. Wait, na! He thought. If he dropped Stephen here, he'd surely have to take out everybody else as well, and he wasn't in a position to do that. Dustin hoped that he wouldn't regret his decision.
When all was said and done, it appeared as though Stephen startled Dustin by his actions. As Stephen began to speak to him in Dualist, he brought his rifle underneath his chin.
«Ne, what did you call me?» Dustin's reply was cold, and detached. The only indication of anger would lie in his facial expression. It seemed to Dustin that Stephen was attempting a common ploy, used by the most desperate of runners. I was sent here! He'd probably say. Mentioning a name before he even asked, he was truly desperate.
«Even if I were a 'specialty dealing' person... you wouldn't be worth killing.» Dustin seethed, and looked over at the others. "You all see this, na?" he says before reverting back to speaking in Dualist.
«I control this Videl.» There was no way for Stephen to know he was really lying. «Speak now before my finger starts to itch, cow.»
«I don't need that superiority crap. If you shoot me or not is of little consequence to me, I'm set to die by the end of this regardless of the outcome. It's Duality that would be the worse for it,» Stephen chided, and didn't let on what he meant by "this". Whether Dustin actually believed that or not was up to him, at this point it didn't matter much to Stephen what Dustin believed. «You're acting like I'm not keeping up this charade for YOUR benefit. You said it yourself, whether or not I'm a runner is no concern to you, and I have reason to believe that of all the things you've said that's one that you actually do believe. Duality doesn't hand out rewards for bounties to employees, I know that as well as you do. If someone's getting paid to bring me down, it's most likely not going to be you. Also, if you've noticed I've been pretty damn accommodating to your lies, and I'm willing to continue to be so. However, you're going to need to cut the crap when it comes to me. If I'm a runner, so be it, you and I both know that Duality isn't going to be worse for wear when I'm off this rock. Reis is the only one who'll care.»
Stephen backed off slowly, back stepping to his seat across the Videl. «If you want to discuss business, connect to the cast I'm about to toss up with my MediStat with whatever inefficient piece of junk they're filling your heads with these days. What is that, a Visitech? Kingser? I hope it's not one of those god awful Gibsons, it doesn't take an analyst to tell you that there was shady politics to get that thing on the market... Regardless, if you don't want to cooperate I have half a mind to make this whole ordeal extremely difficult for both of us.» Stephen trailed off as he slumped back into his seat. Stephen thought he did an alright job of acting, despite Dustin's attempts to undermine him, it just appeared like Stephen had threatened Dustin, and Dustin played it off cooly. If Dustin attempted to play too much into incredulity, the exchange would only look stranger from his perspective.
Its passive intranet connection and HUD meant that a wealth of logistical information could be relayed in real-time cross planet. Photoreflexive assistance and coordination functions meant minimal time training a soldier. Dustin was able to break down a variety of complex objects whose function and use he had no idea about.
Additionally, popping a runner without license to do so meant it was worth half its value, plus you'd have to pay the legal fees involved in pushing all the paper work to prove that killing the guy was within your diplomatically granted rights. The various treaties involved in creating his position gave him this right through a complicated series of loopholes and doublespeak. Stephen was corporate property. Dustin had the legal right and authority to destroy corporate property, especially if it was deemed defective.Counting in the fees and bribes you'd have to pony up to erase the records of an incident and you'd pretty much be paying to kill the man. A younger, more eager Dustin found this out the hard way.
Dustin considered flicking the lights inside the cabin, that was simple enough to not attract attention but really push the bluff that he was entirely in control of the ship. But he couldn't be sure of Stephen's reaction. Explaining to these outsiders portions of his job would mean admitting that there were enough runners to warrant the existence of guys like Dustin. Not the image he'd like to give, especially with a SHARD lackey and Council drone around.
Dustin launched a mock kernel for a Kingser, and connected to to Stephen's MediStat cast with it. It was fully functional and it's emulation virtually undetectable. If the good doctor attempted anything gutsy, the kernel would get bricked along with the MediStat. He had a few mock kernels, but Kingser's were the fastest and most optimized for data management. It was perfect for his 'position', regardless of Stephen's opinion.
Waiting for the MediStat to send its data, Dustin checked out the dummy database. It was filled with information on a brand of bottled pheromones that were included as part of a deodorant. Dustin thought about how he was nearly ran off world when he had to push this product to a religious sect.
«Keh, I'm not what you think I am and I have no clue what the hell you're talking about. I met one of 'those' people, see? And it's the legal fees for killing you I'm talking about. Anyway, I just want to go home. If your business helps me do that, then so be it, runner.»
Luckily nothing happens. After an exchange of words between Stephen and Dustin, with the latter remaining pecularily calm after the former just shouted in his face, Stephen returns to his seat. Cutter follows the doctor to his seat with his eye, but the doctor doesn't make eye contact with him. Shrugging, Cutter cracks his knuckles and shouts to the front, "Hey, how long til we get to where we need to be. I'm getting tired of this bullshit. Some of us have places to be and wanna get the hell outta here."
From his maintenance access to the Videl, he tried to download any geographical data that the Videl held in its banks about this region. The more he knew the more he could plan, and the better off he could make out.
If the orderly or the crew hear Cutter's question, they don't respond.
Dustin
The Videl's navigation map reveals that the ship is bearing down on the heavily-populated superscrapers at Enthilore's heart, mere minutes from arriving at their destination: one of the smaller towers, presumably including Cailyl's residence.
The map is very incomplete, giving Dustin nothing but a vague outline of the city, and a few blobs of corrupted data that may or may not have been surrounding settlements deleted from its records.
(If possible)
Compilation attempt (Gibson/Intel): 1d20+7 → [11,7] = (18)
Also: I changed the spelling Ed, even though now my roll history won't be uniform. >_>
Both sets of information are equally rough, but Dustin manages to pull together an approximate layout of the raider's bases of operation:
The ship is bearing down on what looks like a residential tower, albeit a very upmarket one. It's topped with a glass dome filled with greenery, and everything about it screams "money to burn". It would appear that the immediate area would be the Heights of this world- the homes to the richest of the rich on Enthiliun.
The card game appeared on his screen. It was an incredibly simple little game, 2D cards formed columns on a flat green plane. The actual program was of Stephen's own design. It was nothing too complex, the movement of the cards across the screen represented letters in different orientations, in turn Stephen mentally deciphered it into phrases and images. He had actually gotten pretty good at visualizing pictures by carefully following the movements of the cards. Any code breaker would have such a simple process figured out within the hour, but it served Stephen's purposes. He received Dustin's connection to his cast.
«Keh, I'm not what you think I am and I have no clue what the hell you're talking about. I met one of 'those' people, see? And it's the legal fees for killing you I'm talking about. Anyway, I just want to go home. If your business helps me do that, then so be it, runner.»
"Good, you can read a manual," Stephen sent back to Dustin. He didn't suspect that he would understand the reference, but the purpose of the reply was primarily to test the strength of the feed. He had meant the fact that Dustin went through the trouble to establish a mock kernel. It was standard protocol with semi-secure connections and newer generation implants, and Dustin didn't have a Kingser. Stephen, of course, was making assumptions, but Kingser was a muse implant, it was pretty much entirely built for data processing and transfer. It did a damn good job of it, but Stephen knew at least that Dustin had been using his implant during combat. It was definitely a Visitech.
That wouldn't matter, of course, a mock kernel was simplistic, but it was effective. They were impenetrable. Stephen had personally known the man who developed technology. He had seen him gunned down in his office, at least. The ordeal was minor, quickly dealt with. Of course Stephen would never know who was responsible for the murder, or why the murder took place. They were all kept in the dark. Men of science, men of incredible intellect, relegated to pawns. The man's death actually set Duality back a good deal. The newest generation implants couldn't correctly utilize mock kernels, they featured imperfect emulation with a noticeable decrease in speed. For it Duality took a hit in the trillions.
But Stephen's mind was wandering. "Here's the full medical data collected from that Gef raider back in the tower, not much, but a show of good conscience, eh?" Stephen transfered the information. "You know, you seem like you could use a friend. You may think me scum, or worse than scum, but momentary cooperation wouldn't hurt either of us."
Dustin was boggled by this bit of information. Of what use was it? Dustin's medical knowledge lay not in healing, but unhealing in sometimes unusual and curious ways. The man was clearly desperate, and afraid of him... despite Dustin's clear lack of any desire of benefit to hurt him. "Tch. So long as you don't try and attack me or kill me or get other people to try for you... I'm sure we'll get along just fine." Dustin sent in reply.
The Videl makes a keening sound as it begins to draw closer to the tower. Soon it pulls alongside yet another balcony, but this one is a baroque, wrought-iron affair draped in lush vines and flowers.
The cockpit door opens and the orderly steps out.
“We’re here. Better you than me- don’t piss her off or anything, okay?†He hits the hatch control panel and staggers back to his seat as the ramp lowers.
The room is made of pale stone, and feels more like the courtyard of some garden than the apex of a modern tower.
There’s a woman in a white suit standing with her hands folded behind her back- she nods curtly as the group steps off the ship. She watches as everyone walks towards her down exquisitely carved steps, and once the Videl has sealed its hatchway and retreated back into the sky she unclasps her hands and begins speaking.
“I imagine you have an awful lot of questions, so I suggest you let me field them rather than Cailyl. I’m a lot more likely to be honest than my employer, and I’m also incapable of blowing your brain up on a whim.†She smiles slightly. Her hair is an unnatural glassy colour, almost translucent, and she has an unpleasant scar across her left eye, which she appears to have difficultly keeping open.
He was out of the Videl, and maybe the group would remember that they're in this horrible situation together. Looking at the woman's hair he wondered if it was hereditary, or maybe had her genes modded to get that kind of hair.
Cyril removes he gaze momentarily to see if anyone else would speak first, and when no-one does he reverts his glance to the woman
Earnestly he asks
"What is it exactly your organization wants with us?"
Despite the woman's claims that she lacks various capabilities of brain combustion, Cyril's eyes shows that he is still humbled in some form.
There is no mistaking the sound of the Videl's drive whining as it approaches its destination. Terrence stirs from his rest and looks out the window in time to see the rich architecture of some nearby buildings. They're obviosuly in an affluent - of formerly affluent, at any rate - area. The orderly ushers everyone out of the transport and waves them towards the woman waiting to meet them. She isn't Cailyl, and if her claims are to be believed, she's no psionor either. That comes as something of a relief to Terrence.
Cyril jumps right in with a question, and not a bad one at that. Terrence thinks they need to start more at the beginning though, and before the scarred representative can answer he asks, "And what exactly is your organization?"
"Tch! This is a nice place, na" he says in an undertone, as he continues to look around. Waiting for an answer to Terrence and Cyril's questions, Dustin gazes passively at the woman. The scar told him that she'd either seen combat or been a victim of it. But what about the hands? The arms? Her stature? Was she a soldier, a politician, or their equivalent of an operative? The words she'd spoken hadn't made it clear or not.
He could guess that she either had or feigned fear for Cailyl, yet she referred to her by first name. She couldn't have been military, it was unlikely that she'd refer to her leading official by name. Her employer... perhaps she was a merc. He'd have to hear more before he'd ask any questions of his own.
“I have to admit that I’m not entirely sure what Cailyl is expecting of you. I believe you have records that she’s deeply interested by, but she hasn’t seen fit to inform me of her plans beyond that.â€
“As for your question,†she nods in Terrence’s direction, “the Foundation isn’t my organisation by any means. I guess you could say I’m a private contractor.
“As for what they are- right now, they’re everything. They seized control of all of Enthilore’s assets, and after that, they conquered or obliterated the surrounding colonies and exiled all the embassy staff.
“With the intranet jammer deployed, the rest of the galaxy has received little information regarding our situation, and even if they did the vast majority of ships would be hard pressed to reach the planet since we lack a working phase beacon.
“The Foundation has the backing of most of the populace, the backing of what remains of the world’s Academies, and until very recently they had the backing of various supercorporations who were expecting to reap the benefit of the world’s newfound independence.
“Needless to say, the Foundation backstabbed them.â€
"And what exactly do you... do, hm?" Dustin asks her.
"Whatever the contract calls for. You'd be the... hah... Spokesperson Cailyl alluded to, yes? I'm sure you'd know all about my line of work and all the duties it can entail."
"I see." Dustin says with a slight stress to his voice. He takes on a more relaxed posture, as he looks over towards her, carefully. "And what's your name, pretty lady? And just how long ago did they backstab the corps, hm?"
Checking to see what visible combat abilities she has - weapons, augmentation nubs sticking out her her skin, weird glowing lights in places that shouldn't glow, etc (Focus): 1d20+7 → [13,7] = (20)
"It's been a gradual thing, but in the last few months they've been virtually annihilated by The Hand.
“The Foundation didn't lift a finger to help them- probably thought it'd make running Enthilore all the easier- but now they are, not to put too fine a point on it, screwed. The Hand took on Duality’s private force, so they’ll have little difficulty mopping up the Foundation’s amateurs.â€
Dustin notes that while the woman is quite tall and apparently healthy, there’re no visible signs of augmentation, and she doesn’t even appear to be armed.
"They did nothing?"
The question was rhetorical more than anything.
The nameless woman shrugs. “Virtually nothing. Granted, they sent a token force of Foundation troops, but they didn't co-operate fully. Which was a truly idiotic mistake, because it's my professional opinion that the two armies combined could have repelled The Hand.
“In fact, The Hand would have been all but destroyed if the Foundation hadn't systematically destabilised the region. All the embassies fielded their own defensive forces, and if they all acted together? Well, The Hand would’ve had a far harder time of it.â€
Cutter shows obvious annoyance with the situation. He crosses his big arms across his chest to show that he is determined to get a straight answer.
The woman violently jerks a thumb over her shoulder in a fashion that’s at odds with her usual demeanour.
“Cailyl is through that door. If you’ve no further questions, you should go through- I wouldn’t advise that you keep her waiting too long. You can ask her anything you like. Wouldn’t recommend it, though.â€
The door in question is made from studded oak, flanked by two tastefully simple statues. No doubt there’s some sort of hidden mechanism to counter its weight.
She smiles again. "Curious choice of phrasing. You wouldn't happen to be referring to a certain famous cyborg killing machine, would you? I've heard that rumour too.
"I don't think there's anything to it- to be perfectly frank, I don't think either of us would appeal to his usual hiring policies. I hear he's pretty choosy. Revolutionaries and terrorists... not his scene.
I have heard that The Hand have hired a Karamanit cyborg of some description, though, which might explain where the rumour comes from. They seem to have a lot of bions in their ranks, after all."
A Karmanit cyborg would be a problem, along with whatever the hell else they had. He tried to think of any Karamanit cyborgs that would be noteworthy, but was drawing a blank.
"Ne, Pretty Lady. Perhaps we'll meet again." Dustin says as he puts his hands behind his head. "Maybe we can get a ride off this «Trash heap», na?" He adds. He was fairly certain that the only way out was to play this psionor's game.
She gives Dustin an ironic wave, but Terrence’s question makes her pause. She lowers her hand slowly.
“I suppose that’s a possibility. But I’d hate to think that The Hand has an intranet transceiver that we can’t detect, or a phasecraft that can operate without a beacon.â€
"What makes them 'scary', as you put it, are their elites. Most of them are just thugs, hordes that they've recruited from the local lowlifes, but their core forces are made up of Gef with a selection of specialised augmentations. Reports have some of them shrugging off plasma shots, or punching through walls."