"Mr. Filgron," Kipo figured he should dispense with introductions, so he got right down to business talk while adjusting the strap of the guitar case on his back and straightening up his back to increase his height just a bit, "you are correct. And we," he nodded at Nyx, "don't believe it will be ghosts that come running out the porch door of the Wen’esdai's Child after we go in there," then he leaned in to whisper, "Smart money says what'll run out of there with their tails between their legs will be a pile of Squibs. A little bird said Silar Mins wants that souped-up hyperdrive engine in her for his own hotrod pod racer."   Leaning back to a more conversational distance, Kipo added, "We ain't been sittin' around this mornin'. We pulled up the layout of the Child when she was stock Old Republic. And we heard tell of a number of parlor tricks that the previous owners left behind that your men found and removed. If you could show us on the map where your crews went and where they haven't, we would be most obliged."   Then, knowing he was hogging the conversation, "Oh, and if ya don't mind me askin' will we be the only hunters going in there today, or will we have," he tried to think of a word besides, 'competition', and came up with, "coworkers in there?"    

"We aim to get your schedule back on track Mr. Filgron. Really docking bay 1313?!" She says with a smile. "I assume out of safety and with a touch of the crews paranoia that docking bays 1312 and 1314 have also been cleared?"   Continuing as if this was not a question but more of a statement, "We will move the Bitterluck to dock 1312 and will need a light shuttle placed in bay 1314 authorized to us. The shuttle should have backup lifesupport suits and medical gear. We would like to confirm that all access protocols have been removed and your team no longer has access. This will only keep out the honest but makes a clear line of delineation for us when we encounter someone on board. This firmly makes anyone on board save us not a member of your team or not acting within the legal purvey of your team."   She taps out a few notes on her small wrist datapad but in Casino Speak. Part of this a message to Kipo. "This should make it easier to pin down existing back doors in access or access after we begin. After he confirms the security change could you have Jane begin the process of trying to externally breach the security for test purposes and looking for other activity, holes, entry into the system.   "The only thing we really need now is hard data on these short jumps please. Feel free to give us a run down or sling us the files. I am looking for visual feeds before the jumps, and any readings that could help us later."

JN-66 heard her name and fully agreed with the idea of "testing" the security of the ship, but why wait until some of the employee accesses had been closed? She could hop in there right now and drop in a nice back door that she could use just in case she had any trouble after the firewalls closed up a bit tighter than they currently were.   Oh, but then again, the place was inhabited by outlaw techs for a while.   She silently asked the Shipyards' Comm Operator program, "Ms. Tomlin, would you ring up the electronic intelligence version of a maintenance foreman responsible for Bay 1313 for me? You're a peach. Thank you so much."   Then after a moment, "Mister C8P01010226597466? I am JN-66, Senior Analysis Technician. Charmed, I'm sure. I am speaking with a Mister Mil Filgron, and... Yes, that's the one. ...and he is assigning me to check the data security of the Wen’esdai's Child, and I heard that it was once occupied by some of those creepy outlaw tech persons. Why, the thought of how unsanitary the electronic conditions might be in there gives me a shudder down my circuits. So, I thought I would ask you if any other droids had had any, well, 'trouble' communicating with her since she arrived. And do you have any favorite disinfecting agents I could use? ... if it's no bother."

                                     

     

As Filgron finished talking about the strange, "high band ionic exhaust", Kipo heard JN-66 (who appeared to be looking off in a different direction) utter a little whistle starting high and deepening as is faded out, much like he would often do when he found something impressive and confounding, or when he had realized that he was entirely screwed. He made a mental note to ask Jane in private - oh - but then again, he probably wouldn't have to ask.   Kipo instead asked Mr. Filgron for the other side of the coin of Nyx's question, "Well that's disturbing, imagine how fast she could go in forward gear instead of reverse. How about the other end of the jumps? Have you tracked her to where the Child heads when she takes these excursions? Any info about that location might be helpful Maybe the edge of the system, if I were to guess."

         

Listening to the jump description Nyx's tail twitches uncomfortable as she focuses on the details. She repeats Curn over in her mind also odd.   "Almost like open programming never finishes or frayed, a confused boomerang. Mr Filgron thank you for all the details and hospitality, we aim to get started. I will relocate the Bitterluck, I am sure you understand."   I turn to stride away and slide Kipo a private message of the following as I am walking away ...   "I am starting a list of keywords for later on the Bitterluck, maybe something on the pirate side or less than lawful information that may not show up on the public sector or corporate profiles that could link things together. When I was young I remember a news holo-cast of a space station industrial accident I watched. My mentor chided me for not understanding. He explained a small rogue band of pirates raided, attempted to raid the station and met with total wipe out and the damage they did scuttling their ship into the station was labeled an industrial accident pinned on the chief engineer of the station that lost his life. Better to advertise the tragic loss of one incompetent ex-employee than let the system know an inept band of pirates made their way inside your security net and almost brought your station down. The news is the fancy dress in the window being advertised not the true story. I figure this is something you can weigh in on and we can run later when we are re-docked."   Keyword Search

Curn

Ice Planet

Ice Mining

Outlaw Technicians

Nova Orion

Corellian Support Frigates

Experimental Hyper Drive

Hyper Drive Research

Kipo nodded to Nyx as she left and then said his farewells to their contact, "I can't guarantee she won't jump again, but I can assure you we will get to the bottom of this and get you your ship back right quick, Mister Filgron."   He saw that Jane was holding her hands like she did when she wanted to tell him something in private, so Kipo kept it short and left Filgron with another (hopefully) assuring nod and followed Nyx at a short distance.

When JN-66 had the opportunity, she told Kipo in a voice she calculated only he would hear, "Nyx sent you a list of subjects for me to search, hoping to find a connection to the bigger picture of what is going on."   She remotely connected into the shipboard computer of the BitterLuck and had the crew terminal send out the queries to the shipyard's databases. And just to be certain, she had it relay the query to the public news of the Mol Kydri spaceport, planetside, with a particular attention to any news stories that might have been deleted locally but were only available on the planet.   "Shall I run them down?" she asked Kipo.   "Ayup," Kipo mumbled in the affirmative, barely moving his lips, "Doncha know it."   "I'll be glad to do so," JN-66 said, already collating the data as it returned.

                   

"Oh my stars and circuits," JN-66 said aloud. She quickly but thoroughly checked her systems for that alleged money laundering software infection. It just would not do for her to be subconsciously moving tiny fractions of a credit over and over to some unscrupulous benefactor when she could be depositing them into one of the dark accounts she had opened on Kipo's behalf long ago in case of a rainy day.   After that, she crafted a succinct summary of the various reports and replied it to Nyx' handy data device, with links to more in-depth information.   Then she casually broke the news to Kipo, bit by bit, starting with, "Oh I do hope the Child doesn't warp right into that mexallite ion cloud that wanders around Curn, or the space slug or space kraken that people talk about," as they followed Nyx to the BitterLuck.   Kipo raised an eyebrow to that and filed the information away in his head with several other facts he hoped he would never have the misfortune to need to know.

               

Storyteller Instructions

Nyx, Kipo, Jane, how do you want to handle this?

"Train's leavin' the station!" Kipo shouted.   Unhindered by safety belts, he coiled, grabbed his guitar, and leapt to the docking adapter to get his tail out of the Bitter Luck and into Wednesday's Child as quickly as the airlock doors and electronic keypads would allow him, hoping he (and anyone who joined him) would make it onboard to find out who or what was operating the engines before they got away like so many times before.

"Oh dear," JN-66 said aloud as Kipo rushed away. She did not share his enthusiasm to enter what she considered to be the electronic equivalent of a rat-infested sewer called Wednesday's Child.   He was always jumping before thinking like this. What if it were chilly in the largely unused ship? He never did wear that warm sweater she had once had fabricated for him. She would have no way of knowing if he needed her help, (aside from he always needed her help, in her own opinion). If only she had pinned a communications transmitter/receiver to his favorite fedora so she could talk to him in situations like these, but she knew how disappointed he would be if she had poked a hole in the worn leather. She would just have to open a communications line with the Child's comm systems from here.   Aha! That was it. She could keep tabs on him and insulate herself from those icky outlaw tech shenanigans at the same time.   JN-66 flew over to a pair of data workstations in the Bitter Luck close to the cockpit and physically typed on each with one hand while opening a third line of communication with the Bitter Luck's shipboard computer systems using her wireless long-range antenna, trying to whisper not shout radio signals. (Oh, she would have to replace her short-range circuit absolutely as soon as they had a moment to breathe.)   First, she uploaded to the Bitter Luck the couple of recommended antivirus packages she had received from that nice droid on the station earlier. Then she opened up three channels of communication from the Bitter Luck to the Wednesday's Child. With those in place, she started her attempts to get control of the inter-comm systems inside the Child, so she could listen, speak, and (with a little luck) look at whatever was going on in there.   "Captain Nyx - Oh, I'm sorry, - Nyx, would it be alright with you if I use your ship's systems to scan around in that ship over there?"

Nyx arches an eye at the busy little droid, the busy eager little droid. "You better not be installing corporate scamware or Wookie fights holovids ... well crap! No plan survives ..."   Not waiting and not answering she slams the maneuvering thrusters in reverse to send the Bitterluck hurtling backwards out of the hanger. She attempts to use the backwards momentum and roll the ships nose for sensor drone deploy. I mean it will be hard to miss at this range but so many things can go wrong. And I did not have time to prep the sensor drone package and parameters.   "Jane no coms fast ball catch!, SenDrone-1 launch and configure on the fly." Droids are fast right, maybe ....

     

Storyteller Instructions

Ok!

Kipo! Roll a Running (slither) check!

Jane! Roll a Computer Programming/Repair Check!

Nyx! Piloting Check!

       

---

         

---

     

Storyteller Instructions

Whew! Ok! With:

a 24 ( and a 1 on the wild die! ) from Nyx

a 33 from JN-66 ( 6 on the wild die! )

a 13 from Kipo on the Leap of Faith (tm pending)

Now, the Bitter Luck drifts alongside the Child and WAY too much debris… How do you want to handle this?

Seeing the Bitter Luck without power, Kipo did not want to bet his life that the Child's forcefields would remain powered any longer. He started to work the controls to get himself inside with a solid physical airlock door between himself and the icy vacuum of space.   He glanced around to see if this maintenance airlock had those emergency portable air tanks or rebreathers that regulations required in the standard passenger airlocks.   At the same time, two of his hands absently strummed a few chords on his guitar. He tried, fairly successfully, to turn that burning pit of mortal fear deep in his gut into anger at whoever or whatever had (apparently) tried to kill him, his new feline associate, and the droid who was currently the only family member for whom he truly cared.

JN-66 could see inside the cockpit easily enough to see that Nyx was safe for now, but what about Kipo? The workstation consoles were of no use at this point.   She shouted through the walls of the Bitter Luck to the sensor probe attached to the Wednesday's Child, (thankful that her long-range antenna was still working), and hoped she could get some information and provide some help for them all.

       

---

                   

Storyteller Instructions

Kipo, which rebreather do you use?

Jane, how do you want to handle this?

I realized I was holding my breath, not sure for how long but I let out a long exhale after materializing back into real space. "Fraaaaaaack!" as I looked around at the dark interior of my beloved ship. OK I gotta focus, time to get her restarted. I eyed the droid envisioning ConNex power amplification lines with recursive feedback and using the bot to jump start the ignition sequence of the Bitterluck. Frowning I filed that away as plan ... D ... no, plan L for Fracked up last resorts. "I may need more letters before this day is over."   However now I have an idea, a way to quickly cheat, maybe. Since the Queen's Heart (main ship) was active when it went black, I will try to manually shunt power from the Aces' High (top ship) across to jump start the system. Once they are both active it should not take long for them to equalize and then sever the connection again. "Ok Jane Plan C it is."   As I give a side storage panel a swift kick, spanners and assorted tools float out. "I need to get a real mechanic soon." I swipe up the EPM to monitor thermal phase and transfer balance as I spin around in zero-g upside down, "grrrr ^%#%$*&^". Next I grab a couple step-through converters to make the connection and begin to work. "Why the frack would one ship developed by one company have different sized power coupling .... grrrr ^%#%@$*&^. Hey Jane feel free to monitor the readings when I make this connection."  

Those living straps reminded Kipo of a time he had wanted to forget about and had nearly succeeded. He was partying on a desert planet, - forgot the name - far out away from civilization, and the stoner harmonica player / keyboardist with the gold-capped tooth gave Kipo a fire-toasted marshmallow whole-wheat Tw'ingkey snack, (which would later be found to be a good 30 years past its expiration date), and he had started to hallucinate so badly that he spent the remainder of the night until dawn sobbing with a presumably imaginary Thisspiasian caterpillar sitting on a scented mushroom, sharing all of their lives' regrets.   Could there be something in the air in Wen’esdai's Child that made people lose their wits? That might explain some of the reports and complaints, but probably not all.   Kipo grabbed for the rebreather with its own air tank. It was an older model, but the idea of uncontaminated oxygen seemed very attractive at the moment.   Next task: to get solid walls between himself and space, so he could proceed with getting even with whoever was behind all this.

Nyx didn't seem like the sort of person to flaunt her wealth, so the fact that her space ship was equipped with a spare space ship seemed odd to JN-66 until now, when she realized that the duplicated parts and capabilities were quite valuable in dire situations like this one, in which all of them were about 70% likely to be blown to smithereens unless they recovered quickly and took some extreme measures of one sort or another.   "Excellent idea, Nyx," JN-66 began politely, while starting to monitor power readings in regard to the impromptu power connections as Nyx had asked, "If you don't mind my asking, would this plan bring your torpedo launchers and any other weapons systems online as well? And might I borrow three torpedoes or so? I only ask because..."   Nyx's face and body language appeared to invent an entirely unique expression that indicated extreme emotion and cold lack of any emotion whatsoever at the same time, as if she were capable of a complete uncensored conniption fit or cold-blooded murder any second. JN-66 would have to try to describe one of her fictional characters having this reaction in the next installment of her true crime broadcast if she were to have the opportunity to produce it, assuming they survived.   So, dispensing with polite turns of phrase and any attempt to ease the shock, JN-66 just stated the facts.   "Three Black Hat pirates starfighters have just turned toward the Wednesday’s Child."

   

---

       

  Storyteller Instructions  

Kipo! This will be a solo initiative for you!

 

Nyx! Roll Starship repair! JN-66 you can assist with a roll if you like!

 

       

Storyteller Instructions

Kipo! You’ve beaten the rebreather’s initiative! ( I can’t believe I’m actually posting that! )

Nyx! Jane! What do you two do now that the Bitter Luck is online? There is the open landing bay of the Child ahead of you… but then there are the three pirate starfighters heading in!

It can be surprising how many things can go through your mind during that second when you see a killer robot is leaping at your face.   The idea that the little beastie could be merely a toxic-chemicals-in-the-air-induced hallucination was still in the forefront of Kipo's mind, but the Outlaw Techs he had met earlier were entirely capable of leaving booby traps exactly like this. It could be very real and deadly.   As he instinctively reeled back his head and shoulders from the dangerous needles of legs, he tried to keep his sanity - at least the important parts of it. Jane was his friend and family. He spun his guitar with one hand. Nyx was on his team. He took his hat in another hand and waved it. He was a bounty hunter on a mission. He spun and twisted his torso and tail, rolling in a spiral coil. He had to remember who his friends were, and then everything else would work itself out, real or imagined. He spun in a well-practiced old-school dance move which his muscle memory still remembered.   Between his hat, guitar, face, and spring-spiraling body, the robotic air rebreather would have plenty of moving targets to possibly confuse it.   Kipo's one goal in all that movement was to spring himself through the airlock door into the interior of the Child and slam the door shut and lock it tight.   He needed to get into the ship without letting that thing in with him, whatever it was.

Kipo pressed the button to open the airlock inner door, feinted an attack, spun himself out of the room, and slammed the emergency close button.   He looked around.   Was the little mechanical monstrosity still locked in there?

Nyx cursed as the wire sparked in her hand but she persisted. Did she hear the droid correct? What do you mean borrow torpedoes? She growled at the mention of Black Hats and decided while dangerous they could only rise to the level of a problem with power. No power, no problem we would be screwed. Oh an Kipo would just have to hang tight a little longer as life had become very busy. As the ship shuddered and the power fluctuated she held her breath ... not even a swear word. Bam, power ... hell ya.
  OK on to my todo list ... stay alive ...
Damn, accurate little droid. Black Hats, Z-95 Headhunters ... well damn.
  Alright here is the plan, split the ships flood the zone with sensor drones and independent combat drones and show them the strength of my personal armada. Of wait I would need a full crew, a fully maintenance ship that I didn't just hack one ship to power two, maybe even full stores of armaments. Ya Not a good idea trying to do anything with the ships split while I was running on meuler-tape.
  OK the real plan keep the power systems weak like we are limping, ya I know we are limping but we have more bite than they think. Tie the maneuvering thruster to give intermittent bursts with random power and duration using microseconds as the limitation. Lock into the Wednesdays Child to give us a battle ground or cover if needed.
  I click the widebeam com switch ...
Knowing this may also keeping Kipo alerted .. or not.
 

"Ya eyes wide approaching three by three thanks for answering the assist call but we are now five by five in our box and will let you know that no blood has stained the scarf and the captain knows that your were Nemon on the spot. Also I would hate to see you in a flash of bad luck so I will keep and ear to the waves on your way out. Just a matter of making the right code in the navigation to babysit this box and play the lame duck waiting for a scheduled flyby.

  Explanations of BS   I keep Jane informed on the plan as well or at least what passes for a plan. Oh Jane be ready with the weapons when this does not work.

               

---

         

Oi! Well, looks like a fine box with pretty wrappings. Still, we’d rather not be courtin’ a busted hand. But, if’n by yer by, we’ll hold on quarter. Just until yer captain gets his arse in gear. Just a courtesy, mind ya. After all, we don’t be needin’ to brush the sharks here, do we?

       

Storyteller Instructions

Ok! No need for more initiative… but! Nyx! Kipo! What do you do?

Nyx's cryptic message must have meant that she knew of someone else listening in, invisible to Kipo. Well, he wasn't one to play the game of "cat and mouse" as the mouse. It was time to move.   He took a quick sniff of the local air with a flick of his forked tongue, then he donned the old rebreather to give him an air source he hopefully could trust. It wasn't the most pleasant smell, but it wasn't a luxury model, to say the least.   As Blimcooathi taught Kipo, "Use what you know about your quarry," so Kipo flattened down on the floor and slithered toward the docking bay control room door in a military crawl that left only the tip of his hat and the edge of his guitar poking up any higher than a standard mouse-droid. Kipo figured any outlaw techs would make copious use of mouse droids to perform maintenance, so it wouldn't do for them to be setting off booby traps and sensors all the time.   Thankfully, the door wasn't locked, so it admitted the creeping Thisspiasian. He locked the door behind him, for what little comfort that gave, and scanned the room. The docking bay seemed to be okay for receiving a ship or shuttle, according to the lights and displays. In that regard, it was just a matter of waiting to see what the Bitter Luck would do.   Now about that game of cat and mouse... Kipo decided it was time to let the ghosts know their days were numbered, and where to come to get their come-uppance.   Kipo easily found the communications panel, which had a convenient button to make an announcement to all decks. Pressing the button with one hand, he played a slow old tune and found the rebreather added a nice reverb to his low notes as he sang to the ghosts:   I walked in the airlock,   And all the air went out.   And every slimy shadow,   Filled up with doubt.   I don't know who you think you are,   But before the night is through,   I wanna do bad things with you.   I wanna do real bad things with YOUUUUUUUU.  

Nyx paused halfway between crouched and standing as the message from the Black Hats is relayed. Well hell that kind of worked, for the moment.   Her head turned, eyes fix on Jane, "hmmmmmm" running through ideas and discarding almost all of them, until a smile crossed her face. “Ok Jane query Wednesday’s Child using our Nova auth-codes to access a docking bay for the Bitter Luck. Meanwhile I am preparing another thing here.” “I Gotta keep pushing the ruse forward right? Jane I am prepping an emergency beacon on low power with just enough broadcast to reach double the distance of the Black Hats. I am displaying this beacon near the Wednesday’s Child which will complete the part for the Black Hats thinking we are working a job and laying an ambush here. The other purpose is keeping a sensor drone external, shhhhhh. ”As she raises one finger to her lips in the universal signal for a secret. "For now it is time to tuck our tail inside for a moment."   Nyx starts humming an old space shanty not really remembering the words or where it came from.
"Take me out into the black ....
You can't take the sky from me...."    

"Certainly, Nyx," JN-66 replied while already starting on the simple task of authorizing an automated docking maneuver. The task was unusually easy, almost suspiciously so. JN-66 wondered why the Wednesday's Child would already have its docking bay active and prepared to receive visitors. She took a visual look at the worrisome ship. Only at maximum magnification and maximum enhancement, she thought she could make out Kipo, looking back at her, seated at the docking technician's seat in the control room of the docking bay, playing a song to himself after obviously having activated the automatic docking systems to receive the Bitter Luck.   Well! He was finally showing some consideration as well as initiative. JN-66 had honestly expected him to be in a fight with two Squib outlaw techs by now and probably clubbing one of them using the other one as the club.   Rather relieved of more than a few worries, she turned back to Nyx, "External drone? Oh, that does sound clever. One cannot have too many sensors, I like to think, The docking bay is ready to receive us with no complaints."

               

---

         

Storyteller Instructions

Nyx? Kipo? What do you do?

Kipo quickly found that disabling the tractor beam required a good bit more technical knowledge than just pressing a button labeled, "Disable Tractor Beam", which sadly was nowhere in sight. So called 'safety' functions were usually like that, requiring a bit of work to disable.   So that left his primary goal to work-on: To find those Squibs or ghosts or whatever was responsible for their unusual hyperspace leap. Engineering and the Captain's main control Bridge were equally suspicious areas to start searching. But first, he should leave a message with the others.   Kipo found the air-tight safety-enabled personnel door from the docking control room to the docking bay to be within his capabilities to open. He slid halfway into the bay, leaving the end of his tail to hold the door, and waved at the Bitter Luck. He assumed Jane would be watching through cameras somewhere.   He gave the affirmative thumbs-up signal, pointed to his ear, (which hopefully wasn't confused with the rebreather on his face), tapped his chest, and then shook a thumb behind him in the direction he hoped would lead to Engineering. He figured Nyx would be the type to go for the Bridge first.   With the message delivered, he slithered back to the door from which he had entered the control room, and attempted to open it to the hallway while the other door to the bay was still open.   As Blimcooathi had taught him, he focused on the present, and searched the hallway for tripwires and similar security devices, not forgetting that the apparently murderously jealous evil rebreather still probably hadn't forgiven him for picking the other one. Oh, and then there was whatever made that odd click-scrape sound.   Come to think of it, keeping his mind on the here and now wasn't going to be easy at all.

Nyx was relieved to see the docking bay doors open and at the same time it felt like navigating into the belly of the beast. What cute little blue lights winking as if to say just in time for dinner and you are the main course.
  She smiled as the beacon launched placing a lot of hope on this as a alert plan. However it was just this type of unexpected maneuver that Saran had burned into her mind. Always have something unexpected prepared for party crashers. Kipo playing his guitar, he was growing on her. There was something calming and grounding about his manner.
  Hey Jane could you whip up two small electronic packages for local loading. I would love to have a local package loaded directly in the docking clamps and a package loaded in the bay door. The package should perform a single and simple operation when you activate it. It should reverse the sensors making the system think open is closed, and closed is open.
  Nyx grabs a strap satchel with assorted odds and ends while debarking from her ship and heads towards.Kipo. She smiles and gives a pleasant wave heading in his direction. What? She throws her hands up. What does that mean? Is that Thisspiasian sign language? Hey I have some sign language for you making a lewd gester. I thought I was the impatient one. Calming, what was I thinking?

JN-66 directed her four Marksman-H Training Remotes to float over and follow Nyx and Kipo, (two each), assuming closed doors didn't get in their way.   Then JN-66 easily wrote the code Nyx requested, one which would intercept the Docking Bay Door's and Docking Clamps' sensor data and reverse it on JN-66's command, plus alert her of any changes to the condition, plus allow her to remotely command them open or closed. She hardly had to think about it.   She spent more processor time thinking about how to unfasten the maintenance panels, interface with the firmware upgrade ports, and manually flash upload the programming packages, and, and... Ugh. It would take minutes, maybe an hour. That was time JN-66 and the biologicals might not have.   And then Kipo signaled for help. At least that was what JN-66 interpreted the various vague gestures to mean. She would just have to ask him what he meant. Oh. Pointing to his ear might have meant he wanted her to talk to him. A more accurate representation would have been to mime his own mouth yammering on and on about himself, based on past history.   Perhaps she could wait for the Remotes to catch up to him, assuming no doors automatically closed behind him. Perhaps she couldn't.   And it was just a matter of time before Nyx would need something unlocked or analyzed.   Oh, bantha poodoo, JN-66 had put it off as many milliseconds as she could, but now she would just have to go in there and take charge of the place.   She activated all her defensive software, especially those new antiseptic routines which that nice fellow from the shipyards had given her. She donned the electronic equivalent of rubber gloves, goggles, rubber pants, nose clamps, galoshes, and hip waders.   Then she opened up a wireless connection to access the Wednesday's Child's electronic data and control network. Ugh.

 

Storyteller Instructions Kipo!

Head over to the thread, “In the Belly of the Beast”

Nyx!

Head over to the thread, “A Powered Welcome”

Jane!

Oh, you can just stay right here.

Meanwhile... JN-66....

             

Storyteller Instructions

Jane, I’ll need a computer/programming repair roll…

JN-66 tried to keep her head above greywater.

         

Storyteller Instructions

Jane, how do you want to handle this?

Jane was a bit put off by this impersonator. If it were another JN-66 droid on the ship or just another droid named Jane, it could have been a simple misunderstanding. (Or perhaps there was a flesh woman named Jane in charge of communications on the ship? No. The odds of that happening were negligible. It was likely a malicious interloper, one with a good deal of moxie. JN-66 estimated she could fairly easily write a new communication encryption routine (never before seen in the galaxy) to shut out the impersonator. However, it was probably better to try to track her to her point of origin, rather than try to shut her out of the drones. After all, if she impersonated JN-66 once, she would just have to do it again and see how long she could keep up the ruse. Now, how could JN-66 take advantage of the impersonator's presumed pride?   She sent the signal to switch all the drones to what JN-66 called "Beta test mode" so that each would send her extensive tracing information on its every processor step.   Then she waited at the ready to trace the spunky imposter back to her virtual and physical home base location whenever she next spoke.

                           

Storyteller Instructions

Jane, how do you want to handle this?

JN-66 wasted no tears on her dying certainty that biological life forms had no place in the network, home of her superior kind. (Well, droids were superior in a few ways at least.) But she saw what she saw. Regardless of the true nature of these bizarre data signatures, it appeared obvious that the best way to interface with them to get some answers would be to go along with their appearance (however illogical it might seem) that she was meeting two humanoids of the Clone Wars Era.   She had for years wanted to do this.   Recording every detail in her log, JN-66 manifested a solid door between herself and the pair. Then she opened it. The door was to an expensive black limousine. It opened and Jane slowly stepped out.   First her glossy hard leather black pump with its high stiletto heel touched what passed for the floor of the data stream. A single chain of tiny diamonds strapped the shoe to a milky white foot and shapely leg inside transparent silk stockings. As a sultry saxophone was heard playing in the distance, (a melancholy tune ending with just the slightest note of hope that maybe today some poor dope's string of bad luck might be just about to change for the better), her left foot joined her right, and she emerged from the limo wearing a dress of the blackest velvet comfortably slit up the side nearly to her hip. The plunging neckline, the high padded shoulders, and the black silk opera gloves covering most of what the absent sleeves left exposed might have given the impression of vulnerability with resourcefulness, divulging yet mysterious.   The outfit was topped with a small black hat drooping a puffy black veil which revealed only her ruby red painted lips. It might have given the impression she had just returned from (or was going to) a very expensive and fashionable funeral.   She quickly half-turned and slammed the limousine door shut behind her, revealing to the strange pair that the dress was backless, with spaghetti-thin black straps crisscrossing from her waist to her shoulders.   Turning again to face the strange pilot and mechanic, she carefully inserted a thin white death-stick into a long black cigarette holder and said ...   "What's a girl got to do to get a drink around here?"

                 

JN-66 spawned an independent subroutine to continue tracing the signal toward Feign Jane, one that would manifest a set of softly glowing high-heel footprints heading in the right direction.   "I'm not a complete stranger to the lower IP registers," Jane said to the pilot while lifting one elbow toward him so he could take her arm, "After all, it's good to have friends in high places, but..."   Next she held out her other elbow toward the ship's mechanic, adding, "... it's even better to have friends in low places."   Then she glanced back to the pilot and informed him, "You can order me an Old Fashioned when we get there. We better move our heels because two coppers are onboard Wednesday and planning to ride her back to Tallaan by closing time. But me? I'm here looking for a woman. I know, don't it seem like everyone around here is looking for a woman?"   She tried to be subtle as she gently nudged the two a step in the direction of the softly glowing footprints on the data stream floor.

           

Storyteller Instructions

All right Jane, you’ve got a choice here. Your tracer programs point left, the glowing footsteps point right. Which direction is it from here?

What do you do?

Jane knew her highest priority was to run to Kipo and Nyx as fast as her stiletto heels could carry her.   But...   But all signs indicated that the threats against them would be shut off at the source right when she bumped off Feign Jane. That would be happening very soon if the imposter could be found where the footprints led, the Bucket o’ Bytes.   But some backup wouldn't hurt.   With a bit of slight of hand, she opened her tiny black clutch purse and freshened up her lipstick. At least, if she did it correctly, that's what the men on her left and right would have seen. Only an observer directly ahead could see that she held two tubes of lipstick with a tiny dog whistle in between.   A quick blow on the whistle set a plan in motion, one that would hopefully turn some tables.   "Let's make some waves," she said with a glance to each of them.   She accompanied the men to the front door of the electronic gin-joint.

                     

“Unless, you think you see that dame you’re sniffin’ for?” Bender added.   Jane-66 certainly did.   "I certainly don't," she said, "Let's grab that open table way over there and entertain ourselves while I wait to see if she shows," she said, mainly to Novin. Then to Bender, "Why don't you rustle up an Old Fashioned for me and ... I'm guessing you're a Stout Ale man, and," measuring up Novin, "hmm... something on the rocks for you?"   When drinks had been acquired, the three got comfortable at one of the slightly-less grease-stained gray tables on the far side, not far from the booth where dwelt the porcelain dame who gave the impression that if she didn't think of herself as queen of the universe, then surely queen of the immediate vicinity around herself wherever she might happen to roam. Jane tried not to noticeably notice her, for now. If Jane could get that floating data terminal away from her for a few clock cycles, then she could probably cue in the others to where the real action was while they were gallivanting around a doubtlessly boring empty space ship.   "So I'm working as a secretary to a gumshoe," Jane said only as loud as the other patrons around, "What's the story on you boys?" while waiting for the dark-haired dame to get distracted.   And a distraction was just walking in the door. Jane had fabricated the two human men and their zoot suits before boarding the Wen’esdai's Child, and she couldn't give them any new information she had learned in the bowels of the system, so she just had to let them run and hope for the best.   At first, they took in the sights of the patrons much like a pair of cops might do when trying to apprehend the subject of an All Points Bulletin. The two men gave each other a knowing wink, then sauntered to the bartender not at all like flatfoot cops but much more like authorities on the opposite side of the law.   The tall skinny one addressed the bartender in a voice loud enough for anyone of interest to hear in between strains of the AI songstress and the piano-playing droid on the stage, "Nice place ya got here. Be a shame if somethin' happened to it. Folks call me Knuck. Short for Knuckles," he announced while cracking his knuckles loudly enough for the bartender to easily hear above the music, "A good insurance policy would be just what you need right now. Wouldn't it, Mr. Futz?"   The shorter fatter man loudly agreed, "That it would, Mr. Knuck, what with the Nova Orion Syndicate plannin' ta take a wreckin' ball to most o' the town. Whole blocks o' data gonna be erased. A very good insurance policy is definitely what you need," he said to the bartender.   The taller man continued, "What with that Mil Filgron guy in charge of the demolition... Bald man. Square jawed. He's what I call the bushy eyebrows type, if you catch my beat. He did not take kindly ta a particular droid friend o' his suddenly gettin' drained o' power and freezin' over with ice in a hot engine room. No sir, he did not."   "Took it real personal like," Futz agreed, "real personal like."   "Lookin' like only those that join the Insurance Club are gonna avoid tha choppin' block," Knuck continued, "At the affordable cost of just a femtobyte every 86.4 teracycles, it just makes good business sense," Knuck announced, slowly nodding his head, leading the Bartender with a determined stare.   "That it does, Mr. Knuck. It just makes good business sense," Futz agreed, "considering the alternative."

         

The shorter interloper, Mr. Futz, picked up a small bowl of salted code nuts from the bar, (tasty morsels so devoid of nutrition that they would inspire patrons to order more drinks), and offered the bowl to his cohort with an impish grin.   "Go nuts," Knuck replied, taking only one nut from the bowl.   Mr. Knuck turned directly facing the red-head bouncer, raised his elbow to shoulder height, and, without breaking eye contact, he popped the code nut into his own mouth from arm's length in a practiced move, as impressive yet impractical as catching a stack of coins off of one's own elbow.   Knuck told the goon, "What with the Nova Orion Syndicate movin' in, you boys might wanna position yourselves to move up," then he glanced to the other security goon and added, "not down," while raising his other elbow and reaching to his own lapel and sliding out of a hidden pocket a thin shiny metallic ... hair comb, like a barber would use on a man's eyebrows or sideburns. "You want to have every hair in place when the bushy-eyebrows guy blows through here," he told the other while running the comb through his own thinning hair.   Though he was thinner than average, Knuck covered a fair amount of real estate when he held out both his arms, letting his suit jacket flare out naturally. Keeping his eyes locked on those of the second bouncer, he heard unsurprising sounds of a scuffle behind him, punctuated by Jane's voice going, "You have moxie! I LIKE you!"   Knuck knew he would not have the security goons' attention for much longer.   Futz, though overweight for his short stature, moved with the speed and agility of a naughty school boy pulling a prank. He dashed past Jane's table and spilled the contents of the nut bowl down the back of the shirt collar of another seated patron, and, in nearly the same movement, he tossed the empty bowl with a spin, making it catch the air like a pizza pan, and landing it on another table where it tipped over a rather expensive looking drink. His momentum carried him to yet another table.   Seeing Mister Futz, one of Jane-66's own programmed creations, headed her way, (which was NOT her idea of the perfect distraction, She would much have preferred they take the action to the other side of the joint, but she had no control over them at this point.), she turned to Bender, (the mechanic sitting on one side of her), as if she meant to whisper something in his ear. Then when a patron behind her started to shout about the nuts poured down his back, she turned back to Novin, the pilot, glanced at the half-full bowl of code nuts on their table (similar to the bowls on nearly every table), then to the upset patron, then to Novin, and told him aloud, "You have moxie! I LIKE you!" squarely pinning the blame for the incident on Novin.   Meanwhile, Futz ended his dash by leaning onto the shoulder of an unrelated (and randomly selected) female patron, asking her, "Have you been served yet, ma'am?" in a country-bumpkin accent while dipping two fingers into her glass as if that were the only way to tell if a glass were empty. Then Futz smiled with the dopish grin of a court jester or a complete idiot, hoping he had stirred up a rumpus at at least three tables in one fell swoop.   Snickering to himself, Futz awaited the repercussions of his actions.