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Post by Marcus O'Terra on May 6, 2012 13:21:30 GMT -5
May 19, 2517
Local Time - 4:02 A.M
Alliance Standard Time (A.S.T) - 8:58 P.M
The air was cold and bitter. The dawn on Ezra was an hour off, maybe less. The transport that dropped Marcus off barely dusted the ground long enough for him to clear the pad, and two men in postal uniform to exchange parcel containers, before it rose into the sky. The town he landed in was called Peek's Way. There were lamps on leading through the main street.
The man carried the bag, nodding to Marcus, toward a building marked 'POST' plain as the coming day. Not much of the town seemed to be awake just yet. One of the towns folk had come outside to make sure everything was right with the store front.
He closed the gap on the Corvue, tapping the screen hard to wake it up then smacking it on the side when that didn't work. The screen woke up and the sounds of fans could be heard as the connections linked up and the screen unfolded.
Marcus navigated the basic communication program to connect to Persephone's listings. He scrolled down till he found Gan'Ju Zi District, which be passed once because he forgot the ideograph characters for it. A contained search for Darrel's shop got him the contact number and he pressed his thumb on the 'connect' icon.
As the connection formed, he pressed a few of the optional settings, putting audio before video, for the sake of clarity. He adjusted his coat, now buttoned up. Ezra had lots of rocks in these parts, but it wouldn't do him any good if he couldn't bring the fight to Burts.
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Post by Bishop Morse on May 6, 2012 13:22:06 GMT -5
Darrel Harlon
The screen flickered, hints of static flickering over the whole, a common characteristic of many public terminals out on Border Worlds. There was a tapping sound coming through. ”Ya.” Came a gruff older tone. The image hadn’t cleared itself up. ”You made it there faster then I thought you would.” The image flicked a bit more and went bright, and then began to fade. It showed an older man with a coat sitting down in a chair with a glass of caramel colored liquid in it. The image twitched, and flashed, but the sound came in fairly clear. The older man good be heard giving grunts as he adjusted himself in his seat. ”Alright, what’s your location right now?” He asked as he looked down at a small pad, which was in his lap. He moved his fingers over it, as he waited for a response.
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Post by Marcus O'Terra on May 6, 2012 13:22:19 GMT -5
Marcus checked around as the screen finally came about, the street was pretty much clear, if he had to guess he'd find some way to get transport at the post office, or at least knowhow.
"Yeah, it's not even dawn yet round here." there was a clock blinking on the terminal screen. "Just past 4 am, local. Peek's Way."
He pulled out the prospectors map that Darrel had given him and tapped it awake. He'd already had the town set as his start point, after asking the pilot where they were touching down.
"So where's the bastard gonna hit?" Marcus asked, the flickering image of Darrel blinking in and out of pixelation.
He exhaled and there was a faint cloud from his breath. These parts of Ezra had a desert night, dry and frigid. Marcus wondered how they could call it terraformed with so much dryness.
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Post by Bishop Morse on May 6, 2012 13:22:42 GMT -5
Darrel Harlon
The screen flickered again, and the image of the man came in a bit clearer. It still wasn’t nearly as good as a well maintained terminal, but it was able to show enough that it was a good window towards the other end. The man didn’t nod, but took a drink from the glass that was near him. ”Its about 9 at night here.” He responded. He looked up from the pad, and was staring out at the screen. ”So this didn’t quite go as well as I hoped, at least for me. But it might come out better for you.” He said taking a last drink from the glass, finishing it off. ”Burts thinks I’m gonna be discussin’ getting back onto the Hardtack.” His hand came forward and a cigar was placed in his mouth. He lit the end of it, and a puff of smoke came in, along with a wave of static. ”He’s supposed to be meetin’ me later today at some town called ’Wet Rock’” He laughed at the thought, likely at the irony of the name.
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Post by Marcus O'Terra on May 6, 2012 13:22:54 GMT -5
Marcus was a bit squeamish as Darrel began, but he didn't quite see the problem. Maybe he was concerned that if Marcus got himself killed, Burts would put two with two and find four. Burts was an evil kind of man, and he wasn't stupid. If he'd survived what Marcus did to him he might even be paranoid.
But that wouldn't be something to count on.
"Wet Rock?" He plugged it into the map and sighed. "Well that sure as hell ain't walking distance." The town didn't look like much, its population didn't even break the fifties.
Not a lot of chance to blend in.
" Any idea what kinda crew he's got now? Or was he mum to that?" Getting to the town first would be the key. "And he didn't make it seem like he 'owned' the town or something right? Gathering a posse is still on the table?" It would be bad chow if he went to the town and Burts had the place under his thumb already.
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Post by Bishop Morse on May 6, 2012 13:23:17 GMT -5
Darrel Harlon
The old man on the screen puffed out another batch of smoke. The screen started to sputter some more, but the sound still came through fine. ”The only people that will ever be able to tolerate Burts are the people that live on that ship with him. Everyone else either hates him, or worse.”The screen kicked back on showing the man putting ash on a tray. ”But from he’s described, he’s got that place so scared, he’ll probably land the ship right on top of it.” He said. ”See these people don’t have any real way to call the Alliance, and the Alliance wouldn’t hardly do a damn thing anyway. In a real sense, he’s the closest thing to law they got, and in his mind everyone’s a criminal.” The screen began to flicker out again as he finished.
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Post by Marcus O'Terra on May 6, 2012 13:23:38 GMT -5
Marcus was a bit relieved that Burts probably wouldn't have anyone to stand for him, besides his crew. But that was already something. Still, this town seemed a reasonable sort... he might be able to find someone HERE who'd fight with him.
But at the ass end of the night, that wouldn't give him much chance... Still the half way around way of answering things had grated on Marcus."Darrel one of these days you're going to learn that the answer to a 'yes or no' question is either yes or no." He shook his head as the video faded in an out again. "Connections getting worse. Any word on who posted the bounty? If by some chance taking Burts alive was an option, he'd like to know whom he'd be getting his money from.
Looking around he noticed an office across the road from the postal office had it's lights on. An oil lantern and some flickering battery plug lamps. The words Sheriff were illuminated above the door and Marcus had a feeling the local law.... wait.
Before he'd left Persephone he ran a search on 'Warrants' 'Marcus' 'Terra'. His name popped up with a bounty below it. Going to the law might not be the best idea... but going in alone would be suicide. Still. The law here was local law. People's law. He went in told enough of the truth kept his mouth shut about the rest....
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Post by Bishop Morse on May 6, 2012 13:24:02 GMT -5
Darrel Harlon
The mans expression was hard to see, but it didn't appear to be changing at all. The audio still remained fairly clear, but the image continued to kick."Haven't gotten anything outside of it's someone on Beaumonde. But I put my name up as a representative of a party moving to take it. So they'll probably come find me either now, or if I put up that you succeeded." The image went black, then came up up again, though everything was brighter then it normally should be.
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Post by Marcus O'Terra on May 6, 2012 13:24:18 GMT -5
Marcus sighed. "Right...." He thought about it and this was all he was going to get from the old man. Once he hit that town he'd be committed. The question was, what to do? He'd think out each plan as he weighed his situation. Going to the sheriff wouldn't be a good idea, or at least using his own name wouldn't be.
"Guess that's it. If I die. Well... I guess the Fei Wu will be heading toward your fan." Marcus shrugged. "Fair warning. He made to click the tab to end the connection.
Campaign: God-Killer. Reopened. A he thought, staring out as he surveyed the town. Activity was blossoming in the Postal Office, and the Sheriff's seemed to have somebody movie around in it as well. He pulled his hat down low and made sure his face was a might obscured from view. Primary Objective: The Death or Capture of Nathanial Burts. Code Named: Tango Bastardo.
After a moment he started toward the postal office.
Secondary Objectives: The termination of all Assets under Tango Bastardo's command. Safe exfiltration with Tango Bastardo or evidence of his death.
He closed the distance on the building and could tell there were at least two people talking in the Postal Building office, though a howling morning wind was keeping the conversation from being recognizable, until he closed his distance.
Conditions of Defeat: Death. Capture. Target's escape.
His boots made a heavy clunk and creak as he walked up to the door, which was closed and probably latched. He knocked twice on it, waiting for a response.
Logical Tactics: -Acquire Local support: Cite previous conflicts with Target for moral high ground. -Disable target's transportation. DO NOT DESTROY. Could be valuable incentive for local support AND/OR plausible exfiltration solution.
That sounded like the crap they gave him before a fancy mission. Usually it was go here. Pick up this crap. Shoot purple bellies. Now and again they got all technical on him. He wished he'd paid more attention to those missions.
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Post by Bishop Morse on May 6, 2012 13:24:41 GMT -5
Evans
Evans was sorting some packages from slots into some boxes. Across from him there was a younger man who was doing the same, just with another set of packages. The small containers were cylindrical and plastic. They were being set down into rows of 7, and there were 6 rows placed in each box. Once one was finished the box was ceiled and placed on top of another. The light wasn’t very good, just a burning out ceiling light, which gave the room a yellow tint. It was practically like working with the light of candles, but it was more efficient. The sound of footsteps on the porch made them both stop. ”Why don’t you take these into the back, Shen.” He said standing up. He stretched his back and it gave a series of clicks. The younger man went straight to work stacking up some of the boxes and moving them into the back room.
Evans came around from behind the counter, and walked over to the front. They didn’t generally get people to deliver anything that late. But as he told people in town, if the lights were on, they would take their business. He came up to the window, which they customarily used for late night transactions. It had chicken wire running across it on the inside. It wasn’t for vandals, but more so to keep shattered pieces of glass from falling into the building during some of the more violent storms that they got. There was a metal slot beneath the window, but if it was necessary for more, he could always go to the door. Evans slid the window open, but the chicken wire remained where it was. ”Come on over to the window.” He called out, not able to see who had knocked. ”What can I do for ya?” He asked in a tone that wasn’t normal for that early in the morning. It didn’t sound as though he was the least bit tired. But that was because his day started far earlier then most peoples, and ended just the same.
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Post by Marcus O'Terra on May 6, 2012 13:24:54 GMT -5
Marcus leaned back as the man's voice that came through the door. He seemed calm and friendly enough. This was going to be simple, or have to be. He moved around and approached the window, leaning in so the light flickering through wouldn't quite hit his face. The man inside wasn't the one who'd carried the parcel bag from the shuttle, probably the senior of the two workers on shift.
"I'm looking for transport to 'Wet Rock', or near enough to it. Know anyone in town whose going that way? I need to get there today, if at all possible."
He shifted a little, his rifle still wasn't loaded, but out here it might be a wise idea. Bandits and the like did roam these parts. Like the old old days of the Earth-that-was. Not much was different between here and then.
Didn't have to worry about gorram space ships dropping in on your heads though. There's a plus.
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Post by Bishop Morse on May 6, 2012 13:25:13 GMT -5
Evans
Evans eyebrows came together as he was a bit confused. He hadn’t ever had someone come up to the post office looking for transit, or at least directions to it. The other thing that caught him was that he was trying to get to ‘Wet Rock’.
”Bit far away ‘Wet Rock’.” He stated knowing full well that the town itself was close to a quarter of the planet away. ”Are you new to the territory?” He asked as he wasn’t sure. He wanted to make sure that his man was certain that ‘Wet Rock’ was where he was going, given that there wasn’t much out in the area except for farms, and it was a very long ways away.
He may as well try to save him the trip if he could, because some of the people around there may very well take his money, and drop him in some town that was far closer. Not to mention they’d probably take him in the wrong direction.
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Post by Marcus O'Terra on May 6, 2012 13:25:27 GMT -5
Marcus could tell he was bumbling around but at least the post-man was being kind about the whole thing.
"I know I'm a ways off. Quite a ways." He held up the prospecting map. "But I didn't know where I needed to go till I got here. Wish I'd landed closer but my the pilot wasn't gonna take me any further than he did." He wasn't going to say much more than that. The postman didn't need to hear his story.
"I guess what I'm asking is if there are any folks that go that ways. I just need to get there, Sir. Soon." He asked. He was a fair sight younger than the man inside the building. Playing off that might help him. Plus being respectful usually didn't hurt. Till it got into patronizing.
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Post by Bishop Morse on May 6, 2012 13:26:03 GMT -5
Evans
Evans lifted his hat a moment, and scratched his head. He wasn’t quite sure why someone would want to be going out to what ‘Wet Rock’ and not know that they were going to such an out the way place. But he had something in his mind. ”Well… He said looking around the town. ”No ones heading out there to the best of my knowledge, and they won’t be going very fast.” He said starting to stroke some of the stubble on his chin.”But…” He trailed off a bit trying to think about the details. ”We have to fly out that way on a run today as it is.” He stopped a moment, and his face scrunched up a bit with uncertainty. ”But I don’t know.” He said. Evans was concerned about whether it seemed like a good, or even safe idea to do that. It didn’t seem beyond somebody to try to hijack the mail carrier, just for the sake of stealing something.
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Post by Marcus O'Terra on May 6, 2012 13:26:24 GMT -5
Marcus could see the man found Marcus to be squirmy, or at the very least he was reasonably cautious. Considering how thing were out on the Rim, it made a fair deal of sense. Be cautious, play close to the vest, yadda yadda.
"My boss is an eccentric and paranoid old bastard. Doesn't trust comms, says their are people watchin' everything and hearin' everything. Which may well be true, but I doubt they give damn about everything. But I called him from here and 'Wet Rock's' where he wants me to be." Marcus shrugged. "I just want to do my job and leave, sir."
When the man suggested his group would be heading out that ways, Marcus looked relieved. "That'd be a mighty kindness, sir." He nodded. I'll find my own way off planet."
Getting there seemed like more and more a likely thing. But that meant surviving would be more difficult.
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Post by Bishop Morse on May 6, 2012 13:27:07 GMT -5
Evans
Evans continued to stroke his stubble. He still wasn’t sure about this whole thing. He’d had people hitch rides on the mail transport before, but those were people that he actually knew, who weren’t going nearly as far. But he started to think about it in the applicable sense, and had an idea. ”Well…”He said trailing off again. ”You could be considered a specialty item, and so long as you can pay your weight in cargo” He said, which was essentially declaring his intentions. ”You… were planning to pay your passage weren’t you?” Evans asked unsure if this man was trying to get a free ride across. He wasn’t sure if he would be able to it that way, but if he was considered a package then he wasn’t really going against any of his own regulations. He had set up this postal branch, so he wasn’t particularly bound by any shipping laws as far as he knew.
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Post by Marcus O'Terra on May 6, 2012 13:29:22 GMT -5
Marcus's body took on a relaxed tone the moment the man started talking terms and 'deliveries'. His weight in cargo, though... that might be negotiable. For one day transit? change compared to what he was likely to get for Burts, dead or alive. Plus what was ON Burt's and his crew, dead or alive. Then there was their ship.
This trip could pay for itself easy, Profit was a bonus anyway.
He'd already pulled out a few ten notes by the time the man started asking if he was planning to pay. Pushing the bills forward on the window counter. Not far enough for it to seem pushy, but close enough that the man could see the money, or take it without reaching out there.
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Post by Bishop Morse on May 6, 2012 13:29:51 GMT -5
Evans
Evans looked down at the money being pushed to him. He pressed his fingers down upon the notes and brought them in towards him. It wasn’t overly common to deal in credits this far out, but he knew the conversion rate in platinum well enough that it wouldn’t be a problem. At any rate, credits were worth more out the farther towards the rim you went the platinum was in its weight anyway. ”Hmm” He said examining them all, and separating them. Whoever this man was, he certainly wasn’t from around there, and the rifle in his hand suggested that he was either looking for trouble, running from it, or both. But that didn’t matter much to him. People didn’t shoot the messenger, and he was the post master, so that made him feel like he was a bit safer. At the very least he didn’t have any real ties to the Federals, so that at least kept him safe from most of the local rowdies.
”One package of over one hundred pounds, headin’ to Wet Rock.” He announced in the way that one would to repeat an order that was called for. Only this time it was a person that was the package. ”Come on in.” He said tilting his head towards the door. ”We’ll be heading out in an hour or so.” He said starting to walk to the door. His feet clumped on the wooden floor as he came up the door. He undid the two latches that locked it, and pulled it open.
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Post by Marcus O'Terra on May 6, 2012 13:30:08 GMT -5
Marcus nodded his head as the man spoke aloud. Being described as a package. He didn't mind that so much. Sounded like something from the action-vids that played on cortex now and then. He looked about, and made his way inside after the door unlocked.
He looked around the building for a moment before finding a place to sit down. He looked at the two men inside, making sure he had all this things. It wasn't much, but if worse came to better he'd be camped out on the flats, alive but the job done.
Finding a chair, he sat down and kept to himself. He wouldn't get in the way of the men, and his mind would focus on the task ahead.
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Post by Bishop Morse on May 6, 2012 13:30:56 GMT -5
Wet Rock
May 19, 2517 – Ezra
3:49 P.M - Local Time
8:02 P.M – A.S.T
Evans
An hour’s time passed before they were finally ready to start heading out. Evans had loaded up all of the last minute packages onto the transport. It was large and yellow, with two thrusters on the side. It was about the size bigger the most freighter shuttles, though it was evident that the craft wasn’t space worthy. You could see clear through the middle of it. It had no windows or anything that was holding those portions in. It was clearly an older model, and the packages inside were tied down, or stored in boxes, which were ceiled to the floor. On the side there were some burn marks, and several holes leading up on the side, which were clearly made by bullets. Evans boarded with the “specialty package” following behind him. He dropped a railing down on both sides of the transport for safety purposes. It was clearly just there to make sure a person or package wouldn’t fall out. He moved up to the front, which had two seats. They were sort of old and torn, but they were very comfortable. The craft took off then and set off on its way.
The engines were rather loud, and it was very hot outside. But the air conditioner in the craft worked fairly well. Evans kept a cortex channel open for most of the trip, listening to either music or news. He would comment on the things he would hear from time to time, but for the most part he was fairly quiet. The craft made stops every so often. It would land in a town, for only about ten minutes, Evans would unload what ever was to be delivered. Then he’d have it signed for and he would get back onto the transport and they’d be off again. This would happen time and again. They landed and stopped 8 times before finally Evans declared “We’re almost there”.
The craft came over a very small town, if you could call it that. You could count how many buildings it had using only your fingers. It was very ragged, but there were a number of people out on the street. Some people were seen bringing a wagon in, but for the most part there didn’t appear to be much that could be considered modern technology. There was only an antenna stretching just higher then one of the buildings, and it was likely their only real link to the cortex or the next town over. The craft came down and settled on the dirt. The sun was still beating down very hot. Evans went straight to work with getting the packages out. ”Well, here we are. Wet Rock” He said wiping some sweat off his forehead. ”Good luck with travels.”. He went straight back to taking packages down, and talking to a person who was there to meet him. He had many more deliveries after that, so there wasn’t any time to be spent with much else. Just as soon as they’d arrived, the packages were off, he got back into his seat, and the transport lifted off, and headed West.
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