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The remnants of the robots Bonnie and Clyde and the assassin drones were pretty fragmentary, but some data storage crystals were available, and these were collected along with the frame numbers and maker's name (McKendry Security Protocols, operating out of Mertactor). A few surviving paper records were also discovered, listing the deployment schedule for the sensor array upgrade. Scribbled on this were the name Ranslor Murtagh and the initials "LK". Feng looked up from that, her eyebrows raised. "Kefaufer," she said, very positively. "He's probably the money here," agreed Nevada.
There was some debate as to whether an EMP grenade would damage crystalline storage, and as we in the 21st Century understand it, probably not. However, my point was that in thirty-six centuries, anti-electronics tech would have evolved as fast as the electronics, and a grenade designed for EMP function at TL13 was likely to be able to bugger up TL13 computers and electronics.
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Sirens could be faintly heard, and someone was going to need to go and talk to the police. Feng bailed back out of the window and dropped sixty-four stories, snapping on her grav belt for a faultless superhero landing. Nevada put through a call to the office of Commissioner Ostergaard to advise that the events in Gardshaw were part of an NI investigation. The result of this was that when the cops turned up and found a tall woman in dented and still smoking battledress outside the site of a massive explosion in an office, they were ready to listen to her explanation.
The others rode the lift back down, enduring another mind-scraping recital from the lift music, and stopped in Reception. Nevada plugged his hacking computer into the desk system and collected the CCTV records, from just after the microburst from Karthas had arrived and several hours up to their own arrival.
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The former showed Reginald Beefheart and Kirsten LeBlond, his hacker and sensor expert, leaving briskly half an hour after the message arrived. Dressed in environment suits unremarkable for Collace and carrying large kitbags, they would have blended into the city. On a world with a higher overall Law Level, surveillance might have tracked them, but outside the arcologies, no such thing was available.
Back at Staerla city, Feng rented a 4 bed flat on the 8th floor in their old haunt, Camden Courts, for a month, and the Cats slipped back into their spare fake IDs from the Cartiff caper, back in 1105.Nevada - Salvatore Boylan
We'd all forgotten they got two IDs each, with hindsight it would have made far more sense to have used the spare ones that aren't associated with a massive jewellry heist. Oh well.
Feng's plan was to return to the Hacienda casino, and try and locate Luther Kefaufer in his old haunt - to try and get him to make a mistake.
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Nevada returned to Botany Bay, where he and Vespasian spent some time tightening the security systems. He knew Kirsten LeBlond was a deeply skilled slicer - a hacker and system-breaker - and didn't want her getting into their systems.
After Beefheart's escape by submarine the previous year, he researched and invested in some high-tech hydrophones to improve the underwater sensor coverage.
The Hacienda was exactly as they remembered it; an opulent gambling house, reeking of crime and conspiracy, taking its' own counsel as to security and acceptable clientele. Wombat and Feng gained admission mostly on Feng's opulent display of expensive gems adorning her spectacular red Diplo dress. Wombat was posing as her guest. As usual weapons were very politely checked into lockers, though as Feng walked out of the lobby, the guards seemed to focus their attention on her for a long moment. Unsure why but not seeing any further reaction, she entered the bar. Both had their comms relayed through comdots, and Nevada was monitoring these in case of mishap.
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As she looked around the bar, she recognized a face; Zebulon Thoran, another player at the table the memorable night when she'd beaten Kefaufer by a stroke of ridiculous luck. The REO Meatwagon surgeon was a happy-go-lucky gambler; no hobbies or family, he burned cash and his stress at the high-stakes table, happy whether he won or lost. The fact that he was still doing this three years on showed that he wasn't all that bad a gambler on average. "You're looking good," he greeted Feng, who was reminded that her Fabulous upgrade had the downside of making it very difficult for her to be unobtrusive.
They spent some time catching up while Feng and Wombat surreptitiously scanned the casino for anyone else they knew, to no avail. Once paid in, food and drink - and other stimulants - were on the house, and Feng ate heavily to fuel her cyberware and drank not at all.
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The High Table opened up at midnight, and Feng and Zeb took their places, alongside four others. The game was just about to start when the lean, darkly elegant figure of Luther Kefaufer slid though the rope and sat down. He glanced across at Feng, and smiled his predator's smile. "How nice to see you again," he said levelly, blades in his smile. His unreadable sunglass-covered cybereyes gave nothing away.
Outside the rope in the spectators' enclosure, and under cover of chatting to the wife of one of the other gamblers, Wombat watched Kefaufer's two heavy bodyguards settle into place, one behind him, one opposite, at the edge of the rope restricting entry to the Table.
The table was full, and play began. As she began to work the cards, Feng eyed her opposition.
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Play ebbed and flowed for some hours. Despite her dishonest play, Artemis Warwick started to lose heavily as Kefaufer focussed on her - he'd noticed as well. Her husband and Simril folded after three hours, but she stuck to her guns and played on. The Bwap played well and coolly, methodical and to a rigid system in the manner of his race, which seemed to be working.
About this time Nevada arrived, immaculately dressed, and settled separately into the gallery to watch developments.
Feng's luck had been poor. Her original plan was to artfully lose and throw her luck onto someone else, to try and aid them to beat Kefaufer, but the first part was so successful that she didn't think the second was viable. After five hours, however, she had a couple of good hands, enough to put her back into modest profit. Zeb folded at that point, and Kefaufer moved to finish crushing Artemis Warwick. Both she and Feng bailed at the same time, and the table closed as they did. Passing close to the white and shaking Warwick, Feng whispered venomously, "Try that again, and I'll cut your ears off." The unfortunate woman fled precipitately, and Feng looked up to an approving smile from Kefaufer.
Kefaufer came to join her, and on an impulse Feng turned all her charm onto him. The flirtation escalated rapidly, and before very long the pair were skimming across Collace to Kefaufer's apartment on the Gold Coast - the smartest district of Shadira Arcology. As they flew, they discussed the unfortunate Warwick, with Kefaufer relishing the fact that the woman had weaknesses that she could be split down to break her utterly. Internally disgusted at his mercilessness, Feng radiated approval.
His apartment proved interesting. The decoration was opulent but tasteless, with rather strange things displayed prominently in different places. Feng realized that the majority of these were trophies, souvenirs of opponents or enemies defeated curelly and utterly. It struck her that this place, arrogantly maintained, was a major key to possibly tracking or gaining information from him. She couldn't imagine him abandoning his trophy collection.
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Unbeknownst to her, Nevada had five of his new surveillance robots hovering outside the flat or tucked into roofs with line of sight to it. He was still monitoring her comms, despite not relishing the likely progression of the evening.
Neither did Pete! We glossed very generally over the resultant seduction of Kefaufer by Feng - or vice versa. The ensuing activities were enjoyable, but not gentle or affectionate.
The next morning, Feng took her leave and hopped a grav cab back to Staerla and her flat. She spent a long time in the shower, washing some of the reaction to the night away. Her attention was caught as she felt something odd on her back. Using a Shadowcat as a remote camera, she discovered a tiny tracer stuck to her skin. Despite her skin crawling at the idea, she left it in place, hopped another grav cab to Tynmos and went for a skiing holiday.
On arrival, she cheerfully deposited the tracker in the hotel vault, where the thick metal and radio inhibitor field were a dead cert to close off any signals it might send.
While all this was going on, Nevada had receieved a call from Systems Defence to notify him that one of the ships he'd requested a watch on had jumped into system. The Tabby was a Marava-class trader, one of the ships that had been operating in the same area as the ones suspected of making off with the pods.
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Nevada and Wombat sprang into action. Nevada called the starport and demanded a hold on the Tabby, which drew some puzzlement as the ship was mid-maintainence and trading anyway. A call to Kondraki procured NI backing for an investigation and the pair headed over to the downport, Nevada still dressed in his now rather rumpled suit.
The ship was parked in an open-air bay on the outer port, access panels off all over the place and several connectors plugged in. The side hatches were open and a crewman in a shipsuit blazoned with a tabby cat was supervising cargo being loaded and offloaded. Nevada marched up to him.
"Are you the captain?" he demanded sharply. The man eyed him cooly. "No, I'm the Cargomaster," he answered. "I need to see your captain," continued Nevada. "What about, please?" Nevada scowled. "It's a private matter." he snapped. "All right, I'll call him," said the cargomaster, taken aback.
A few minutes later the captain appeared, his suit declaring him to be Captain Podrick. Nevada drew him aside. "This is a Naval Intelligence investigation into human trafficking and we need to speak to you," he growled. The man paled visibly.
At this point, Pete observed that Allan's character was treating this probable innocent witness rather harshly. To which Allan responded, in character; "I've spent all night watching Feng gamble, listening to her fuck and hearing her go off skiing. I'm in a poor mood!" This was so authentic that all agreed it fit perfectly with the situation.
"I've had nothing to do with any such thing," objected Podrick. Nevada relented a bit. "We know," he said, "you were involved in the SAR after the Battle of Collace, and we need to access your sensor logs for that period." The man's expression lightened, and he wiped his brow. "Why didn't you say?" he said in relief. No problem!"
Nevada subvocalized a question into his commdot, and a few moments later Vespasian reported that the requested data was safely copied off the ship's computers. Remotely. Without access granted. Once again, Nevada and Wombat considered that Vespasian was probably the most dangerous weapon they had ever encountered...
Relieved of the fear of being arrested, Podrick was more than pleased to assist, and related his account of his part in the massive Search-and-Rescue after the battle. He clearly remembered seeing the Dendra's Curse, one of the suspect ships, in the same vicinity of the gas giant. "But after she'd gathered her pods, she went the wrong way! Just shuffled off around Kitono and disappeared for ten hours. Presumably ice fuelling - but why do that with a ruddy great gas giant hovering overhead?!" The sensor data bore this out, and helpfully included a good enough scan of the Curse to ID her energy signature.
Giving the man a thousand-credit bill, Nevada also gave him a PAN code and told him to call if he ever saw the Curse again.
Some research of standard system traffic showed that occasional ships did refuel at the iceworld Kitono, usually if they had no scoops or broken ones. Among those records, a vessel calling itself the Brady was seen to do so several times over the period between the SAR and the present day. Her energy sig was a direct match for the Dendra's Curse...
Session Date: 8th May 2025